#m'baku/t'challa

[dailymarvelstudios]

Black Panther (2018), dir. Ryan Coogler

[mcudc616]

Cast of Black Pather (2018) in Entertainment Weekly Magazine

[tchallasbabymama]

Ménage à Trois Part Deux: Chapter Two

I'm still here (Tisha Campbell voice.)

Y'all... I've been working on this chapter for over a year. I literally JUST finished it and can't even wait for beta readers; I gotta post this now!

Life's lifing, but I haven't forgotten about my stories 💕

As usual, check out my masterlist for more of my work, let me know if you want to be tagged in anything, and make sure you reblog and/or leave a comment if you like it!

Without further ado, here's chapter 2!

Word count: 6,043

CW: smut

Among the many visitors who made their way to Wakanda to experience the kick-off of Queen Zora’s student exchange program was Amanda Livingston, a reporter for the New York Times. She had been assigned the potentially life-changing gig by her editor, and although she wasn’t looking forward to visiting the continent due to all the horrible propaganda she’d heard about it over the years, Amanda eventually came around when she saw the technologically advanced country with her own eyes. Wakanda outdid her wildest expectations, but she wasn’t content with simply enjoying her time in the foreign land. She needed to dig deeper to find dirt on the country that welcomed her into their borders.

When Amanda arrived at the gala, she instantly became uneasy. Looking around at the other, much more stylish guests, she felt underdressed. Their ornate cultural attire, vibrant jewels, and intricate hairstyles made her feel dull and unimpressive for the first time in her privileged life. Her basic navy blue shift dress was a business casual bore against her pale, freckled skin. Despite the thick layer of greasy sunblock clogging her pores, she could already feel her skin turning red after just a few minutes of exposure to the setting sun. Amanda grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest server and downed it to calm her nerves before scanning the courtyard for shade, observing every person and their interactions. Unfortunately for her byline, both the Wakandans and visitors alike seemed to be enjoying themselves. No salacious stories had revealed themselves to Amanda yet, but she perked up upon noticing that a spot had opened up in the gazebo.

The journalist awkwardly squeezed her way into the ornate shelter, sandwiching herself between a prominent Congolese activist and a gaggle of excited Wakandan teens whose endless supply of questions grew louder and more animated as they listened to the visitor’s stories of grassroots organizing in his home country. Amanda listened along with the Wakandans while her eyes wandered around the rest of the gala, admiring the architecture and landscaping of the palace courtyard. It was so different from what she was used to in the States. Beautiful, sprawling, centuries-old fruit trees surrounded the space in lieu of carefully carved topiaries, and a large golden statue of a panther gleamed brightly as the centerpiece of a magnificent fountain. Amanda’s eyes fell to the water pooling beneath the towering feline’s paws, and she noticed unusual petals floating delicately on the surface.

Amanda whipped out her phone to snap a picture of the beautiful sight, but she noticed a familiar face just beyond the curve of the statue’s tail. Sure enough, there stood an old fuck buddy she hadn’t seen since her Ivy League years. In college, Mitchell Van Buren was a well-connected frat boy with a heart that appeared to be of gold, and fifteen years later, he was riding that squeaky-clean reputation all the way to the presidential campaign trail. Amanda had always thought that he favored the Ken doll she had as a young girl. As if he felt her gaze, Mitchell’s piercing blue eyes found hers, and he smiled as he recognized an old fling. 

Amanda found herself standing next to Mitchell in no time flat, and the two of them lost track of time as they caught up on their lives. The friendly chat became more suggestive as time went on. They flirted back and forth until the queen’s speech, where Mitchell allowed his roaming hands to do the talking under Amanda’s dress. By the time Queen Zora returned to her seat, they were already sneaking off into the gardens to escape the crowd.

The politician and the journalist reconnected in a deep, dark corner of the gardens far away from the event. Their reunion was brisk, and as they straightened themselves back out, the sound of footsteps heading in their direction made them fear they had been caught. They stayed ducked behind the bushes as the queen swished her hips into view, followed by a very large man who stared at her with stars in his eyes. The two accidental voyeurs watched as he kissed her hand tenderly, and their eyes bulged in their sockets. Neither could believe what they were seeing. The queen of Wakanda cheating on the king…

The shock of it all made Mitchell freeze on the spot, but Amanda nearly salivated as she pictured the headlines. This was just the story she’d been looking for! Acting quickly and without remembering to turn the sound off her phone, Amanda snapped a picture of the couple. At that moment, the shutter seemed to be the loudest sound she or Mitchell had ever heard. 

The queen and her lover pulled apart, and the mystery man barrelled towards them. Amanda and Mitchell ran in the opposite direction, but Mitchell tripped, nearly busting his chiseled chin on the ground. Amanda ran as fast as she could towards the gala until she rounded the last corner and noticed the Dora Milaje blocking the entrance to the garden. The much taller man shouted after her, and the guards turned around with their spears at the ready. Amanda froze and let go of her phone, but not before pressing send on a message that would surely cause a headache for the royals before the device could even crash to the ground.

“Th-the queen is a cheater! I saw it! We saw it!” Amanda yelled, purposely causing a bigger scene than necessary while squeezing out crocodile tears to gain sympathy points. Unfortunately, it worked, and the crowd turned around to gawk at the spectacle.

--------

Zora woke up to the sound of light snores to her left and warm breaths against her right ear. As usual, two heavy arms were slung across her body, but instead of starting her day filled with the joy of being in her lovers’ arms again, flashbacks of the night before played on a loop behind Zora’s eyes. She absentmindedly watched the ceiling fan rotate slowly and sighed as she cursed herself for slipping up, prompting T’Challa to tighten his grip on her waist.

“Stop thinking about last night,” he grumbled in her ear.

Zora turned to look at him questioningly, and he smirked without opening his eyes. She didn’t even bother asking how he knew what was on her mind, choosing instead to focus on the upward curl of his thick lashes. As if he felt her gaze, those lashes fluttered open, allowing the king’s precious gemstones to sparkle in the early morning sunlight. 

“It was a disaster,” Zora whispered, trying not to wake her other husband from his deep slumber. 

“Try not to focus on the ending.”

“I shouldn’t have gone into the gardens,” Zora whined. “I just-”

T’Challa cut her off with a kiss.

“You blame yourself too easily.” 

He was right, but nonetheless, she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“How are you so chill about this?”

T’Challa brought his hand up to caress her cheek.

“I have watched you live a lie to the rest of the world since the moment you stepped into this role, Babygirl. And I have watched that lie eat away at you every time you have to uphold it. As a man, and a Wakandan one at that, I will never fully understand the pressures of living in a world that dictates you move in such a way. From my point of view, it seems exhausting.”

“It is,” Zora croaked around the lump forming in her throat and turned to look at M’Baku, still splayed out on his stomach and snoring away. “I can’t help but think I’m hurting him. He says he’s fine, but I wouldn’t be if I were in his shoes.”

T’Challa decided it would be better to let M’Baku express his own feelings later, so he held his tongue instead of confirming Zora’s speculation. M’Baku had recently confided in him that he wasn’t as fine with their public arrangement as he let on, but since he didn’t want his feelings to stand in the way of Zora’s success, he was wary of telling her.  

“You should talk to him about it,” the king advised.

“I will, but I’m pretty sure the whole world knows by now,” Zora huffed as last night’s events played in her mind again. She relived everything from the shutter click in the gardens to the crowd’s murmurs at seeing the Dora Milaje with their spears trained on two guests. Nearly every phone was up recording the catastrophe as it unfolded, several of which were streaming live, and they all captured the moment Zora’s carefully crafted image shattered into millions of pieces thanks to colonizers sticking their noses where they didn’t belong.

“No, they know what those people think they saw. The world has yet to hear your truth.”

“I don’t think the world’s ready for the truth.”

“Not everyone will be, but imagine what you will be doing for those that are.”

“You always know what to say,” Zora complimented him with a warm smile.

“Is that not why you married me?”

Before Zora could respond, he kissed her deeply, and she moaned into his parted lips. The sound coursed through T’Challa’s veins and woke up the rest of his body until his every cell ached for his wife. He hadn’t touched her body in two weeks, and the time apart was starting to catch up to him the longer he kissed her. With M’Baku being around and a very willing submissive for them both, the king wasn’t in need of release, but he missed the smell of Zora’s skin and the taste of her juices seeping out for him. He longed to feel her contract around him when she climaxed, and the memory of her screaming his name had him prying her legs open and sliding his fingers into her depths.

“Mmmm-”

“Quiet, or your husband will catch us,” he ordered softly in Zora’s ear, turning her on even more. It wasn’t often that they engaged in cheating roleplay, but when they did, it turned Zora into a sopping wet mess. “You don’t want him to know how filthy you are, do you?”

Zora shook her head and trapped her plump bottom lip between her pearly whites in a feeble attempt to quiet her moans. Her big doe eyes dared not look away from T’Challa’s piercing gaze when he found a spot inside her that made her release a noise much too undignified for a woman of her royal ranking. 

“I said be quiet, Zora,” T’Challa sneered, his breath hot against her ear as his teeth dragged along the lobe.

“Uxolo baby, I-I-”

Zora’s desperate whispers tickled T’Challa’s skin, and his ears grew hot the way they always did when she spoke his native tongue to him.

“Thula!” he growled, pulling his fingers out and slapping her sensitive vulva. The small whimper that she managed to squeak out upon impact made him smile. She was trying to be good for him, so he let his wet fingers trail up her pussy lips to the bundle of nerves that poked out like a beacon of pleasure, calling out to be touched and handled with care. 

Zora’s body felt electric everywhere T’Challa touched her skin. Her fingertips longed to feel him, too, so they found their way to the coils of his beard and pressed his face closer to hers. Time seemed to move slower with every stroke of his fingers around her clit and every filthy and loving word he uttered. His words came out in husky whispers at first before transforming into guttural growls the more his erection pressed into her thigh. Zora was careful not to wind her hips too much to keep from waking M’Baku, but the way T’Challa zeroed in on her pleasure zones and overstimulated her body made it near impossible to lay still. 

Kisses to Zora’s collarbone made her heart beat out of her chest. Her head jerked to the left, and she locked eyes with M’Baku as she heaved through T’Challa’s tortures, making the king chuckle darkly.

“Look what you did,” T’Challa teased as he angled his hips so that he could slide into her wetness, his hand placed firmly around her neck. “You woke him up, and now he knows you're my little cumslut. How do you think it makes him feel to see you like this?”

Zora’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as T’Challa bottomed out inside her, but no matter how good it felt, she knew one thing: she better not let go of her legs, or there would be delicious hell to pay. Since most mornings consisted of the throuple making vigorous love to start their day, they often started in this very position when the queen was the center of attention. T’Challa would find a way to slide in either from the back or the side, depending on how Zora was lying. Every time, without fail, he would assign her the task of holding her legs back for him, and every time, without fail, he’d beat the breaks off her pussy so good that she’d lose her grip, making him fuck her harder for insubordination.  

Today, he could tell by the strained look on her face that she was determined to be good. He hadn’t forgotten about her eight infractions over their time apart, but Zora wasn’t in the right headspace for punishments. Naturally, she was stressed and scared about how the previous night could affect her career, but most of all, her guilt over hiding M’Baku from the world, combined with missing them both, had made her soft, and she’d need a thick skin for what T’Challa had planned for her.

So, the king fucked her slow and deep and watched with an amused smirk as she struggled to grip her legs. As if he read both of their minds, M’Baku’s large hand covered Zora’s, and he easily held her thick bronze legs in place the way he knew the king liked. Zora’s eyes met his again, and she pulled him into a kiss, their tongues colliding before their lips ever touched. They got lost in a cycle of licking and sucking and biting at each other until Zora’s hand wandered down to M’Baku’s naked dick, hard as Jabari wood and throbbing with the desperate heat of a man that missed the feeling of his wife’s inner workings. He moaned into her mouth as she worked her hand up and down his thickening shaft, and Zora answered with deep moans of her own that were prompted by T’Challa’s even deeper strokes. His grunts of pleasure in her ear just turned her on even more, and the three of them soon became composers in a beautiful symphony of swirling notes belted into the air while the percussion of their bodies kept rhythm. 

Beep, beep-beep, beep, beep-beep.

Zora went rigid with an influx of anxious energy that filled her body from head to toe, swiftly replacing the waves of pleasure that she had been immersed in before T’Challa’s kimoyo beads began ringing. 

“Ignore it,” T’Challa ordered through gritted teeth. “They will call back.”

“It could be important.”

“It is too early. Leave it be for now,” M’Baku nearly begged as he thrust into Zora’s hand.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Zora’s beads began vibrating from the nightstand, and she released M’Baku, placing her palm on T’Challa’s chest. A growl escaped his lips as he pulled out.

“Zora, it can wait-” T’Challa cut himself off and turned towards the door with a curious look on his face just before someone’s knuckles banged against the vibranium.

“This can’t be good,” Zora murmured, untangling herself from M’Baku, reaching for her kimoyo beads, and sliding them onto her wrist. 

T’Challa begrudgingly agreed with a nod of his head as he grabbed his black silk robe from the back of his chair. The knocks came again, this time sounding even more urgent than the first set, so when the king swung the door open, he was unsurprised to see Kidada, Bahati, and Dembe flanked by Okoye and Ayo. They exchanged the proper greetings and salutes, and upon hearing all the voices of those present, Zora’s heart sank to her stomach.

“Ugh, all hands on deck?” Zora groaned, burying her head into the pillow and covering it with the flimsy white sheet they slept under. M’Baku rubbed her back in comforting circles, but his eyes stayed glued to the doorway.

“We really hate to wake you up like this, but it seems we could not stop the footage of last night’s incident from leaking to the global press,” Bahati explained calmly.

Kidada held out a holopad for the king to scroll through news articles and social media posts. A thick silence filled the air as he read page after page of people’s disdain for Zora and her perceived infidelity.

“How bad is it?” Zora’s voice wavered, her mind already expecting the worst. She had been trying to gauge the degree of disaster from T’Challa’s responses, but his features were frozen in a carefully crafted poker face. He could hear her heart thumping wildly in her chest and smell the panic seeping from her pores.

“It, uh…” T’Challa trailed off as his eyes focused on a headline from a popular gossip column. The writer speculated how quickly the king should divorce his supposedly adulterous wife. “It could be worse.”

---------

Over the years, Zora had exposed M’Baku to her people's art, culture, and history. From the triumphant to the traumatic, he learned more about the Lost Tribe than he ever anticipated. He respected their tenacity and ingenuity in surviving their colonizer’s oppressive regime. Seeing her world through his eyes made Zora appreciate it more, but sometimes his inquiries forced her to interrogate the parts of her society that even she didn’t understand. 

For example, Zora could never properly explain assimilation to M’Baku in a way that made sense to him. Probably because, at her core, she didn’t understand it either. Every answer she gave the man confused him more than the last, and after all this time, he still didn’t get it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around people who chose to side with their oppressors, specifically the Black folks who adopted conservative sensibilities. 

In the wake of the gala incident, M’Baku’s confusion grew tenfold as those same conservative Black folks got wind of what was happening in Wakanda, and their collective reaction was even stronger than the KKK whites over at Fox. His eyes glazed over every time Bahati and Kidada updated the royals on the situation. News briefings and viral videos lambasting Zora’s behavior seemed to be coming out every second, and the global scale of it all made M’Baku feel small. 

Handsy megachurch preachers with a penchant for inflicting the fiery numbness of the male gaze onto the young women in their congregation spouted whole sermons to their flocks about the importance of wives remaining submissive and faithful to their husbands. Longstanding problematic radio personalities lamented the fact that the women they deemed golddiggers didn’t seem to know their place anymore. Most perplexing of them all, podcast niggas laughed at T’Challa and called him weak from behind their shitty microphones set up in their mother’s moldy basement. What was left of Black Twitter was in disarray. The royal Wakandan wedding had broken the internet the year before, and the news of Zora’s philandering sent waves through the app again. In just twenty-four hours, Zora had been called everything but a child of god, and T’Challa’s masculinity was questioned by those who clung to the patriarchal idea that his woman’s behavior determined his manhood. Meanwhile, the whole world speculated on the identity of the mystery man caught canoodling with the queen.

Under normal circumstances, the royals could have easily avoided the ruckus of the outside world when safe inside Wakanda, but the scandal’s timing couldn’t have been worse. For the first time in its long and storied history, Wakanda was hosting hundreds of outsiders from all over the globe. Zora’s unprecedented position within the royal house had truly brought forth a new age of diasporic collaboration, but the second the scandal broke, so did the facade. Of course, her people and most of the visiting children were unbothered. After their second full day, the exchange students had taken to calling Wakanda their ekhaya, their home. It warmed Zora’s heart every time she heard their foreign accents dance around the Xhosa words with varying levels of ease. Even more surprising was the Wakandan children blending their own words and mannerisms so seamlessly with their guests. Seeing their exchange in such a short amount of time was the only thing that fueled Zora as her public life crumbled around her. 

Even though the exchange was for the benefit of the children, and therefore, it was shaping up to be a success, the adults weren’t shy about making their displeasure known. Many of them showed their nasty true colors the moment Zora’s supposed indiscretions went public. Some went as far as returning home and dagging their helpless children with them. Those who remained were either chaperones forced to stay with the few children whose parents hadn’t withdrawn from the program, or just looking for more dirt to take back home with the hopes of collecting a check. Unsurprisingly, the journalists and politicians were especially heinous in their approach, and T’Challa was steadily growing tired of walking the paper-thin line between needing to maintain diplomatic relations and swiftly dropping them all over the border in Niganda. 

In just two days, the program had already lost nine students, and three schools in two separate countries had pulled out of the partnership. In that same amount of time, M’Baku spoke maybe ten words, and Zora weathered four panic attacks. The first of which came shortly after Bahati, Kidada, and Dembe interrupted the royal throuple’s morning lovemaking to break the news of the international scandal. The second two were due to her fear of failure being triggered by the waning participation in her exchange program, but the last one caught her off guard.

It struck while she was visiting her mother. Shortly after Zora’s weddings, Cheryl retired from teaching AP English Literature, packed up her Atlanta home, and moved into the house that T’Challa had given Zora when she accepted the liaison position. She just couldn’t bear being so far apart from her one and only child, and the time change was too much for her to keep track of. Truly, the first time Cheryl visited, she knew she’d be moving soon. For Operation Stepdaddy, if nothing else, which commenced as soon as she set down her suitcase.

Cheryl was backstroking through the Wakandan dating pool. According to the exploits she would dish to Zora and Ramonda about, the quantity was low, but the quality was high. Most of the men in her age range were already partnered, and she wasn’t one for polyamory like her daughter. However, the generous handfuls of men she’d interacted with restored her faith in their genderfolk. 

In short, Cheryl was living her best life.

Between her newfound social life and lending her expertise as an educator to help shape Zora’s exchange program, she felt more fulfilled than ever. Zora had noticed the change in her mother. It was a change she had dreamed of seeing all her life. Cheryl seemed happy. She smiled all the time now, her shoulders didn’t carry tension, and the only thing stressing her out was the heat. She seemed free.

Cheryl was so used to seeing that same look on Zora’s face that she immediately knew something was wrong when she opened her front door to greet her daughter. Her energy was just off.

“You ruin your fancy shoes stepping in rhino shit again?” she quipped with a raised brow.

Zora couldn’t help but crack a small smile as she stepped over the threshold and into Cheryl’s outstretched arms. 

“That was one time, momma.”

“And I still don’t know how you missed that big-ass pile.”

Ayo stifled a laugh as she entered the familiar space and allowed Cheryl to embrace her as well. They all knew that nobody was exempt from her hugs.

Zora was quieter than usual as she made her way through her former home. Cheryl had already made it her own, filling it with plants that Zora would’ve killed within a week. The walls were a deep maroon and covered in locally woven tapestries and baskets, and the entire home smelled like warming spices. The abundance of natural light peeking through the windows kept the place bright despite the darker color palate. It felt like Cheryl’s Atlanta home, but bigger and with a higher budget.

As soon as Zora sat down at the kitchen table, Cheryl handed her a mango juice mimosa–their favorite. The second their glasses clinked, the queen downed her cocktail in one gulp. 

“Oh, it’s that kind of day?” Cheryl asked, sipping her glass once before setting it on the kitchen table between them.

Zora nodded, but before she could open her mouth to explain further, a calendar reminder popped up on her beads that made her head spin. She had forgotten about her doctor’s appointment—the one where she was set to have the birth control removed from her arm. 

The thought of juggling the complete dumpster fire her life had become seemingly overnight with the possibility of bringing life into the world overwhelmed Zora. She could feel her heart thumping in her eardrums, and her jaw tightened as she tried to breathe through the anxiety crashing into her. 

“It’s too much some days.”

The queen’s voice sounded small, so her mother laid a soft hand on her shaking knee. 

“What is, honeybun?”

Zora’s mind raced. Where to begin?

“Now I see why Wakanda stayed isolated for so long,” Zora sighed before walking her mom through the events of the last few days. As she laid down her burdens, heavy iron gears turned in Cheryl’s mind. She couldn’t help but try to figure out a way to fix her one and only child’s problem, but the politics of it all stumped her. 

“I don't even know what to say, baby.”

They sat in a thick silence for several moments until Cheryl broke it by refilling Zora’s glass. This time, the royal sipped it slowly before parting her lips once more with a question that had been weighing her down since her calendar dinged. 

“When did you know you were ready to be a mom?”

Cheryl’s heart nearly beat out of her chest, but she played it cool. She had never been one to push Zora to have kids, but it was one of her deepest wishes to grow old and experience being a grandmother. 

“Not until I gave you your first bath,” Cheryl chuckled. “I was scared to death to hold you– you were so tiny. I just knew I’d break you.”

Zora remembered the many stories she’d heard over the years about Cheryl’s tumultuous pregnancy. How ashamed she was for ending up in that situation, and how alone she felt. That man really put her momma through it…

“Why do you ask?” Cheryl cut her eyes at Zora’s mimosa glass, “I know you ain’t pregnant drinking all that champagne.”

Zora shook her head.

“Not yet. I was thinking about having my implant removed, but now,” the queen shook her head and took another sip of mango mimosa. “My timing couldn’t be worse.”

“There’s no such thing as the perfect time, honeybun.”

“Yeah, but in the middle of a media shitstorm?”

Cheryl chuckled before turning up her drink and finishing the last drop. By the time she placed the glass down on the table, an idea had churned up between her ears. 

“Maybe that’s exactly what you need.”

Zora looked at her like she had two heads, but Cheryl continued, “They’d eat up a royal baby! Plus, you’d have an excuse to step out of the spotlight for a little while, and by the time you come back, they’d be too enamored with my grandbaby to give a damn about your sex life.”

“Momma, I’m not having a baby as a PR move.”

“Let me ask you something, Zora. Do you want to be a mother?”

Zora’s eyes softened as she pictured her future, and a saccharine smile hung on her lips as she nodded softly.

“And do your husbands want to be fathers?”

Zora couldn’t contain her giggle.

“You already know they’re just waiting on me.”

“Then you have that baby whenever you damn well please, and the rest of the world will just have to keep up. You’re a queen, Zora. You have so much more than I had, or my momma, or her momma. We had to deal with all kinds of stigmas and oppression that you’re free from. So, do what the fuck you want.”

---------

Those words danced around Zora’s head all that night, but she still chose to postpone her appointment. Not by long, just a few more weeks. However, Cheryl’s passionate refrain inspired a different course of action regarding the gala incident. Instead of praying that the ordeal would blow over, Zora and Bahati spent the next two days crafting a statement to take control of the narrative. After Cheryl lent her wordsmith expertise to the speech, Zora felt that it was finally ready for public consumption. But she needed to ensure it landed with her target audience before anyone else. 

Excitement made Zora giddy, and she was barely able to sit still while Bahati quickly ran through her end-of-day update on the student exchange program. The remaining students and their chaperones had spent the day in the Border province, sharpening their language skills while learning about Wakandan agriculture and traditional cuisine. She had been missing out on so much…

When she and Bahati parted ways for the night, Zora checked her kimoyo beads to see where her husbands were. M’Baku’s avatar stood in the kitchen housed in their royal suite, which made Zora’s stomach growl in anticipation of whatever he had whipped up. Her eyes drifted to T’Challa’s avatar darting around the training room, and she wondered who his sparring partner was today. What lucky foe got to witness the Black Panther in all his sweaty, aggressive glory?

She licked her lips as she called him.

The communication bead buzzed in her palm, and seconds later, T’Challa’s glistening form came into view. His locs were loose, so he tossed them back out of his eyes as he caught his breath. 

“Good evening, my queen.”

“Hello, husband.” Zora couldn’t help her lusting, “You look delicious.”

“Eish!” Okoye cursed off-camera, making Zora giggle.

“Uxolo, general,” she apologized with a smirk. “I thought you were done for the day.”

“She was, but I convinced her to stick around and lose a few rounds.” T’Challa dismissed Okoye and waited until she left the training room before turning back to Zora. “I still have a few more rounds in me, Babygirl.”

Zora stepped onto the elevator and let the doors swish closed behind her.

“Tempting, but business first,” she teased.

“What business?”

“Come home and find out.”

Zora ended the call before he could respond, smirking to herself. He hated it when she did that, but she loved pushing his buttons. Especially when he was already sweaty, shirtless, and revved up.

The elevator doors slid open, and she was welcomed home by the aroma of M’Baku’s home cooking. She tried to guess what it was, but it eluded her. It was definitely something she’d tasted before, but not often. The spices that swirled in the air hinted at local cuisine, nothing from the international cookbooks he had come to collect over the last few years. Something rare, as if for a special occasion–

Zora stopped in her tracks before she entered the suite. 

The date.

She had forgotten its significance to her husband, and her stomach churned with guilt. She had been so busy dealing with her own mess that she forgot it was the worst day of his life. 

Shortly after M’Baku won the Jabari chiefdom, his mother fell ill. Her lungs were weak, too weak to make it through the changing of seasons. His father wasted away slowly over the next year and finally wandered into the snow on the anniversary of her death.  

M’Baku had spent the last decade without his parents, and it had been nearly as long since he’d last spoken to his siblings. Growing up, he was the eldest of four, and all Zora knew was that only three of them remained on this plane. M’Baku refused to speak about them, so she didn’t push him on it. 

But Zora knew this day always came with heartache, so she slid out of her shoes and padded across the sunken living room to the open kitchen. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around M’Baku’s trunklike waist and buried her head in the soft fabric covering his back. She felt some of the tension release from his body at her touch, but plenty remained. 

“How was your day, my sweet?” he asked softly, and she hugged him tighter.

“I should be asking you that.”

“No need; my answer would be bleak.”

Zora released him just enough to circle around and squeeze between his body and the stovetop, forcing his sad eyes to peer into her soul. Her hands on either side of his face brought him to the verge of tears.

“I don’t care how bleak it is. I want to know everything you’re going through, baby.”

M’Baku nodded and surrendered to her delicate kisses.

“I-” he began but stopped himself from voicing the words that brought him so much guilt.

“I just miss them,” he sighed. “Every day, my home reminds me of them. Every mountaintop, every fish in the river… I am tired of the memories.”

Zora let his tears fall from his tired eyes but wiped them away with her thumbs before they could reach his beard. She walked him over to the kitchen table and sat him down as T’Challa entered the suite. He took in the scene and understood immediately.

“I’ll finish dinner, baby.” Zora kissed M’Baku’s forehead and let T’Challa take over while she kept their yearly repast from burning. She kept an eye on them from the other side of the room, watching as they mumbled to each other. M’Baku let out his tears on T’Challa’s shoulder as the king comforted him. Every now and then, Zora and T’Challa would lock eyes, and their silent conversation spoke volumes. In all their time together, they had never seen this day hit him so hard. 

M’Baku barely spoke through dinner, a haunted look in his distant gaze that unnerved Zora while they ate. It wasn’t until T’Challa cleared the table that a sigh escaped M’Baku’s lips.

“I want this more,” he stated, confusing the other two.

“This?” Zora asked, and the chief nodded.

“This. Normal life.”

T’Challa had been feeling inklings of M’Baku’s ambivalence towards his chiefdom for quite a while now. With the Jabari throne not being a blood right but a title only won through battle, M’Baku didn’t have the same sentimental connection to ruling his people. T’Challa often wondered if he would feel the same under different circumstances.

“What does normal mean to you?” T’Challa invited him to say the words that would free him.

M’Baku considered his words carefully. Over the years, he had grown to love living in the capital, far away from the ghosts that haunted the snow. The more time he spent away, the more he realized just how miserable he was at home. Since getting married, he’d spend four or five nights a week in Birnin Zana with his bride and her other husband. The Jabari elders hated him for his constant absence, but even they could see how much lighter he seemed every time he returned. The chief was unhappy being chief. It seemed that everyone knew it, and none of them could blame him, given the circumstances. 

“I no longer wish to be chief of the Jabari.”

Next chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem , @theblulife , @motheroffae , @love-mesome-me , @toni9 , @brihann, @impremenior , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @brattyfics s, @cecereads209, @afriendlyblackhottie , @queengodiva619 , @musicisme333 ,  @dersha89 , @ljstraightnochaser , @bornamiracle , @xoxovivafics , @goddessofmischief0711 , @issahyland , @blkbutterfly816 , @judymfmoody, @novaniskye , @prettystringbean , @martakllv, @blackpinup22 , @mermaidchansons, @jadedjotun , @branium , @abeautifulmindexposed d, @prettyisasprettydoes1306 6, @reneinii

[allupinyourminds]

T’Challa’s return in Black Panther (2018) | Shuri’s reign in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022)

[theunsweetenedtruth]

The Unsweet Masterlist

Welcome to "The Unsweetened Truth," a haven for those who crave raw and authentic romance narratives featuring Black protagonists. As the author behind these narratives, I invite you to join me on a journey where the stories reflect my real life with a giant sprinkle of delusion. But be warned: the content found within these pages is intended for mature audiences only, with themes and imagery that reflect the complexities of adult relationships. So, take a seat, immerse yourself in the stories, and discover the unfiltered beauty of romance through the eyes of Black protagonists. And remember, all content is exclusive to this platform, protected under #unsweetimagines—because some truths are meant to be savored, not shared.

* indicates smut

The Adored One (Complete)*

Nereyda is a member of the Doras—a marginalized class whose purpose is solely for pleasure. But Nereyda is no ordinary Dora; she holds a special place as the chosen companion of Prince T'Challa.

The Adored One* | Giving You the Best | Warmth* | What You Won't Do* | On Your Mind | All This Love | Yours*

Who Hurt You (One Shot)*

T'Challa, the esteemed leader of Wakanda, ventures into the dimly lit confines of a hidden establishment, not as a king, but as a man driven by his own desires. There he finds you.

Come Sit On My Lap (One Shot)*

T'Challa isn't paying enough attention to you so you decide to go out without him. You're not ready for the repercussions.

Promises (Complete)*

Erik left more than just his girl behind. It was time to keep some of his promises.

1* | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8* | 9 | 10 | Erik's Packing List

Voyeurism (One Shot)*

Discipline (One Shot)*

Another Again (One Shot)

Kinksize

Happy

The Marriage Pact (In Progress)

Honey and Erik make a pact.

Dec 2020 |

[angel-of-death-2015]

DreamCon was FIRE. I love my Okoye cosplay so much 😭 I hope we can get an Okoye multi-verse movie soon 😭

[livstarlight]

and for the life of me I still don't get how HOW it didn’t even get nominated I am not saying it should have won (yes it should have duh) but at least a nomination-

[artisticestheticreads]

Me just waiting for y'all to see the new chapter of SummerTime Magic:

-SWEET BABIES-

@muse-of-mbaku @im5ftbutmythroat66 @chaneajoyyy @melanin-samii @theunsweetenedtruth @doux-ciel @unicornluvin8765 @vikkidc @wakandantings @thadelightfulone @mzamethystp @simbiann @tropicalsun10 @babydoll756 @notoriouslynay @vminax @quinsly @pinkdemolition @quietstorm-73 @chaoticcashfancroissant @bugngiz @chocolatedippedinhoney @yafavcocoa @lostgalaxies @mbakuwife @youreadthatright @babygotl01292003 @acceptyourselfloveyourself @madamslayyy @yoyolovesbucky @theogbadbitch @wakanda-inspired @bitchacho25 @toniilaney @wakandascrystal @girlsneedlovingfanfics @raysunshine78 @melodyofmbaku @hearteyes-for-killmonger @silenceisplatinum @thickemadame @shookmcgookqueen @heykillmongerluhme @fonville-designs @cutewylie @allhailqueennel @10bsatatime @nickidub718 @lildashofmelanin @allhailqueennel @amirra88 @hakunalive4eva @thickemadame @ghostfacekill-monger 

[somestorythoughts]

So we started here:

With M'Baku challenging T'Challa in a fight to the death for kingship and dismissing SHurri's role as an inventor. And then M'Baku became someone T'Challa trusted to fight beside him:

And at some point between then and Wakanda Forever, T'challa trusted him enough that he asked him to look out for his sister because he trusted and respected him enough to know he would do that and have good advice as well:

And in the end, we come back to the waterfall, and T'chlla's sister has decided that the man who once would have fought her brother to death is worthy of taking his place. It's a very cool arc.

The ending is also hilarious because Shurri could have announced her decision but she went "you know what would be better" and M'baku went with it.

[riribabymomma]

Kill Bill

Paring:toxic!letitia x blk fem!reader

I kept running but no matter how much I ran, I got nowhere. No exit no nothing. It was like a maze. I could hear her crazy ass in the distance dragging that 20 inch machete she called Richie.

"Sthandwa.....Ndicela ungandishiyi" She said in that deep husky voice that I used to love

Me and Letitia had been married for 5 years she proposed at this beautiful restaurant. All of my friends were there we met in college.

That was until she started to kill people I loved One By One.

She had this thing were she only wanted me to be with her 24/7 all day everyday.

She was OBSESSED

All this time I thought someone else were killing them and it was her the crazy part about it was she comforted me about it was there she was my shoulder to cry on

I followed her one night in my friends car and made sure I stayed far away so she wouldn't see me  she ended up going to an abandoned warehouse she got out of the car and pulled out a machete from her car making sure no one was looking

Seconds later i heard dreadful screams from a woman but not just any woman it was my mother

I got out the car running inside the warehouse but it was too late she was dead.

Now I am here running trying to get away from this crazy bitch

After about a month, I saw on the news of an abandoned warehouse that had been set on fire and burned down to ashes. The location of the warehouse instantly let me know that it must've been Her.

7 months had passed and I had been making new friends. We decided to go to this new club where the owner was a woman. A new change. I knew feminists definitely partied there.

I was having way too many drinks when I heard my friends saying how the owner was hitting on me.

My vision was too blurry for me to see what the owner actually looked like but I followed her after we danced and talked about whatever. All I remember was getting into a car then blacking out.

I had woken up no too long ago in a wedding dress a white dress.

And now here I was, still trying to escape. She still sees us as being engaged and now we're supposed to marry. My god this woman is crazy.

I took a sharp a right turn only to meet a dead end. I was about to turn back when I saw her walking towards me grinning, showing off her pearly whites. Fuck.

She was walking dramatically slow

Her makeup was done with a flower crown on her head. She had on this beautiful white suit that was supposed to be her wedding suit I guess.

She towered over me  

"Why'd you leave me and Richie Y/n... I waited for you. I waited so long for you, and yet you never returned for me. Did I do something wrong?" She asked me in a soft voice.

"I'm sorry Tish... I just, had to take a break I guess. But look we're together now." I said trying to sound confident.

I stayed silent. I didn't wanna say the wrong thing in case if it might trigger her or something.

Letitia dropped the machete and started kissing me again. She was shoving her tongue down my throat forcefully.

She slid her hands up my dress but i grabbed her wrist to stop her

She pulled back confused, "What? You don't want to make love to me? Am I not beautiful? Am I not enough?"

"No Tish it's not that. I just, I want to take it slow you know. We did just get back together."

She nodded and we both stood up

"You know where the bathroom is?" I asked patting down my dress a bit.

Letitia chuckled. She started laughing. She was laughing hysterically at this point.

"Y-you think I'm dumb?!" She said in between her laugh. She was full on laughing putting her hand on her chest and all.

"Please don't try the fucking bathroom excuse with me. What? You're gonna ask me where the bathroom is, I tell you, and you try to escape? I'm not a child Y/n. You can't leave. Not now not ever. Matter fact you're dying with me." Tish’s face instantly went cold as if a new persona took over.

As she was leaning down picking up the machete, I pushed her as hard as I could and I began running again.

I just realized that my dumbass didn't even pick up the machete. I was panicking.

Fuck fuck fuck! There's literally no where I can get out.

One more turn and she stood there with a machete.

I tried to run but my dress was pulled back slamming me into the wall.

She tried to stab the machete into me but I ducked down and the machete went through the wall.

Next thing I know she punched my face knocking me down.

She tried to get on top but I kicked her face making her fall down

I got on top of Letitia choking her. I choked her the hardest I could

Her face was slowly puffing up and getting red when I felt a pocket knife being stabbed into my left thigh.

"Fuck!" I yelled out in pain and held my left thigh.

She pushed me off of her coughing trying to regain her breath.

I tried getting up but she knocked me down grabbing out the knife from my thigh as well.

"Shit!" I cried out from the agonizing pain.

Right as she was about to stab me again with the knife, I backhand slapped the fuck out of her making her slam into the wall.

I got up and tried my best to run with me covering up the deep gash from my thigh.

My heart rate got higher. I looked behind to see her charging at me.

I tried running faster but that was obviously no use when I felt another stab to my shoulder.

She rolled me over getting on top about to stab me again when I grabbed her hands.

I used all my strength to turn the knife towards her and with one powerful push, the knife plunged into her collar bone.

I scrambled up and continued to run a bit but I felt Letitia coming from behind me again.

I could feel her getting closer to me

All I felt was her turning me around with full force and pushing me up against the wall.

I saw the machete go through me coming out out my chest.

She had also been stabbed since she had pressed herself against me.

Blood poring out of our mouths not being able to speak

Welp. I guess she won.

[umber-cinders]

This still kills me 😭🤣👏🏾 I'm about to go make a sandwich and watch the first movie over again.

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

T'challa: - Stick a fork in me, I am done! M'baku: Stick a fork what? T'challa: Like, when you're cooking a steak. M'baku: Oh, OK, I don't eat meat. T'challa: Well then, how do you know when vegetables are done? M'baku: Well you know, you just, you eat them and you can tell. T'challa: OK, then, EAT ME, I'm done!

[comicwaren]

From Black Panther Vol. 9 #010, “Reign at Dusk: Finale”

Art by Chris Allen, Craig Yeung, Oren Junior, Jesus Aburtov and Andrew Dalhouse

Written by Eve L. Ewing

[andarthas-web]

Wakanda Forever? More like Wakanda WTF!

I finally managed to watch Wakanda Forever and....WTF WAS THAT???

Who thought it was a good idea to center the movie on two BIPOC communities, both of which are threatened by neo-colonial and capitalist western ambitions, going to war with each other, because one of them can’t come up with a better solution to the dilemma they’re facing than murdering a black woman? I mean....Namor is several hundreds of years old and apparently an experienced and good ruler. It’s pretty clear Riri didn’t even know what was going on and would never have willingly put Wakanda at risk (which makes it likely she wouldn’t have wanted to put Talocan and its’ people at risk either). Also, if Riri could invent something like this, sooner or later some other scientist will pop up who can do the same, because people who are gifted like that are rare...but by no means a one-time-only-in-all-of-human-existence. So no matter HOW she’s taken out of the picture, that’s only delaying the problem, not solving it. And FFS!!! If he wanted to keep her out of reach of western ambitions, keeping her in Talocan (if he didn’t trust Wakanda enough) would have been perfectly sufficient, no murder needed. Then there’s the bit about firing Okoye. WTF??? First of all, Shuri’s an adult and a princess responsible for her people, fully capable of making executive decisions on her own and EVERYBODY was aware that this was a risky mission beforehand. Hell, it wasn’t the first time Shuri did risky stuff in her life either. So yeah, punishing Okoye for not being all-powerful and not being able to pull an unrealistic Deus Ex Machina move to save Shuri, and especially considering that it is up to Shuri to decide for herself which risks and actions to take? Doesn’t make one lick of sense. It makes even LESS sense, considering that from all the people present, Okoye is the most qualified where it comes to getting Shuri back. And EVEN LESS SENSE that Ramonda’s anger comes from “having lost ALL of her family” when at the end of the movie, we learn that she has a grandson AND that she’s met him. Doesn’t he count at all for her? Btw, fridging characters in order to motivate others to grow and take action they wouldn’t have otherwise? A really tired old trope that robbed Ramonda of her dignity and power. Never mind that we already lost T’Challa in this movie and adding Ramonda on top of that was just adding insult to the injury. Then there’s this bit about “oh, I had the Kimoyo beads bugged” from Valentina Allegra de Fontaine? Please. Since when is western tech and knowledge even remotely on par with the tech of Wakanda / with the tech Shuri built? All within the few couple of minutes it took Ross to get to the scene to boot too. Without any kind of explanation on how the fuck they pulled this highly unrealistic feat off, this bit totally undermined the competence Shuri and Wakanda’s tech are supposed to have and it seems like an utterly unnecessary “ha ha, see, ultimately white people are better than you” gotcha moment.

Also, Namor is supposed to put his people first...but in the end, after sending a LOT of his people to die in the fight against Wakanda, he decides to just call everything off, after stressing how absolutely and utterly NON-negotiable murdering Riri was, just because Shuri decided to spare his life. Yeah, that’s hypocrisy of the highest order. Nevermind that somebody who witnessed / is well aware of the violence of white colonizers against BIPOC women and who is obviously still angry and upset about it, should NOT be willing to murder a black woman that easily and without second thought, let alone without a DAMN good reason and only after much, much soul-searching.  Also, what did it get him in the end?

NOTHING HE COULDN’T HAVE EASILY HAD WITHOUT GETTING TONS OF PEOPLE KILLED ON BOTH SIDES. Riri is still alive and free (and not even been kept safe and out of reach in Wakanda, like Shuri suggested at first, but returning to her life in the US, where she will be at a higher risk of being abducted / forcibly conscripted by other powers). (Side-note: is it just me, or did her suit seem very shoddily animated when compared to Tony’s?) And Wakanda is now an ally? HELL, considering how isolated they were becoming on an international stage, they’d have probably been perfectly delighted to consider an alliance well before he started this whole shit-show. Overall, the plot of this movie makes NO sense and violates a lot of the characters’ integrity six ways to sunday, having them act like immature, stupid teenagers instead of the experienced, competent people they’re supposed to be. Somebody (or a lot of somebodies) took lazy shortcuts here in order to drive a plot forward that was all focused on a maximum of flash and bang and Celebrity Big Brother style drama instead of telling a meaningful, consistent story. Among the few bright lights here were Okoye, with Danai Gurira pulling off a small miracle to give the character dignity and depth despite the godawful script, Shuri, whose struggle with the grief over her brother’s death and with trying to find a path forward for herself really hit home hard, as well as Riri, who was fun to watch as she rejoiced in the tech she had created, but who was also willing to take on responsibility and do the right thing. And finally Nakia, whose heartbreak was still palpable and yet it was incredibly admirable and inspiring how she worked through that, nevermind how she was absolutely badass as she came to rescue Shuri and Riri, as well as M’Baku, with Winston Duke adding either a light-hearted or a serious note to the scene as needed.  Sadly, overall, it’s not a movie I’m going to watch again and it was a huge disappointment.

[theattoyearchive]

Hello Black Panther Fans!

We here at Attoye-Week know everyone is excited for the event to happen. Since things won't really kick off until August, we'd like to direct you all to @theeblackmedusa's Black Panther Stans Discord Server!

All three of us Attoye-Week Admins are long-time members of the server and you can find us posting there frequently about headcanons and fanfics. You can talk to us and other Black Panther fans! Most of us there love Attoye but we talk about EVERYTHING from Black Panther and beyond in here. The server is BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ friendly! Come join us!

If you are new to discord or confused on how to join, feel from slip us an ask so we can help you, we'd love to see you all there!

Also: Please be aware that Black Panther Stans is an 18+ Fandom Space!! MINORS ARE NOT ALLOWED!!🔞🔞

[wipbigbang]

WIP BIG BANG SIGN-UPS ARE LIVE!

The 2024 round of WIP Big Bang is now open for sign-ups! Any fandom is welcome, as long as the fic is 500 completed so far and will be at least 7,500 words upon its finishing. Signing up is easy: just fill out the form linked below after you read the FAQ and take a look at the schedule.