#wakandan technology

[tllgrrl]

Happy Birthday Captain America!

The Favor by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Sam Wilson , (Bucky Barnes quoted) | SFW

* * * * * * * * * *

Sam touched the biometric pad on the case, and heard three soft clicks. He also heard…

[“I called in a favor from...”]

The last time he was in Wakanda, he was on a battlefield just outside of Birnin Zana. The Golden City.

He and his friends were fighting to save…everybody…everywhere…but before the battle he’d gotten a glimpse of the Blackest nation he’d ever seen.

A nation that had never been touched by colonization.

Sam also saw technology he’d thought only existed in Sci-fi movies and books…or maybe in Tokyo, but even far more advanced than that.

T’Challa, the king, introduced him to General Okoye, leader of the elite Royal Guard known as the Dora Milaje.

Sam was also briefly reunited with Steve’s friend Bucky Barnes, who Steve had taken there to Wakanda hoping they had the technological wherewithal to remove HYDRA’s super-assassin programming from his brain.

Apparently they did. They were successful, and two years later, there he was. With what looked to be a brand new arm, Bucky was joining the Wakandans and the Avengers in the fight against Thanos and his forces.

And Sam met T’Challa’s younger sister, Princess Shuri. A Black, teenage, African Princess tech genius who, with her team of scientists, doctors and engineers, freed the brain of mildly annoying, staring, grumpy supersoldier Barnes, who is now his “co-worker”.

(…and who is also now trying to aim those blue eyes of his at my baby sister! )

Shuri was also responsible for, among other things, developing the newest versions of T’Challa’s Vibranium-infused, nanotech, fighting suit.

[“I called in a favor…”]

Sam thought about that battle. How it ended with half the universe, including him and Bucky, turning to ashes one minute, then waking up the next minute…

5 years later.

Like a film clip, images started speeding through his mind: Things he’d experienced, people he’d met, places he’d been from the moment he met Steve Rogers—as they both were doing their morning run around the reflecting pool at the Washington Monument in DC—to now.

All of that…ending up here, back in the house he grew up in, staring at this fancy, high-tech case.

[“I called in a favor from the Wakandans.” ]

(I’m actually gonna do…this.)

He opened the case and took a breath to steady himself.

There was a schematic on the inside of the case’s lid, and what almost looked like some kind of hieroglyphs. Sam couldn’t decipher it, but he immediately knew where it was from.

He lifted the piece of handwoven fabric that seemed to serve two purposes: beauty and function, and he could see metallic threads woven throughout the rich, surprisingly dense protective cloth.

The fabric had Vibranium woven into it, and under it there were three items:

A wing pack like his broken StarkTech one, but lighter in weight. By feel he immediately knew that these wings, like his shield, were made of virtually unbreakable Vibranium.

A neckpiece that was similar to the one he saw T’Challa wear, but not nearly as large, also far less traditional and ceremonial in design.

And a pouch made of the same fabric as the protective cloth. Inside of it was a beautifully carved wooden box holding a bead bracelet like the kind worn by nearly everyone in Wakanda.

He also found a large envelope containing some official-looking paperwork, and a manual for the items in the case.

On the front of the envelope were Wakandan glyphs, and underneath them, it read:

Samuel Wilson - Captain America

He read the opening paragraph of the manual, slipped the bead bracelet (called “kimoyo”) onto his left wrist as instructed, and shortly felt the beads lightly vibrate as his cellphone rang…

* * * * * * * * *

I wrote this a little ficlet a couple of years ago when someone onhere wondered if Sam’s new Cap suit was nanotech, and this was my reply. (Well, this is the slightly longer version of my reply, which was: “Of course it’s nanotech.”)

Thanks for indulging me and reading. (Or rereading.)

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader, White Wolf x f!reader Word Count: 4k Summary: You meet Bucky while you're in Wakanda and you just can't resist his wolfish charms! Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, role-play, oral sex, fingering, biting (mild) Author's note: This is a gift for @samodivaa, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!

You had seen him long before you ever spoke with him. He worked the Alkama Fields on the borders of Wakanda, long strands of brown hair strewn across his face, a small sash tied across his muscular chest. The children called him White Wolf, at least that is what you had overheard. Initially, the adults didn’t speak much about him, preferring to hush you with dismissive gestures.

Your multiple doctorates in anthropology and linguistics had made you one of the top choices to visit the advanced society that had been kept so carefully hidden for so long. King T’Challa had allowed you to visit his kingdom where you would spend a year learning about their culture, languages and history. As soon as you had settled into the guest living quarters you’d been offered, you had gone shopping, wanting to fully immerse yourself into the Wakandan lifestyle and fashion.

It hadn’t taken too long before you had been fully accepted into their society, your cheery demeanor and your willingness to be of assistance to anyone you saw granted you access to places where others may have been shunned as an outsider.

The Dora Milaje had immediately fascinated you, the all-female special forces for Wakanda. They had kindly allowed you to observe their training and you had befriended a few members of the elite squad, including Ayo, Yama and Nomble. It was through them that you learned more about Bucky Barnes. It was only after you heard his name that the memories of the Winter Soldier swam to the forefront of your mind. 

The only reason you had met him was because Ayo had suggested you learn one of the native languages by attending one of the rural schools. You had entered sheepishly and been introduced to the class, who had responded with smiles and waves. It was only when you were directed to a seat in the back that you noticed the supersoldier hunched over and squeezed into a desk in the corner.

He watched your hips swish slightly as you weaved your way between the little bodies dispersed throughout the room. You were wearing your favorite red dress and soon enough it became Bucky's.

*

"I don't normally do this, you know," you smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Bucky held down the button which opened the door to your humble living space, letting you enter before following.

"Do what?" he teased. "Never take strange men home?"

You rolled your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh, nudging him slightly with your elbow as you spoke. "I never let stray dogs into my home. Maybe I ought to put you back outside."

"Out in the cold?" he pouted.

"It doesn't get cold here," you scoffed.

"Well you never know," Bucky shrugged, then flashed you a mischievous grin. "And even if you did, you'd spend all night listening to me scratch and whine at the door. You wouldn't get much sleep."

In Bucky’s mind, the most beautiful sound burst from your lips as you laughed at his words.

"Maybe my puppy dog eyes will work better on you? But be warned, they are pretty powerful," he tilted his head down so his gaze was looking up at yours, lips pouted a little.

"Oh I'm done for now," you feigned a swoon. "Reign it in there buddy, the White Wolf should be using his powers for the greater good."

"I couldn't think of a better cause than being here with you."

You turned around to slip off your shoes while Bucky gazed around at your studio apartment, furnished with some classic Wakandan sofas and woven tapestries adorned the walls. It was beautiful how well the traditional and technological aspects of the culture meshed together.  

"That dress looks pretty special on you, Red."

"Red? You think I'm Little Red Riding Hood?" you asked incredulously.

Bucky shrugged.

"And I suppose that makes you the Big Bad Wolf?"

That made Bucky laugh, a deep unrestrained guffaw. It wasn't a sound you'd heard from him and you wanted to hear it again.

"You think I'm bad?" There was a twinkle in his eye when he voiced the question but there was a touch of hesitation in his voice.

You walked right up to him, until your face was inches away from his, your eyes gazed directly at his lips for a moment or two before you looked up at him and batted your eyelids in a coquettish manner. “I think you can be,” you purred seductively. “You can be big,” you pushed your hand lightly over his crotch, “and bad.” You bit your lip waiting for his response. Every fiber of your being told you that the White Wolf had a wild side, but it was one he kept restrained out of fear of his past. You hope he would trust you to explore it with him.

Slowly but surely, a smile spread across his lips. Bucky tilted his head down to look at you through his eyebrows, a mask of menace painted across his face. “And what brings you to my forest, Red?” he growled.

“I’m sorry for intruding. I was on a little field trip and I think I might be a little lost.” You turned a little to glance around the room in a mock survey of your surroundings. “Do you think you can help me, Mister Wolf?”

Bucky took a step to the side, silent and graceful, creeping around you in a circle, like a predator stalking its prey, sizing you up like his next meal - the curve of your ass, the swell of your breast, the way your throat was highlighted by the neckline of that blood red dress you wore. He was vigilant of your vulnerability, your exposure, his own hunger and desire - the urge to reach out, to touch you, to hold you, to fuck you, was overwhelming.

“You’ll have to pay the price for trespassing in my neck of the woods.”

“But I have nothing to give you, Mister Wolf,” you puffed out your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“How about that pretty red dress you’re wearing? I think that will do very nicely.” Bucky licked his lips, the salacious intent audible in his tone.

“But this is my favorite dress,” you whined.

“Give me the dress, Red. Or I’ll eat you up.”

Bucky took a step forward, towering over you. Even with one arm missing he had a presence, a presence which made your heart flutter uncontrollably. Your breath hitched as you caught a whiff of his scent, his own earthy musk mingled with a hit of sweat from having worked on the fields all day. You could feel your body responding to his proximity as beads of sweat erupted from your skin and the space between your legs throbbed with a desire to be filled. It was as though you craved his touch. He took another step closing the remaining distance between you.

You were so distracted by his closeness that you almost missed him repeating his question. “The dress, Red. Or would you prefer I eat you?”

“What’s to stop you from eating me even after I’ve given you my dress?”

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

You spun around slowly, allowing Bucky the time to admire your curves. You bit back the moan that tried to escape as his fingers brushed your hips as you turned. He slid them across your waist, trailing them up your back until they landed on the zipper on the back. He pinched the tiny pull between his fingers and tugged it downwards but it barely moved. He tried again with little success. His nose was so pressed so close to your ear that you could hear the quiet growl of frustration in his throat.

“You need help back there, Mister Wolf?”

“No!” he barked, taking the zipper pull between his teeth, while his hand supported the lacy material.

The top of your dress fell from your shoulders in an instant exposing your back and bra. The rest followed with ease, pooling to the floor in a shimmering heap. Bucky smiled, the way your muscles flexed in response to your exposure. He couldn’t help but noticed a dark patch on the front of your panties and how you pushed back into him as he came up behind you.

“You have my dress now, Mister Wolf. Can I go now?” you whimpered.

Bucky wrapped his hand around his waist. “I want more, Red. I want your body.”

It was almost involuntary, how your body responded to his words. You pushed back into him, grinding onto the swell in his pants. Bucky ached, for you to kiss him, for you to let him devour you. He held you closer.

You hummed, “what big arms you have.”

“The better to hold you with.” He covered your breast with his giant palm, kneading your flesh with a longing that had you clenching involuntarily. 

He nibbled your ear and you couldn’t hold your moans in any longer. “Ohh Mister Wolf, what big teeth you have!”

“The better to eat you with.”

You squealed loudly as Bucky’s arm enveloped your waist and lifted you clean off the ground. He practically threw you onto the large round beanbag armchair, your landing softened by the multitude of cushions which cradled your fall.

“No more teasing, Red. You’re going to have to pay with more than that sexy dress.”

He straddled your hips, hovering over you, trapping you. Your body’s instinct was to struggle but it was in vain. His weight had you pinned helplessly to the couch, his throbbing cock pushed against your core. Soaked panties, wet lips, grinding hips. His fist was in your hair as he held you up to his chest. He kissed you, hard - long and deep. It felt like he was sucking the air right out of your lungs. 

“Please, Mister Wolf.” You had no idea what you were begging for at this point, words strewn with lust. “What are you going to do to me?”

The way you looked under him had Bucky seriously testing his control, his cock now painfully hard and straining against the tight material of his pants. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in you, to stretch you out, to hear you scream his name. That animal instinct that he had buried deep inside was clawing its way to the surface, you’d woken the beast and it was hungry after all its years of slumber. You had freed the wolf and now you would feed it.

Bucky grinned at you devilishly. “I’m going to eat you. As stunning as your lips taste, I have my eyes on something sweeter.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he trailed his tongue down your neck, stopping around your breast to suck and nibble at your nipple. Your whole body tingled under his ministrations.

You moaned loudly, no restraint in conveying your pleasure. "More."

"What was that, Red?"

"I want more, Mister Wolf. I've been a bad girl."

He breathed in your perfume, it permeated his nostrils, but he had caught another scent which had attracted his attention, the scent of your arousal. Suddenly he was on his knees on the floor with a grip on your waist, firm but not painful. And the way his fingers curved under your pelvis and pulled you down with ease had you writhing desperately. You lifted your hips expectantly and he ripped off your skimpy panties, exposing you to his salivating mouth. His teeth grazed his lower lip, tongue coating them with the product of his ravenous appetite.

“Please?” you whispered. A hint of uncertainty in your voice as he hovered over you with the stillness of a dangerous predator waiting to pounce.

He smiled, the lecherous glint in his eyes replaced with one of kindness, almost affectionate. He took your left ankle in his hand, lifting your leg, guiding it up and out until he had room to hook his shoulder under your knee. He glanced up at you and nodded his head at your other leg indicating that he wanted you to do the same. You didn’t need to be told twice and matched his actions, linking your feet together on his back.

Immediately his mouth was on your lips with a yearning of a man starved of passion. He licked the full length of them with his broad tongue before pushing his nose between them, nuzzling your pussy with the growing stubble on his chin. He blew against your clit.

“Fuck Bucky, what was that?” you cried, breaking from your character. Impatience and frustration dripped off your words. “Eat me, damn it!”

“What’s the matter, Red? You sound desperate.”

“Please,” you whispered. It was a thinly veiled plea and for once, Bucky was happy to comply.

One last look into your lustblown eyes and he lowered his head, attention focused on you. You tasted of salt and honey with a hint of lemon. He pushed a finger between your folds, tantalizingly rubbing it along the length of your slit before pushing it deep into you. With each thrust he added another digit, testing your stretch.

“Tongue,” you mumbled.

“Mmmm?” Bucky hummed.

“Use your mouth,” you enunciated.

“Your wish is my command,” he grinned.

“Talk less, lick more.”

Bucky pried you apart and planted his lips firmly over your clit, sucking your sweet nectar into his mouth. His tongue lapped you as he slid his fingers in and out.

“Yes, yes, just like that,” you closed your eyes and moaned, tilting your hips to let his fingers push deeper inside you. 

He pressed his face closer, wanting a taste of every part of you. Finally withdrawing his fingers when he couldn’t quite fit both. You barely had time to whine about feeling empty as he grabbed your hips and pulled you right into his face, licking and sucking as though his life depended on drinking every drop of your precious elixir.

You moaned - it was so long and sensual that Bucky felt it inside him. He felt the wolf inside him rising to the surface. He had spent years watching; relentless, trying to find his way inside. You had let him in and now he finally felt alive. He growled, a deep guttural sound which filled you as he devored you. His head undulated as he tried to encompass you with his mouth, upper lip covering your clit as his jaw stretched and tongue pushed inside you. He ravaged you until he had no air left in his lungs.

Bucky’s cock throbbed as he felt the way you clenched against him. He slid his fingers back inside you, his other hand pulling apart your lips and exposing your clit to a fresh assault from his tongue. He could feel your clit pulse, your walls close in around him as he curled his fingers upwards to match the beat you had set with your heart. He was playing you like an instrument and the whimpers and groans that left your lips was music to his ears.

You pushed yourself on him and he ate you like a ravenous creature until-

“Oh Buck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna - Buck, Buck!” Your voice rose in a crescendo. Legs shaking as you tightened and clenched around his thick fingers. “I’m coming, Bucky, I’m coming! Now!”

Bucky watched you as every single one of your muscles contracted and relaxed as waves of pleasure crashed through you, eyes rolled back and mouth open in a silent cry of ecstasy.

As you finally came down from your high, you opened your eyes, locking your gaze on his. You lay on your back, limp and naked and tingling all over. Sighing, as the aftermath of your climax finally ebbed away. You lifted your legs off Bucky’s shoulders and patted the space beside you. There was no hesitation as he crawled up beside you.

"That was kinda intense," you smiled at him.

"I wouldn't mind seconds," he smirked, eyes wandering over your face.

You sat up and for a brief frightening moment, Bucky thought you had had enough. But you stretched your arms and arched your back slightly before turning to face him. “So, you think I can take the Wolf for a ride?”

You placed your hand over his still covered cock, rubbing your hand over the tent in his pants making him gasp at your touch. Reflexively, his hips bucked into your hand. “Maybe I should get my pants off first?”

“Sounds like a good plan,” you answered, not taking your hands off him.

Bucky sat up so that his face was inches from yours. “Just need a moment, Red.”

He was up in an instant, lamenting the loss of contact of your hand on his crotch. He unbuttoned and dropped his pants with ease, before turning to face you. The sharp breath you took as you came face to face with his fully freed cock did a lot to stroke his ego. He reveled in the brightness of anticipation in your eyes.

“You really like your Wolf, huh?”

For the first time a blush crossed your cheeks and you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Bucky took a step closer so that there was nowhere for you to avert your gaze. 

"May I?" You looked up at him for permission. 

He nodded, heart pounding from the thought of your touch.

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, feeling him jump with excitement. "That feel good, Mister Wolf?" A sudden surge of confidence had you feeling aroused again.

"Need more, Red."

You didn't need to be told twice. His already leaking tip looked too tantalizing and you were eager to taste your Wolf. With the same enthusiasm, you took him into your mouth, starting with a few soft licks, before sucking hard. Bucky thought he was going to come right at that moment.

“Red, w-wait!” he stuttered as the waves of pleasure encompassed him.

There was a faint popping sound as you released him from your mouth, looking up at him with an all knowing smile. He sat down beside you, spending the next few moments in an intimate silence with light touches. As his breathing became less ragged, you placed your palms on his chest, pushing him down onto his back. You climbed over and straddled his lap so that your entrance brushed over the base of his cock.

You leaned down and whispered in his ear. "So is my White Wolf going to let me ride him?"

Bucky's pupils dilated so fast that the image of you blurred slightly. It was only when you came back into focus that he was able to growl out the words. "I want you."

He held himself up as you lined your entrance up to his leaking member, slowly sinking down and basking in the stretch you felt. So much more than what his fingers had given you, you wondered if he would tear you in half. After a few careful thrusts, you picked up the pace, riding him with vigor.

"Fuck, Red, you feel so good!" Bucky looked up at you.

You were a sight to behold, flushed with strands of sweat coated hair strewn across your face. But it was your eyes that had him mesmerized, the way you looked back at him with voracity laced with a tenderness he hadn't seen in years.

"Harder!"

You complied with his request, matching your bounces with a thrust of his hips. Bucky admired the way your breasts followed your movements, unable to resist the urge, he reached up to squeeze your left nipple. 

After several minutes of energetic thrusting, Bucky caught you slowing down. He slipped his hand down to your waist in an attempt to stay your movements. 

"Can we try something different?” you asked, breathing heavily as you leaned forwards to pull air into your burning lungs and ease the pain in your aching thighs.

“Just gimme a few more. ‘M close.”

“Trust me, Mister Wolf? I wanna give something else a try.”

He removed his grip from your waist, watching as you climbed off his lap and crawled over to the arm rest and planted your hands firmly on it. You looked over your shoulder and wiggled your ass at him.

"Mount me, Mister Wolf."

Bucky didn't need to be told twice. He splayed his fingers across one cheek of your beautifully round ass and kneaded the muscle as you pushed back towards him, waiting with anticipation for him to enter you. But Bucky’s inner wolf had been freed and he let its spirit guide him. He leant forwards and sank his teeth into your other cheek, deep enough for you to yelp with pain but not enough to break your skin. He proceeded to cover the area with his lips in an attempt to kiss it better.

"You want to mark me?"

"You're mine, Red. All mine. Got that?" He rubbed his cock against your leaking lips.

“Yo-”

Before you had the chance to finish giving him an answer, he was inside you. One swift thrust. The cry that left your lips was much more pained and Bucky worried for a moment that his strength had been too much for you.

"It's fine, keep going. Fuck me, please."

Bucky was a little more careful on the second try, but each trust made him more confident, aided and abetted by your lusty moans and encouraging words.

“Bucky-”

“You sound so pretty like that,” he pushed into you repeatedly. “Whining and moaning my name.”

“Bucky!”

“What happened to your Wolf?”

"Please… Bucky… please, I need you,, you know I'm aching for you to take me, to pull me apart, whatever pleases you, just… please just don't deny me!”

It felt so fucking good, having Bucky’s cock inside you. Your brain was nothing but mush, focused solely on just how good he felt inside you. You shuddered, your hips pushing backwards as Bucky presses against your clit. His fingers smooth out around your folds, pressing into them slightly, as if holding them open so he can push into you better. You felt your arms going weak at the stimulation, it was getting harder to support yourself as Bucky pushed deeper and deeper inside you.

“Faster!” you cried, but you could barely hear your own words over the sound of skin slapping together, the wet sounds of Bucky’s cock thrusting in and out of you.

“Fuck, Red, I’m getting close…”

"…Ohhh fuck, please," you gasped out, instinctively. "Buck… I need you. But… I'm yours, all yours…"

Your legs trembled as Bucky’s words had you teetering on the edge of your orgasm, your juices covering his cock, his thrusts were passionate, wild, frenzied.

“That’s right. Mine! I’m going to fill you up. That’s it, Red. Come on my cock. I want to hear you come.”

Raucous moans caught in your throat, your eyes closed as you took in all of Bucky. Your vision clouded and your body felt limp as he pushed you over the edge once again. It felt as though the world had ceased to exist except for the two of you, together, as one being. Bucky held you close as you squeezed his cock triggering his climax. With a howl, ropes of white hot cum shot from him, filling you until it was dripping out of you and down your leg. He fell into you and you both collapsed onto the sofa, heavy breathing was the only sound to be heard in the room for several minutes.

Finally you caught your breath, recovered some semblance of feeling in your limbs. Bucky’s arm was still wrapped around your waist in a powerful embrace and he hadn't made any moves to extract himself from inside you.

"I should probably be getting back," Bucky mumbled regrettably after a long silence.

But neither of you made a move to free yourselves from the other's arms.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Let's Talk About That

Our love's misaligned 'cause you're on my mind every night (9)

Psychiatrist!Avenger!fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: What is to be the fate of the one with the power stone?

Word Count: 1.9K

Warning: Angst, violence, gore, medical procedures, medical talk, emotional distress

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me and now it's time for the final chapter

Before our descent into Wakanda, about half an hour out, Wanda roused you from your slumber, causing you to jolt awake with your purple magic instinctively surging in defense. "Y/N, it's just me. You're safe," she reassured you as you struggled to catch your breath, your magic fading away as quickly as it had emerged.

"Sorry, Wands..." you muttered, rubbing your temples. "Ughhhhh... Never let me do that again... My head's all fuzzy, and my dreams felt too real." Wanda's touch on your cheek brought you back to the present, her expression softening with concern.

"Okay. I won't. Time to get you ready. Suit up," she instructed before standing up and leaving the room. You sighed, looking down at your costume, feeling the weight of our impending mission settling upon you as you reluctantly donned it.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts, and Tasha's voice followed. "Hey, it's me. Can I come in?" she asked. You welcomed her inside with a nod, using your magic to open the door as she entered, a smile lighting up her face.

"Have I ever told you how hot you look in your outfit?" Tasha teased, walking over to sit on your lap.

"Yeah, but you could stand to mention it more," You smirked, leaning in to meet her kiss with passion and love, allowing yourself to lose yourself in her embrace as if it were your last moment together.

==================

Vision and you walked flanking Wanda, each on one side of her. Her arm rested on Vision's lower back, her hand on your side holding your hand. You tried to keep your grip gentle as the three of you made your way to the Wakandan medical center. The advanced technology on display was unlike anything you had seen before, a testament to the hidden marvels within Wakanda.

In the medical center, Vision and you were laid on separate beds, subjected to examinations utilizing technology beyond even your comprehension. Shuri, T'Challa's brilliant younger sister, took the lead in explaining our unique situations.

"Their structures are polymorphic," Shuri observed. "For Vision, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially. For Y/N, the power stone seemed to do that on its own, attaching itself in such a way to sustain itself, since the stone appeared to seek her out specifically."

Shuri directed a question towards Bruce, "Why didn't you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?"

Bruce, admitting the oversight, replied sheepishly, "Because we didn't think of it."

Your chuckle was abruptly cut off by a sharp look and a whack from Wanda. The room shifted to serious discussion as Shuri addressed the matter at hand.

"Can you do it?" Wanda asked about Vision's procedure.

"Yes, but there are more than two trillion neurons here. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures. It will take time, brother," Shuri responded.

"How long?" Cap inquired.

"As long as you can give me," she stated.

Concerned about your own fate, you tentatively asked, "What about me?"

Shuri explained, "For you, one of our top cardiac surgeons will be overseeing your procedure."

Feeling a wave of numbness, you sat up, biting your lip, leaning against Natasha for support. This stone has been a part of you for years now. You feel like you’re going to loose a huge part of who you are. Wanda's hand squeezed your thigh, her voice in your head reassuring you. She had read your thoughts.

"That's not true," she insisted. "Even without the super strength or some of the abilities, you can still see auras and emotions. You can give and take those things, still help people. Your voice can soothe or shatter eardrums at will. You are so much more than this." Her hand touched the stone, and you placed yours over hers.

"Thank you, Wanda," You whispered, offering her a small but appreciative smile for her comforting words.

Lying on the operating table during open-heart surgery was an experience you wouldn't wish upon anyone. The knowledge that you needed to be conscious in case of emergency was little comfort as the procedure unfolded. The sterile surroundings and the hushed voices of the medical team did little to ease your nerves.

As the surgeons began to cut you open, you couldn't feel the incision, but the sound of the instruments slicing through flesh sent shivers down your spine. It was a surreal sensation, knowing that your body was being operated on while you remained awake and alert.

The worst part came when they began to remove the tendrils of the stone that had wrapped themselves around your heart and lungs. The sickening sound of sinews being torn away made your stomach churn, and you felt every jolt and tug as they detached from your organs. Each movement seemed to reverberate through your body, leaving you feeling nauseous and disoriented.

Despite the discomfort, you forced yourself to remain still, knowing that any sudden movement could jeopardize the delicate procedure. So you lay there, trying to focus on your breathing and block out the unpleasant sounds and sensations, praying that it would all be over soon.

As the doctor informed you that we were nearing the end of the surgery, your attention shifted to Wanda, who was making her way towards the windows. The distant sounds of battle outside served as a stark reminder of the chaos unfolding beyond the confines of the medical facility.

Wanda rushed over to Vision first, her actions filled with urgency and determination. She clasped his hand and pressed a tender kiss to it before turning her attention to you. Confusion filled your mind as you watched her approach, uncertain of her intentions.

"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice betraying the worry that gnawed at your insides.

"I have to go help them," she replied, her gaze flickering with determination.

"No, Wanda, you can't," You pleaded, desperation lacing your words. You couldn't bear the thought of her leaving you alone, especially in your vulnerable state.

But Wanda's resolve remained unwavering as she leaned down to kiss your forehead, her touch soothing yet filled with determination.

"I'm going to keep you safe," she whispered softly before hastily leaving the room.

Left behind in the sterile silence of the medical facility, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you. Wanda's absence left a gaping void, and the weight of uncertainty pressed down on you as you awaited the outcome of the battle raging outside.

No sooner had Wanda left one of the aliens you had fought earlier reappeared, its presence sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through you. Without hesitation, you slapped your hand back over the stone, returning it to its rightful place, despite the agony that shot through your body. The wound slowly began to heal, the tendrils once again enveloping your heart and lungs.

"Ready for round two, big boy?" you snarled at the alien, your voice laced with defiance and determination. A flicker of fear passed through its eyes as you rose to your feet, your fists clenched and ready for battle.

"Shuri, keep working on Vision. I can handle this," you called back over your shoulder, your focus solely on the adversary before you. With a powerful push off the ground, you lunged forward, your fist connecting with its face with a resounding impact, sending it hurtling through the air once again.

As the alien staggered, you wasted no time in following up, launching yourself into the air and delivering a double hammer fist that sent us crashing down to the ground below. The force of the impact reverberated through your bones, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the pain, knowing that you had to protect your friends and allies at all costs.

As the two of you spun and grappled amidst the trees, the alien managed to get hold of your stone, sending a jolt of agony through you that momentarily stunned your senses. Before you could react, it kicked me back with tremendous force, sending you sprawling to the ground.

You scrambled to regain your footing, but before you could fully recover, a colossal alien loomed over you, wielding a giant axe with deadly intent. With lightning speed, it brought the weapon down, and you barely had time to react before the blade struck you with brutal force.

Agony exploded through your side as the axe punctured your flesh, sending searing pain radiating through every nerve in your body. With a sharp gasp, you clutched at the wound, desperately trying to keep your insides from spilling out as darkness threatened to engulf your vision.

Wanda came flying down as your body began to heal itself. “Are you okay?” She asked concern evident in her voice and on her features as she reached you. Her hand flying to meet yours that covered your wound while the other held your cheek.

Searing pain ripped through you as your body tried to cinch itself back together. Your stone glowing bright purple in its efforts of putting it’s host back together. Then another wave of pain hits as your chest tightens up. The alien sinews of the power stone clenching up around your heart and lungs. Breathing feeling impossible.

“What? What is it love?” The fear for your safety evident in her voice. You looked around frantic until your eyes met hers.

“He’s here.” You managed out through labored short breaths. Everything felt still for a moment.

Wanda stood up, readying her powers, a red scarlet orb in between her hands. As your body healed enough that you no longer needed to hold it you stood up. Gripping her arm as she looked back at you.

“Together.” You asked, searching those sea glass eyes you’d fallen in love with the moment you looked into them.

“Together. Always.” She responded. Vision flew down beside you two. The mind stone no longer on his forehead.

“Is it destroyed?” You ask.

“Yes. Shuri took care of it.” A sigh of relief comes from both you and Wanda as Thanos appears before the three of you.

As your other teammates fought along side of you none of them were a match until he got to you and Wanda. You had him on his tails until he used the time stone to move backwards just enough to grab the mind stone from Shuri before it could be destroyed and then your stone. Picking you up by your neck and tearing it out of your chest.

Nothing could have prepared you for that. Your body unprepared as the tendrils pull and snap away. A crater left in your chest as you struggle to breath and stay conscious. Wanda holding you and begging as tears fell from her eyes and onto you.

“Please Y/N...please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry for everything that happened. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I never let you explain it. Please don’t leave me like this. Please stay with me. I’ll make everything right I swear, I promise you.” Her voice is cracking and you can faintly see Natasha behind her. You can feel the smile come up on your lips though you don’t feel your hand reach up and touch her cheek. Brushing away a stray tear from her cheek.

“I’ll love you till the day that I die.”

The words sound like you’re underwater and the world around you starts to shrink as white invades your vision and your hearing starts to go.

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

dear sweet m if you end up writing about bucky with a vibrating arm can i pretty please be tagged?? (i don’t know if you do taglists, i couldn’t find anything that indicated either way, totally fine if not!)

Ah yes, Bucky and his vibrating arm. I’ve been hinting at it for ages. And you’d be surprised to find out…

There is no reason for the Wakandans to give the arm some extra functions. So any other vibrations than the mild ones from the inside mechanics were unnecessary. But as we’ve seen from Bucky ever since the 1940’s, he’s quite fascinated by technology himself. Also quite skilled with that brain of his. And as mentioned a while ago, this man has the sexual curiosity of a teenage boy – especially after everything that has happened to him.

So it took him some time to perfect using tools with just one hand, but he has managed to add in some extra functions to his arm. Peeling away at the vibranium carefully and programming some new things into the limb. Some things functioning as an element of surprise in battle, yes, but some functioning as an element of surprise in bed.

The first time he tried it on himself, he had taken a few deep breaths before activating it, squeezing his cock in his metal fist and supressing a low grunt. He had already been so close and had been edging himself for a while. He’d been throbbing and the artificial nerves in his metal arm could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat pulsing through his cock. How had he gotten so nervous doing this all of a sudden? It was a lot, but God, he’d needed to come! It had been unbearable, the need for release. Almost as unbearable as the thought of finishing it the way he normally would.

So he had turned on the added function, the vibrations rising carefully to a steady buzz the way he had programmed it, and the noise that sprang from his mouth had been borderline pornographic.

And he couldn’t stop. Moaning and whimpering as his palm vibrated against the hilt of his cock, he had barely managed to squeeze and pull his hand up to the aching tip of himself. Definitely hadn’t managed more than two pulls before he had spilled months of pent up frustration onto his toned chest with a helpless cry as the vibrations dimmed and he pulled himself through his vision-blackening orgasm.

And as much as he loved using the hidden feature, he hadn’t yet used it on a bed partner. It felt too intimate, too controlling for some reason. Until you, of course.

Because yes, Bucky has a kink for corruption and even though he knows there’s little left of you to corrupt, the small nudges out of your comfort zone felt like drugs to him. The man loves to be on his knees for you, worship the ground you walk on, but there are few things better than getting you to submit to him. Even fewer than ruining the sheets below you while he is still dressed.

And tonight, you looked beautiful. Sinful in the classiest way. He’d suffered through wearing a tuxedo to the party, as long as you felt confident next to him. And in turn, he felt powerful next to you. It was one of those moments where Bucky’s heart swelled three sizes because he realised that you both make each other want to be better. In the big things, but also the small things like tonight. Looking good, charming people, bragging about each other and hyping up one another. He was in cloud nine and it was about time he paid you back for it.

You are already breathing heavily, draped on your shared bed with your dress discarded and your heels still on. Your hair messy and makeup smudged slightly. Your skin is throbbing and flushed and the ache between your legs is nearly numbing. You stare up at the ceiling lazily, coming down from another Bucky-induced high as he prowls around the bed and watches you – jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“I’ll never get enough of making you come, you know,” he says before he once again climbs over you. Kisses are pressed to your belly, your breasts, your neck. You almost purr at the feeling. “And I will always look for new ways to get it done. New ways to make you feel better.”

You want to tell him you already feel great, fight him on it, tell him there is nothing he needs to compensate for. But you’re so dazed and selfishly, you love it when he talks to you like this. It makes goosebumps prickle over your skin. And Bucky laughs softly at the sight, teasingly trailing fingers up your damp inner thighs. You shudder at the touch.

He continues, “But tonight… Shit. You looked so beautiful. So tempting. I want to use all of my ways on you. I want to make you come and moan and scream until you are nothing but a puddle of sweat and tears and come.” You whine softly at his words and drape your hands over his neck, urging him closer. He breathes onto your lips, “I want it all from you. Forever. Give me everything, baby. I know you can–”

The surge of vibrations against you cunt is so much, you gasp for air and freeze all the same. You try to snap your legs shut, but Bucky’s body is keeping you from it. You open your mouth to say something, but everything has left you. Thoughts, words, willpower – it’s all gone. Your body tightens and loosens, pleasure unfurling throughout it like light in a glowstick.

Involuntarily, your hips buck and grind against his hand and the sounds that escape you are torturous. You feel Bucky’s smirk burning over your skin and you only barely manage to look down.

You’ve used toys before, but these vibrations… It feels like the toy is made for you, rolling over every single nerve of your clit so precisely it feels out of this world.

And as you look down, Bucky’s gaze follows, and you see three of his metal fingers rolling over your clit. You let out a moan at the sight – a sound Bucky answers with a deep groan of his own. Nothing will boost his confidence more than your responses to him. Especially when he knows there is no room left in your brain to overthink the responses. These are purely natural. Needy and appreciative.

The two of you look at his hand in trance, breaths and moans fanning over Bucky’s cheek. And then he slips two fingers into your soaked core, curling them up against your swollen walls and the both of you let out a carnal groan, your hands clutching him tighter.

Oh shit, oh shit…

“B-Bucky,” you gasp and he presses a kiss to your temple in answer. You sigh and close your eyes, sinking into the sheets as he pushes and pushes against the growing bubble in your belly. Rolling a vibrating thumb over your clit and pushing vibrating fingers against your deepest spot.

“Give it to me,” he murmurs, but he sounds rushed. Impatient. Like there is nothing in the world he wants more than to have you fall apart for him. Nothing more than feeling you squeeze around him again. He watches it build. Something big, something neither of you can come back from. He watches you nearly vibrate yourself with pleasure as the pleasure builds, and builds, and builds–

And when you burst, Bucky watches you lose yourself entirely to him. More importantly, only three fingers from him. And he wonders how you would look and sound if you lost yourself to him entirely. In love, in pleasure, in need, in life–  

Aaaand he wonders if he could do this in public.

[naomis-daydream]

on the throne // shuri udaku

summary: just read tbh….ok fine i’ll explain😒. being queen comes with a load of royal responsibilities; from border patrol, to technological advancements, and everything in between. though wakanda’s ruler realizes there’s a special someone she’s been neglecting. shuri’s come up short, and her wife’s coming to collect what’s hers.

warnings: pregnant!wife!reader. descriptions of pregnancy (obvs), teeny weeny bit of oral (shuri receiving). barely proofread.

a/n: this is the product of baby fever and ovulation😜 also this is a draft from forever ago, it kinda sucks so im dropping it under the cloak of night🥷🏽.

there were many things shuri loved about your body.

your hands, for instance. they always offered her a soothing rub or relaxing touch whenever she became stressed or overwhelmed with the weight of the crown. or something soft to hold as you spent evenings watching the wakandan sunset from the palace garden.

then there were your arms. shuri found that she only slept peacefully when yours were wrapped tightly around her middle. and if the royal ever woke to realize you rolled away, she’d assure she wiggled her way back into your grasp.

and bast your thighs. if the queen could spend the rest of her days between them, the soft, plush cushions, there’d be absolutely no resistance from the panther.

now it was worse, and it was all your fault. it was one of the many nights the queen spent inside you. somewhere between when she slowly pushed into you and when she brought you nearing your third high of the night, you had joked about her getting you pregnant. something about her having the genius and the looks to make a great gene pool. “fill me up, my queen,” you uttered, “give it to me. i want all of you.” you we’re fucking tantalizing.

it didn’t help that she had the science to make what originated as a lustful thought a reality.

now, seven months later, everything she loved about you only grew as your body changed. your natural curves only hypnotized her more as your hips widened and breasts swelled.

shuri also couldn’t help but smile when you wobbled cutely around your shared home due to the swell of your ankles, and while you refused to be helped with an act as simple as walking, you would feign resistance to shuri’s pleads to ease your pain before caving to let her massage your aching joints.

but the absolute worst part was the hormones. the cravings that made shuri tip-toe into the kitchen for you well after midnight, the hot flashes that would cause you to walk practically bare around the palace, and your sex drive, yours nearly matched that of her’s when she took the herb. though, only two of those things seemed to be prevailing today, where the only thing separating you from her was the thinnest dresses. it wasn’t unusual for you to forgo a bra this late into your pregnancy, but it seemed you’d forgotten any undergarments at all today as you sat on the lap of the queen, grinding helplessly into her thigh.

“yiza, mntwana,” you purred. come on, baby. “let me touch you.”

your wife squirmed from her place on the throne, hands on your hips as she guided you. you trailed your lips down her jaw to land on her pulse point before sucking intently.

while you were preoccupied, the woman took the chance to glance at the clock in the room, hissing slightly when noticing the time and when you sunk your teeth into her flesh. you were going to ruin her, she knew that much. the sad part is, she was gonna let you.

“the elders,” she whined, finding words rather hard when you moaned against her. “our meeting, they’ll be here in minutes!”

you pause your movements to lean up to her ear, whispering, “fuck the meeting.”

shuri threw her head back, sinking further into the the chair and further into the trap you set in motion the minute you walked into the room.

you always started by entering with a sweet smile, followed by asking her how her day was or what project she was working on. then you’d begin rubbing her shoulders, kissing her neck while muttering sweet nothings and telling her she worked too hard. “let me take care of you,” you’d say, “you deserve to feel good, don’t you wanna feel good?” and soon shuri would end up on her back, eyes wide shut as her legs were thrown over your shoulders and your fingers snug between her walls.

this time was different though. it had to be. the council meeting was nearing by the minute, and you showed no signs of waving the white flag.

“entle,” she began, licking her lips as she spoke. “i-i really think we should wait.” you continued to kiss her, attaching your lips to whatever skin you could reach as shuri continues. “once it’s over we can do whatever you want, my love.” her hands run over the curve of your ass, squeezing gently.

you pulled away from her, hands still cupping her cheeks. “i wanna do whatever i want now.”

“i know. i promise i-i’ll make it up to you.” she says, tilting her head up to look at you before placing a soft kiss to your lips. it’s sweet, the taste of her, and as much as you wanted more, she pulls away. “you better,” you scolded, “you’re the one who did this to me anyway.” you nod your head down to your stomach, stretching against the fabric of your maxi dress. the hormones had been driving you insane. and it didn’t help that shuri spent so much time away with all her new duties. this left you to take care of your own needs more often than you’d like to admit. you needed her. to feel her. while it might seem like you were caving, her majesty should’ve known better than too assume her wife would back down so easily.

your words bring a smile to shuri’s lips, a laugh escaping her as you sigh while you rise off of her, giving her a full view of your bump as you do so.

“whatever you want, mama.”

you hum a lazy response as your queen visibly relaxes, no longer antsy with your aroused antics. though she wasn’t in the clear just yet, you came here for a reason, and wouldn’t leave unfulfilled.

a simple idea sprouts in your head, and soon, a mischievous smile dances across your features as you reach back to unclasp your necklace. shuri raises a brow in question, but remains silent as you both watch the dainty jewelry slide down your chest and onto the floor, right between her feet.

“oops.”

the royal shakes her head, already having a clue of where this was headed. but you’re already sinking to your knees, eyes never leaving hers.

you rub your palms along the fabric of her black dress, reaching just below her knees. you play with the hem, eyeing the fickle fabric before tracing your fingertips higher. and higher. and high-

“thandiwe.” she warned.

beloved. how wholesome a name in contrast to your actions upon her. you peered up at her, batting your lashes at her. “yes, my queen?”

“we have ten minutes before our meeting-”

“i’ve made you come in less,” you continue, hooking your fingers around her underwear.

shuri wanted to protest, she really did, and she tried to. she mutters tiny objections at first, and you almost believe them, but the way she lifted her hips to help you remove her underwear, the way she whined when you tugged her to the throne’s edge, and the way she threw her head back with the first stripe you licked up her center told you all you needed to know. let’s face it, she knew she was done for the minute you walked in the room.

you begin to place gentle kisses to her clit, giving her a little stimulation, but not quite enough for her liking. shuri shudders above you, legs shaking gently. she began to realize just how long it’d been since the two of you had sex.

“still want me to stop?” you asked, tongue twirling around her entrance, to which she moaned in response. a light chuckle escapes your lips. “i’ll take that as a no.”

[vvinirl]

bucky. b

fluff

bucky barnes arrived in wakanda under the cover of night, his mind a chaotic mess of memories and triggers implanted by hydra. the wakandan air felt fresh, a stark contrast to the dark and cold places he had been before. he was here to be freed, to finally break the chains that had bound his mind for so long

bucky was escorted to the research facility where shuri awaited, accompanied by a team of scientists. among them was you, a dedicated scientist specializing in neurological rehabilitation. you had been working with shuri on various advanced technologies, and your expertise was crucial for bucky’s recovery

“welcome, sergeant barnes” you said with a warm smile, trying to put him at ease. “we’re here to help you”

bucky looked at you with wary eyes but nodded, trusting that wakanda, a place of unmatched technological marvel, might finally bring him peace

the first few weeks were intense. shuri led the efforts, using a combination of technology and traditional wakandan methods to deprogram bucky’s mind. you were responsible for the one-on-one sessions, a crucial part of his mental recovery. these sessions involved talking through his past, helping him distinguish his true memories from the ones hydra had implanted

at first, bucky was resistant. his trust in people had been shattered long ago. but your patience and kindness slowly broke down his walls. you listened without judgment, providing a safe space for him to express his fears and frustration

furing one session, bucky looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “why are you doing this for me?” he asked

you smiled softly. “everyone deserves a chance to be free, bucky. and I believe you have the strength to overcome this”

as the weeks passed, the bond between you and bucky grew stronger. you found solace in each other's company, your shared moments becoming the highlight of your days

you discovered that beneath his hardened exterior, bucky was kind, thoughtful, and fiercely protective of those he cared about. he, in turn, admired your intelligence, compassion, and unwavering determination to help him heal

one evening, after a particularly grueling session, you found yourselves sitting under the stars, the serene wakandan night sky providing a moment of respite

"thank you" bucky said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "for everything. i don't think i could have made it this far without you”

you smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "you're stronger than you give yourself credit for, bucky. and i'm honored to be a part of your journey”

the day finally came when the results of your and shuri's efforts bore fruit. the final sequence of codes that held hydra's control over bucky's mind was neutralized, freeing him at last

as the realization dawned on him, bucky turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. "i'm free" he whispered, as if afraid to believe it

you nodded, tears of joy glistening in your eyes. "yes, you are"

without thinking, bucky closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. the world seemed to fade away as you held each other, the connection that had been growing between you culminating in this perfect moment

as you pulled back slightly, bucky looked into your eyes, his gaze intense yet tender. "i couldn't have done this without you” he said, his voice filled with emotion. "you mean more to me than you'll ever know”

you smiled, your heart full. "and you mean the world to me, bucky”

with that, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, heartfelt kiss. it was a promise of new beginnings, a testament to the love that had blossomed between you during his journey to freedom

in wakanda, under the watchful eyes of the stars, you and bucky found not just healing, but a future filled with hope, love, and endless possibilities

months after bucky’s recovery, you and bucky were living peacefully in wakanda. the serene environment allowed your relationship to flourish, and soon, you discovered you were expecting a child. overjoyed, you planned to share the news with bucky after his mission to help captain america

but then, everything changed. thanos arrived. his forces overwhelmed the avengers, and the snap wiped out half the universe. bucky was gone, disintegrated into nothing right before your eyes. you were left alone, heartbroken, and pregnant

determined to bring bucky back and ensure a future for your unborn child, you joined the Avengers in their fight against thanos. with a fierce resolve, you used your scientific knowledge and wakandan technology to support the team. every battle, every challenge, you faced with the hope that one day, you would see bucky again

years passed and your son james was born. he grew up in a world without his father, but you told him stories of bucky, of his bravery and kindness. the fight to reverse the snap continued, and with each passing day, your determination grew stronger

the day of the final battle arrived. the avengers assembled, ready to face thanos and his army once and for all. the fight was brutal, but you fought with a ferocity fueled by love and the promise of reuniting with bucky. when the moment came, and iron man made the ultimate sacrifice, the snap was undone

and then, there he was. bucky emerged from the chaos, alive and whole. tears streamed down your face as you ran to him, your heart bursting with joy. he saw you, and a smile spread across his face as he opened his arms, pulling you into a tight embrace

“i thought i’d lost you” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion

“i’m here,” you replied, holding him tightly. “and there’s someone else you need to meet”

after a few days with repairing all the damages made by thanos and tony stark’s funeral, you brought bucky back to your home

bucky nervously entered the home and was instantly met with a little boy

“bucky, this is james” you said, your voice trembling with happiness. “our son”

bucky’s eyes filled with tears as he knelt down to embrace the boy. “james” he said softly, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry I wasn’t there”

james hugged him tightly. “it’s okay, daddy, mommy told me all about you”

as you watched bucky and james together, your heart swelled with love and relief. the battle was over, and your family was finally reunited

the future was uncertain, but with bucky and james by your side, you knew you could face anything

[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

[dino-fart]

My Jade Heart

Pairing: Namor x Female Reader

Genre: Romance, Comfort, Fluff

Summary: You saved Namor’s life but ended up with severe wounds. You are now in the medical bay of Wakanda in recovery. You haven’t seen Namor but can only hope he is alright. Good thing the King of Talokan had a feeling you would be worried about him and decided to pay you a visit. 

You lay there on the bed with the IV in your arm. The doctor told you that you would be fine thanks to Wakandan technology. You suffered from broken ribs and a large wound on your right side. You had a few bandages on your cheeks and head from the cuts. The surgeon had stitched your wound and you were on strict orders to not move for at least two weeks until therapy would come in and work with you. 

You were worried sick about Namor the whole time. You knew he was fine for the most part but how fine was he? Did he get any injuries? Princess Shuri kept telling you to stop worrying and that she’d sent a message to him. But you were getting restless. Okoye had to threaten to knock you out once. 

You now sighed as you sat up on the bed and scrolled through the iPad. You were catching up on emails, texts, news, etc. Whatever you can do to keep your mind off of the king. You closed the iPad after you had enough and closed your eyes to sleep. A gentle touch to your face awoke you from your nap. 

Your eyes opened to meet the gaze of the king. You let out a soft gasp and smiled softly. “Namor...” 

The great king smiled at you softly and gently cupped your cheek, “Mi salvador (My savior).” 

You blushed at his touch and felt his thumb gently stroke over the bandages. “I’m glad you’re okay.” You smiled. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I was tending to my people.” Namor leaves your side and pulls up a chair to sit by your bedside. 

“It’s okay, as long as you’re okay.” You nod. 

Namor gently set his spear against the wall and moved his hands to hold your bandaged ones. He pressed kisses to your covered knuckles. You blushed more at how tender he was being with you. The two of you had unspoken feelings before, lingering looks and gentle touches. And now, well now, nothing was holding you two back. 

You felt a fire stir in your stomach and leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. Namor turned his head to look at you and leaned forward to kiss your lips softly. You moved your hands from his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Namor rested his hands gently on your hips as he kissed you passionately. You moaned softly as you deepened the kiss. 

Namor let out a purr and gently laid your back against the bed. You winced in pain and Namor pulled back immediately. “My apologizes, mi yakunaj.” Namor whispered against your lips and pressed a few kisses along your jawline. Namor pulled back and reached for something in his pocket. You lay there, waiting for him, not having the energy to sit back up. 

Namor leaned back over on you and gently brought over a necklace. He gently put it over your head and around your neck. You picked up the pendant and gasped at the beauty of it. “A jade heart.” You smiled. 

Namor smiled back and kissed your brow. “Yes, my love, a jade heart for my jade heart.” 

You set the pendant down and cupped Namor’s face. You met his gaze and smiled at how he looked at you with so much love. You leaned forward and kissed him passionately. Namor pulled back gently, “Not too much, my love, you need to rest.” You nodded and nuzzled your head on the pillow. 

Namor stroked your hair back and his other hand held yours. Namor rested his forehead against yours and hummed a soft tune that lulled you to sleep. 

[intothemultifandom]

– 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄 [𝟏/𝟑] || 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐚

SUMMARY: In the aftermath of The Blip, you and Attuma–warriors turned interim leaders–bond over loss, grief and the weight of two different worlds. When the second blip occurs, those who’ve returned decide to wage war. Unaware of the relationship you’ve forged in their absence. PAIRINGS: Attuma x Reader, Wakandan!Reader, T’challa + Shuri Sister!Reader TAGS/WARNINGS: angst ; hurt and comfort 

You lost your siblings during The Blip. 

T’challa had turned to dust right before Okoye, Shuri scattered somewhere out on the battlefield; and a weight unlike any other (the weight only your brother knew) settled around shoulders when the wind did not claim you, too. 

At only seventeen, you had been reduced to an only child by the snap of a Madman’s fingers. Expected to ascend the throne now that your older siblings could not. Not that you would, given your distaste of politics and the UN Embassy in general.

Where T’challa was King and Shuri led your scientific division, you had trained under the tutelage of the Dora Milage. Had become one of the best warriors of the country in spite of your youth, expected to surpass Okoye once you reached her age.  

Your natural skill had fuelled your desire to join the War Dogs before N’Jadaka had come into the picture (as Princess, you could not join the Dora Milaje officially), a dream you had to contribute to the safety of your Kingdom and your brother’s reign under the aloofness of being the youngest child.

In the eyes of the world that remained, however, this was not possible when your existence, your survival, received constant praise by Nations who hungered for someone young and naive to ascend the throne.

To their displeasure, you’d assumed leadership over the secret division of your country instead, entertained by the thought of Colonisers dictating what you did with yourself. Your amusement further peaked as you presented yourself publicly as Wakanda’s Consulate General alongside your natural title as Princess.  

With your Mother maintaining the throne and dealing with politics, you’d spent the first three years working diligently to forget your siblings’ absence. Your own grief and shame.

Someone had to stamp out the political unrest in your country, had to re-establish Wakanda’s spy-network in the midst of mounting political tension around the world.

And you had done it all at from seventeen to twenty, held together by the love of your Queen Mother and spurred on by the council of your closest confidants, Okoye, Aneka, Ayo and, surprisingly, the Jabari’s own M’Baku. 

The success of your network around the world had earned you the respect of many, though nothing cemented your legacy more than what happened during the Wakandan three-day-Massacre: 

The Marube Tribe were a relic of time, isolated from the rest of your country when they denounced the advancement of your technology.

Deep in the Mute Lands, they’d practiced old customs and studied even older texts where, in the shadow of Thanos’ terror, they’d turn to ancient techniques to make their warriors strong. Stronger than even the Black Panther. 

Since they could not ingest Vibranium through the heart-shaped herb, a group of their men had etched it into their flesh. Tattooed the raw substance into the planes of their body so they could flow better with nature.

And for a brief time, it worked. The process had given them unnatural durability and strength, the ability to run faster than the wind and yet capable of moving the Earth with a stomp of their foot.

Only, Vibranium itself is radioactive unless tempered with a substance only Shuri and her division knew how to make.

And with your sister and her team gone, ashes in the wind; the Marube tribe, without knowing the consequences, inadvertently kickstarted what might’ve been the doom of your people with the creation of the Madmen. 

As Vibranium had become one with flesh, the radiation did not blister skin nor melt flesh from bone. Instead, it drove the person to madness, to a murderous rage that would not end and was made even worse by the indestructibility of their bodies.

In a single night, the Madmen decimated nearly their entire village before they took to their neighbours. 

When the missive came the following morning, your Queen Mother demanded only for the Dora Milaje to go, for them put an end to the madness before it reached the Golden City.

What she seemed to forget was that the last Madman you fought murdered your siblings, so you could not, would not, simply remain in the Palace.

And so as stealthily as you could for someone who’d learned many tricks from Nakia, you followed your warrior-sisters beyond the throne room, grateful that Okoye turned a blind eye when she caught you amongst their numbers. 

The battle against the Madmen had been a ruthless and bloody affair. 

The people who fought with you and against you were your own people; the land you fought on once roamed by your Ancestors; yet no amount of familiarity could diminish the brutality of war as the Madmen slaughtered your people in masses, pushed your team deeper into the battlefield and towards the centre of their ruined Tribe like wolves surrounding sheep.

Just as you thought you had reached your end, had stood back-to-back with Okoye, Aneka and Ayo and readied yourself for death, Bast had smiled on you that day as the survivors of the massacre–women and children who’d hidden themselves beneath the ground–opened a hidden hatch and welcomed your group into their refuge.  

The Marube people may have denounced modern Wakanda; but they were Wakandan all the same.

For almost half an hour, you and the warriors huddled with them in the dark of their underground cave system where you’d grieved and planned, prayed for your Ancestors to see you through another day even when the Madmen waited for you above. 

It had been one of the Elders who survived, a woman named J’Kobe who weakly presented the idea of someone undergoing the same process as the men above to turn the tides of the battle. She who suggested bestowing a great power upon someone, anyone, so that they could end the Madmen’s bloodshed once and for all before madness took them.

It would be a sacrifice, went unsaid. 

As the determination settled on Okoye’s brow and Ayo and Aneka shared a sad, resigned smile (they’d realised too that the Madmen could not be beat as their weapons bent under the pressure of their strength)–you had stepped towards J’Kobe with the memory of your family and your people, the smile of a toddler who bared your brother’s name, as you knelt at her feet and offered yourself before they could.

Your siblings had been gone for three years, and in those three years you’d found no dignified way of joining them until then: ...though of course, you didn’t actually die as you thought you would. 

Even now, you could not remember what had happened down in those tunnels, how long your friends had argued against your decision before you laid on your back and then your stomach, the pain immeasurable as they and J’Kobe embedded the Vibranium along different areas of your body. 

Tattooed by your countries most fearsome warriors and one of the last practitioners of old, you did what many thought was impossible when you ascended the tunnels with fresh tattoos that glowed purple and a newfound strength to greet the Madmen as an equal match. 

On the third day of the three-day-Massacre, you gave your people a new protector as you stood over the Madmen who lay at your feet, defeated: 

Olumo, J’Kobe called you. 

Molded by God. 

After the battle had been won, and you’d marched with your Warriors and the survivors home to prepare to be put down, to apologise to your Mother one last time before calling Nakia; like the wind that did not claim you when your siblings disappeared, death did not take you in the end, too. 

Because your Father, his Father and so on, ingested Vibranium through the heart-shaped herb, they’d altered their genetics and granted their children and lineage invulnerability to the radiation of Vibranium. 

Meaning you would not be lost to madness from the procedure after all, a stroke of luck for your friends who considered sacrificing themselves. 

Since then, you’d fought many battles as Olumo, the disciple of Ptah and Kokou. Had succeeded in many minor and major battles that helped you carve your own legacy as you fought for True Wakanda, your Vibranium tattoos a symbol of your service and devotion. 

There were days, of course, when the power you’d been bestowed stirred uncomfortably. Days where you felt restless in your own skin, plagued with the undeniable urge to move, run and fight. 

You’d always been a warrior than a leader. 

The Dora Milage, adored as they were, were supportive in this regard; always ready to give you an outlet to rid yourself of this feeling as you fought and sparred them in the safety of your Kingdom. 

Even M’Baku and his warriors, through a rare sight in the Capital, sparred with you when they could. 

It wasn’t until you met him, though, that you felt more alive than you’d felt in the past three years. Felt seen and understood in a way that your friends and Mother could not and would likely ever understand, given the power and responsibilities you now held. 

His name was Attuma, and he called himself the greatest warrior in the underworld. 

NOTES: 

• This is Part 1 (context; your POV) of a three-part-story. 

• Part 2 (snippets of you and him during moments in-between; his POV) will be coming soon. 

• Your background is inspired by the BLACK PANTHER #7 (Origins of Vibranium) + BLACK PANTHER #3 (#200 Legacy) 

• Ptah the Shaper is considered the god of metal alloys, mainly Vibranium whereas Kokou is considered the Wakandan god of War

TAGLIST:

@tommymcartney ; thanks for inspiring me to keep writing! 📝

[whaddayadothatfor]

An Overwhelming Hunger

“You’ve had a stressful day, my love. What can I do for you?”

“I am hungry,” Namor replied, staring at you through his brow. “But not for food.”

—————————

Pairing: Reader x Namor

Summary: BP:WF complete AU (T’Challa isn’t dead and Namor didn’t kill the Queen) Namor has decided to attend peace talks with Wakanda to avoid war with the powerful nation. However, when frustrations towards his diplomatic mission grow, you decide to help him destress in the best way you know how. Namor, however, has other plans.

Warnings, content: fluff, smut, bondage, overstim, committed relationship, unedited

AN: Hey y’all! Just trying to get into the flow of things and see what works and what doesn’t. I hope y’all like it.

————————————————————————-

You had been here for hours. A pillow tucked underneath the small of your back, your hands tied to one of the posts on your headboard, and your panties stuffed in your mouth. The sheets underneath you were warm to the touch and soaked with your sweat. Your hair tussled from writhing against the sheets and makeup smudged from the tears streaming down your face, and you were sure you looked a mess. But you knew Namor only the saw your state of undress as the result of his handiwork.

You knew this because he had told you as much when you expressed discontent at how ridiculous you must’ve looked earlier. He reassured you that you were the most lovely woman in his Kingdom and any other. He made it clear that he wouldn’t stand to be challenged on his opinion by anyone, including you. Then he shoved your panties in your mouth and went back to working on your third orgasm on the night. That was two orgasms ago. You struggled to remember how you ended up in this predicament in the first place.

Four hours ago

It all started because of politics. The root of all evil, in your opinion. Namor, in an effort to sustain peace and maintain security for his people, decided to meet with the royals of Wakanda to work on an alliance while you stayed home to guide and protect the Talokans in his stead. He did not expect that building an alliance would keep him away from you for days at a time. The Wakandan elders had been particularly headstrong and full of opinions, which slowed progress from time to time.

Namor, communicating through the advanced technology Shuri lent him that allowed him to video call you even miles under the sea, lamented at just how slow the progress was. He simply wasn’t used to being so far away from his people, from you. Not for so long. Unaccustomed to seeing your husband so stressed, you decided to spoil him when he returned. After all, the distance between you hadn’t only been hard on him. You missed your husband, in more ways than one.

You didn’t have to wait long to set your plan into action. Namor had sent word that there would be a seven day recess, so he’d be home by evening. You took the time to doll yourself up and wear the night gown he likes the most. It’s blue and adorned with Jade, a testament to how he loves to spoil you. You cover yourself with a long, flowy robe, the same blue color as your night gown, and tie the robe together with the matching belt with a neat little bow. Like a present to unwrap on Christmas morning.

While you wait for your lover to return home, you also prepare one of Namor’s favorite dishes to eat. It’s a simple dish — fish and rice, but you prepare it in the way his mother did and it reminds him of her. Namor strolls into the room, shoulders tense and his eyes tinged with annoyance. His eyes light up into appreciation at the sight of you.

He trails his eyes down your body, coming back up to stop at the necklace that rests just in between your breasts. It’s a small intricate gold and silver necklace that ties into a knot where the two metals meet. He gifted that necklace to you when you got engaged. For many, it’s a symbol of your union. For the two of you, it symbolizes his deep need to possess even the smallest part of you and to have others acknowledge that you belong to him. That your fate is tied to his for as long as you both live. You shudder at his lingering gaze and try to ignore the tingle that spreads from your core.

Today is not about you, you scold yourself. You should at least feed the man before you jump his bones. You were so busy chastising yourself that you missed the way his gaze darkened, his eyes full of desire and want. You did however notice the tenseness in his shoulders, and the way his mouth was set into a thin straight line.

“You’ve had a stressful day, my love. What can I do for you? I made your favorite in case you’d like to eat.”

“I am hungry,” Namor replied, staring at you through his brow. “But not for food.”

In a flash, he covered the distance between the both of you and covered his mouth with yours. He was an all-consuming force, like a whirpool, and you were a tiny sailboat adrift at sea. You had no way of overpowering him, but you didn’t want to. He picked you up and threw you on the bed. He took the soft satin belt from your robe and tied your hands to the one of the wooden posts of the headboard.

“The only thing I want is for my sweet, pretty wife to come from my tongue as many times as she can stand it. Do you think you can do that?”

Present

Namor moaned into your pussy, only taking a moment to lick up the remnants of the last orgasm you had that had dripped down your thighs. He sat up for a moment and massaged your thighs. You felt delirious.

“You’ve been so good for me, my Queen. Taking each and every thing I’ve offered,” he said. He rubbed his clothed dick all over your slick pussy.

“I bet you could take one more.”

[tllgrrl]

The Favor by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Sam touched the biometric pad on the case, and heard three soft clicks.

[“I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”]

The last time he was in Wakanda, he was on a battlefield just outside Birnin Zana: The Golden City.

He and his friends were fighting to save…everybody…everywhere…but before the battle he’d gotten a glimpse of the Blackest nation he’d ever seen.

A nation that had never been touched by colonization.

Sam also saw technology he’d thought only existed in Sci-fi movies and books…or maybe in Tokyo…but even more advanced than that.

T’Challa introduced him to General Okoye, leader of the elite Royal Guard known as the Dora Milaje.

Sam was also briefly reunited with Steve’s friend Bucky Barnes, who Steve had taken to Wakanda to see if they had the technological wherewithal to remove HYDRA’s super-assassin programming from his brain.

Apparently they did, they were successful, and two years later, there he was. With what looked to be a brand new arm, Bucky was joining the Wakandans and the Avengers in the fight against Thanos and his forces.

And Sam met T’Challa’s younger sister, Princess Shuri. A Black, teenage, African Princess tech genius who, with her team of scientists, doctors and engineers, freed the brain of mildly annoying, staring, grumpy supersoldier Barnes, who is now his “co-worker”.

(… and who is also now trying to aim those blue eyes of his at my baby sister!)

Shuri was also responsible for, among other things, developing the newest versions of T’Challa’s Vibranium-infused, nanotech, fighting suit.

[“I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”]

Sam thought about that battle. How it ended with half the universe, including him and Bucky, turning to ashes one minute, then waking up the next minute…

5 years later.

Like a film clip, images started speeding through his mind: Things he’d experienced, people he’d met, places he’d been from the moment he met Steve Rogers—as they both were doing their morning run around the reflecting pool at the Washington Monument in DC—to now.

All of that…ending up here, back in the house he grew up in, staring at this fancy, high-tech case.

[“I called in a favor from the Wakandans.” ]

(I’m actually gonna do…this.)

He opened the case and took a breath to steady himself.

There was a schematic on the inside of the case’s lid, and what almost looked like some kind of hieroglyphs. Sam couldn’t decipher it, but he immediately knew where it was from.

He lifted the piece of handwoven fabric that seemed to serve two purposes: beauty and function, as he could see metallic threads woven throughout the rich, surprisingly dense protective cloth.

The fabric had Vibranium woven into it, and under it there were three items:

A wing pack like his broken StarkTech one, but lighter in weight. By feel he immediately knew that these wings, like his shield, were made of virtually unbreakable Vibranium.

A neckpiece that was similar to the one he saw T’Challa wear, but not nearly as large, also far less traditional and ceremonial in design.

And inside a pouch made of the same fabric as the protective cloth, was a beautifully carved wooden box holding a bead bracelet like the kind worn by nearly everyone in Wakanda.

He also found a large envelope containing some official-looking paperwork, and a manual for the items in the case.

On the front of the envelope were Wakandan glyphs, and underneath them it read:

Samuel Wilson - Captain America

He read the opening paragraph of the manual, slipped the bead bracelet (called kimoyo) onto his left wrist as instructed…and shortly felt the beads lightly vibrate as his cellphone rang…

* * * * * * * * * *

Fan Fiction and Fan Art Submitted for the @samsseptember Samtember 2024: Day 3 -Costume, Day 19 - Wakanda. I honestly don’t know where this falls. It’s kind of about the costume but it is more about where and who it is from.

Happy Birthday Sam Wilson!

[kamaluhkhan]

i'm not wanting anything (but your loving, your body, and a little bit of your brain)

pairing: shuri x fem!reader

summary: being an avenger doesn't leave you much time for college life (let alone a girlfriend), you and gwen stacy accidentally show up to a halloween party in a couple's costume, and shuri is determined to prove who you really belong to.

warnings: allusions to PTSD and death, mentions of alcohol and partying and smut - fingering (both shuri and reader receiving), oral (shuri receiving), thigh riding....

song inspo: "thats what i want" by lil nas x

a/n: hello!! this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr and im so nervous but very excited because shuri has been on my mind for the longest time. reader is an avenger in her senior year of college and best friends/roommates with peter parker. this is set before black panther: wakanda forever, and after endgame but some things are different (the blip was only a year, steve and tony both died in the final battle with thanos). anyways, please enjoy!!

before the blip, you had the whole work/life/superhero thing (mostly) down to a science. now, everyone was still processing the absolute mindfuck of half the universe being snapped away by a mad titan, only to be returned by a group of heroes one year later.

in the midst of it all, the girl you'd travelled across time and space for somehow ended up low on your priority list, but you found comfort in the fact that it was mutual. you were busy in new york, with college (senior year was kicking your ass) and avengers work (trying to keep the city safe with half the team gone and the others scattered across the universe was exhausting) and your internship at oscorp (basically unpaid labor, but you needed the credit to graduate). shuri spent most of her time catching up on what she missed, working on scientific and technological developments in wakanda whenever she wasn't travelling with her brother around the world for united nations or wakandan outreach reasons. there was only so much calling or texting that can be done before your relationship started to feel like an afterthought.

tonight was supposed to change all that.

harry osborn was throwing a 'halloween in january' party. shuri was in new york with t'challa, but she'd promise to keep this night free, and you promised the same. you were looking forward to being surrounded by a crowd of drunk 20-somethings, taking shots, dancing to music that was way too loud, feeling shuri next to you.

normally, you didn't dress up for the holiday - wearing a supersuit all the time kinda takes the novelty away from wearing a costume - but if halloween could be in january, you decided tonight would be the exception. you'd decided on a red lace bralette with a matching vinyl skirt, fishnet stockings, and a headband with devil horns. you didn't normally show this much skin. it was supposed to be a surprise for shuri, and the hope was that the outfit would drive her crazy. you had finished decorating your face with glitter and were about to swipe on some red liquid lipstick when the text signal rang from your phone.

shuri ♡

i won't be able to come to the party tonight - brother wants me to join him at an ambassador's dinner. i'm sorry. love you.

you knew that there had been one too many times when you had done the same to her - needing to attend to your avengers duties instead of spend time together, cancelling at the last minute on plans you were both looking forward to. you would see each other next time one of you happened to be in the same place, which started to feel less and less likely. that was just the way things were. you were fine with it. totally fine.

after you send shuri a quick no worries! i understand, you finish applying your makeup, taking one last look in the mirror, ready to party even if you didn't have your girlfriend by your side.

harry osborn was shirtless, wearing only a red and gold tie, jeans, and round glasses. you were pretty sure peter choked on spit when harry walked up to you, chest sparkling with a mixture of sweat and glitter under the disco lights.

"magic harry potter, right?" you guessed, glimpsing the lazily drawn lightning bolt on his forehead.

harry grinned and did a little spin to show off his costume. "hogwarts student by day, stripper by night," he said, voice strong over the pounding music. he gestured to your outfit, eyes lingering at the top of your bralette. "you look amazing. and you...." he looked peter up and down. "damn."

peter was wearing an earlier model of his spiderman suit. you'd told him it might not be the best costume to wear when he was still very much clinging to the whole secret identity thing. he didn't particularly care, though: apparently, he overheard a certain heir to the oscorp dynasty gush about how hot spiderman must be under the suit, and how much hotter it would be to be tied up by his webs. needless to say, by the way harry looks equally entranced by peter as peter is by him, your guess is that his eavesdropping paid off.

"come on parker, let's dance." harry didn't wait for an answer, only pushed through the crowd of people. he turned around and locked eyes with peter, a flirtatious grin on his face. you spotted a bar in the corner, and bartenders dressed up as various halloween creatures who walked around with trays of bright neon shot glasses. when a skeleton offered you some, you grabbed a few before they moved on to a trio dressed up as the powerpuff girls.

"i don't have to go if -"

"go," you interrupted, handing peter one of the drinks in your hand. "one of us should get laid tonight."

even though the flashing multicolored lights made it difficult to know for sure, you guessed that peter was blushing. you clinked glasses, downed the shots. peter kissed your cheek.

"love you!" he said before disappearing into the crowd to find his wizard with shining abs.

you smiled, and made your way to the bar. next to the bar was a table of halloween themed snacks - candy, sugar cookies in the shape of ghosts, orange cupcakes and more - so you popped a few pieces of candy corn into your mouth before ordering a drink. you took another jello shot while you waited, this one sweeter than the last and neon green. looking around the room, you were impress by how decorated it was: orange string lights, pumpkins, ghosts and bats floating from the ceiling. you wouldn't have guessed that harry osborn would be into this kind of thing, assuming that he was a trust fund kid used to parties at yacht clubs, but as "monster mash" played through the speakers, you had to admit you were pleasantly surprised.

you scanned the room to see if there was anyone you recognized. you spotted a mermaid making out with a pink power ranger; a group of fairies doing body shots; someone wearing a zombie captain america costume (steve rogers version) and another in a zombie iron man suit, both of which felt more than a little insensitive. it hadn't even been a year since they were gone, and you didn't need the reminder. you glared at the zombies from across the room, and the captain america actually noticed you, offering some sort of awkward salute, like you were a war hero. somehow, that made everything worse and the room suddenly felt suffocating and you just needed some air -

that was how you found yourself on the balcony, overlooking the manhattan skyline. there were heaters outside, thank the gods, so it wasn't too cold. you could still hear the chaos of the party from behind the glass doors, but other than that you were alone - or so you thought.

"you look hot."

you turn around to see gwen stacy in all her glory, wearing an almost perfect replica of claire danes' angel costume from romeo + juliet. the two of you were co-workers more than friends, both working at oscorp along with peter and harry, but it was comforting to see a familiar face.

"and you look amazing," you complimented.

"here, you looked like you might need this." she handed you a sugar cookie decorated with orange frosting and black sprinkles, which you gratefully accepted.

you split it in half, handing one back to gwen before devouring your own. you washed it down with the neon orange drink you'd ordered earlier, before offering a sip to gwen.

"god, is that --"

"vodka and orange crush," you explained. "apparently harry osborn likes to color coordinate his parties like he does his lab notes. at least this makes sense."

gwen laughed, angelic and carefree. "you wanna go back inside? i've always wanted to dance with the devil, and i was hoping this would be my lucky night."

you'd been around long enough to know that gwen was flirting with you and even if you were totally, completely committed and in love with a certain wakandan, you were feeling a little tipsy (probably more from sugar than alcohol, it was hard to tell), and it felt nice to be complimented, to be noticed, to be touched. so, you let gwen lead you to the dance floor, your bodies close together. you let her flirt with you, and maybe flirted a bit with her back. you let people compliment your accidental couples' costume. you weren't sure how long passed, after a while you heard your name being called over the sound of "somebody's watching me" by rockwell. ironic, you knew.

instantly, you recognized the familiar accent and lilt of her voice. you turned around to see shuri, wearing a black satin suit lined with dark burgundy, the shirt underneath long gone, revealing only a black lace bra and a gold body chain and gods she looked so fucking hot right now, it felt like your entire body was on vibrate.

"shuri!" you exclaimed, voice an octave higher than usual, a little thrown off by her sudden appearance. "um, this is gwen."

"hey! it's nice to meet you. i like your vampire costume --"

"i'm not a vampire," shuri interrupted gwen before dragging you to the bar. she leaned against the counter and ordered a whiskey, draining it in one sip before practically slamming the glass back down. "what in bast's name was that?"

"we were dancing," you explained.

"it looked like the two of you were about to rip each other's clothes off," shuri snapped. "i didn't realize that was how you danced in america."

you bristled. shuri was the one who ditched you tonight, and now she was mad at you? "it's a party. we were just having fun. you're overreacting!"

"i showed up to surprise you, but maybe you'd rather go to bed with that angel over there."

"that's bullshit."

"no, what's bullshit is me walking in on my girlfriend grinding on someone else while wearing this outfit." her eyes grazed your body dangerously, and from the clench in her jaw you could tell she had to restrain herself. "so don't pretend you need me here. it seems like there are other girls you'd like to fuck instead."

shuri ordered another drink, but before it arrived, you dragged her to the nearest bathroom. one of the zombie avengers from before - iron man - was about to enter, but you beat them to it, effectively closing and locking to door behind you. you ignored the subsequent banging on the door. harry's apartment was huge; you were sure there was at least one more bathroom, and you couldn't bring yourself to care about whether that asshole got a uti or not.

while shuri remained standing, pacing back and forth on the marble floor, you leaned against the counter, watching her.

"what the fuck was that?" you asked, arms crossed over your chest. "you walk in here accusing me of what - wanting to cheat on you? do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"you have to admit, it couldn't have looked good from where i was standing. you grinding on some blonde girl, wearing a couple's costume. don't think i didn't notice that, too."

your cheeks felt warm, knowing that shuri might have a point. "in my defense, the costumes were a coincidence and the grinding.... maybe that was less of a coincidence," you admit. you walk over to shuri, placing your hands on her cheeks to get her to finally look you in the eye. she gently pushed you away, looking down instead, but stayed in front of you. "look, i get that it probably looked like --"

"like you wanted to have gwen's babies."

you took shuri's humor as a good sign, continuing with a soft smile on your face. "please know that i'm 110% committed to you. i would never want to do anything to make you think otherwise. but...i'm not going to apologize for dancing, and having fun, because shit's been....fuck, shuri, it's been hard."

"you don't think it's been hard for me, too?" she scoffed, finally meeting your gaze. "i was gone for an entire year, and the world just moved on, and - and maybe it doesn't need me anymore. maybe you don't -- " she let the words get caught in your throat, and she broke away from your gaze once more.

oh.

what you thought was a burst of jealousy was actually...something else.

"hey." you take her chin between your thumb and your index finger, turning her head to look at you. "hey. i don't care how many dates either of us miss, how many oceans or time zones separate us, you are my person and i'm yours, okay? i will always need you." you moved to drape your arms around her neck, and she instinctively grabbed your hips, hands dangerously close to your ass. your bare torsos touched, the cool metal of her body chain brushing against you and sending shivers throughout your body.

you could tell that her eyes were slightly glazed over, and wondered if she was about to cry. your heart ached as you placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, as if to let her know: i'm here, and i'm not going anywhere anytime soon.

she didn't say anything, but instead closed the gap between your lips. it was such a rush kissing her, after all this time. her lips tasted like whiskey, mixed with sugar from the candy you'd been eating. when you pulled apart you felt dizzy.

"shuri." you whimpered. she lowered her head to the side of your jaw, placing a kiss just below your ear before whispering:

"tell me what you need from me."

"so much," you answered. "i need you on top of me, under me, inside me."

shuri's lips ghosted yours, the hint of a smirk.

"come on, sithandwa," she taunted, letting her xhosa slip out. "you can do better than that. be specific."

"fuck," you groaned. you found yourself being pushed back against the counter, the marble cold against your bare skin. shuri didn't stop kissing you everywhere, her hands exploring your body. "i - i don't know. something, anything, everything. any time i try to get off i need to think of you, but it's never as good as the real thing. and now that you're here now...." your words trailed off into a sigh. right now, you couldn't make a reasonable argument, let alone a logical sentence, even if you tried. you just wanted to relish in the moment - to enjoy her.

you throw your head back when you feel her thumbs brush underneath the vinyl of your skirt, the slight pressure reminding you that she was here, with you, for you.

"fine, i'll decide," she said sternly. she gestured for you to sit on the counter, and you did just that. shuri adjusted her body between your thighs, spreading them wider. she shuddered seeing the red lace thong you wore, the lack of fabric covering you, and met your gaze once again, eyes darker than before. "you don't get to come if you don't stay quiet. so be quiet for me, yeah?"

you bit your lip and nodded. anything, everything. she smirked, pushed the fabric of your panties aside, and sunk two of her fingers into you, knowing you were ready for her. even after weeks, months, apart, shuri could always read your body, know what you needed, how you needed it. the answer was simple, really; like you said, it was always her, her, her.

she kissed you, harsh and messy, tongue and teeth, swallowing your moans as her fingers brought you closer and closer to your release. shuri pulled your bottom lip with her teeth before moving to suck on your collarbone, your jaw, your neck. she bit down on your skin, right at your pulse point.

"i thought - i thought you weren't a vampire," you attempted a joke, but that was a mistake. you'd let a low groan tumble from your lips. another when she let her tongue soothe over the sting from her bite.

"i don't appreciate the attitude," shuri replied, her voice steady, but the corners of her mouth, slightly upturned, threatening to turn into a smile, gave her away. she was loving this. "and, i told you to be quiet."

she removed her fingers from your cunt and promptly shoved them past your red lips. you groaned again when she kissed you roughly, the taste of you dancing across your tongues.

"we'll try one more time to see if you can follow instructions. make me come, and maybe you can finish after."

she swapped your positions and unbuttoned her pants, pulling them off along with her briefs, as you got on your knees before her.

there was a joke here about the devil worshiping an angel, but you were too focused on her. her smell, gods, her taste - it was too overwhelming, and all you wanted was more. you'd spent your whole life on your knees for shuri if you could: worshiping her body, worshiping her.

you draped one of her legs over your shoulder, giving your tongue better access. shuri tugged on your hair slightly and you moaned, sending vibrations up her body.

"bast, that's it," she groaned. you added a finger, while your tongue worked her clit. "fuck. i missed you."

you brought her to the edge, stayed with her as she came. she probably expected you to get back on your feet right away, but you stayed, adding another finger and sucking her clit. she moaned your name.

you pulled away slightly. "one more, pretty girl," you promised. "can you do that for me?" she nodded furiously, and you went back to work.

when she came once more, you kissed her ankle before releasing her leg. shuri pulled you up to your feet, sucked the taste of her off your tongue.

"i missed you, too." you pull away, breathless, heart racing. "do i get to come now?"

shuri hummed. her thumb wiped the smudged lipstick below your lip. she studied you, admired you, like you were a fucking work of art that belonged in the met, like you hadn't just fucked her through two consecutive orgasms in the bathroom at a rich kid's upper east side apartment while michael jackson's "thriller" played outside the door.

"take off your thong." you did as instructed. she pulled you towards her, and lodged a leg in between yours. your cunt brushed against the skin of her thigh, back and forth as shuri guided your hips. "i can't believe you got all dressed up like this. absolutely sinful. and these...."

her hands moved to your thighs, nails digging into the flesh and dragging across your fishnets, effectively ripping them.

"shuri!" you protested, though it sounds like a moan.

"i'll buy you more. now, are you gonna come for me?"

the sound of her voice, the feeling of her skin against your heat, the smell of the two of you intertwining, it was too much. your orgasm crashed into you, and you were grateful that shuri held you through it. you kissed her once more before removing yourself from her grasp, smoothing down your skirt and looking around for your underwear.

"where are my...."

you looked over as shuri tucked your red thong into the inner pocket of her jacket.

"i'm guessing you'll buy me replacements for those, too."

she flashed you a shit eating grin before putting on her own underwear. she then pulled up her pants, not wiping your release from her thigh. the thought of her walking around, leg sticky with you, made your pussy clench.

the sound of someone banging on the door brought you out of your post-orgasm haze.

"holy fuck! hurry up!" they shouted.

"given your costume, i would say that was an unholy fuck," shuri joked, adjusting your headband for you. you nudged her playfully, rolling your eyes.

"how about we stay for a few songs, steal some cupcakes and drinks, and then head back to my place for round two?" shuri nodded.

"perfect."

before you opened the door, you shot her one last devilish grin. "oh. and this time, i'm in charge."

the next morning, shuri woke up to an empty bed and the smell of burnt cinnamon.

you were sitting on the small window bench in the corner of your room, a tangle of purple yarn on your lap and crochet needle in your hand. even though there was frost on the window, you only wore a pair of boxers printed with the word 'sunday' and cartoon suns, and an empire state university sweatshirt.

"sithandwa? the bed would be warmer with you in it."

you turned to look at her, snuggled under your brightly colored duvet, eyes half open.

"this should help."

you walked over and wrapped a purple scarf around her neck, sitting cross-legged in front of her. shuri sat up, but kept the duvet wrapped around her. there was still glitter decorating your face from last night, and shuri reached out to brush some away.

"you made this for me?" you nodded.

"rhodey taught me how. said it would help with...." you trailed off, not wanting to go into the details of your insomnia. "anyways, t'challa mentioned at our last team meeting that you're going to vienna after this. we went there once to take down a hydra base and gods, it was freezing."

shuri kissed you, pulling you into her blanket cocoon so that you were inside as well, straddling her waist. you broke apart, and she put her hands under your shirt. you shuddered at the sudden contact, her skin cold. her thumbs rubbed circles under your breasts.

"it gets pretty cold in new york, too, doesn't it?"

"yeah, but i can just make another one," you explained, letting your finger trace the details of her face, her sharp jawline. shuri took your hands in hers.

"no, i mean....i can still wear the scarf you made me when i stay in new york."

you brightened like one of those cartoon suns. shuri staying in new york for more than a day, more than a night, hasn't happened in so long. you yearned to wake up next to her regularly, kiss over coffee and bagels, take the subway together, show her the tourist sights you yourself haven't been to since you were a kid - the statue of liberty, coney island, the works.

you stopped your daydreaming there, not wanting to get too ahead of yourself. life is busy. plans change. people leave, for a little bit or forever. it happens.

"like for another day?" you asked, clearing your throat to subdue the excitement in your stomach.

shuri shook her head. you knew it would be too good to be true.

"like for me to move to new york. to live with you."

wait, what.

"shuri. wakanda's your home just as much as new york is mine. i know this long distance thing has been tough on us, but i would never ask you to leave your home, your family."

shuri said your name softly and gently brought her palms to your cheeks.

"you're not asking. i'm offering. the dinner i had to attend last night was to convince the UN to greenlight our wakandan outreach centre in new york," she explained. "if it goes through, my brother suggested that i be the one to lead it. on site."

"and that's what you want?"

"what i want to be wherever you are. i want to be part of your routine. i want to meet your friends, skip work and spend hours in bed together. i want to be here for you - for parties and movie nights and graduation."

at that word, you put your hand up. "i'm going to stop you right there before you send me into an existential crisis."

shuri grinned. "but yes to the rest of it?"

"yes. yes, of course." you pushed her onto the bed so that you were both lying down, facing each other, your legs tangled together. "so...when is this happening?"

"probably in a month, maybe a month and a half. there are still hands to shake, contracts to sign."

"bureaucracy," you sighed. shuri giggled, and your heart fluttered at the thought that you would get to hear that sound on a regular basis in person, not just through cellphone frequencies.

"i am, however, staying for a few more days while my brother takes care of things in vienna. so you're not getting rid of me just yet."

"now that is great news." you kissed her once, then twice.

suddenly, there was a knock on your door.

shuri readjusted your position so that the length of the duvet covered both of your bodies. "come in pete!" you said once she was done.

the door opened and peter parker's face came into view, along with a plate of those ready to bake cinnamon rolls that must have been fresh out of the oven.

"there's extra if you want," he offered.

"that'd be great, thanks." you gratefully accepted the plate, swiping some icing from the edge and licking it off your finger. "what's the special occasion?"

peter cleared his throat. "no special occasion."

you glanced the hickey on his collarbone. "oh, so harry stayed over last night and you wanted to make a good impression on him. breakfast in bed, domestic husband, sort of thing."

"that's not --"

"that's exactly it!" a voice from the kitchen interrupted.

"good morning, harry!" you replied, smiling tauntingly at peter.

"harry, i don't think we've met!" shuri added. "peter has told me so much about you...."

peter groaned and flipped you both off before shutting the door.

"thanks for the cinnamon rolls!" you shouted.

there was a pause before the door opened slightly. a curt, "you're welcome," was offered before it was closed once again.

you got up to put on a record as shuri devoured a cinnamon roll.

"you know, i'm really happy you're staying for a bit because i actually need your help with some things." you ripped off a piece covered in frosting and stuffed it in your mouth.

shuri raised her eyebrow, waiting for you to explain.

"my electric toothbrush has been weird - i can't figure out, for the life of me, what is wrong with it - and i've asked peter to fix it one too many times at this point," you continued, ticking off checkboxes in your head. "i wanted to talk to you about some potential upgrades for my suit that i would love your opinion on. oh, and i'm pretty sure i also broke my vibrator." you grinned sheepishly. "i didn't even bother to ask peter about that one because we don't need to be that close."

shuri stiffled a laugh, muffled by a mouthful of cinnamon and cream cheese frosting. she swallowed. "how do you even break a vibrator?"

"i don't know!" you exclaimed. "that's where you come in."

"baby." shuri wrapped her arms around your torso. "if i'm staying around for a while, you won't need a vibrator."

[blues824]

Helloo can I just request the dorm leaders + ortho(platonic obviously) with a gn!reader like shuri from black panther.

Like how would they react to them using their inventions against an overblot and them just being really smart.

Thank you and have a good day/night!

Going off the Wiki, but I love Shuri so freaking much. Also, I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MALLEUS’S OVERBLOT, SO DON’T SPOIL IT!

Riddle Rosehearts

Mans acts as formal as T’Challa, but is way more strict with the rules. Even though you joke around with him, he remains formal. Very rarely does he respond with an attempted joke of his own. However, you both have a mutual respect and love for one another.

You don’t stick to tradition very much, and that is something that tends to get on Riddle’s nerves because he’s very traditional. Well, that was at first. After his overblot, he learned that he needed to not be so stingy. So, you were the first to lead him through breaking tradition.

Speaking of, you assisted in taking him down when he overblotted. He knew that you were very intelligent, but the use of vibranium machinery to fight was a whole other level. Riddle stood no chance against your genius. It took a few seconds and an infirmary trip for him to really be amazed by your brilliant mind.

Leona Kingscholar

He forms relationships based on trust and respect, so you both are actually perfect for one another. It didn’t take too long for the two of you to get together because of this. He’s not at all formal and also uses sarcasm, so it becomes a love language between the two of you.

Neither of you follow tradition or have the desire to, so that also pairs up very nicely. Sure, you will if absolutely necessary, but you won’t do it by choice. However, there were a few times where you did dress up in traditional clothing so that you can feel the comfort of being back home, and Leona doesn’t comment on it because he respects and loves you.

When he overblotted, he also stood no chance against you or the technology that you made to prepare for situations like these. You were always 5 steps ahead, using vibranium since it was the strongest metal there was in existence in any universe. 

Azul Ashengrotto

He also acts very formal and professional, but not as much as Riddle does. Sarcasm is thrown a bit here and there, but he doesn’t attempt to joke around with you. Respect goes both ways, but at the beginning it wasn’t always that way. He tried to get you to give up the vibranium you had access to, and you blatantly refused.

Azul doesn’t follow the traditions of the Coral Sea, and you don’t follow the traditions of Wakanda. However, the two of you are interested in each other’s cultures. So, there was one day where you met him in traditional Wakandan clothing, and he was absolutely fascinated. 

You were prepared for when he overblotted, and made sure that the machinery you used would work underwater. Since you were intelligent enough to predict his overblot, you knew exactly how to fight him. What he didn’t know though is that you operated away from the actual fight, and were controlling your technology remotely.

Kalim Al-Asim

Mans is the least formal person you will probably see, but he doesn’t understand sarcasm at all. He will joke around with you though, and it’s refreshing for you to see someone so light hearted at this school full of depressed people.

I don’t think he’s too traditional, but I could be wrong. You, however, are not traditional at all until he asks if you could wear something Wakandan to see the contrast. So, you did at the next party he threw, and he was amazed at how cool you looked.

When Jamil overblotted, you were nowhere to be seen. Kalim thought you got hurt and he was extremely worried until your technology showed up. You, with a speaker, said that you were operating it remotely, and that you were alright. Bro let out a huge sigh of relief.

Vil Schoenheit

He’s definitely very professional, but he won’t hesitate to use sarcasm and wit to put someone in their place as a nonviolent solution. So, when you decide to joke around and be all silly, he will reprimand you by making a sarcastic remark.

Vil has had to wear all sorts of traditional clothing because of roles he was casted for in movies, so he understands if you choose to wear Wakandan clothing. When you do, he will compliment you on how it looks on you, but won’t give it too much attention.

When this Housewarden overblotted, he foresaw your using technology. However, after all the others, you were constantly making upgrades as you learned more about the technology in Twisted Wonderland and how you could use it to add an element of surprise. Needless to say, your tech was the victor.

Idia Shroud

Mans really wanted to ask you to marry him once you showed him that your technologically inclined mind matched his. He just about made a ring when you helped him upgrade Ortho time and time again. However, he gets so flustered around you, especially when you get comfortable enough to joke around with him. Don’t expect him to make a sarcastic remark.

He understands not wanting to follow tradition, but he’s kind of forced to because of the curse that was placed on his family long ago. But, there was one time where you showed up to Ignihyde in traditional Wakandan clothing and he was shocked since he hadn’t seen anything like it.

You both actually clashed together when he overblotted, but luckily you didn’t tell him all of your secrets. You had the element of surprise on your side, and you used it to your advantage. Since your machines were made out of vibranium (the little key secret), they were nearly indestructible. He wasn’t even mad in the infirmary room.

Ortho Shroud

You first became friends with him because he broke down due to a bug in his system. You took him to Ramshackle and gave a temporary fix that would last until you got him back to Ignihyde. Through that, you became very close, like siblings.

Ortho is aware of the Shroud family curse, and he followed in his brother’s footsteps as he followed the traditional route of the family. You had briefly mentioned your homeland of Wakanda, but nothing popped up when he searched the entirety of the internet. So he asked a bunch of questions as you helped Idia upgrade him.

During Idia’s overblot, the younger Shroud brother was also never informed of your technology because you did something special with it. It wasn’t connected to any Twisted Wonderland database, and therefore there was no way that Ortho would have known about it.

Malleus Draconia

He genuinely loves your company. Your mind is incredibly interesting, and while he has no idea what you’re talking about as you rant about how Twisted Wonderland’s technology backed by vibranium would be better, he sees the passion in your eyes. 

This guy is all about tradition, but he doesn’t mind straying away from it every once in a while. After all, tradition is the reason why he has retainers. You are not one to follow tradition, but there was one time where you donned your Wakandan clothing and wore it to reminisce about your homeland, and he was very curious about where you come from. He’s not as technologically inclined as you are, but he’s seen how you use your creations in battle against all of the overblots and he is very impressed. You seem to have a lot of experience… if only he knew…

[talkingparrotkee]

After seeing disagreeable claims critiquing the end of Wakanda Forever float around for the nth time, I felt like organizing my qualms and putting them neatly into another blog. These are just my musings.

"Shuri should've killed Namor! Sparing him was wrong!" I apologize for my harsh phrasing, but this is a horrible and brainless take, especially when it's from begrudged shippers or anti-Wakanda Forever recasters 😭. Whenever I see it, I can't help but wonder if anyone who says this or agrees genuinely likes and (especially) understands Namor and/or Shuri's actual characters. And no, I do not mean the surface aesthetic of or attraction to them.

If you knew and understood what kind of character Shuri (at least in the MCU) is, you would know why she spared Namor's life after nearly taking it. If you understood the important messages carefully baked into the film, you'd understand the writing choice of Shuri sparing Namor and Namor not being the "incorrigible villain who deserves death."

Asking the silly question of why she didn't kill him in the form of critique, or worse, saying she should have or somehow should give him hell after the fact (fortunately, a regressive immaturity neither character has), is a clear show of media illiteracy. It neglects both characters and at least one pillar theme of Wakanda Forever. If Shuri killed Namor, Talokan and Wakanda would unnaturally be eating away at each other for eternity, allowing the surface colonist nations to swoop in as the destabilization process was done for them. The true villains and enemies that put them in that situation where they collided with one another would gain access to their vibranium and technology. Game over.

Shuri Was Never In Her "Villain Era"

The simple answer, Shuri is not Wanda Maximoff 😊. Goodnight. (Author's note because someone was troubled by this tongue and cheek remark: I don't hate Wanda at all. I meant what I wrote: Shuri is not Wanda, just Wakandan. People want her to be Wanda and have a Wanda arc when she is not and will not. 🫡)

Even at the lowest of her low, Shuri is no villain. Shuri was just a young woman trying to find what kind of leader she was in the midst of grief, inner turmoil, and human anger. I don't know why some fans say she had a "villain era" or want her to canonically have a "villain era," but ok. That is not Shuri, nor would it have filled the hole in Shuri's heart, as said by Nakia. It was not just because it endangered Wakanda and would spearhead them in an eternal war either. Although, that is reason enough for Shuri not to kill Namor.

Who Princess Shuri Truly Is

Princess Shuri is a natural healer, teacher, and creator. Shuri loves, designs, creates, innovates, builds, and protects. Shuri has people who would die for her and trusts her to make the right choice in the end, faithfully standing beside her even when they recognize that the trajectory she currently set them on wasn't a good one. Why do you think this is? Because they know and trust Shuri. They know her brain is as big as her heart.

Shuri is not inherently destructive. That was the uncharacteristic result of her gripe with death (thinking it meant gone) and destructive handling of her grief. Ryan Coogler even pointed out how Shuri's state was unhealthy and dangerous. Shuri and Namor were both grieving and asking themselves painful questions.

That is why Killmonger is who appears to her. Killmonger is a violent, radical character (made that way by neglect, grief, loss, militaristic molding, and the suffering African Americans face) who almost carelessly sent Wakanda spiraling into mayhem. He became the people he hated, in the wise words of T'Challa, and was an unworthy king, in the wise words of Shuri. If such a man is comparing himself to Shuri and is who her subconscious elicited on the Ancestral Plane (which Shuri seems to be taking to her grave now, refusing to tell Nakia), maybe she's not doing alright? Just a thought!

This is also why Ramonda took her out by the river. It's why M'Baku said what he said at Ramonda's funeral. It is so she can mourn properly. So she could heal properly. Something she wasn't doing since the day T'Challa died.

Killing Namor would've destroyed her, not just her people. It wouldn't have sated her despite in her rightful anger, feeling it would. It would've just sent her past a point of no return.

"Show him who you are." Ramonda told her this after she struggled on her own with killing Namor. Why do you think Shuri hesitated even without Ramonda's influence (which was just her presence and reminding Shuri who she already was) yet? It didn't feel "right" to Shuri as their moment together (watching the Talokan sunrise), how Namor paralleled her, and how their people were alike flew through her mind's eye. Shuri hesitated, not because she was "soft" or "nonsensical mushy writing." Shuri saw what they were and what this was. She thought beyond herself. As Editor Michael P. Shawver said, Namor's line of, "only the most broken people can become great leaders" is what they focused on. It is what Shuri finally realizes at the bitter end. They relate. The narrative, characters, and actors all recognize this; I don't see how some audience members do not.

She and Namor were perpetuating the destructive cycle of grief and vengeance while setting that example for their people, but she was strong enough to pull herself up and break that chain. Then she offered her his hand for the sake of not only themselves, but their people. She saw firsthand the beauty of Talokan. Like Namor admired Wakanda in the beginning, she admired Talokan. She remembered her visit to Talokan in the mix of her nation's beauty.

"Vengance has consumed us. We cannot let it consume our people."

Not "my" people. Not "your" people. Our people.

Shuri realized many simple yet, at the same time, humanly complicated truths of how they had connectivity and were broken, trying to be the best leaders they could be. Neither of them was the villain but are what they were due to the bitter hand life dealt them and the situations they faced.

The Real Theme of Black Panther's Wakanda Forever

This movie also had clear themes of:

A) how POC/indigenous infighting sucks and is counterproductive

B) connectivity of black and brown, from culture to shared wounds

C) the scars of colonialization

Shuri killing Namor would defeat the carefully woven narrative and betray all these well-built things. I know some of you guys don't like to hear this, but Namor is not of the archetype of Killmonger, nor is he the real "villain," so he was handled accordingly.

“We talked to so many experts and really made relationships with them, because there was a lot to go through,” says Beachler. “There are a lot of parallels between Africans and Latin Americans as far as the colonization of their communities and cities, the enslavement of their people, the lies that were told about their culture, the misinterpretation of their words, and the ways they were made out to look demonized in order to elevate a European country.”

Shuri Getting Her Lick Back

"Shuri should've beaten Namor until-" or "She let him off the hook unpunished!" If you paid attention to the movie, you'd see she literally beat him within an inch of his life? She definitely did get her lick back just as Namor got his. Wanting her to get "more" licks after the fact is regressive.

Shuri:

isolated and trapped Namor to weaken and drain his energy

ferally clawed both of his wings, taking out his ability to fly

made him bleed and bruised him up

roasted him in a firey explosion, effectively charring him and rendering him temporarily paralyzed

Shuri didn't play patty cake with him; she made an immortal bleed and fear death. She had him gasping for air on his back at the mercy of her spear tip. She made him yield and call off the troops. She made an ally out of him on her terms who exalted her strength and is currently bandaged up, flightless, and awaiting to aid her (rather than striking first, waging war as originally wanted). It's more than enough and was the best course of action. What do you mean? What are you talking about?

[sinukiyo]

You would think that the KDF has advanced and state of the art technology which the waste all their money on to make weapons instead of using said technology to create counter measures to protect the city and the people, but that tech can't even see through a simulation?

Either Kenji's tech is Stark Industries tech, Wakandan tech, and Wayne tech combined on crack or the mutha fuckas are idiots

While the tech in Kenji’s new base and it’s possible limits is not really explored, I thought of it in two ways:

- The KDF was founded by Ken’s mom alongside Onda. Mina, who controls everything in the house and the basement was originally programmed to resemble Emiko Sato. I read that nearly all information was programmed into Mina's system and this is why even Ken first became Ultraman, she was able to guide him on how to battle the kaiju.

If Mina was programmed to be Emiko then she definitely came up with better tech than the KDF who don’t even have their original founders on seat anymore.

- An easier explanation (which i would give if I don’t want to talk too much) is just the fact that Ken is Ultraman, Ultraman is an alien, that’s alien tech. The end.

[aswrittenbyaj]

stick and poke

pairing: shuri x black!fem!reader

summary: your time on vacation is slowly coming to an end so naturally you two try to find a way to commemorate it.

wordcount: 2.6k

warnings: this one's for the lovers. rated M for mature. minors dni. partial nudity as well as nipple play (reader-receiving) and a brief moment of impact play (titty-slapping, reader-receiving). briefest mention of a needle (tattooing, obviously). there's a few pet names, but none degrading. not beta'd (that's a warning in itself). let me know if i missed any!

a/n: so this was not on my wip list because i forgot i finished this a lil while back lol. a fun twist on the tattoo shop au that i hope you'll all enjoy. i don't know xhosa so any words in bold are to be assumed as spoken in xhosa. there's one or two words in the actual language and credit for their translation goes to @iinkonde from this post. banner and divider by: me.

you were going to miss this, miss the ease of moving through the day without obligations and responsibilities looming over your shoulder. there was nothing like waking up as you pleased next to the woman you loved while the sounds of waves crashing in the distance calmed your soul. the position of the sun being your only source of time, self-carved notches on the wooden planks of the treehouse wall the only indication of how many days had passed since the two of your arrived at the secluded beach.

there was tranquility in getting away from the hustle and bustle of everyday city life. even as you stared out at the vast water before you from where you sat in the sand, the waves crashing into one another, you tried imagining what life would be like if you never went back. you almost wished it were that simple.

"you still with me, yeah?" 

shuri's voice found you before your eyes found her, the lithe woman approaching from behind, a green coconut in one hand, a bowie knife in the other.

you drunk in the sight of her, midriff peeking between the gap of her cropped white t-shirt and pink shorts that stopped mid-thigh, rich skin sun-kissed with a healthy glow, one that only came from inward peace and happiness. showing off her strength, shuri swung the knife at the tree nut, hacking away at the top with ease, giving you a chance to ogle the way her biceps flexed with the moment.

"always," you replied shamelessly. 

if anything, these last two weeks were proof you didn't need all the riches and privileges that came with being connected to a wakandan royal, romantically or not. you just needed her. you just wanted her. always.

she tried to hide her grin behind the coconut as she took a drink from the opening she created, but you knew her, almost better than you knew yourself it sometimes seemed. there were few reasons her cheekbones would raise towards the sun, why her eyes would crinkle at the corner.

"except when your mind is kilometers away," she retorted, plopping down next to you, her knee brushing yours as she folded her legs pretzel-style beneath her. "no people, no technology, no work to distract you, and i lose you to the ocean!" she chuckled with a shake of her head, sea-salted curls swaying with the movement.

"you could never lose me. you know that. you just like to hear me say it." 

leaning in, your pressed your lips to the corner of her mouth, leaving a sweet kiss as your hand swiped the coconut from her grasp. 

"naturally." she replied in her native tongue. her words were flippant, teasing, but her voice was butter-soft with affection.

"naturally," you repeated in english, tone mocking bumping her bare shoulder with your own before bringing the coconut up to your lips.

the action was clumsy, the timing of your backwards head tilt slightly off, sending the sweet water dribbling in the miniscule gap between your lip and the nut shell. without a care, you drank deeply, your thirst not surprising given how long you had been soaking in the solar rays. your mother would be disappointed in your lack of uv protection, but in that moment, it was the furthest thing from mind.

you could feel shuri's gaze on you as you drank, leaving a path of warmth that felt different than the sun. that was one thing about being here alone with her, without the so-called distractions of life. everything felt acute, supercharged, and oh-so-very intense.

swallowing, you pulled the coconut away, turning to look at her. 

"intoni ingxakhi?"  what's wrong, you asked, your interchanging of english and xhosa becoming more natural every time you used the language.

your wrist bent as your arm raised to wipe the soon-to-be-sticky trail from your cheek, chin and neck, only shuri had beat you to it. instead of answering your question, she leaned in, the flat of her pink tongue sliding across the sensitive skin of your collarbone before trailing up you neck. closing your eyes, you tilted your head more to give her extra room to work with. full lips sucked softly at the moisture on your chin, dragging out a groan from the back of your throat.

coconut forgotten in the sand, you brought your hand up to grip the back of her head, soft curls pliable under the grip of your fingers. finally, her mouth moved to meet yours, but as you leaned in to meet her halfway, she pulled back slightly, your lips brushing against one another.

peeling your eyes open, you saw hers were already waiting to connect, heat stirring deep within her irises. you tempted once more to mold your lips together, but again, she leaned away, just enough to keep it from happening.

"shuri." you murmured your complaint, hooded gaze raising from her lips to her eyes than back again. 

she challenged with a murmur of your name, lips barely moving before finally descending upon yours. 

the sand was going to be a bitch to get out of the dark coiled crown on your head, but there was no stopping you from laying back against the ocean-pebbled surface, shuri's body a welcomed weight atop of yours. legs slotted together, she ground her thigh down against your warm center, a hum of pleasure pressing through lips moving in a synchronic dance only the two of you knew.

your hands resting on her lower back, shuri pulled away to look down at you. palms on the ground at either side of your head held her up so she could take in your beauty, so she could take in the wide set nose and kiss-bitten full lips, the brown eyes that were darkened with desire. 

"bast, you are very beautiful." 

there was something in the way shuri breathed those words out, almost as if she hadn't meant to say them out loud, or at least not loud enough for you to hear them. one hand left the ground to cup your cheek, thumb swiping gently at slope of your cheekbone, following the curve of your jawline before traveled lower, a loose grip around your neck. her fingers tightened, palm flat as you swallowed, the skin of your throat pressing against it. her hand felt like a brand, hot, possessive. if a mark was left in its place, it'd be one you'd wear with pride.

she could've left her hand there for an eons and you wouldn't have protested in the slightest. instead, it continue its course south, fingertips gliding against the melanin rich skin of chest before meeting the rim of your tank top. her index slowly trailed along the rib knit neckline, drifting back and and forth as if she were stuck in idle.

"don't tease me." 

you had barely uttered the sentiment out before she gave into the demand. in a swift action, her second hand met the first and with an easy twist of her wrists, the cotton fabric gave way with an audible tear. the sudden sound stole a gasp from you, one shuri eagerly swallowed with her tongue. she enjoyed getting these reactions from you, reveled in whatever sounds she could make spill from those plum-colored lips. she'd yet to find her favorite sequence and hoped she never would. 

her wandering fingers found your nipples, pinching and rolling it between them as her palms massaged the fullness of your breasts. she plucked them like a bassist did her favorite instrument, with care, with passion, with expertise, before delivering your left breast a sharp slap, drawing out a hiss from between your clenched teeth and a smirk overtop of hers. 

narrowing your eyes, your hands tightened on her waist, rolling the two of you over. as if she already knew of your plan, shuri shifted her weight as well, the two of you spinning several times, garnering a few meters of distance from your original spot before landing in your desired position. the logroll shifted the tension in the air, laughter breaking the heated moment as the two of you caught your breath.

looking down at her, chest bare as your ruined top hung off your shoulders haphazardly, you smiled.

"i love you." 

it wasn't the first time you confessed those three not-so-little words, not that day, not that week, but you meant it as full as the first time you thought it to yourself. the two of you weren't even in the same country at the time. hell, you hadn't even had a conversation in days. instead, you had been watching a live feed on c-span of a united nations conference in your rented apartment.

the camera had panned to some other country's ambassador when you saw her, queen shuri looking regally bored in the background. she wasn't even the one speaking and yet you couldn't keep your eyes off of her. you could've and would've paid the cameraman three-month's salary to always have her in frame, just so you could've seen her for the full duration of the livestream. 

you couldn't help but wonder if that was going to be the life you were heading back to in seven days' time, one filled with kisses in passing and workplace obligations that kept you countries-apart on a consistent basis. finding each other in a world of nearly eight billion people was kismet, but even fate had a funny way of insisting on a more difficult journey for lovers.

"what stole your mind from me?" she demanded softly, pulling you back to the present, the fiery mirth within her eyes dulling as concern filled its space.

with a soft sigh, you shifted, finding a seat in her lap as you straddled her, your bare legs aligning with her muscled thighs. though she remained reclined, shuri brought her knees up slightly, toes wiggling in the sand, one hand settling behind her head, the other resting on the curve of your ass.

"i don't want to leave yet. i know we still have a week of holiday left here, but one week is not enough when i desire an eternity with you."

you ducked your head, for speaking like that always made you a bit bashful. it didn't matter how much you knew shuri loved you or how many times she shared her affection towards you, you still couldn't imagine the queen of wakanda continuing to choose you as her boundless love.

"so then we stay."

an unamused huff of air pushed through your nostrils at her suggestion, one brow raising.

"have you forgotten who you are?" you asked incredulously, your voice raising an octave.

"have you?" 

the tone of shuri's voice forced you to swallow your tongue, to choose your words, your tone a little more carefully. yes, she was your lover in all definitions, but she was still queen of the most powerful nation on land (and most-likely the sea as well, but that was a conversation for another day). if she wanted to stay, you had no doubt she would find a way to make it happen, even if it was just for a little while longer.

"i don't mean to doubt your capabilities. it's just that your people need you home. they only tolerate me. and if they found out you were considering abandoning your duties for an outsider..."

your voice trailed off, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your shook your head, refusing to finish the sentence.

the two of you didn't talk about your shaky wakandan lineage. sure your grandmother had talked fondly of the wakandan country and its people, but they were only stories, ones that couldn't be proven, not since your war dog grandfather had disappeared sometime after your mother's birth. 

shuri had offer to do some digging, but you had declined, too afraid of the truth drawing a wedge not only between the two of you, but also between you and your family. whether she looked on her own, she hadn't said and you were grateful for the silence on the topic.

"so marry me."

"er...what?"

the turns this conversation had taken was sending your mind into a spin cycle. one minute you were disheartened by the fact that you had to leave her soon and the next you were in the middle of a marriage proposal.

"marry. me."

the chuckle that escaped from between your lips was an accident, a knee-jerk reaction. you had dreamt of those words coming from out of her mouth for months now and to think that they were finally here almost felt too surreal.

almost.

"you're serious?"

sitting up, shuri rested her weight on one hand, leaning in to affectionate bump her nose against yours. 

"how could i not be when i am talking about a lifetime with the love of my existence?"

the unwavering of her stare as she looked into your eyes killed any thought of this being a playful joke to lighten the moment, to ease your worries. your mind decided it was the perfect time to short circuit as you tried to figure out the right thing to say.

"well it wasn't that great of a proposal so..." you said, a cheeky response to try ease the pressure in your chest.

shuri gasped at your gall, fingers digging into your side, sending you into giggles. gasping for air, you tried to squirm away, but she didn't let up nor did she let you get away.

"mercy, queen. mercy," you choked out between your laughter.

chest rising and falling rapidly, you were grateful when she finally let you catch your breath...only for her to steal it away again with the sincerity in her voice with her next words.

"do you want to marry me, nkosazana sam?" she asked her princess, the term of endearment one that melted your heart every time. 

there was only one response to give her.

"yes, i want to marry you." 

you closed the gap between you and shuri, your palms resting on either side of her head while you pressed your lips against hers. pulling away, you couldn't resist one more joke. 

"though you might want to get used to calling me queen."

with one more quick kiss to her lips, you pushed up onto your feet and took off down the shoreline, seafoam brushing your ankles as you splashed long the waterline, your fiancée hot on your heels.

"hold still," you complained seriously, though the cackle spilling between your words didn't help.

"you are literally stabbing me with a needle. there is no 'holding still.'"

the two of you were back up in the treehouse, naked as the day, shuri lying face down on the queen-sized bed, the only luxurious furniture in the space.

you were straddling her again, only this time you had settled down on the plump of her backside, hunched over as you tried to deliver as clean of a stick-and-poke tattoo as you could to her spine. the words "eternally yours" in wakandan glyphs that trailed from the nape of your neck to the space between your shoulder blades were identical to the sentiment you were currently trying to imprint in the same location on shuri's back. 

"well, it's about to say 'eternally yout' if you don't stop wiggling." you dipped the needle in the ink again as you spoke before returning back to the task at hand. "then you'll have to spend a lifetime explaining why the black panther, the fiercest and strongest creature on earth, couldn't even sit still for one measly little tatto- ow!"

before you could finish your sentence, shuri had sneakily reached her hand back to pinch your leg.

"such a brat."  she snarked under her breath as she folded her arm back under her chin, making you chuckle because where was the lie. 

"you love this brat, though," you countered with ease, giving her finished tattoo one final wipe, sitting back to admire your handy work.

"i do. i really do."