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tchallasbabymama · 1 year

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Ménage à Trois Part Deux: Chapter One

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

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

Word count: 5,023

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

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

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

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

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

“Who lied and told you that?”

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

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

“Where is she, anyway?”

“Late,” grumbled the king.

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

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

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

“She’s two hours late.”

“Was there a problem with the opening?”

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

The princess smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

“Something bothering you?”

“Just your mother.”

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

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

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

“Who is it now?”

“Nakia’s younger cousin, L’Nela.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I know, I’m late-”

“Two hours, Zora?”

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

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

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

“Getting dressed-“

“Just now?! It’s a two-hour ride!”

“I needed a nap!”

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

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

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

“More like ten, kumkani wam.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati.”

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

“It’s because she listens.”

“She’s paid to listen; I’m not.”

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

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Missing your Jabari man?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------

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

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

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

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

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

There were eight.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, my Bast!”

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

“Uxolo kumkani–”

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

“No need to apologize, Kidada.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As if I could ever do such a thing.”

“I know, baby. You love me too much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My love, he-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------

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

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

“Your husband is here, kumkanikazi wam.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be back.”

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

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

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

“Ayo, please make sure we are undisturbed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

M’Baku kissed her deeply.

“I do, too.”

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

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

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

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tchallasbabymama · 1 year

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I KNOW that after seeing Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, y'all are gonna want more M'Baku (and Killmonger)...

So here's a handy guide to my stories. Plus, a look at what's to come for those of you who are new and don't know what to look forward to yet.

Series in pink, oneshots in blue. Everything is 18+ ONLY!

First off, my M'Baku fanfics:

M'Baku's Love

Ménage à Trois

Ménage à Trois Part Deux (coming soon)

Her Throne

Girl of His Dreams

Ready

Tea and Tattoos

Used

Blossoming Ashes (coming soon)

Next up, Erik "Killmonger" Stevens:

All For Us

Black Lace

Baby Body

Don't Forget About Us

The Wedding Guest

Teamwork

The Temple

Also, I have one Shuri fic that I wrote as a way to process my grief.

Stay tuned for more M'Baku! There may or may not be more Killmonger, but I have a Ramonda fic and an Okoye x Nakia fic coming soon!

T'Challa stories here if you're interested💜.

#cecewritessometimes #m'baku fanfiction #killmonger fanfiction #ramonda fanfiction #shuri fanfiction #okoye fanfiction #nakia fanfiction

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tchallasbabymama · 2 years

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Teamwork

Hello, my favorite sluts, whores, and harlots! This here is a little something something I started a year ago thanks to a request from @harleycativy for a Killmonger gangbang fic. I’m just now getting around to finishing it, and since it’s a oneshot and not part of a series, I figured I’d just go ahead and post it unedited. So, let me know what y’all think in your comments and reblogs, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything! Also, check out my masterlist for more Black Panther fanfics. I have plenty of Erik, T’Challa, and M’Baku stories to choose from, and I have a Ramonda fic and a Nakia x Okoye fic on the way! Enjoy 😘

Word Count: 4,203

CW: smut

Raven walked in step with her boyfriend through the lobby of the luxury condo building, fidgeting with the tied belt on her knee-length trench coat. Her heart beat loudly in her chest with each step they took towards the elevators, and when the doors opened, all of her nerves returned full force.

“What if nobody wants me, Erik?” she blurted, and he looked at her like she had lost her mind.

“Girl, have you seen yourself?”

She looked away shyly, but he pulled her face back to look at him.

“Where’s this coming from? You was all hype in the car screaming Meg lyrics in my ear and shit.”

“I know, but it’d be pretty embarrassing to go to a sex party, and nobody wants to fuck me! What if-”

“Oh, I know my nigga Darnell is gonna want some.”

“Darnell?”

“Mhm. Probably Tyreke, too.”

“I can’t believe this is how I’m about to meet your friends.”

“We don’t have to do this, babygirl. We can go to dinner instead. I know you like that sushi place down the-”

“No, I want to, I’m just… just nervous, that’s all.”

Erik pulled her in for a kiss, and she let him control her body.

“We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

Raven nodded and bit her lip, grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the very patient elevator.

“So how often do they have these parties?” she asked when the doors closed behind them.

“About once a month.”

“When’s the last time you went?”

“Before we started dating.”

“Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”

“Because if your ass wasn’t so damn nasty, it probably would’ve scared you off.”

Raven giggled and nudged his side. Her eyes flickered to the ascending numbers on the elevator control panel, and a high-pitched ding let them know they had made it to the top floor.

“Ready?” Erik asked, kissing the back of her hand.

Raven took a deep breath and nodded before stepping off the elevator first and into the foyer of the penthouse. A tall man decked out in leather gear stood by the double doors that led into the party.

“Test and invite?” He asked, and they reached for their phones. Erik pulled up the invite on his phone while Raven found the screenshot of their STI test results from three days before. The security guard checked the invite and their results and opened the door behind him to the festivities. A room full of naked and near-naked melanated people of all shades and shapes came into view, and Raven lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

She barely heard the guard as he ran down a quick list of rules, too entranced in the sight before her. Not only was the condo gorgeous in its own right, with floor-to-cieling windows and a view of the city below, but the salacious activities taking place under its roof had Raven’s thighs rubbing together for friction. Erik noticed the far-off look in her eyes and lightly nudged her, bringing her attention back to the guard.

“-polyurethane condoms and water-based lube provided in the glass bowls placed around the space. Lastly, there’s security at each door and walking around, making sure everyone is playing consensually and safely. If you cannot follow our rules, you will be removed. Understood?”

Raven nodded excitedly, making Erik chuckle.

“Yeah, we got it.”

“Coat check to the left.” The guard gestured towards the woman in a black latex catsuit stationed by the open coat closet.

They thanked him and made their way over to the coat check with Erik’s hand steadily at the small of Raven’s back to guide her. Otherwise, she’d have stopped and stared at the fine-ass specimen that was currently suspended by ropes in the middle of the room, enduring pleasurable tortures hurled his way by a very short woman in very tall pleasers.

“Oh my god, is that Killmonger?” a high-pitched voice sang loudly.

Raven tore her gaze away from the show and allowed her eyes to rest on the coat check girl’s wide smile.

“You know it. What’s up, T?”

“Shit, not much. The usual. I see you brought a friend this time.”

“Yeah, this is my girl, Raven. Raven, meet Tara. She’s one of the people that keeps this show running.”

“Nice to meet you,” Raven said shyly.

“And you! Kill’s never brought a girl here before. You must be something special.”

“She is.”

Erik kissed her temple, and Raven melted into him.

“First time at a party like this?” Tara asked.

“How can you tell?”

“You just look a little nervous, but you’re in good hands. Promise.”

“Thanks.”

“You just gotta do one thing first.”

“What’s that?”

“Get rid of that coat, sis!”

Raven laughed as she untied her belt, and Erik helped her out of her trench, his eyes bugging out of his head when he finally got a glimpse of what she was wearing underneath. A black lace bustier and thong covered her body, but it was the thigh-high stockings being held up by delicate garters that made Erik’s engine purr.

Tara wolf-whistled and motioned for Raven to do a spin.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Kill.”

“Mmmhm,” Erik agreed, his eyes raking up and down Raven’s voluptuous form as he undid his own coat and handed it to Tara, blessing the room with the view of his nearly-naked body.

“Oop, I know that look. Y’all have fun,” Tara giggled and waved goodbye.

Erik’s hand found its way to the small of Raven’s back again, and he led her into the fray.

“Let’s go watch-”

“Nah, come here,” he rumbled in her ear and pulled her back into him and onto his lap as he sat down on the closest available loveseat. Just as he began to pry her legs open and dip his fingers into her wetness, a deep voice interrupted them – well, not really. Nothing was going to stop Erik except for Raven, and she was more than ready to get down to business.

“Yo, is that my nigga Kill?”

Raven looked up just as Erik began to play with her clit, and her eyes widened at the naked man before her.

“Nell?!”

“Ray?!”

“The fuck?!” Erik looked between them.

“Uh, Erik, this is my ex from college.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“No, yeah, we, uh… y’all together now?” Darnell asked awkwardly.

“Yeah, it’s been about five months. So, um, how are you?”

“Nah, fuck that small talk. How long were y’all together?”

Erik’s grip on her waist grew tighter with each word.

“Two years.”

“But that was like a decade ago.”

Erik’s brow remained furrowed. Something about his girl having been with his friend before left a bad taste in his mouth. Raven could feel the tension in his body and placed her hand on his face to get him to look at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“He doesn’t like knowing other people played with his toys,” Darnell chuckled, and Raven shot him a look that shut him up before turning back to Erik.

“Baby, the whole point of tonight was so I could experience my fantasy, right?”

“Mhm.”

“And you even said he’d want some-”

“Yeah, but that was before I knew-”

“This changes nothing. We had a good run ten years ago, but we can put that behind us and be adults and just have some fun.”

Erik eyed her silently.

“You just nasty and wanna get dicked down.”

A devilish smile curled Raven’s lips.

“That’s why you love me.”

“You right,” Erik sighed before looking up at Darnell. “My bad, bruh.”

“No worries, man.”

“So, Darnell, I’ll get straight to it. He brought me here because I’ve never had sex with multiple partners, and that’s something I want to try. Since I know you, and I’m comfortable with you, would you want to join us?”

“I mean, if Kill’s cool with it, then hell yeah. I’m down.”

They both looked at Erik expectantly, and he responded with a nonchalant shrug.

“The lady gets what the lady wants.”

“Then… can I get a couple more?”

“Anything you want, babygirl,” Erik cooed into the crook of her neck.

“Hmm,” Raven hummed as she looked around the room at the naked and almost naked bodies around them. Some were coupled or grouped up and messing around right in the middle of all of the action, whereas others were sneaking off for privacy. Her eyes fell on a corseted woman with a large golden afro on the other side of the room, pegging a man over the arm of a couch, and she began to drool a little at the way the woman’s tits bounced with each impact.

Erik followed her line of vision, and a smirk crossed his face when he saw who she had been looking at. He had a hunch that Raven wasn’t as straight as she thought she was, but he never pushed. The way she complimented women was definitely more lustful and less reverential than she thought, but she swore she was straight… he knew she’d figure it out eventually.

“You like what you see?” he whispered in her ear, breaking her from her trance.

“Wh- no, I just-”

“Wish you were that nigga she’s digging out.”

Raven looked away shyly, her religious upbringing making it difficult for her to articulate her feelings.

“It’s ok if you do, you know.”

“What makes you think I’m not interested in being the pegger?”

“Your sub ass?” Erik laughed, and she poked him in his ribs. Darnell simply smiled at the interaction, just happy to see his ex and his friend getting along so well.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Raven looked back at the sudden change of his tone. His voice had gotten raspier and deeper, and there was a growing appendage beneath her thick thighs. They locked eyes once more, and both found heat behind the others’ irises before their lips were pulled together like magnets. Raven’s hips rocked back and forth on Erik’s lap, and he slapped her ass, making her moan into his mouth.

Darnell leaned against the wall next to them, just watching while his dick hardened. Raven reached her hand out to him, and he took it, allowing her to make him sit down next to Erik, who felt the movement but didn’t stop. His hands were busy gripping Raven’s ass, and his mind only focused on her until she pulled back from their kiss and looked over at Darnell, then back at him. Erik nodded, and Raven smiled before pulling Darnell into a kiss next while still straddling Erik. Erik began fingering her, and her hips continued to wind on his lap while she trailed her fingers down to trace Darnell’s throbbing length.

“You gonna suck daddy’s dick?” Erik asked with his fingers deep inside her, making her moan into Darnell’s mouth. “That’s not an answer.”

His free hand found its way to her braids and pulled her head back to look at him.

“I asked you a question, Raven.”

Her lips were swollen and wet, and her eyes held a certain desperation as they made contact with Erik’s piercing gaze.

“Y-yes.”

“Then suck it,” he ordered before smacking her exposed ass and pulling his fingers out, making a big show of cleaning them off. Raven was on her knees not a second later, already pulling his hefty dick out of his designer boxer briefs. She began to salivate at the look of it, the veins along it calling to her so much that her tongue found its way to one. She traced it teasingly and smirked when he shuddered at the feeling. After teasing him with her tongue, she took him down her throat in a feat Darnell could only marvel at. When they were together, Raven wasn’t a fan of sucking dick, but it seemed that things had changed over time.

“Shit,” Darnell cursed under his breath, but Raven heard him. She looked over at him and winked, making his dick come alive.

“You like having him watch, huh?”

Raven hummed in response around Erik’s length as she bobbed up and down from base to tip.

“You wanna suck his dick, too?”

“Mmmmh,” Raven all but growled, making Erik laugh.

“You nasty.” He pulled her head off of him and made her look him in the eyes. “Aint you? Say it.”

“I’m nasty.”

“Damn right you are. Now suck his dick while I see where Reke’s ass is. He’s gonna want some, too.”

Erik let her hair go, and Raven shuffled over to kneel in front of Darnell, wasting no time before engulfing him in her mouth.

“Shit, Ray!” Darnell cursed as his nails dug into the armrest.

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” Erik said with a smile while he scanned the room looking for Tyreke. As if Erik manifested his presence, the man in question emerged from a private room with a beautiful woman on his arm.

“Damn, is that S-shayna?” Darnell stuttered through gritted teeth as he tried to hold onto his composure.

“Sure the fuck is. Yo, Reke!”

Tyreke turned towards Erik’s voice and flashed a blinding smile before kissing his partner goodbye and making his way over through the sea of intertwined bodies.

“Glad y’all’s late asses could finally make it,” he teased, dapping up Erik.

“Yeah, yeah, nigga, whatever. Reke, this here is my girl, Raven.”

Raven pulled off Darnell’s dick with a pop and smiled up at Erik’s other friend.

“Hi,” she said with a little wave as spit dripped down her chin.

“Hi, yourself,” Tyreke responded, his hungry eyes taking in every inch of Raven’s curvaceous body before turning back to Erik. “Since when do you share?”

Darnell chuckled as Erik narrowed his eyes.

“Since now, nigga. You want in or not?”

“Hell yeah! What’s the move?”

Erik turned to Raven, still on her knees in front of Darnell, and held her chin in his hand.

“What you wanna do, babygirl? We could find a room-”

“Let’s stay out here.”

Erik raised his eyebrows.

“You sure?”

“Mhm. I want people to see us.”

“You nasty bitch,” Erik smirked before leaning down and placing a sloppy kiss on her lips. “Show Tyreke what you can do, babygirl.”

Raven’s eyes darted to Tyreke’s before slowly trailing down his body to the barely-contained erection poking out of his silk boxers. Seconds later, her lips were wrapped around his bulbous head, and the salty taste of his pre-cum graced her tongue.

Her heart nearly beat out of her chest when Erik stepped closer with his dick in hand and placed it against her lips. She worked Tyreke’s dick with her hand while she sucked Erik’s and fondled Darnell’s balls with the other hand.

“That’s right, babygirl, take care of daddy.”

Raven lost track of time switching between the three comparable, but very different, erections. Tyreke curved slightly to the left and was shaped like a thick-stemmed mushroom, his light brown skin a shade or two darker on his dick than the rest of him. Then, there was Darnell, a clean-shaven straight shooter with a pair of juicy balls that Raven remembered used to slap her pussy with force when they had sex. Lastly, was Erik. He wasn’t nicknamed “Killmonger” for nothing; that dick was a thick, veiny, uncircumcised monster that took no prisoners and regularly had Raven begging him for mercy.

A thumping between Raven’s legs made her hips wiggle in search of stimulation, and Erik let out a dark chuckle as he watched her squirm with Darnell’s dick down her throat. He reached out and grabbed her braids, pulling her head back and making her look at him.

“You ready?”

Raven nodded.

“Use your words, Raven.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Erik helped her to her feet and sat her down on the loveseat next to Darnell before dropping to his knees and spreading her legs wide, draping one over the arm of the chair and the other on Darnell’s lap. He pushed her thong to the side and dug into his meal like a starving man. He focused his plump lips on her sensitive bundle of nerves while he fingered her with one hand and played with her purple jeweled buttplug with the other.

Raven screamed to the heavens as Erik brought her to orgasm, and seconds later, his mouth was replaced by another. Tyreke went next, dragging the flat of his tongue from her taint to her clit, collecting all the juices she had just let loose. Not to be left out, Darnell busied himself by pulling Raven’s breasts from their lace prisons.

They had garnered the attention of a small crowd when Raven’s moans hit a certain decibel, and she happened to lock eyes with the woman in the strap that she had been watching earlier.

Erik noticed the short exchange, and bent down to whisper in her ear, “You want her to lick your pussy?”

Raven’s eyes blew wide for a second, but her panic quickly subsided, and she nodded shyly.

“Yes.”

“Aint nothing wrong with that. Say it with your chest.”

“I-I want her to eat me out. I want to know what it’s like with a woman.”

“Sure thang, babygirl.”

Erik sauntered over to the woman, dick swinging between his toned thighs.

“My lady likes you. What’s your name?”

“You can call me Honey,” she cooed with a voice that matched her name.

“Bet. You down, Honey?”

Honey looked him up and down before crossing her arms over her chest.

“I got rules.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.”

“I’m only here for pussy and ass. No dick.”

“Respect. This is all for her, anyway.”

Honey uncrossed her arms and nodded in approval, making Erik’s dimples sink into his cheeks, and his golden slugs shine in the dim lighting. He gestured for her to lead the way, and Honey breezed right past him, making her way over to Raven without breaking their eye contact. She tapped Tyreke on the shoulder, and he looked up at her with a soaking wet beard.

“I got it from here, big boy.”

Tyreke nodded and got up to sit on the arm of the loveseat, grabbing Raven’s other leg so that he and Darnell both held one.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” Honey asked as she squatted in front of Raven’s delicious-looking pussy and reached out to caress her wet, already swollen lips.

“I’m Raven.”

“I’m Honey.”

“Nice to- oh my god!”

Honey wasted no time at all burying her face between Raven’s legs, and she was sure she felt herself ascending to another plane of existence the moment the other woman’s tongue flickered over her favorite spot. It didn’t help that Darnell and Tyreke were stimulating her nipples, and Erik stood off to the side, smirking while he stroked himself.

Raven tried to focus on the grip she had on Darnell and Tyreke, but her hands flew to Honey’s golden afro to anchor herself. It felt like mere seconds passed before her juices were raining down Honey’s chin.

Honey pulled back to look at Raven’s pussy as it contracted hungrily around her fingers, and Raven pulled her into a steamy kiss.

“Can I fuck you with my strap?” Honey asked against her lips, and Raven nodded vigorously.

Erik already had the condom ready, so he handed it over and watched as Honey rolled it down her purple shaft. His friends let go of her legs, and Raven slid down to her knees, opening her mouth wide for Honey, who gladly obliged. Even though Honey couldn’t feel the fellatio, the vision of having a beautiful woman on her knees for her made her pussy thump. She grew impatient, and moments later, her strap was sliding into Raven’s depths while the braided beauty posed on the couch with her ass up for the taking.

“Damn, look at that grip,” Tyreke commented, staring at the way Raven’s lips seemed not to want to let Honey go.

“Greedy pussy having ass bitch,” Erik growled, his hand still stroking his length as he watched his girlfriend get absolutely railed by a woman none of them knew.

Raven heard him and turned in his direction. She tried to send him a smile, but Honey hit a spot near her cervix that made her release a moan from the depths of her soul. The sound traveled straight to between Erik’s, Darnell’s, and Tyreke’s legs, and all three of them moved to get in on the action.

Honey pulled out and flipped Raven over in one swift motion, and the men put Raven’s mouth and hands to use.

“There you go,” Erik encouraged her as she looked up at him with Darnell’s dick in her mouth and tears forming in her eyes.

Raven was in heaven with their hands roaming all over her body, and her holes filled. She didn’t even notice their growing audience; all that mattered was the four people currently making her feel like a goddess of sex.

When she came on Honey’s strap, Erik’s husky baritone tethered her to the physical.

“How you feeling, babygirl?”

Darnell moved his dick out of the way so she could speak.

“Great,” she heaved out, trying to catch her breath.

“Wanna keep going?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Aight, bet.”

Erik lifted her and sat down on the loveseat with his hips just barely on the edge of the cushion, placing her in his lap and sliding her down his bare erection. She allowed him to thrust up into her with his powerful thighs, and her hands grazed the keloid scars on his chest as she held on for dear life.

“You know this pussy is mine, right?” he growled in her ear.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Now, I know what you want, but you ain’t getting it from me until you take care of them first. Understand?”

Raven pouted, but nodded her head, making Erik slap her ass.

“Words.”

“Yes, daddy!”

“That’s more like it,” he grinned as she bounced up and down on his dick. “Who you want in that ass first?”

Raven looked between the other three, and her eyes fell back on Honey. Without saying a word, she beckoned her over with a “come hither” motion, and leaned forward so that she and Erik were chest-to-chest. Erik reached around and pulled out her bejeweled plug, and Honey wasted no time in making sure Raven was filled to the brim.

“Fuck!” Raven cursed as she held onto Erik’s shoulders.

“Uh-huh, that’s right. Take that shit.”

Honey and Erik had Raven’s voice bouncing off the walls, and when they switched positions so that Darnell and Tyreke could have a go, she nearly dehydrated herself from all the squirting she ended up doing from the overstimulation.

Raven wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It could’ve been ten minutes or ten hours for all she cared. All that mattered was the intense pleasure she felt from being the center of attention. Even with all the distractions, her mind was already plotting on the next time. She wasn’t quite ready to try eating pussy yet, but she was curious enough to catalogue it for a later date. Especially if Honey could be involved.

Erik, always one to look out for his girl, noticed after a while that Raven was starting to tire out from the constant arousal, so he pulled his dick from her mouth and grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look up at him while she bounced on Darnell’s dick. Her ass was covered in his and Tyreke’s semen, but Erik had been holding on for the grand finale.

“You’ve been so good tonight. Ready for your reward, babygirl?”

Raven’s tired eyes lit up.

“Yes, daddy,” she slurred, making him chuckle.

Erik lifted her off of Darnell and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her back into the wall and sliding his uncovered dick into her depths. Raven held on to his neck as he pounded into her, and with every second that passed, they both climbed higher and higher to their peaks. Raven reached hers first, her body clenching around his dick as a wave of pleasure rippled through her body.

After holding onto his nut for so long, Erik was pulled right along with her, and Raven moaned in his ear as she felt his essence spilling out of his twitching length. As if his orgasm flipped a switch inside her, Raven’s body went limp in Erik’s arms.

He sat down on the couch next to Darnell as the crowd around them dispersed. Pretty soon, all that was left standing around were just the lucky few who got a taste of Raven that night. Erik stroked her braids while Tyreke went to go find some refreshments for her to eat, and Honey massaged her tired legs while Darnell put a water bottle to her lips for her to rehydrate. When Tyreke returned with a charcuterie plate, Erik fed her little by little.

They stayed like that until Raven found the strength to move, a lazy smile plastered on her face. She looked around at her love and her play partners, and realized she’d never be able to go back to her old vanilla life. Raven was a changed woman.

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fanfiction #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #18+ only #oneshot #Spotify

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tchallasbabymama · 2 years

Text

How Ramonda Got Her Groove Back

[On Hiatus, 18+]

Queen Mother Ramonda meets a handsome warrior during her brief stay in Jabariland after fleeing Killmonger’s reign.

Ramonda x Kodjo (OC)

Fluff, Smut

Part One

Be sure to check out my full masterlist and let me know if you want to be tagged!

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fanfiction #ramonda fanfiction #queen ramonda #ramonda fluff #ramonda smut #ramonda angst #ramonda lemon #18+ only #ramonda x black!oc #black!oc #male!oc

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tchallasbabymama · 1 year

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How Ramonda Got Her Groove Back: Part One

Hey, y’all! It’s been a while since I last posted a story on here, but I’m trying to get back into the routine after taking a new position at my job. So, without further ado, here’s the first chapter of my Ramonda story. Please leave feedback in the form of comments and reblogs, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything! Here’s a link to my masterlist so you can read my other stories as well. Enjoy 😘

Word Count: 5,594

Queen Ramonda didn't shed a single salty tear when the news of her husband’s death reached her ears. She had always been known as a fierce and unshakable ruler, and she refused to allow T’Chaka’s departure from this plane to tarnish her reputation. After all, despite the loss, she felt a tiny bit of relief knowing her reign had ended.

Ramonda never wanted to be queen, but what other choice is there when one falls in love with a king? She had entered T’Chaka’s life at the precise moment when he had finally let go of his departed wife, and she took to him and his young son, T’Challa, immediately. Shortly after, they were married, and a few years later, Ramonda found herself carrying his secondborn. Though Ramonda wouldn’t give up being T’Challa and Shuri’s mother for the world, there were many days when she longed for freedom from the palace. She often stared at the far-off Jabari mountains and wondered what mysteries they held. Whenever T’Chaka would take her with him on diplomatic trips out of the country, Ramonda gladly went with him, just happy to get out of the confines of her home.

However, Ramonda would never forget the first time T’Chaka left the country after they met. At the time, she believed him to be hunting down Klaue for his thievery, but now she knew the truth. Now, she could no longer think of her husband without bile rising in her throat. His actions that day resulted in a decades-long grudge against Wakanda and the Udaku clan by one of their own. One who had been abandoned by his own family, by T’Chaka. The king had killed his brother, N’Jobu, in cold blood and left his young son behind to fend for himself. Never mind that he had a son himself, and never mind that the child he abandoned was family… apparently, none of that mattered.

T’Chaka took the secret of what happened that night to his grave. He had N’Jobu declared Missing in Action and went about his life as if everything was normal. It wasn’t until after T’Chaka’s death that N’Jobu’s son arrived and turned Wakanda on its head. N’Jadaka was the name his parents gave him, but the U.S. military called him “Killmonger.” A horrible name for a man capable of doing horrible things.

When Killmonger challenged T’Challa for the throne, Ramonda felt her gut twist in the way it usually did when something didn’t feel right. She had all the faith in the world in her son, but the hatred in Killmonger’s eyes told her everything he needed to know: the man was dangerous. Though he certainly wanted power, he wasn’t fighting because of greed. He was fighting out of grief and hatred, which made him destructive. Killmonger didn’t just want what T’Challa had; he wanted to make him and all his loved ones feel the same pain he had felt for years.

The unshakable queen shattered into pieces the second that Killmonger lifted T’Challa’s limp body onto his shoulders and tossed him over the falls. She held on tight to her daughter as Nakia ushered them to safety in the Jabari mountains. The very mountains Ramonda had longed to visit one day under different circumstances.

Bast had been looking out for her that day because when they arrived in Lord M’Baku’s throne room, he was not the dreadful man she assumed him to be. He had a sense of humor about him, but more importantly, he was an honorable man.

As it turned out, T’Challa’s body had washed ashore just beyond the Jabari’s borders, and M’Baku had his healers taking care of him as best they could. Ramonda resuscitated him using a heart-shaped herb that the king’s paramour Nakia had snatched before they went on the run. Not even an hour later, T’Challa was already planning his march back down the mountain. He expected Ramonda to leave Wakanda for her protection, but she refused. Instead, T’Challa settled on ensuring his mother’s safety within the walls of the Jabari palace.

“Mama, I need you to stay here. To stay safe,” he said, throwing off his hooded blanket and allowing the dark fibers of the Black Panther suit to escape from his necklace, covering his body.

Ramonda pursed her lips disapprovingly but held her tongue. She was no longer in the fighting shape of her younger years, so Ramonda decided to heed his word.

“Very well, then,” she conceded with a sigh and placed her hand against his cheek. Her eyes were weighed down with grief and fatigue but still so full of love for her only son. “Send for me the moment you unseat him.”

“I will, mama. I promise.” T’Challa kissed her hands before reaching out for his little sister and his love to join them. Nakia’s hand found its way into his, and their fingers naturally intertwined in the way they had for years.

Shuri squeezed in between her loved ones and held them close. Ever the optimist, she sent words of encouragement into the universe, knowing deep in her heart that her brother would be victorious this time, “This will all be over soon.”

---------

Ramonda stood at the wide open doors of the Jabari palace and waved her children goodbye. She held the Border tribe blanket close to her body as she watched them travel down the mountain until they disappeared out of view around a rocky ledge. Even then, Ramonda stood there, her eyes glued on the sight of her home in the distant valley as she prayed for peace. Peace for her people, peace for her family, and peace for herself. The latter was already in short supply and became downright scarce when she heard a throat clear behind her.

“Queen Mother Ramonda-”

“You hypocrite,” she spat, whipping around on her heels and facing M’Baku.

Her tone gobsmacked the near-giant.

“Excuse me?”

“My son went to you for help, and you refused him.”

“I have helped enough.” He waved her off with a roll of his eyes. “The Black Panther lives, does he not?”

“Three days ago, you wanted Wakanda for yourself, and now you pretend you do not care about what happens to it. You are just throwing a tantrum because you failed!”

M’Baku glared down at Ramonda, standing almost a foot shorter than his massive frame, her finger pushed into his chest accusingly.

“Show the queen to her quarters,” he hissed through gritted teeth before storming down the hall towards the throne room, barking orders at every guard he passed.

A broad-shouldered man with a hefty build stepped forward from against the far wall, his grass and leather skirts rustling with each step he took. Ramonda recognized him from Challenge Day, but his eyes were softer this time around. The first time she saw him, he wore the hardened facade of a warrior ready for battle, but this time with his brows relaxed and a soft smile on his face, his warmth shone through.

He wasn’t warm enough to melt the icy daggers coming from Ramonda’s eyes, though.

“Right this way, Queen Mother.”

He gestured for her to follow him, and she stared blankly at him. Just as his eyebrows creased and he began to speak up, she stepped forward, passing him by as she hastened towards what she now knew to be the residential side of the palace. Her speed took the guard by surprise, but he caught up to her quickly with his long strides.

Ramonda held her blanket tight around her shoulders and unsuccessfully willed her body to stop shivering as they walked through the winding palace halls. Artisans had carved the impressive structure out of the mountainside long ago, and she distracted herself from the chill by admiring the architecture. Jabari wood featured prominently in the palace’s design, and she wondered if all of Jabariland was so beautiful.

“There will be furs waiting for you to change into,” the guard remarked, breaking her train of thought. “Much warmer than that flimsy sheet.”

Ramonda pressed her lips together and cut her eyes at him.

“How much farther?”

He fought a smirk when he noticed her nose was beginning to run.

“Too cold for you?” he asked teasingly.

“This climate is uninhabitable for humankind,” Ramonda huffed.

The guard chuckled, and the sound grated against Ramonda’s eardrums. Rather than continue their back-and-forth, she chose to conserve her energy and focus on not freezing to death before she could see her children again. She thought of the sun and imagined its warm rays beaming down on her skin. Memories of taking Shuri and T’Challa to play in the river when they were young filled her mind and brought her physical and emotional comfort.

Ramonda was lost in her thoughts when moments later, she noticed they had begun climbing a winding wooden staircase with massive glass windows along the side so they could view the entirety of Jabariland during their ascent. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes grew wide at the soft blanket of white that covered the entire territory.

The guard chuckled again, and she tore her eyes away from the wintry wonderland outside, only to see a sly smirk on his face.

“And just what is so amusing?” she asked, making his smirk spread into an almost smile.

“I have never before seen Jabariland through the eyes of an outsider.”

Ramonda’s defensiveness slipped away. She understood what he meant. After all, Wakanda had been an isolationist nation as well, and although she never got to share her homeland with anyone from the outside, she often thought about what it would be like to do so.

“I must admit, you have a beautiful homeland… though the frigid temperature leaves plenty to be desired,” she complimented him backhandedly as she continued up the stairs.

“I prefer it to the suffocating heat that you lowlanders live in,” he retorted, taking a left at the landing and leading her down yet another hallway. Ramonda’s face scrunched up at his words, not liking how derogatory they sounded, but before she could comment, he continued, “Well, here we are.”

The guard reached out his massive hand and turned the knob on the intricately carved wooden door, and Ramonda was shocked again. Being a queen, she was used to luxury. However, she was pleasantly surprised that her definition of quarters fit for a queen matched the Jabari’s. A large canopy bed covered in warm-looking blankets called to Ramonda, but the centerpiece of the suite, a raging fireplace, had her moving on auto-pilot toward the heat.

“A guard will be stationed outside your door if you need anything,” he said, and she turned around to face him, her hands warming by the flames.

“A different guard?” she asked.

“Yes. This was my final duty for today.”

Ramonda nodded.

“Very well then. Enkosi…”

“Kodjo, your highness.”

“Enkosi, Kodjo.”

“You are most welcome.”

He lowered his head in a respectful bow and closed the door behind himself, leaving Ramonda alone in her palace quarters with views of the entire province. She tore herself away from the fireplace and stepped towards the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the space. Under different circumstances, the view would have moved her to tears, but she averted her eyes before any could fall.

To her left, she noticed a doorway and decided to explore what was on the other side. As it turned out, it led to a spa-style bathroom and walk-in closet filled with Jabari leathers and furs sure to keep anybody warm in the glacial temperatures. Ramonda ran her fingers through the fluffy gray fibers of a fur shawl before snatching it off the hanger and wrapping it around her shoulders, dropping the Border tribe blanket in one swift movement. She settled into the fur and inhaled deeply to ground herself in its embrace.

Without warning, Ramonda’s breath stuttered, and as her lungs began to feel full, tears flooded her eyes. She allowed them to fall since she was alone, and silent sobs wracked through her body as she fell to her knees on the closet floor.

The usually calm and collected queen allowed herself to feel the delayed emotional response from her head to her toes until her eyes ran dry, and she had no more emotion left to give. Ramonda slowly peeled herself off the closet floor and dragged herself to the rain shower. She removed her fur wrap, then her clothes, before stepping inside and letting the traumatic experience wash down the drain.

---------

As Kodjo made his way back through the palace, he couldn’t help but look forward to his night ahead. He’d have his loft to himself and already planned to take a long, hot bath to relax. His muscles hadn’t recovered from marching down and back up the mountain on Challenge Day, and he felt like he could collapse at any second. However, as he rounded the corner to the throne room, he surmised that his night wouldn’t go as planned.

M’Baku sat on his throne with his wife Tayesha standing in front of him, her hands on her curvaceous hips that had been spread by his offspring over the years. The chief’s head was in his hands, and the crease in his brow let Kodjo know he was deep in thought.

“My chief?” Kodjo asked, making himself known.

M’Baku looked up, but before he could speak, Tayesha whipped around.

“Kodjo, you should return to your post.”

“My chieftess, I was told someone else would take over.”

“Everyone else will be busy fighting alongside King T’Challa.”

Kodjo blinked in surprise and turned to M’Baku questioningly.

“My chief, you have changed your mind?”

“It seems I have,” M’Baku grumbled, pushing off from the armrests and standing to his full height.

“I would be more useful in battle, no?” Kodjo asked, looking between the two royals.

“We need you here protecting Ramonda in case the usurper tries to come for her,” Tayesha explained softly, her eyes regarding him with their usual warmth.

Kodjo held his tongue and nodded respectfully at his chieftess despite the disappointment filling his body. Yes, he was exhausted, but the prospect of battle re-energized the warrior. Instead, he bowed his head as M’Baku lumbered past, obviously disgruntled at the decision Tayesha had somehow swayed him into. Kodjo couldn’t blame the chief for falling for his wife’s charms; she was exceptionally beautiful, but her inviting aura and the way she wielded her words could get anyone to do what she wanted. Especially her husband.

Tayesha breezed by Kodjo and caught up to M’Baku as he waited for her in the doorway and wrapped her arm around his bicep before allowing him to lead her to their quarters. The two statuesque leaders disappeared down the cavernous hallway, and Kodjo sighed before dragging his feet towards his post.

Everyone Kodjo passed on the way to the other side of the palace seemed giddy with the prospect of war before the announcement had even been made. He trudged his way to Ramonda’s door and glared at it with contempt before sucking his teeth.

“Lowlanders just had to bring trouble with them,” Kodjo grumbled before turning his back to the door and crossing his arms over his broad chest. He ignored the way his tired legs wanted to wobble under his body weight and stood tall like the soldier he was.

On the other side of that door, Ramonda lay in bed, curled up under a pile of blankets and furs, unable to turn her brain off long enough to take the nap she so desperately needed. Her mind raced with anxiety as she pictured the worst-case scenario of what could happen to her children. She felt helpless so far away from all the action, but they couldn’t all be there at once for safety purposes.

Even as her eyes gazed out over the wintry wonderland, she felt none of her usual intrigue for the mysterious mountain range. The circumstances made it difficult for her to appreciate finally visiting the lands she had dreamed of since she was a young girl. She had traveled the world with T’Chaka, but this treasure in her own backyard amazed her more than anywhere else she had been.

A loud horn sounded and broke her from her reminiscing with a start. Her heart thumped in her chest along with the large drums that began playing from seemingly every corner of Jabariland, and the usually graceful queen darted up from the bed, nearly stumbling over the sheets on her way to the window. She could see drummers on top of just about every building in the city, and as they played their tunes, the people rushed to the streets.

Ramonda hurried to her door and swung it open with all the force of a woman on a mission. She fully expected to see a stranger but was oddly comforted when she laid her eyes on Kodjo leaning against the wall across from her door.

“What is happening out there?”

Kodjo heard her question, but his answer dissolved on his tongue. He was too entranced by the way her stark white locs hung wildly about her head, framing her fierce eyes and sharp cheekbones like the snow that fell in his homeland. His distraction didn’t last long, though, because a manicured hand snapped impatiently in his face, bringing his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Where is your replacement?”

“Busy.”

Ramonda narrowed her eyes at his flippant response but continued her line of questioning.

“The drums. What are they for?”

“They are drums of war,” he responded with longing in his eyes, longing for the sweet taste of victory and for something else he hadn’t had in years.

Ramonda’s gut tightened, and her heart lurched into her throat. She thought that surely, the worst had come of her children, and Killmonger had brought the fight to Jabariland. Fear cemented her lips together and creased her brow, but her silence led Kodjo to believe she was displeased by his answer.

“Our mighty chief has decided to aid your son in battle,” he explained further.

Little did Kodjo know his words had quelled an internal storm raging inside Ramonda. She took a breath to give herself time to gather her words.

“Yes, well… I would like to be kept updated on the situation.”

“All we can do now is wait.”

“Wait?” she snipped.

“Yes… wait.”

Ramonda narrowed her eyes at his casual tone, but he simply stared blankly in return which angered her even more.

“Do you have children, Kodjo?” she asked, her tongue laced with poison as she said his name. He sensed her displeasure and straightened his posture as he realized he had overstepped with the royal.

“Yes, I-”

“And would you be content with simply waiting while they risked their lives in battle?”

His round eyes drooped just a little, but his shoulders remained firm.

“I would not,” his voice softened.

“So, you see my problem?”

“I do,” Kodjo sighed, “but we will not know anything until the drums sound again when the warriors return.”

Ramonda deflated from his sincerity and felt for the kimoyo beads on her wrist. They would be her lifeline.

“Very well then.”

Ramonda closed the door and shuffled back across the room, picking up the blankets she tripped over and plopping down in the center of the enormous bed. She crossed her legs and straightened her spine, rolling her shoulders back and centering herself before pressing her tracker bead. A holographic map of Wakanda filled the air in front of her, and she used her fingers to zoom in on Mt. Bashenga, where she could see T’Challa’s and Shuri’s lifelike miniature avatars splitting up to carry out their parts of the plan. Shuri was heading into her lab with Nakia and the colonizer to hijack the Royal Talon while T’Challa was going to confront Killmonger.

Ramonda nestled into the covers and attempted to breathe her anxiety away with deep, cleansing inhales. She ended up getting too relaxed, and though she tried her hardest to keep her eyes open, the warmth of the furs lulled her to sleep.

Falling.

Ramonda felt like she was falling, so she jerked her body awake and found her heart beating out of her chest. She searched the corners of her mind for a memory of her dream, but there was nothing to hold onto—just the feeling of freefalling.

Ramonda wiped the sleep from her eyes and rechecked her beads to see if T’Challa and Shuri were alright. They were both still at Mt. Bashenga, but-

“That cannot be right,” Ramonda squinted her eyes at T’Challa’s location and wondered why he was in the vibranium mine. Her questioning was cut short by a rumbling in her stomach that reminded her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast with M’Baku and Tayesha.

Humming to herself to calm her anxiety, Ramonda crossed the room to the walk-in closet and quickly found a thick sweater made of the softest fibers she’d ever touched and slid it over her body along with a pair of tailored leather pants that were somehow just the right size and furry boots to keep her feet warm.

Making a mental note to purchase some clothing from Jabariland in the future, Ramonda took one last look at her children’s locations on her kimoyo beads before reaching for the doorknob. Before her fingertips could graze the brass, she heard a melodic baritone on the other side of the door singing a song she’d never heard before. She stopped in her tracks and silenced her own serenade to listen to Kodjo effortlessly sing like his vocal chords couldn’t be bothered with anything less than perfection.

---------

Kodjo had just noticed the sun beginning to set when the door opened again. He had spent the last hour daydreaming about his next day off and humming to himself to pass the time, dreading the moment when he would have to face Ramonda again after angering her.

That moment came and went when she regarded him with softer eyes than he had anticipated.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

He blinked the surprise from his face and shrugged off her compliment.

“Eh, it is alright.”

“It is more than alright. You sound like Mustafa Zaire.”

“Who?”

“He is a world-famous Wakandan vocalist,” Ramonda bragged.

“Never heard of him,” Kodjo shrugged again. “A favorite of yours?”

“In fact, he is.”

“Hhm.” Kodjo’s lips curled up in the smallest grin. “My apologies for singing so loudly, Queen Mother-

“Just ‘Ramonda’ will do, Kodjo.”

“Very well, Ramonda.”

Her name rolled effortlessly from his plush lips before wrapping around her like another thick Jabari fur, and she felt her skin warm up in ways she hadn’t felt since she met her departed husband.

“Did I bother you?”

“No. I took a short nap, and when I woke up, I realized it had been a while since my last meal.”

Kodjo’s own hunger was beginning to creep up on him, so he perked up at the mention of food.

“The chieftess takes her meals in her quarters with her children when the chief is away at war, so you will be dining alone tonight.”

Ramonda nodded.

“Come. I will escort you to the kitchen.”

“I remember the way.”

“Yes, but it is my job to keep you safe while you are in our care.”

“I am not some fragile old woman, Kodjo.”

“My apologies. I did not mean to imply-”

“That I cannot fend for myself.”

“Not at all. Only that if I were to leave my post, I would face the wrath of chieftess Tayesha.”

Ramonda cracked a sly smirk out of respect for Tayesha.

“She rules with an iron fist, that one?”

“Not as unforgiving as metal… more like Jabari wood.”

“Very well then. You may accompany me to the kitchen.”

Kodjo bowed his head with an accomplished smile plastered on his lips as Ramonda took off down the hallway toward the kitchen. He couldn’t help but notice how haughty her walk was when she wasn’t shivering beneath thin blankets. Her hips swished in the chocolate leather pants that she filled out more than he expected for a woman of her svelte frame, and she smelled of lilies.

The palace felt eerily like a ghost town to Ramonda. The halls buzzing with life just hours earlier were silent, and not a soul was to be seen.

“Did everyone go to war?”

“Most, yes. The rest are in their homes or temples praying to Hanuman for our warriors’ safe return.”

Ramonda nodded and wondered if Hanuman would hear her if she added her prayers into the mix. The more gods on their side, the better.

“The Jabari are a spiritual people, then?”

“Very,” Kodjo responded proudly, his chest puffing out just a little as he spoke.

“It seems we have that in common.”

“Yes, you lowlanders have your panther god.”

Ramonda squinted at his choice of words but kept her protests to herself.

“We do,” she replied. “I am sure that despite our separation for many centuries, there are many more similarities between our people than we realize.”

“Perhaps.”

“We are all Wakandan, after all.”

“Hmph.”

Ramonda cut her eyes Kodjo’s way and took in his grimace.

“You disagree?”

He met her gaze hesitantly, and she could see the regret in his eyes for speaking out of turn.

“Speak freely, Kodjo.”

The guard cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“It is not that I disagree, per se. I just think that you lowlanders-”

“You keep using that term.”

“It is not meant to be derogatory.”

“It feels as such.”

“I imagine you have much harsher terms for us Jabari.”

“You imagine incorrectly.”

Kodjo sucked his teeth.

“If you say so.”

Ramonda side-eyed him as they walked in step through the empty hallways. The smell of expertly-spiced food let Ramonda know they were closing in on their destination, and shortly after, they rounded a final corner and came face to face with the royal chef Sade in her element. She twirled around the large kitchen as if she were as light as a feather, and she moved with the ease of someone who had an intimate understanding of their environment.

“You have a guest,” Kodjo announced, and Sade turned around at the sound of his voice, beaming with an infectious joy that transferred to Ramonda almost immediately.

“Queen Mother, a pleasure to have you again!” Sade sang as she placed her ladle down on the side of her stew pot and wiped her hands on her apron. “Come, sit. It is not as fancy as this morning’s breakfast, but I am sure my son explained to you-”

“Your son?”

Sade turned to Kodjo with a hand on her hip, and he shrugged innocently.

“It never came up,” he said, making Sade roll her eyes.

“Your personal bodyguard is my son, so if he is not doing a good job, let me know, and I will straighten him right out for you!” Sade said, pinching Kodjo’s muscular arm.

“Mama,” he groaned, and his discomfort made Ramonda chuckle.

“I will do just that, Sade.”

“Come, sit.” The chef ushered Ramonda to the empty table, where she couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the wooden furniture. The table top was made from a huge tree that had been sliced so that all its beautiful rings were visible, and Ramonda ran her fingers over the rings closest to her as she sat down. “I imagine you must be starving.”

“I did not notice how much time had passed since my last meal,” Ramonda nodded.

“One bowl of my famous vegetable curry coming right up.”

Sade shuffled over to the stove and stirred the fragrant stew thickening in the pot. She then fluffed the rice before turning to Kodjo with an expectant smile on her face.

“How is my Tayo?”

Kodjo’s expression soon matched hers, and Ramonda felt her chest tighten as she watched his face light up.

“He caught his first fish the other day at school. It was so big he could hardly lift it from the water.”

“Why am I just now hearing of this? I would have cooked it up with some-”

“Mama, he threw it back.”

“Eh?” Sade’s head whipped in her son’s direction.

“Your grandson let the fish go!” Kodjo explained.

Ramonda smirked at his accusatory tone while Sade shook her head lovingly.

“That boy is so sweet. A true gift from Hanuman,” the chef mused while she ladled curry into a large wooden bowl.

“That he is,” Kodjo sighed with a smile.

“How old is your son?” Ramonda asked him as Sade set the bowl down in front of her. Her eyes left her bodyguard and fell to the reddish brown stew, the steam floating up and filling her nostrils with the most delicious-smelling concoction.

“He will turn six next week.”

Ramonda hummed in response as she blew on the hot stew to cool it down. As she did that, her mind wandered to her children again, and she automatically felt for the kimoyo beads on her wrist, activating her tracking bead. Her eyes were drawn like magnets to the two figures moving around the map.

At least they were moving.

“What is that?” Kodjo asked, breaking the silence, and Ramonda looked up for a moment to see both of them staring down at the hologram in awe.

“My children.”

She zoomed in on Mt. Bashenga and saw that while Shuri was still out on the field, T’Challa was on the elevator, moving from the bottom of the mines to the panther statue. Ramonda sent another silent prayer to Bast and the ancestors before shutting down the hologram and picking up her spoon to taste her dinner. The second it breached her lips, her worries took a backseat to her astonishment at the new flavors she was introduced to.

“Sade, this is phenomenal.”

“Uh, t-thank you,” Sade stammered, still shocked by the technology she had just witnessed. When she looked at her son, she noticed his eyes were wide with wonder.

Minutes passed before anyone said anything. Ramonda ate in silence while Sade began cleaning the kitchen, but Kodjo was glued to the spot staring at the beads on Ramonda’s wrist. The technology intrigued him. He had never even conceived of such a thing before, and his entire worldview had begun to turn on its head with just one visit from the lowlanders.

That worldview expanded even more when, minutes later, one of the beads separated from the others and rolled down into Ramonda’s palm, the king’s figure appearing in her hand as if she had shrunk him down and carried him in her pocket.

“Mama, it is over,” he said. “You can come home.”

What happened next changed the trajectory of Kodjo’s life forever. Until that moment, he had no more than a minor infatuation with Ramonda, but as her lips peeled back in a wide smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, he was overwhelmed by the intense need to make her smile like that every second he could.

Kodjo’s feelings caught him by surprise. So much so that he stayed silent while he escorted Ramonda back to her room to gather her things. Not a word was spoken between the two of them while they traveled to the front of the palace and stood in the snow while the Royal Talon descended from the sky. Tayesha stood next to Ramonda, gazing up excitedly at the ship while all six of her children watched with their mouths agape.

The moment the Talon touched down and the ramp hit the snow, Ramonda took off running, meeting her children before their feet could even touch the ground. The three of them stayed in their embrace while M’Baku and his warriors departed the ship, the chief’s brood of offspring tackling him to the ground before he could plant a kiss on his wife’s lips.

Kodjo watched the joyous reunion with a hint of jealousy, longing to feel his son’s little arms wrapped around his torso.

“Kodjo.”

He snapped out of his daydream at the sound of his name and stood tall as M’Baku and Tayesha approached him.

“You have done well. Thank you for your service today,” Tayesha said, and he bowed deferentially to the two royals. “Go, rest. And give Tayo our love.”

Kodjo smiled at her kind words.

“Yes, chieftess. Thank you.”

He bowed once more to them both, but this time, when he stood up straight, he caught a glimpse of Ramonda over Tayesha’s shoulder. She was looking in his direction at that moment and nodded his way before turning and boarding the ship. That small gesture sent his heart soaring, and the goofy smile that appeared on his face tipped off the chief and chieftess to his feelings.

“You know, the king has invited me to sit on his council,” M’Baku commented with a raised eyebrow. “I would like you to accompany me on our diplomatic trips down to the valley.”

Kodjo tried and failed to hide his excitement, but M’Baku and Tayesha noticed the twinkle in his eye at the thought of seeing his favorite lowlander again. They sent each other knowing glances before herding their children indoors to prepare for bed.

Kodjo stood outside watching the Royal Talon take off and disappear into the clouds, already plotting how he could make Ramonda smile again the next time he saw her. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be long.

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @brihann, @impremenior r, @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @brattyfics , @cecereads209 , @afriendlyblackhottie , @queengodiva619 , @musicisme333 , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes, @uzumaki-rebellion , @tallulahchanel , @muse-of-mbaku , @we-outsiiiide, @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 , @hoeseokcangetit , @unfriendlyblkhotti3 , @bornamiracle , @saltiestblkgirlofall , @goddessofmischief0711, @dashhoney25, @griot-of-wakanda

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fanfiction #ramonda fanfiction #ramonda smut #ramonda fluff #ramonda x black!oc #black!oc #Spotify

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tchallasbabymama · 1 year

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Preview of Ménage à Trois Part Deux

I'm feeling generous (also productive af), so here's an unedited preview of Chapter 1. Full chapter coming in January! Make sure you read the first part by then!

T’Challa tapped his long, slender fingers against the side of his leg, an annoyed grimace tightening his handsome face. He stood still in his quarters while his tailor put the finishing touches on his suit for the night, but internally he was getting more and more agitated as the time ticked on. Despite his mood, he couldn’t help but admire himself in the mirror. The embroidered black ensemble covered his streamlined body like running water, and the locs that usually dusted his jawbone were twisted back into an elaborate bun.

A knock at his door eased his mind momentarily, until his younger sister swept into the room in her suit that mirrored his, just with a gold scarf draped across her shoulders. T’Challa’s own shoulders slumped with disappointment, but he managed to pivot to positivity quick enough for Shuri to not catch his reaction.

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

Shuri rolled her eyes as she crossed the room, but still dapped him up.

“Whatever. I wear it better than you.”

“Who lied and told you that?”

“Your wife.”

His jaw tightened.

“Where is she, anyway?”

“Late.”

“I should have known,” Shuri chuckled. “She was late her own wedding.”

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

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

“She’s two hours late.”

“Was there a problem with the opening?”

“No. According to Okoye and Bahati, she just could not be pulled away from conversing with the crowd.”

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

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

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

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

“I guess.” Shuri shrugged and plopped down on the end of his bed.

“Something bothering you?”

“Just your mother.”

T’Challa laughed.

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

The princess groaned and fell backwards onto the bed.

“She won’t stop trying to set me up.”

“Who is it this time?”

“Nakia’s younger cousin, L’Nela.”

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

“She’s not your type.”

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

“I will talk to her.”

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

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

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

“I know, I know, I’m late-“

“Two hours, Zora?”

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

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

“What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed-“

“Just now?! It’s a three hour ride!”

“I needed a nap!”

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

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

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

“More like ten, kumkani wam.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati.”

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

“It’s because she listens.”

“Employees are paid to listen, wives are not.”

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

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

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

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

Zora sighed and eyeballed the beaded multicolored isicholo that sat on her vanity. Heavy truly was the head that wore the crown, especially on a day as important as this. After two years of working with T’Challa and foreign dignitaries to bring her vision to fruition, Zora was finally kicking off her student exchange program. One hundred teenage students, fifty from Wakanda and fifty from across the diaspora would trade places for a semester. Zora spent countless hours pouring over applications and hand-picking exactly who she thought would benefit most from the program, and now the diaspora students were coming to Wakanda for a warm welcome.

As exciting as all of this was, Zora couldn’t help but feel a little empty inside because in order to build relationships with the foreign dignitaries, she had to lie. Not only did she have to lie, but she also had to hide a piece of herself all because of their conservative sensibilities surrounding polyamorous relationships. They knew her as Zora Franklin, Queen of Wakanda and wife to T’Challa Udaku. What they didn’t know was that T’Challa wasn’t Zora’s only husband.

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @brihann, @impremenior , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @brattyfics , @cecereads209 , @afriendlyblackhottie , @queengodiva619 , @musicisme333 , @dersha89 , @ljstraightnochaser , @bornamiracle , @strangeprincex-writes , @goddessofmischief0711, @griot-of-wakanda

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fanfiction #t'challa fanfiction #m'baku fanfiction #t'challa x oc x m'baku #throuple #polyamory #bisexual #Spotify

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tchallasbabymama · 1 year

Text

Y’all ready for this chapter I’m dropping tomorrow??? 👀

The long-awaited Ménage à Trois Part Deux starts 4/9/2023.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Read the first part here if you haven’t already…

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fanfiction #t’challa x oc x m’baku #t’challa fanfiction #m’baku fanfiction #t’challa x black!oc #m’baku x black!oc #black!oc #throuple #polyamory #bisexual #smut #fluff #t’challa smut #t’challa fluff #t’challa angst #m’baku smut #m’baku fluff

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tchallasbabymama · 2 years

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Ménage à Trois Part Deux

[Returning Spring 2024, 18+]

A continuation of Zora’s adventure in Wakanda with her two lovers. Read the first part here.

T’Challa x Zora (OC) x M’Baku

Smut, Fluff

Chapter One

Be sure to check out my full masterlist and let me know if you want to be tagged!

#cecewritessometimes #masterlist #black panther fanfiction #t’challa x oc x m’baku #throuple #polyamory #bisexual #t’challa x black!oc #m’baku x black!oc #black!oc #t’challa fluff #t’challa smut #t’challa lemon #m’baku fluff #m’baku smut #m’baku lemon #18+ only

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tchallasbabymama · 1 year

Text

Gee, it sure would be nice if all these new readers were leaving comments on and reblogging my work instead of just liking it…

#cecewritessometimes #cece’s ramblings

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tchallasbabymama · 2 years

Text

Blossoming Ashes

[Coming 2024, 18+]

Amita Ngani has seen too much darkness over the years, but when an old classmate re-entered her life and brought a certain Jabari chief with her, Amita’s life was forever changed. Will her new life be satisfactory, or is there more out there for the formerly dark aziza?

This story is set in the same universe as Troubled Waters. You can absolutely read it without reading the first, but I suggest doing so anyway.

M'Baku x Amita (OC)

angst, smut

Be sure to check out my full masterlist and let me know if you want to be tagged!

#black panther fanfiction #cecewritessometimes #masterlist #m'baku fanfiction #black panther au #fantasy au #m'baku x black!oc #m'baku fluff #m'baku smut #m'baku lemon #m'baku angst #paranormal romance #18+ only #Spotify

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tchallasbabymama · 2 years

Text

Troubled Waters Finale

Author’s note at the end. Enjoy! 😘

Word Count: 7,281

CW: smut

In her dream, Nia settled onto the riverbank and watched a distantly familiar little girl with wing-shaped scars on her back meet a lonely prince.

“Can I swim with you?” the girl asked, and Nia noticed the boy’s face light up.

“Sure, but...where did you come from?” He asked, his head swiveling around to look for some sign of her entry. “You just sort of came out of nowhere.”

“My ubaba says I’m sneaky like that.” The girl shrugged and skillfully changed the subject. “Want to play tag?”

The boy responded with a vigorous nod, his missing front teeth on full display as he grinned from ear to ear.

“You’re it!” he yelled and swam away as fast as he could.

Nia couldn’t help the lazy smile on her lips as she watched her younger self shimmy out of her romper and jump into the water with a splash.

A rustling to Nia’s left pulled her attention away from the memory, and Bast emerged from the brush. The goddess looked healthy in her full panther form with gold hoop earrings decorating her ears and a usekh around her neck that matched Nia’s.

“Simpler times,” sighed Bast as she padded over and joined Nia on the riverbank.

“Much simpler,” Nia agreed with a melancholy nod before carefully examining her ancestor’s appearance. “You look well.”

Bast bared her sharp teeth in a smile that would appear menacing if not for the goddess’ comforting aura.

“I feel better now. Maybe even better than I did before this whole debacle.”

Nia was happy to see Bast in such high spirits, but she felt her gut twist at what she knew was to come.

“I’m glad,” she squeaked around the lump forming in her throat, making Bast regard her with gentle eyes.

“It is bittersweet; I know.”

“How much time do we have left with them?”

“Until the end of the week.”

Nia sighed and let her gaze drift back to the younger versions of herself and T’Challa. She was explaining her scars to him, and Nia noticed that even then, he looked at her like she was the sun.

“Did you have anything to do with this?”

“You two meeting?”

Nia nodded, and Bast continued, “No, this was all destiny, the universe, whatever you want to call it.”

“Hm. But the time after that?”

“Yes, I did that. I did not know what you two would become, but I knew I needed you on the same team.”

“We’re a good team.”

“That you are,” Bast chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Love is funny, dear.”

Nia thought about it for a moment, and a smirk appeared on her lips after a while. Love is funny. She would have never believed that she’d end up falling in love with the boy from the river that abandoned her for all those years, yet here she was, so in love with him that her subconscious felt like replaying the day they met.

Bast and Nia silently watched the children splash around in the water until their playtime was cut short by T’Chaka calling for his son.

“I should get going, as well,” Bast said, standing on all fours and stretching out her limbs and spine. “Plenty of work to do back home.”

“How is Sekhmet doing?”

“She is stubborn,” Bast groaned. “But I am patient.”

“You’re a dutiful sister.”

Bast smiled warmly and rubbed her large head against Nia’s shoulder.

“Be well, Nia.”

Those words echoed through Nia’s head as she blinked her eyes open and focused them on T’Challa’s smooth brown chest. Her fingertips traced the curly hairs concentrated in the center, and she felt his breathing change.

“Sawubona, baby.”

“Mholo, sithandwa,” he grumbled with his morning rasp, placing a kiss on her eager lips.

“I spoke to Bast last night in my dream.”

“What did she say?” he asked, his hand already kneading her ass for their usual morning lovemaking.

“She’s doing better.”

T’Challa stopped playing with her cheeks and tipped her chin to look up at him.

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

“We only have until the end of the week, then umama and Sego and Oma… everyone has to go back,” Nia’s voice cracked, and a tear escaped her eye that T’Challa quickly wiped away.

As if Nia’s tears were a beacon in the sky, Ithunzi hopped up to comfort her. She crept up Nia’s body and nuzzled her head into the curve of her waist as Nia and T’Challa reached out to pet the intuitive feline.

“We knew this was coming, love. They gave us a whole month.”

“I know, but it still sucks,” Nia pouted.

T’Challa used his free hand to rub her back for a few minutes until an idea came to him that he thought might make the situation a little better.

“Let’s throw a goodbye party for the Returned.”

Nia’s face pinched together.

“You want to throw a party-”

“Yes, it could be a celebration of their lives and our time together. Make it as big or as small as you want, invite the entire country, both realms.”

“I don’t know if we even have enough time to plan something like that.”

“Are you kidding? Mama could have it put together by this evening if you wanted.”

Nia laughed at the truth behind his words, and Ithunzi’s ears perked up.

“Ok, I like the idea. Let’s bring it up in the council meeting.”

“It might soften the blow.”

“Here’s hoping.”

---------

Ever since Nia became queen, every council meeting had been a packed house. The usual inhabitants were there as always, but Nia and her magic realm council, composed of representatives of various magical species, nearly filled up the expansive room.

As had become the norm, Nia and T’Challa presided over the meeting together, each deferring to the other on matters concerning the realm they ruled. Most of the meeting had been about reconstruction efforts on both sides, but as time trudged on, Nia felt a pit growing in her stomach. She wasn’t looking forward to making the announcement about the Returned, and the council responded the exact way she had hoped to avoid.

“What do you mean one week?!” exclaimed an elder obayifo.

Umi of the Merchant tribe piped up next, “That is not enough time!”

“Elder Umi-”

“My daughter,” her voice cracked. “I am not ready to lose her again.”

“Umi,” Ramonda spoke up, placing a hand on the elder’s shoulder, “there is nothing we can do.”

“Bast has already given us this past month; her warning me a week in advance was a courtesy,” Nia added.

“But Nia-”

“Queen Nia,” T’Challa reminded M’Kathu with a stern glance, his hands placed neatly behind his back as he stood like a sentinel at Nia’s side.

“Queen Nia, excuse me. The people will not react kindly to this news.”

Nia looked up from her spot on T’Challa’s throne and met his gaze.

“We actually have an idea that might ease the transition.”

“A celebration,” T’Challa joined in. “We could combine the food, music, and traditions of both realms… make it one big festival.”

The council members nodded amongst themselves before an elder aziza spoke up from his perch.

“We could observe the day every year,” he suggested.

“I like that idea,” Nia agreed. “We’ll need time to grieve collectively.”

“Mama, would you work with whoever of your choosing to bring this to fruition by the end of the week?”

“Of course,” Ramonda answered before turning to Amare and Celeste, who had become Nia’s advisors in the few weeks she’s acted as queen, and she asked them to join her. Naturally, they agreed enthusiastically.

“Any more comments or concerns?” Nia asked, surveying the room with a soft yet firm glare.

“Indlovukazi Nia, if I may?” said a voice from the far left, and Nia craned her neck around T’Challa to see the koolakamba that spoke.

“You may, Jamila.”

“Well, although the past four weeks have been interesting, some of us have concerns about where you will be located.”

“I meant about the festival, but continue.”

“As you know, your palace is still empty-”

“I won’t be ruling from Asha’s palace.”

All eyes turned on Nia.

“With all due respect, you cannot expect to continue using your boyfriend’s palace-”

“I’m aware of that, thank you,” Nia quipped before T’Challa could interject. “I won’t be ruling from here, either. I will be remodeling my home in the coming months with Princess Shuri’s help.”

Nia looked at the princess, and they shared a smile.

“I guess now is as good a time as any,” Shuri said before turning to address the council. “I have started working on something exciting that could make travel between the realms more accessible.”

“But how? Only aziza can travel between the realms,” stated a very proud older aziza with graying braids and majestic yellow wings that fluttered when he spoke.

“Magically, yes, but I essentially scienced the magic. Nia popped back and forth, collecting atmospheric specimens for me to study. What we came up with is sort of an inter-realm portal system.”

“Queen Nia, you wish to do what with these portals?” asked Mandla from his post by the window.

“T’Challa and I both have decided to repair the realms but keep them open. These portals will allow us to travel from Birnin Umlingo to any province and from any province to Birnin Umlingo. Humans may come over to the magic realm if they please, just as magic beings will be free to roam the human realm.”

The room was surprisingly quiet… they had expected some pushback.

“Nobody has anything to say about that?”

“How long until the portals are installed?” M’Baku asked, and several council members nodded along.

“I can’t say for sure… another month or two?” Shuri shrugged, but even though she wasn’t too sure, her answer was good enough for the council.

“Any other questions?” T’Challa asked. When nobody responded, he continued, “We will reconvene next week. I hope to see you all at the festival. You are dismissed.”

The council members saluted their king and queen, and they returned the gesture. One by one, they filed out of the throne room until Nia and T’Challa were its only inhabitants. Nia gazed up at T’Challa as he stared ahead pensively, but instead of meeting her eyes, he turned and walked towards the windows that overlooked the shining skyline of Birnin Zana.

Nia followed him, first with her eyes tracking his shoulders as they swayed with the dip in his walk, then with her body creeping up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his broad back.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

T’Challa was quiet for a moment, but Nia knew him well enough to know that it sometimes took him a minute to get his thoughts together when he was upset.

“You don’t want to stay in the palace. With me.”

Nia smirked as she unwrapped her arms and circled around to stand in front of him.

“I didn’t tell you about the best part of the remodel.”

T’Challa looked down at her with a frown on his face, and his bottom lip unintentionally poked out. Nia couldn’t help but kiss it.

“I want a private portal that just goes from your bedroom to mine… and maybe if you want, we could even build our own space in there.”

“Our own private realm?”

“Exactly. Just us… and Ithunzi because we’d never hear the end of her whining if we kept her out.”

“Of course.” T’Challa’s face softened, and he cracked a tiny smile in the corner of his mouth. He reached out and grabbed Nia’s hips, pulling them closer to his and trailing his large palms around to her ass.

“So, you like that idea or no-”

T’Challa pressed his lips to Nia’s mid-sentence, and she giggled into the kiss.

“I love it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” T’Challa chuckled and pressed his kimoyo beads, activating the privacy shield on the windows.

“You know, you’re cute when you’re mad,” Nia teased, and T’Challa sucked his teeth, looking away bashfully.

“I wasn’t mad; I was-”

“Upset, angry, pissed off-”

T’Challa backed Nia into the window and started tickling her sides, making her screech and cackle as she squirmed to get away from him.

“Are you going to let me finish?” T’Challa taunted her.

“Yes! St-stop, T’Challa!”

He stilled his movements and grabbed her ass hard enough to separate her cheeks.

“Make me.”

Nia felt a fire ignite in her loins with his words and noticed his eyes reflected that same hunger. She held his gaze while she moved his hand to her lips, wrapping her tongue around two of his fingers and taking them down her throat. When she pulled off, she led his hand down between her legs. The slit in her dress on the left side made for easy access to her treasure trove, and she guided his fingers across her bare pussy, tittering as she watched him register that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

T’Challa’s fingers explored her folds until her sticky goodness erupted all over his hand, but Nia held him in place and continued to grind her clit into his palm as she heaved lustful breaths into his open mouth.

He grinded his hips forward, and she felt his dick against her thigh, solid as a rock and ready for her. The whimper that escaped her lips made T’Challa moan as her walls contracted around his fingers once more.

“Fuck me, baby,” Nia whimpered again as her body shook with aftershocks from her orgasm.

“Mmm, show me how you want it. Get in position.”

Nia allowed his hand to leave her depths and turned around towards the glistening city, poking her ass out as she lifted her dress up so that he could see all she had to offer. Seconds later, she was filled to the brim with T’Challa’s girth, and she cried out as his hips took no mercy on her.

He knew what she liked. Whenever Nia wanted it from the back, she wanted him to be rough with her. She wanted stinging slaps to her behind, and that’s what she got. She wanted dirty words and hair-pulling and bruises, so T’Challa more than delivered.

T’Challa was climbing towards his third climax when he decided to finally allow Nia to cum after teasing her for several rounds. Despite her earlier orgasms when he fingered her, his denying her orgasm for so long led to an explosion of expletives and fluids from them both.

They stood there panting, fogging up the window Nia was pressed up against for a while until T’Challa pulled his finally flaccid dick from her body.

“So, what will you do with Asha’s palace?” T’Challa asked while they straightened themselves back up.

“Well, first, it needs to be cleansed. It just feels so… ick,” Nia shuddered. “Then, I’m not sure. Maybe repurpose it somehow. I could turn it into a museum or maybe even an embassy or something for humans that visit the magic realm. I haven’t thought too much about it, honestly.”

“You have time.”

T’Challa kissed her forehead before his beads trilled with a notification on his wrist.

“Busy afternoon?”

“Sadly, yes,” T’Challa sighed. “I have been neglecting my duties to the Avengers these past few months, and they are getting impatient. I have a holo-meeting with them soon.”

“You have fun with that.”

“I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

“You better.”

---------

Amare made Celeste’s favorite meal for their final night together. Even though she couldn’t eat the fragrant seafood gumbo, she appreciated watching her loved ones enjoy her food. During her time in Wakanda, Amare had ensured that Celeste taught him her recipes that he had missed so much over the years. They spent hours in the kitchen together, either in his baobab tree or their palace suite, cranking out dish after dish until Amare got them right.

Over the months since the Returned arrived, Nia watched her ubaba come alive in ways she’d never imagined. He had always tried to remain strong for her, but despite his mask, his grief over Celeste was always pinned to his chest. For the first time in her entire life, Nia felt like he was truly happy. Seeing him glow when Celeste attempted to kiss him or the way his eyes softened when she called his name filled Nia with a sense of completion that she never realized she lacked.

It wasn’t all because of Amare’s happiness; it was her own, as well. Nia no longer had to wonder what her umama’s laugh sounded like, and that kept her grounded when thoughts of their impending separation made her want to crumble. T’Challa was there for her in those moments, holding her and reassuring her that Celeste would never be too far out of her reach no matter what realm held her soul. Having the usekh helped, too, since she’d still be able to feel Celeste’s presence when she wore it.

“Best of My Love” by The Emotions bounced off every wall in Amare’s baobab tree and blared out into the stillness of the night through the open windows. Every now and then, he would look up from the pot of gumbo and smile at Nia, Celeste, and Amita as they danced around the living room. He still couldn’t believe that Nia and Celeste looked so much like twins, even though Nia was technically older than her mother.

Off to the side of the living room, Sego questioned Oma about what to expect from the realm of the dead, but her cryptic answers weren’t doing much to ease his nerves about the transition. He had spent the past month trying to avoid thinking about his death, but he couldn’t outrun it forever. The problem was that usually, people don’t know when that day is coming for them. However, Sego knew he only had one more day, and it was eating at him.

“Ngaphandle!” Amare fussed, banishing Ithunzi from the kitchen. The curious feline had spent most of the night trying to trip Amare and make him spill some food for her, and he’d finally tired of stepping around her.

Ithunzi sulked out of the kitchen, but her mood instantly brightened when she caught sight of Nia’s smile. The growing cub sauntered over and jumped into Nia’s arms, resting on her hip while she moved to the beat.

“My grandchild knows good music,” Celeste said, and Nia snorted.

“She is not your grandchild, umama.”

“I won’t be here to see my actual grandchildren, so let me claim her.”

Nia suddenly remembered the reason for their gathering and felt her gut twist. It wasn’t just a nice dinner with family and friends. It was a goodbye. The wave of sadness that crashed into Nia’s body made her stop dancing and tense up.

“You ok, baby girl?” Celeste asked.

Nia’s eyes welled up with tears, and she bit her lip as she felt a cool tingling on her face when Celeste reached to wipe away her tears. Ithunzi nuzzled into her shoulder to make her feel better, but Nia was able to hold herself together.

“I’m ok,” she said with an unconvincing nod.

Celeste didn’t want to pry because she knew what was bothering Nia. It was bothering her, too. She cherished the past several months she got to spend with her love again, but above all, Celeste was already missing her daughter. She looked up and locked eyes with Amare in the kitchen, and she noticed his face had turned sad with Nia’s. Every second that ticked by took him closer to losing a piece of himself again, and as much as he realized how blessed he was to have her back in his life for a short while, Amare wanted nothing more than for Celeste to stay longer. With him. With them.

“Dinner’s ready,” Amare broke the awkward silence, his voice missing the playfulness that it had earlier that day.

They all filed to the kitchen and took their seats around Amare’s circular table. Celeste sat between Amare and Nia, and Sego sat on Nia’s other side next to Amita. Oma filled out the table sitting between Amita and Amare.

“Smells amazing,” Sego nearly growled.

“Ngiyabonga, Sego,” Amare chuckled at his enthusiasm.

“What is it?” Amita asked, her mouth already drooling.

“It’s called gumbo.”

“It was my great grandma’s recipe,” Celeste added proudly. “Grandaddy used to make it for us all the time.”

The warmth of the gumbo spread to their spirits as Nia, Amare, and Amita delighted in the food. As time went on, Nia and Amare felt more at ease with the day ahead. They ate as if it were a typical meal and not a goodbye, with chatter flying across the table while the living finished stuffing their faces with the spicy seafood dish.

“So, Nia, it has been a month now. How are you adjusting to your new title?” Oma asked.

Nia sat back and rubbed her stomach as if it would help her food digest quicker while she thought about Oma’s question.

“It still doesn’t feel real. Maybe it will once we finish the remodel, but I feel so busy all the time. I know it won’t always be like this because we’re still trying to fix what Asha and Sekhmet broke, but I could do without so many council meetings.”

Amare and Celeste laughed.

“Have there been any dissenters?”

“The people respect Nia’s bloodline and Bast’s word. We haven’t heard any rumblings.”

“That’s good. Kind of hard to argue with a goddess’ wishes,” said Amita.

“I still can’t believe you’re the queen,” Sego teased, nudging Nia’s shoulder.

“Neither can I some days. T’Challa’s been a big help-”

“I bet he has,” Amita mumbled, making Sego chuckle.

“I’m serious. He has the experience-”

“Yeah, he does,” Sego nodded, and Amita snickered. Even the elders at the table fought their laughter.

“I’m not talking anymore,” Nia threw her hands up before crossing them over her chest in faux annoyance.

“Oh, come on,” Sego pleaded. “You walked right into that one!”

After dinner, the turntable continued to play music well into the night while they drank and played a few rounds of dominoes. Amare played for Celeste, and she and Nia got locked in a heated battle that ultimately went to the elder of the two. Nia pretended to be a sore loser, but the fake pout gave way to a smile as she watched her parents celebrate their victory.

Around midnight, everyone started to feel the fatigue of a long day setting in. Amita was first to go, standing up and stretching her limbs before announcing her leave.

“I’ll walk you out,” Sego said, and while Amita was surprised, she obliged. She hugged Amare and Nia and waved goodbye to Oma and Celeste before leaving the tree home and walking outside with Sego in tow.

“So, what’s up?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“I, um…” Sego’s voice wavered, and he averted his eyes.

Amita sensed something was wrong, so she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You ok?”

Sego shook his head.

“I know I thanked you already for what you’ve done, but I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“I saw what happened when I died… I saw how bad Nia got. I don’t want her to see me leave her again, so I don’t think I should go to the festival-”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“No,” Amita repeated. “You’re going.”

“But Nia-”

“Will be surrounded by loved ones–a whole country in grief. She’ll be ok, but she won’t be if you just disappear. Besides, you deserve this, too.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Do you want to die alone somewhere or surrounded by loved ones at a party in your honor?”

“When you put it like that….”

“I better see you tomorrow, Sego,” Amita scolded him as she stepped back and spread her emerald green wings.

Sego nodded and watched her take off and fly away into the night. He could hear Nia and her parents’ raucous laughter over the sounds of Stevie Wonder’s melodic voice coming from inside, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

He hadn’t been entirely truthful with Amita. Yes, he was worried about Nia, but more than anything, Sego feared the unknown. He was scared of how death would feel. Scared of being without his best friend.

It was simple; Sego just wasn’t ready to go to the realm of the dead, but there was nothing he could do about it.

---------

The setting sun provided a beautiful backdrop for the festival. Ramonda’s vision for the event was one of unity and support, so she and her team worked relentlessly to make the sad day as perfect as possible for everyone involved. About half of Wakanda was in attendance, the rest choosing instead to stay home and be alone with their Returned loved ones until time ran out.

The procession into the arena was a spectacle unlike anything Wakanda had ever seen. It started at the palace with the royal families and their Returned loved ones parading down the steps and out into the city. Drummers led the march, and Nia’s voice was strong and clear as she sang at the top of her lungs. Each line she recited required participation from the growing crowd, and they did their part, forming a beautiful call and response that seemed to echo across the entire city.

Everyone came dressed for the occasion, taking over the streets of Birnin Zana with a sea of purple. Aziza and winged shifters flew above, whirling in the air with choreographed ease along with the dancers on the ground. Thousands of bodies singing and moving in unison filed into the arena. They were met with large holographic screens broadcasting images of the Returned with heartfelt messages from their loved ones that Ramonda’s team had collected over the past few days.

Each tribe and magical community had its own tradition to honor the dead, but, during her event planning, Ramonda discovered that nobody had anything traditions for souls that had come back. Since they were technically already dead, she took it upon herself to coordinate with the councils and religious leaders to put together something they could all appreciate: a celebration of the miracle they were given in the midst of Sekhmet’s chaos.

The stage was put to good use, with performers from both realms using every inch of it to dance and sing in the Returned’s honor. The costumes were elaborate and colorful, each one holding a special meaning to that performer’s tribe or species. There were moments where the performers had the crowd in tears and others where everyone was compelled to dance and be merry.

Everyone seemed to be determined to enjoy themselves despite the circumstances. A good party had that effect on people. Good parties also tended to make the time fly by, as was the case on this night. Libations flowed from every tap, and people gorged themselves on a delicious smorgasbord of finger foods to keep them energized while the music carried them away. It wasn’t until the moon was high in the sky that the atmosphere shifted, and everyone suddenly remembered the purpose of their gathering.

“It’s happening,” Nia gasped, unraveling herself from T’Challa’s arms on the dancefloor and looking around frantically for Celeste and Sego.

The energy in the room dampened significantly as everyone realized what had occurred.

This was it.

“Nia!”

Nia heard her mother call her name and immediately took off towards her voice with T’Challa on her heels. They found Celeste standing next to Amita, who was crouched down with her arm wrapped around Sego’s shoulders as he hyperventilated.

“I-I can’t-”

“What’s wrong?” Nia asked Amita, her heart shattering at witnessing Sego in such a state.

“He just started freaking out-”

“I don’t want to go,” his voice cracked, and Nia got down on her knees next to him.

“It’s not that bad, honey,” Celeste crooned, stroking the patterns on his bald head. “You won’t even know you’re dead.”

“I’m not ready!”

The weight of unbearable sorrow creeping back into Nia’s bones kept her from speaking, but she threw her arms around him as he wailed. Amare rubbed their backs in circles, and Ramonda placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

All around them, people had started huddling close to their loved ones, the sound of crying suddenly louder than the drums.

N’Jadaka’s face was set in stone when he and Nia locked eyes. Not only was he losing his father again, but his guilt about Sego’s death resurfaced as he watched the man plead for his life.

No more words were exchanged, just heavy sobs until shrieks of grief pierced the air. Nia looked up and saw that people were beginning to shimmer away. She held Sego tighter and looked at her mother with tear-filled eyes.

“I love you so much,” Celeste said, reaching for Nia’s hand.

“I love you, too, umama.”

Celeste turned to Amare and used her other hand to cup his face. He leaned into the coolness of her attempted touch.

“Goodbye again, love.”

“Sala kahle, sithandwa.”

Just like that, Celeste shimmered away, and Amare shuddered as she left his life again. Ramonda held him as he let the tears stream down his cheeks, unable to tear his eyes away from where Celeste last stood.

Sego held tighter to Nia as he watched Oma and T’Chaka disappear next, then N’Jobu disappeared from his son’s arms, and just when he began to hope that maybe Bast had allowed him to stay, Sego felt himself drifting.

“I’m scared, Nia.”

“It’s ok.”

Sego pressed his lips to Nia’s temple, then faded from her grasp, his kiss still fresh on her skin.

---------

The entire country was in mourning for the next few weeks, and about a month later, construction began on Shuri’s portals and Nia’s renovated home that she refused to call a palace. Each province became home to two portals to accommodate travel in each direction to and from Birnin Umlingo. When the portals first opened, Wakandans showed up in droves, everyone itching to explore the other side. Luckily, the system worked well enough to quickly get people through the long lines and to their destination on time. Over the months, some magic realm inhabitants migrated to the human realm and vice versa, until eventually, the realms became so interwoven that they worked as one.

It helped that the rulers spent a lot of time together, both professionally and personally. Nia ruled from her remodeled home, and T’Challa ruled from his palace in Birnin Zana. However, despite the distance, they were never more than a few yards apart in those times, thanks to the portal Shuri had installed in their rooms connecting their homes to each other at all times. What Shuri didn’t know was that Nia had enchanted the portal to expand the space between the two openings, essentially creating a private realm for just the two of them… and Ithunzi.

Part of their working relationship involved them making rounds to visit the tribes and both realms at the beginning of every month. For five months, Nia, T’Challa, Ithunzi, and the Dora Milaje toured the country together, but when it came time for their sixth tour, T’Challa was out of town assisting the Avengers on a mission in Thailand. Instead of going alone, Nia invited Ramonda to join her, and the two of them spent a beautiful day together experiencing the beauty of Wakanda.

They started in Birnin Zana before traveling to the River province, then the Mining province, followed by Jabarilands and the Border. After visiting all the human tribes, they popped over to the magic realm and strolled through the busy streets of Birnin Umlingo as everyone was closing up shop for the day and rushing home for dinner.

Ramonda had been watching Nia all day, silently observing her as she interacted with her people, both human and magic alike. She had liked Nia since the first time she met her, but seeing her working and communing with the public in such a way gave Ramonda newfound respect for the queen.

“You really are good at this, Nia,” Ramonda commented when a group of young kids of various species left their side after asking Nia what seemed like a million questions.

“That means a lot coming from you.”

“And I truly mean it. The people, they love you on both sides. You and my son are doing a fantastic job together.”

Nia smiled dreamily at the mention of T’Challa.

“He gets that same look in his eye when I mention you,” Ramonda chuckled, making Nia’s grin expand to where it nearly took over her face.

“That’s good to know.”

“So, about my son,” Ramonda began. “You know, I am not getting any younger, and your father and I would both love to see some grandchildren.”

“Ramonda-”

“I am not trying to pry. I am just saying. You have settled into your new role as queen, so what is next for Nia Olu?”

“That’s just it; I don’t feel settled. I feel-”

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite healer,” a husky voice echoed across the town square, and Nia lit up at the familiar rasp.

She turned around and saw the upright crocodile with a toothy grin on his face.

“Mr. Adebayo!” she gasped and rushed over to hug him. “How are you?”

“I’m hanging in there,” he answered before turning to Ramonda and bowing his head in deference. “Queen Mother, a pleasure to have you in our realm.”

“Enkosi.”

“You know, it’s been a while since my last check-up. You still practicing?”

Nia sighed, and her light dimmed a little. She had spent the last few months solely focused on her queen duties and couldn’t remember the last time she healed anything more than a paper cut. Lately, she had missed the satisfying tingle in her palms but had no use for it.

“Cha, I’ve been too busy running this place.”

Mr. Adebayo’s smile faded.

“That’s a shame. You’re the best healer I ever had!”

“You said you haven’t had a check-up since I saw you last?”

Nia’s concern grew when he shook his head. The older crocodile suffered from hypertension, and she wanted to make sure his blood pressure was healthy.

“Are you busy right now?”

“No, just heading home for dinner. Ada’s making my favorite.”

“Got time to swing by my place for a quick visit? I just want to make sure you’re good.”

Ramonda and Ayo parted ways with the rest of the party and traveled back to Birnin Zana, while Nia returned to her home with Mr. Adebayo. His jaw dropped when he saw what had become of the structure. Nia’s small house had been transformed into a modest palace. The former living room had become a throne room, and the kitchen was no longer visible, thanks to a wall that the architects had erected to close off the space. An elaborately carved wooden throne sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by about a dozen tree stumps. The altar against the side wall was even bigger than before, with a black marble statue of Bast in the center. Offerings of food, water, incense, gold, seeds, and shells were spread around the statue's base, along with pictures of Nia’s ancestors and Sego.

Nia led Mr. Adebayo across the wooden throne room floor to a door that blended in with the surrounding wall. She pushed it open, and the hallway appeared that led to her and Amare’s offices that used to be her and Sego’s bedrooms. To the left, an arched doorframe led to the kitchen, and Mr. Adebayo was surprised to see everything looked about the same.

“I’m glad some things never change,” Mr. Adebayo said as he plopped down in his usual chair and ran his rough fingers over the wood grain in the table.

“I couldn’t get rid of everything,” Nia threw over her shoulder, disappearing into her pantry to pull out the herbs she’d need.

As it turned out, Mr. Adebayo’s blood pressure was only slightly elevated, so Nia whipped up a concoction to help lower it and fixed the shoulder that had been giving him problems since he fell on it when the realms collided.

When Nia sent him home, she felt giddy to have healed someone again for the first time in months. Ithunzi watched as she hummed and danced around the kitchen, cleaning up after herself, and followed her outside to watch her blissfully whirl around the thriving garden.

Nia eventually tired of her twirling and did some altar maintenance while she had time. She dusted off Sego’s drum and rearranged the photos on her altar around the statue of Bast before blowing kisses to them all. Then, Nia went down to the river to gather fresh water for her altar.

She took her empty calabash and carried it on her hip as she walked down the road with Ithunzi by her side. The young panther was nearly fully grown, and she was fiercely protective of Nia. So much so that T’Challa never tried to fight Nia on the subject of having a Dora Milaje detail once she put her foot down on the matter. Ithunzi and Nia were a team that nobody wanted to reckon with, but more than anything, they were a pair that loved each other deeply.

When the two of them reached the river, Nia was pleasantly surprised to find nobody else around. She took advantage of the solitude and plopped down on the riverbank next to her four-legged friend, freeing her tired feet from her sandals and letting the running water lick at her toes.

Her hand slid down Ithunzi’s back repeatedly, petting her mindlessly while her thoughts were consumed with memories of her old life. It had been almost a year since that night T’Challa swooped in and caught that trafficker before he could snatch her up, and now here she was… a queen descended from a goddess.

Ithunzi suddenly sat up, startling Nia from her deep thoughts, and she realized the sun had finally left the sky for the night.

“It’s only me,” T’Challa ensured her, having heard her heartbeat going a mile a minute.

Ithunzi ran over to him and rubbed against his leg.

“You’re back early,” Nia said. “How did the mission go?”

T’Challa rolled his eyes as he leaned over to pet Ithunzi.

“I could have done it alone in two days instead of taking a week with them, but teamwork, blah, blah, blah.”

“Someone missed you,” Nia giggled as the panther plopped down and rolled over on her back for more attention.

“Is she the only one?”

“Of course not.”

T’Challa took in Nia’s form like he had never laid eyes on her beauty before. Her springy black coils were untamed for the day and reaching for the stars while her eyes twinkled with excitement over being reunited with him for the first time in over a week. Tiny white dots rested above her eyebrows, and her colorful Ankara jumpsuit popped against her ebony skin. The outfit reminded T’Challa of the first time they met all those years ago in that very spot, and he felt himself being pulled towards her as if she had him under a spell.

If she did, he didn’t care.

Nia’s pouty lips called to him, but before he could get too carried away, he pulled a bouquet of flame lilies from behind his back with a mischievous smile. Nia gasped and snatched the flowers from his hands, burying her face in them and inhaling the fresh scent.

“From Sukutai,” he said. “She called and told me they just bloomed this morning.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, baby.”

Nia leaned in to kiss him, and his hungry lips met her halfway. The world around them melted away until nothing existed but the two of them. Nothing mattered except the feel of his lips on hers, her fingers exploring the coils at the base of his neck, her tongue brushing against his. Nia and T’Challa melted into each other and only returned to their senses because they remembered they weren’t in the privacy of their realm.

They pulled apart, giggling like teenagers.

“What are you doing sitting out here?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her body closer to his.

“Thinking.”

“About?”

Nia told him about her day and her experience with Mr. Adebayo, and T’Challa listened intently. He had secretly wondered if she missed her old life but never brought it up. Her words only confirmed his suspicions.

“-and then, I don’t know, I just came here, and I’ve been just sitting here thinking ever since,” Nia finished. “It’s not that I don’t like being queen. It’s just that I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

“Then open your practice again. You may not have time for walk-ins, but you could do it by appointment only. Maybe one day a week or something.”

Nia stared at him with her eyes wide.

“I don’t know how I didn’t think of that.”

“It might be a hard adjustment at first, but you’re used to that by now. If I can juggle being king and Black Panther, you can handle being queen and a healer.”

Nia smiled.

“What would I do without you?”

“You would probably be just fine,” he said as he gripped her hand, intertwining their fingers. “But without you, I’d be lost.”

His deep brown eyes were heavy with sincerity, and Nia felt every syllable. She kissed him and rested her forehead against his, and they stayed like that until the chorus of frogs ribbiting and crickets chirping crescendoed around them.

“We should go home,” Nia whispered.

“A little longer,” T’Challa protested, pulling her onto his lap.

Nia was too comfortable to argue, so she settled into his warmth and rested her head on his shoulder.

Her love.

Her flirty, arrogant, calculating, kindhearted love.

The love that she never saw coming, that she never thought she’d get.

And while Nia’s mind wandered to all the ways she loved him, T’Challa couldn’t help but do the same. Except while Nia thought of the past and present, T’Challa thought of the future.

“Nia?”

“Hm?”

Silence.

Nia pulled back to meet his deep brown eyes and found that he was gazing at her with so much tenderness.

“What is it, baby?”

“We live together. We rule a country together… when are you going to let me be your husband?”

The words floated in the air for a moment before settling on Nia’s ears like the warmest of blankets.

“My husband?”

“Yes,” he cooed, kissing the inside of her wrist. “Your husband, the father of your children-”

“Multiple?!”

T’Challa chuckled.

“However many you allow, sithandwa.”

“Hm… two wouldn’t be too bad. No more than three, though. Maybe four… I guess a big family would be kind of nice. I- what?”

T’Challa’s gap-toothed grin took over his entire face.

“So that’s a yes?”

“You haven’t asked me a yes or no question,” Nia teased, nudging his shoulder with her pointer finger.

“But if I did, you’d say….”

Nia kissed his cheek and tried to get up, but he held her down while she squirmed on his lap to get away.

“You’ll have to ask me and find out,” Nia laughed, but he caught a glimpse of her answer in her eyes.

She was his.

T’Challa saw forever when he looked at her and had for quite some time. Truthfully, he fell in love with her that first day they spent together looking for Bast, and he’d been spending all this time waiting for her to catch up. Nia was finally on the same page as him, and though he wouldn’t wait much longer, T’Challa decided then and there that he’d ask for her hand when she’d least expect it.

The End

Nia and T'Challa will return in "Blossoming Ashes"

Dear readers,

Thank you so much for sticking it out with me on this journey. I have a lot of emotions about finishing this series, but mostly I’m thankful. Thankful to you all and to my beta readers for making me a better writer over the past year that I’ve worked on this story. So, huge shoutout to @nonbineraryitinerary, @ljstraightnochaser, and @goddessofmischief0711 for making this story possible!

Nia and T’Challa will return in my currently untitled (but fully outlined) Troubled Waters sequel that I’ll start probably around the time Wakanda Forever comes out. Here’s what I have lined up for the next few months, and here’s my masterlist so you can check out my other stories.

If you liked this story, I ask that you please reblog the series masterlist so other people can find it, too.

Once again, thank you. This has truly meant a lot to me.

Love,

Cece

PS. Join me for a Black Panther watch party on 11/4!

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @dersha89 , @impremenior , @ljstraightnochaser, @love—life—passion, @yourstrulybrii, @hon-eey , @ariesthetouchdeprivedgirl , @viva-asgardia, @ashanti-notthesinger r, @brattyfics , @cecereads209 , @wakandan-smuts-forever , @miryalle , @rolemodelshit , @afrosandsweatpants , @queengodiva619 , @goddessofmischief0711 , @chereedrop619 , @blkbutterfly816 , @violettedelightz, @sarifinasnightmare , @afriendlyblackhottie , @brihann , @nonbineraryitinerary, @musicisme333 , @strangeprincex

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fanfiction #black panther au #fantasy au #aziza #troubled waters #t'challa fanfiction #t'challa x black!oc #black!oc #Spotify

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tchallasbabymama · 11 months

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PREVIEW: Ménage à Trois Part Deux Chapter Two

Hey, y'all. Life has been kicking my ass lately, but here's a taste of what I've got so far. I'm hoping to get this chapter finished, beta-read, and posted by the end of next week... but we'll see how that goes.

CW: smut

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 in Zora’s mind. She watched the ceiling fan blades rotate slowly and sighed as she internally 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. T’Challa felt her gaze, and those lashes fluttered open to allow his chocolate diamonds to sparkle in the early morning sunlight. The glorious sight almost stunned Zora to silence, but she pressed on.

“It was a disaster,” the queen whispered so as 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.

“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. And I have watched that lie eat away at you every time you have to uphold it. As both a man and a Wakandan, I will never fully understand the pressures of living in a world that mandates you move in such a way, but 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. “A-and 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 chose to hold his tongue and let M’Baku express his feelings later, but he knew that Zora’s speculation was correct. M’Baku had confided in him that he wasn’t as fine with the 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.”

“I will, but I’m pretty sure the whole world knows by now,” Zora huffed with a roll of her eyes 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. Damn near every phone was up recording the catastrophe as it unfolded, most of which were streaming live, and they all captured the moment Zora’s public 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 the truth.”

“I don’t know if 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.

“Because I am your husband, and I love you.”

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.

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fanfiction #t'challa x oc x m'baku #black!oc #throuple #polyamory

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tchallasbabymama · 2 years

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Troubled Waters Chapter Nineteen

Hello, my loves. Here’s the next to last installment in Nia and T’Challa’s journey. I’ve loved writing this story, and I can’t believe we’re almost done! As always, leave all the feedback you want in your comments and reblogs, and check out my masterlist to see my other works. Also, let me know if you want to be tagged in anything! Enjoy😘

CW: smut

Word count: 6,711

The Wakandans knew the battle was over when the obambo collectively released an earsplitting screech into the air before their skeletal bodies collapsed to the blood-soaked earth. The army watched as the evil beings shriveled up before their very eyes. Their bodies became one with the dirt in seconds, and moments later, the obambo’s poor victims returned to their normal state. Their eyes were wide with disbelief over what they had been through, and the trauma of the ordeal was graffitied across their tired faces, but they had survived being possessed.

Just like that, the Wakandans had won the war, and the feeling of a hard-earned victory washed over them. The realization hit slowly at first, but then cheers erupted around the group of soldiers that were happy to be still standing after facing Asha’s army. They weren’t sure exactly what had happened, but the important thing was that the dreadful obambo were gone.

In the middle of the celebration, the doors to the Necropolis opened, and T’Challa stepped out, surveying the carnage.

“Kumkani wam,” Okoye hurried over to him, “The enemy has been neutralized.”

T’Challa nodded, taking in the scene. He fixed his mouth to ask about the panthers when Amare rushed to his side next.

“Where is my daughter?”

“Bast said she would return soon.”

“Return? From where?”

“You found Bast? Where is she?”

Amare and Okoye spoke over each other.

“I’m not sure,” T’Challa grunted in response to them both. He was trying not to dwell on his worries, but his voice reeked of irritation. Ever since Nia disappeared with Asha, his worst fears became realized. He couldn’t bear to live in a world without his love in it, and panic flowed from his every pore until Bast reassured him of her safety. Though her words somewhat calmed him, he still needed to use the time it took to walk up from the catacombs to center himself. He’d need to lay his eyes on Nia himself to know she was safe.

The king distracted himself by taking in the scene before him. He saw the zombi clawing at the Border tribe blankets that kept them boxed in, and he noticed the bouda had all succumbed to the panthers’ teeth and the Wakandans’ weapons. His eyes scanned over the wilted obambo remains before landing on their disoriented former victims scattered about the battlefield with varying degrees of injury.

“Call for the medics,” T’Challa ordered his General. “Get these people stable, and notify their families as well.”

Okoye nodded swiftly and turned on her heels, already alerting the medics on her beads when she noticed a swirling dark cloud above the zombi that she recognized from several months prior.

“Kumkani, their souls,” she warned, and T’Challa’s chest tightened.

None of them could anoint themselves the way they needed to since Nia’s spell made their skin impenetrable, but something about the mass of souls in the air felt different from the time at Nia’s house. They felt more at ease, less frantic than before, and T’Challa realized what had happened. Their maker, the one who held their souls captive in the realm of the dead, was dead herself.

Asha was gone from this world, and they could finally rest.

---------

N’Jadaka sighed impatiently as he leaned against a column in the bowels of the Necropolis. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, and his foot wouldn’t stop tapping as if it had a mind of its own. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he got tired of standing and let his body slide to the floor as he stared at a blazing torch across the walkway.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he grumbled under his breath and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cool marble column as he tried to ignore the way his shoulder ached from fighting Chiku. The bouda had gotten some good licks in, but N’Jadaka was faster, even without the heart-shaped herb in his system. However, his body still ached. Years of being rough on it had caught up with him, and he started seriously contemplating changing his ways when he unintentionally drifted off to dreamland.

“N’Jadaka,” called a voice that he hadn’t heard in years… decades, even. It had been so long that he forgot how she sounded. Even in his dream, he felt an intense wave of sadness wash over him. How could he forget his mother’s voice?

“N’Jadaka,” she called again, and he felt a hand shake his shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked them into focus. That same torch from before nearly blinded him so that all he could see was her silhouette, but he knew it was her.

“Mom?”

“Wh- no… it’s me.”

Nia’s voice came through clear as day, but he had been sure he’d heard his mother….

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” N’Jadaka said through a yawn, “Just been a long day.”

His eyes finally focused on Nia, and he could see a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“What’s up?”

“Someone wants to see you.”

N’Jadaka’s face twisted up like he had tasted a sour lemon without warning, and he stared at her questioningly.

“Who?”

Nia stood from her crouched position, and N’Jadaka finally looked past her to the two figures that hovered just a few feet away.

“My son…”

N’Jadaka looked between Nia, Sego, and N’Jobu as if they were a complicated puzzle with no solution.

“Wh… how…”

His breathing grew rigid and shallow, so Nia placed her hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“Sekhmet kept them from us,” she explained, helping him stand. “They were in a whole different realm.”

N’Jadaka barely registered her words. His eyes became blurry with tears as he stepped forward and closed the gap between N’Jobu and himself. He reached out, knowing he wouldn’t be able to feel his father’s touch, and surrounded himself with the cool tingly air that comprised N’Jobu. It was the closest thing he could get to a hug.

“Baba,” he croaked and fell apart in the spirit’s arms.

Sego looked at Nia and noticed tears in her eyes, so he reached his hand out to her, and she took it without a second thought.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” he said.

Nia led him upstairs to the temple’s entrance, and they sat down just inside the doors. A comfortable silence stretched over them as Nia leaned her head on Sego’s shoulder until he kissed her forehead and got a good look at her hair.

“I like the braids.”

“Ngiyabonga,” Nia responded with a soft smile. “I wanted to try something different after my hair grew out-”

Sego felt her tense next to him, so he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close while the painful reminder of their predicament made Nia bite her tongue. All the grief and pain that she’d felt over his loss and tried so hard to overcome came crashing back down on her, and she buried her head in his chest to let the tears flow from her eyes once more.

“I wish you’d gone home that night, then-”

“Then it would’ve been you, and where would we all be now? Hm?”

Nia sniffled.

“It sucks, Nia, but look how things played out.”

Nia’s mind wandered to take in all the moments that led them to where they were. She thought of Sekhmet toying with N’Jadaka, and of the zombi and bouda Asha sent to kill her. She even thought back to the night she lost her best friend.

“What happened on your end?”

Sego’s breath hitched as he reflected on how he came to be in his current dilemma.

“I heard you sneak in late that night after being all fresh with your man,” he teased, and Nia nudged his chest. “Then, a little while later, the door opened again, and I saw someone heading towards you… I didn’t even think; I just acted.”

Sego cleared his throat.

“But I’m glad it was me and not you.”

“How can you say that?”

“Nia, you covered an entire army in protection magic. I couldn’t have done that.”

She had no response, her survivor’s guilt weighing her tongue down until she changed the subject.

“It’s weird that I can touch you.”

“Why?”

“You’re not supposed to be solid. When everyone else came back from the realm of the dead-”

“I never made it all the way there. That could be why.”

“Maybe… whatever the reason, I’m not going to complain.”

They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company for several minutes until they heard N’Jadaka’s heavy footsteps approaching.

“How come you can touch him?” N’Jadaka asked as he and N’Jobu rounded the corner.

“He never made it to the realm of the dead,” Nia answered.

“Lucky you.”

The teasing smile on his face let Nia know his sarcasm was benevolent, so she smiled back.

“Y’all ready to see this mess outside?”

“Actually, son, it’s not as bad as you think.”

“How do you know?”

N’Jobu grinned and patted his son on the shoulder.

“We will explain more later. Right now, you and Nia need to join your people.”

---------

“Asha has been defeated. Bast has returned to us. Sekhmet has been imprisoned… The war is won,” T’Challa declared from the steps of the Necropolis, and the soldiers cheered. “Go home to your families. Take the remainder of the week to rest, and we will-”

T’Challa stopped himself when the Necropolis doors creaked open behind him, and his eyes found Nia’s like magnets. Dried blood spilled down the front of her skintight, white suit, but she looked otherwise unscathed as she smiled at him. Her eyes were red and swollen, which gave him pause until he noticed the next person stepping out into the light.

“How?” the king asked, his bewilderment only growing when N’Jadaka and N’Jobu came out next.

Amare flew up the steps and wrapped Nia in a hug the moment he laid eyes on her, intercepting her before she could get to T’Challa. He pulled Sego in next and cried as he held them both.

“T’Challa.”

The king looked toward the voice he hadn’t heard since childhood and smiled at his favorite uncle.

“Uncle N’Jobu.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you look just like your father?”

T’Challa bristled at the mention of T’Chaka by the man whose life he took, but he was happy that N’Jobu’s kind eyes showed no sign of ill-will towards him.

“Only my entire life,” the king announced proudly.

“Your head isn’t as big, though.”

N’Jadaka snorted, and T’Challa tried his best to stifle a chuckle when he felt a hand slither around his waist. He looked down at Nia and kissed the healed patch of scalp on her crown where Asha ripped out her braid.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your address. You should finish.”

“You ruined nothing, sithandwa.”

“Still, go ahead.”

T’Challa nodded and turned back toward the crowd, tapping Nia on the shoulder to get her to do the same. When she whipped around, her jaw nearly hit the floor. Dozens of panthers were making their way through the crowd of soldiers and gathering at the bottom of the steps. Their eyes were glued on her as they moved, and when they got close, they bowed to her.

T’Challa grabbed Nia’s hand and stepped forward again.

“As you can all see, Nia is very special. She is a descendant of Bast herself.”

Gasps echoed around the crowd as T’Challa joined the panthers in their show of respect. One by one, everyone bowed to Nia, including her father. She looked around, at Amita and M’Baku, at Okoye, at Mandla, at Sego, and she couldn't take it. The emotions overwhelmed her and flowed out of her eyes in a river of tears.

“Get up,” she fussed at T’Challa, dismissively waving her hand at him. He caught it and placed a kiss on the back before standing up and intertwining their fingers.

“It’s what you deserve, my love.” He wiped her tears and kissed her lips softly, pulling her in by her waist. “Don’t cry. Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad, I-” Nia blinked tears from her curly eyelashes as she stared up at him.

His eyes felt like home.

Before she could stop herself, her emotions overflowed and the words she had been sitting on all day escaped her lips, “Nami ngiyakuthanda.”

T’Challa’s face slowly contorted as the realization of her words sank in, and pretty soon, he was all teeth as he grinned back at her.

She loved him, too.

And she meant it. Her heart hadn’t changed its rhythm when she said it. In fact, as the words fell from her lips, her body took on a subtle glow that grew in intensity when he smashed his lips to hers.

Cheers and whistles erupted around the crowd, but as quickly as the noise began, it ended even quicker when the king and his love vanished out of view.

---------

The two lovers pulled their lips apart when they felt the telltale sign of traveling between realms, and their masks simultaneously deployed from their necklaces. Unsure of where they would end up, they held on tight to each other as some unseen force pulled them through the in-between. Unlike Nia’s other experiences in the space between the realms, they were moving upwards, floating above the veils of the realms they called home towards another one she had never noticed before.

T’Challa couldn’t help but stare at the veils, their contrasting energy and swirling colors captivating him into silence. Even Nia was amazed at the view from above, but the view of the overhead realm was something marvelous. Every color Nia could ever imagine swirled together in a magnificent rainbow that sparkled like diamonds.

“What is that?” T’Challa asked, his voice tinted with wonder.

Before she could answer, Nia felt a tugging in her gut, as if her body carried a memory that escaped her mind. It grew and grew the higher they climbed until the feeling became a recognizable sensation.

“Bast,” she gasped.

“You feel her?”

Nia nodded and held on to T’Challa as they breached the shining, multicolored realm. They were blinded by a bright light that quickly subsided, and as they blinked their eyes, their surroundings became clear. Several gods were staring down at them from golden thrones on a semicircle dais in a massive marble temple. Statues of each deity loomed over the backs of their thrones, and there were three empty thrones to the right of the center: the farthest had a statue of Bast over it that looked as though it had been untouched in eons, the next one had a statue of Sekhmet and also looked to be unused, and the one closest to the center featured a statue of a woman with the head of a cow.

A tall man with the head of a falcon and broad, bejeweled shoulders sat in the middle of the semicircle. Bast flanked him on one side and an equally-decorated cow on the other.

“Welcome to your ancestral home, Nia,” he spoke.

“Home?”

“Yes. This is the realm of the gods.”

Nia’s eyebrows nearly reached her hairline, but she quickly translated for T’Challa. His expression matched hers, and they both lowered their heads in deference to the surrounding gods.

“Nia, T’Challa, I am Ra, God of the Sun, father to Bast and Hathor here… and Sekhmet,” Ra introduced himself with a certain heaviness in his eyes when he mentioned his middle daughter. “It is my pleasure to meet you both, but especially Nia.”

“She looks just like you, sister,” said the cow, and Bast smirked.

“She does,” Ra chuckled. “Nia, step forward.”

She released T’Challa’s hand and did as he said, walking closer so that she could see the kohl lining Ra’s penetrating dark eyes. Nia held her head high, but internally she was conflicted. Her every cell was abuzz with the energy emanating from the god realm. Not only was she feel like she was recharging simply by being there, but she was getting to meet her family. Her divine family… family that could have put a stop to all the madness before it even began. Yet, they didn’t, and she just had to know why.

Ra sensed the same tension within her that he recognized from when his own daughters dealt with inner turmoil, and he reached his hand out to her, smiling when she placed her palms in his.

“I sense you have something to say. You may speak your mind here.”

His openness surprised Nia, and she decided to take advantage of the opportunity while she had the chance.

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

Ra sighed and looked down at his bare feet.

A haughty laugh echoed across the throne room, and Nia turned towards the sound.

“I have asked him that countless times,” said a deity with the head of a jackal.

“Anubis-”

“No, answer her, Ra. Thousands of souls go missing from my realm, and nothing. Had you acted sooner-”

“I am aware!” Ra bellowed, and Anubis looked on with a smirk, satisfied from getting Ra riled up.

“Ra,” cooed a goddess with the lower body of a fish and the upper body of a beautiful woman. Her melodic voice seemed to soothe Ra, and he relaxed at the very sound of his name from her lips.

Nia wondered momentarily if the goddess was connected to the sirin in any way, but her curiosity didn’t have much time to grow because the conversation continued.

“Do not let him shake you up, brother,” said a sharp-tongued man with six arms seated to Ra’s left.

“Thank you, Anansi, but he is right,” said Ra before turning his attention back to Nia.

“My actions in the past led to a fracturing in my relationship with my two youngest daughters centuries ago. It wasn’t until today that I laid eyes on either one in centuries,” he explained. “When Thoth and Mujaji told me my youngest was missing, I… I nearly lost myself. Then to find out the culprit was her own sister? And on top of that, my eldest daughter delivered a baby for her without my knowing-”

“Baba-” Hathor began, but he raised a hand to stop her.

“I am not upset at your actions, I am upset at mine and Sekhmet’s. I should have never sent her and Bast away.” He cleared his throat and looked around the room. “You tried to tell me… all of you did.”

“Ra, it is in the past now. Let us move forward,” said Thoth across the room, and Hanuman echoed his sentiment.

“The wrongs have been righted. That is what matters,” said the gorilla god.

“What will happen to Sekhmet?” Nia asked.

“We will attempt to rehabilitate her, no matter how long it takes,” answered Kokou, his flame blazing brightly from his throne.

“And we will keep a closer eye on her in the future,” said Mujaji, and Nia and T’Challa both admired his current form which looked like a walking acacia tree.

“Nia,” Bast cooed and placed her hands around Nia’s face, “you have helped bring peace to the realms and to our family, and for that, I am forever grateful to you.”

Nia looked away sheepishly, unable to adequately accept the praise coming from her ancestor.

“I know you have done so much already, but I do have one more request of you.”

“What is it?”

Bast looked behind Nia, and her eyes fell on T’Challa.

“Come here, king.”

T’Challa made his way up the steps and stood next to Nia.

“T’Challa, Nia is going to need your help.”

“I will do what I can, but what will she need help with?”

“Ruling the magic realm.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Nia’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

“Nia, I am giving the magic realm to you. Become its queen and rule it as you see fit.”

“But, I’m not royalty-”

“Nonsense!” Ra boomed, waving his hand dismissively. “You are descended from gods, my dear. You are more than simple royalty.”

“The magic realm needs you, Nia. They need a leader who can navigate both worlds, one with your powers, your heart.”

“I don’t know the first thing about being queen-”

“You will learn,” said Kokou with a wink.

Nia couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and if it weren’t for the heat radiating off T’Challa’s body next to her, she would have thought she was hallucinating.

Queen of the magic realm.

A queen.

Nia, Aziza Queen of the Magic Realm.

Nia had to let the words sink in. She’d had a title, she’d have responsibilities to her nation…

“What do I even do first? The realms are a mess right now.”

“Well, dear, your first order of business should be if you want to human and magic realms to stay open to each other.”

“That’s an option?” T’Challa asked.

“Of course it is! Especially now that the humans know of the magic realm’s existence.”

“However, there is one rule,” Ra stepped in. “The dead cannot stay.”

Nia’s heart sank into her stomach.

“Why?” she asked.

“It is not the way of the world. They are not meant to walk the realm of the living, hence why they are not fully formed.”

“Can we have some time with them?”

“I will need time to heal before I can fully clean up Sekhmet’s mess, but then they have to go home,” Bast instructed.

Nia nodded solemnly, and T’Challa placed his hand on her back to steady her.

“I know I just laid a lot on you, but believe me, Nia, I would not do so if I did not think you could more than handle it. I will be with you every step of the way-”

“As will I,” said T’Challa, kissing her temple.

“Now, you two, time to go-”

“Wait,” Nia stopped Ra before he could send them back. “I’ll be the queen of the magic realm, but I have two things I would like to ask for, in return, please.”

“Very well,” Ra gestured for her to continue.

“The heart-shaped herb… the humans have lost theirs, and I would like permission to give it to them again.”

Bast smiled at her.

“Permission granted. What else?”

“My friend, Amita. She dabbled in dark magic when we were younger and injured her hands. I have tried to heal her, but couldn’t remove the dark magic still under her skin. Is there something you can do?”

“You are sure this Amita is trustworthy?”

“I am.”

“Then yes, she will be taken care of when I have my full strength back.”

“Thank you,” Nia bowed her head to her ancestor.

“No, thank you, Nia.”

---------

Amita leaned on M’Baku’s shoulder as they watched the soldiers leave Birnin Mutata. They rested on the Necropolis steps aside the remaining panthers, Amare, Okoye, and Mandla. N’Jadaka was deep in conversation with N’Jobu and Sego about their realm when Nia and T’Challa suddenly shimmered back into view right where they left. Naturally, everyone rushed to their sides, speaking over each other, all wondering where they went.

“The realm of the gods,” Nia answered with a sly smile.

“And…” T’Challa nudged her side to get her to continue.

“And I-may-or-may-not-be-queen-of-the-magic-realm-now,” she rushed out excitedly.

“I’m sorry, say that again,” Amare asked. The shock on his face let Nia know he heard right the first time but needed to be sure.

“You are all looking at Queen Nia, ruler of the magic realm,” T’Challa announced proudly as he twirled her around for all to see the new royal.

“You’re the queen now?” Amita asked, her jaw nearly on the floor along with everyone else’s.

“I am,” Nia grinned.

Amita squealed and pulled her into a hug, knocking T’Challa out of the way. She held her tight and rocked her from side to side before letting go and looking into her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, and Nia started to tear up.

“So am I,” said Amare.

“Me, too,” added Sego, and the two of them wrapped their arms around their favorite girl.

“Nia, it will be an honor serving you,” said Mandla with a bow.

“So what’s first on the docket, queen?” N’Jadaka asked.

“I don’t even know yet-”

“She has plenty of time to figure that out,” T’Challa stepped in, and she broke away from her family and friends to wrap her arms around his neck.

“With your help.”

“With my help.”

They kissed for a brief moment, then Nia’s stomach rumbled.

“You’ve worked up an appetite,” T’Challa teased.

“Shit, we all have. Y’all were gone two hours,” N’Jadaka fussed.

“Two hours?!”

“Yeah, girl, didn’t you know?” Amita asked.

“No, it felt like ten minutes tops.”

“Time moves differently in other realms, I guess,” said Sego.

“What did we miss?”

“The former zombi and obambo victims are healing at the hospital, and we have contacted their loved ones,” said Okoye.

“And the clean-up and burial process will start as soon as I give the order,” added Mandla.

“Good,” said T’Challa.

“Auntie’s already planning a victory dinner; we’re just waiting on your ass to get back.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time.”

The group traveled back to the palace, where they were met with open arms at the palace gates by Ramonda, Shuri, and Celeste. T’Chaka was there, of course, and when he laid eyes on his brother, he could have died a second time. N’Jobu walked up to him and said nothing, only glared at him with fury in his eyes. His anger wasn’t even over the fact that he was staring at his own murderer, but that the man had abandoned his own flesh and blood.

“N’Jobu, I-”

N’Jobu breezed past his older brother and introduced himself to Shuri while Celeste attempted to cover her family in hugs and kisses.

“Nia has big news,” Amare boasted.

“Ubaba-”

“What? I can’t brag on my daughter?”

“So, what’s the news?” Celeste asked.

“I’m in charge of the magic realm now… Bast appointed me the queen.”

“My baby!” Celeste threw her arms around Nia once more, and the new queen smiled at her mother.

The group made their way into the palace, where they broke off to go to their respective quarters to shower off the battle and change into something for dinner.

All felt right with the world as they dined in the formal dining room with the council elders from both realms, head tribal warriors, priests and priestesses, and their families. Slow-roasted goat meat that fell off the bone and onto their plates filled their stomachs along with ever-flowing wine and a smorgasbord of side dishes and desserts. Chef Omar had gone all out for the occasion, and every living being present had their fill.

Mandla and Okoye proved to be a great team off the battlefield as well as they recounted the fight with animated vigor, keeping everyone entertained and the mood lifted. When the dynamic duo eventually became too full to continue story time, Sego caught Amita’s attention from across the table.

“Thank you for being there for Nia,” he said, and she smiled back at him.

“No worries. I just wish I had known how dope she was when we were back in school.”

“Better late than never,” he shrugged.

Amita raised her glass to his words as the River tribe elder changed the subject.

“So, Nia, now that you are queen-”

“No business talk, Feli! This is a celebration,” Ramonda chided him, and he tossed his hands up in defense.

“My apologies, Queen Mother.”

Conversation flew across the table, and though Nia participated in it, T’Challa could see her mind was somewhere else. Every time someone called her name, he watched her check back into reality. She’d get lost staring across the table at Sego or picking at her plantains, so he grabbed her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

“Feeling alright?” he asked just above a whisper.

“Kind of overwhelmed, if I’m being honest,” she whispered back. She was enjoying being around her loved ones, but she was tired and had a lot to process from the day she’d had.

T’Challa nodded and kept an eye on her as she ate, waiting until she finished her meal to stand at the head of the table.

“Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate this victory with us.”

The table erupted in applause, deep celebratory barks from M’Baku, and whistling from N’Jadaka.

“It is late, and Nia is very tired after such a long day, so we will be taking our leave.”

“Queen Nia-”

“Please, Mandla, just ‘Nia’ is fine.”

“It is not. You are a queen, and I will address you as such! Now, Queen Nia, I would love to meet with you in the coming weeks to discuss the reconstruction of our realm.”

“Sounds good to me,” Nia said through a yawn as she stood from her seat, “I’ll call you.”

Nia kissed Amare’s and Sego’s heads before wrapping her arm around the bend of T’Challa’s outstretched elbow, and he led her out of the dining room.

“How tired are you?” he asked with his hands snaking around her waist, making her skin come alive from his touch as they arrived at the elevator bank.

“Not very.”

The elevator doors swished open, and they stepped on, his hands still glued around her waist.

“You’re my queen,” he murmured between kisses to the column of her neck.

“I’m a queen, not your queen,” Nia giggled as he nibbled on her skin.

“You’ve always been my queen, Nia,” T’Challa whispered in her ear before biting her earlobe. His hands busied themselves with caressing her stomach, and her hips, her thighs, her breasts…

“I guess I am technically Queen of Wakanda,” she caved, and he growled into her neck, pressing his growing erection into her round cheeks. His hands weaseled down the front of her colorful maxi skirt, past her panties and the tuft of curly hairs that framed her treasure trove, straight to her clit. “Mmm, baby.”

T’Challa trailed his tongue from her neck to her back and traced along the wing-shaped scars that decorated Nia’s exposed back, making her shiver.

The elevator doors swished open on his floor, and he walked her forward until they reached his door. Instead of unlocking it, he pressed her into the cold vibranium and ran his tongue down past the strings of her halter top to the dimples in her back. He pulled down her skirt and underwear, and she moaned as he took a bite of her left cheek then her right.

“T-T’Challa… baby, we should go insi-hmmm.”

T’Challa’s fingers on one hand had made their way to her dripping center and slowly circled her opening, and the other slapped her ass, making it bounce in his face. Nia moaned from the impact of the strike, and the pain radiated throughout her body, turning more and more pleasurable with every inch it spanned.

“Nobody is up here,” he rasped. “And I will hear them coming before they catch us.”

“You want it that bad?”

“You have no idea, sithandwa.”

Slap!

Nia’s eyes rolled to the back, and her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip.

“T’Challa,” Nia whined.

“Again.”

“T’Challa!”

“Mmmm.”

T’Challa’s tongue replaced his fingers without notice, and Nia’s hips jutted out, pressing his face deeper into her cheeks. He sucked on her clit, twirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves while precum dripped out of his own hardened dick into his silk drawers.

He ate her with the precision of a man on a mission to make his woman rain down his beard, and that she did. His tongue swiped up her juices, lapping at her plump folds while she keened loudly.

“That f-feels so good.”

Nia’s legs wobbled as she deepened her arch and reached back, pushing his face deeper into her pussy. She braced herself on the door with her other hand while T’Challa ravaged her. His tongue explored her hungrily while he freed himself from the constraints of his pants, stroking his length with one hand and holding on tight to Nia’s ass with the other. There wasn’t an inch of her pussy he neglected, and he drank from her when she blessed him with another orgasm.

While she was still twitching, he stood up lightning fast, and slid into her warmth, making her cry out in the empty hallway.

“Fuck, baby,” Nia hissed. She loved the stretch of him spreading her walls open and plunging deep inside, and the way his breath tickled her ear as he whispered filthy words of affirmation to her made Nia’s body tremble.

“You take me so well, Nia. Such a good girl. Always ready for me.”

“Yes.”

T’Challa’s hand wrapped around her throat and pulled her face towards his, opening his mouth and meeting her for a sloppy kiss, tongue first. He could taste the wine on her lips from dinner, and she could taste herself on his tongue as he stroked her deep, pushing her front up against the door.

“You like when I fuck you like this, don't you?”

“Mmm, yes, baby.”

T’Challa looked down between them and admired the way his dick shined with her juices.

“Got your pussy dripping for me.”

He reached around front and fingered her clit, making her hips buck back into him.

“Oooh, just like that. Throw it back on your king.”

“I’ve got a-a better idea,” Nia moaned as she wound her hips on him and his teeth sank into her neck.

“Talk to me, sithandwa.” T’Challa was struggling to keep it together with the way she was gripping his length.

“Let me ride you, baby.”

He pulled back from her neck and gazed into her eyes, burying his dick deep inside her.

“You want to bounce on my dick?” T’Challa teased.

Nia bit her lip and nodded, which prompted T’Challa to pull her lip out and suck on it as he drove into her repeatedly.

“Yes!”

“Get inside,” he growled and unlocked his door with his beads, slapping her on her ass and making her yelp. He pulled out from her, and she reached back for his hand, leading him inside the king’s suite.

Nia looked over her shoulder and admired the way his dick bobbed against his muscular thigh. It looked so delicious that she turned around and sat on the corner of the bed, pulling him closer to her face. Her mouth fell open, and the tip of her tongue flickered at the underside of his head as she led him into her warmth.

“Fuck, Nia,” T’Challa groaned, his hand resting on the back of her head, gripping her braids as she slurped up and down his shaft.

Spit and precum foamed around her mouth and dripped down her chin onto the tops of her breasts, and T’Challa needed to see more. He undid the ties on her halter top and snatched it off her body, freeing her breasts for his lustful gaze. He reached down and played with her nipples, making her hum around him as she took him down her throat.

Nia loved the taste of him alone, but the taste of them both drove her wild, and she got lost in the rhythm of sucking T’Challa’s dick. His moans filled the suite along with the loud slurping sounds Nia made around him until she pulled off of him and licked around his balls. She pressed her knuckles into his gooch while her tongue and lips took care of his sack and her other hand worked his shaft, her thumb swirling over his bulbous head.

“F-fuck, Nia,” T’Challa shuddered. “I’m almost there; keep doing me just like that.”

Nia rolled her knuckles just behind his balls, pressing into his prostate from the outside, and she felt his dick start to twitch. His breathing grew quicker, and his toes dug into his sandals while the muscles in his thighs tightened up. She quickly moved her mouth from his balls to the tip of his dick and took him in once more while he shot down her throat. Nia swallowed every drop before pulling off of him and stroking his dick, making sure she got every drop. He had more to give, so he spilled over her hand, and she licked up the mess, staring up at him with her big doe eyes.

She reached up and undid the buttons on his tunic before pushing it off his shoulders.

“Get on the bed.”

T’Challa was already sated from his release, but his dick was still hard and in her hand, so who was he to argue? The king climbed onto the bed and adjusted the pillows behind him as he sat against the headboard. Nia crawled over to him and settled herself on his lap.

“You think you’re ready for me? A queen?” Nia asked, and T’Challa’s eyes darkened with lust, making Nia giggle. “Will you let your queen ride you?”

T’Challa’s jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared.

“Answer me,” Nia whispered against his lips.

“Yes, my queen.”

Nia pressed her lips to his, and he welcomed her by parting his lips and making way for her tongue. She explored his mouth and lifted her hips, placing his dick at her entrance and squatting down on it so that it filled her up. When she was seated on his lap again, his length fully inside her, she began to rock in his lap, her hips cycloning and grinding her clit into his pelvis. Her movements were fluid as she rocked on him, and she eventually transitioned into lifting her hips and sliding back down.

T’Challa stared at her with admiration in his eyes. This woman, his woman, loved him.

“Tell me you love me.”

Nia smiled and kissed him.

“Ngiyakuthanda, T’Challa.”

T’Challa reached between them and fondled her clit, making her throw her head back in ecstasy. He latched onto her throat, and his hands gripped her hips, guiding her up and down his erection.

“Do you mean it?”

Nia placed her hands around his face and forced him to look at her in her eyes.

“I love you, baby. I mean it with my whole self. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner, I-” her voice cracked, and tears brimmed her eyes. “I was scared.”

T’Challa’s hands stilled Nia’s hips.

“Of what?”

“Of a few things. Being your queen, for one, but also loving someone means giving them the space to hurt you. Their actions, their words, their death-”

“Nia, I would never do anything to hurt you. You should know that by now-”

“I do.”

“I love you,” he pleaded.

“I love you, too.”

T’Challa spread his legs and thrust up into Nia with slow, precise strokes.

“You’re a queen in your own right, without me. You’re a goddess. You’re magic… Nia, I’d be a fool not to love you.”

Nia held onto his shoulders as he pounded up into her, hitting all her favorite spots while her breasts bounced in his face.

“Baby, I-”

“I know, I feel it. Let it out, love.”

T’Challa pushed Nia further up the mountaintop to her peak, where she seized up on top of him and covered him in her juices. The way her pussy gripped his length almost made him explode again, but he flipped them over so that she was on her back and dug deep into her.

Their bodies collided throughout the night as they celebrated both their victory and their love. T’Challa’s orgasms wracked through his body more intensely each time than the time before, and by his fourth, the strength of the Black Panther gave out. Nia giggled as he covered her neck with kisses and held her waist tight against him as he spooned behind her, his flaccid dick still resting in her depths.

“I’m glad you gave everybody the week off.”

T’Challa chuckled in her ear.

“That tired?”

“Mhm.”

T’Challa placed a kiss behind her ear.

“Get some sleep, sithandwa. I have big plans for you in the morning.”

“What plans?”

“Worry about that in the morning.”

“T’Challa, what pl-”

“Good night, my queen.”

Next Chapter

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