#onyour : mark

[marknee]

mists of celeste

a series by @hongism: by marknee

(contains spoilers! please be wary when reading)

let me start you here, with the understanding that this isn’t - in any way shape or form - an essay, nor is it an attempt at such. i rather just want to blurt everything into writing regarding my thoughts of this incredibly crafted series, so my head may feel that bit lighter. because holy shit. i have a lot to say. and i cannot ask anything of you, but to believe me when i say i’m not one to sugarcoat my words, leaving you with only the purest of faith that everything i write here, i undoubtedly mean. with that trust in mind, i present to you a very unorganised mind dump (?) of mine from over the span of a fortnight of reading.

i had to pick this series up twice during its entirety as i had an unfortunate epiphany halfway through, and i only just registered the hefty loss i knew i was going to grieve over the moment my eyes gazed upon the last word, causing me to postpone reading as much as i could — which, if you should know, didn’t last for a full twenty-four hours either time. i managed five, perhaps six, at most.

if i had a physical copy of this series, a highlighter, and a shit ton of index tabs, i fear what would become of me. the author has this series so incredibly well written that every single sentence deserved highlighting and placing into a buzzfeed quiz titled, “choose a quote and we’ll guess the state of your mental health,” ‘cause fuck me, i had a lot of self reflection to do after some of the chapters. at least one thing is clear, both the characters and i need intense therapy. and maybe a warm bubble bath with a cute rubber duck.

however, i will spare you the sob story and list some of the quotes from this series i either, 1) cried about, or 2) added to my list of topics to bring up with my therapist when i see her next.

“constantly looking at the negatives will get you nowhere in life. just thinking: what’s going to go wrong? that’s a recipe for disaster, as is only thinking about the past. what went wrong in the past doesn’t necessarily mean that it will go wrong in the future.” — seonghwa to y/n, chapter 17.

“you love her. what is love compared to duty?” — jisung to seonghwa, chapter 33.

“you would do well not to romanticise love in such a way otherwise you will be sorely disillusioned. love contains the freedom to choose what you want without the other person making any decision for you.” — seonghwa to jisung, chapter 33.

“what makes me more deserving than the man who died for me?” — y/n to seonghwa, chapter 33.

“oh, darling, if you could see yourself through my eyes, you would know that you are the most deserving person in the universe.” — seonghwa to y/n, chapter 33.

i want to give you beautiful and happy memories, my darling. i want to see you smile everyday for the rest of my life, even if it’s just for a moment. i want so much for you, and selfishly, i want to be the one to give it all to you.” — san to y/n, chapter 41.

“in answering the haunting question of “what do you want from me”, perhaps, simultaneously, you want everything and nothing at all.” — chapter 41.

“whoever came up with the saying ‘the truth will set you free’ clearly should have left paragraphs worth of fine print detailing how atrocious and painful it would be before that freedom.” — chapter 45.

“should this be a monster of his hatred’s creation, you will put your hands to the clay and mold its grotesque features further into obscurity.” — about yeosang, chapter 45.

“do you wish for me to bear it on my shoulders so you can sleep comfortably at the devils side?” — hongjoong, chapter 47.

“if love is meant to be part of life, then why is it draining seonghwa of his?” — chapter 48.

perhaps i cried! honestly, the two most impactful quotes on this list for me were, “what is love compared to duty?” and “what makes me more deserving than the man who died for me?” i think they both represent this story in the most heart-rending, glorious and tragic way possible as everyone is trying to confront the demons of their past, but of course, there is no reward without sacrifice.

in a way, every crew member on the horizon sacrificed something — perhaps, in their own personal way but still, all their wounds are equal in validity, so they’re basically on the same playing field of what it means of sacrifice. y/n lost her memories. most of them lost their freedom. half of them were subdued to others control and dehumanised and belittled. and every backstory broke my heart the more the pieces were revealed throughout.

i’m praying as the story unfolds further, every member finds their own redemption and closure, and allows themselves the peace they’ve deserved from the very beginning — in whatever form that may take. i just want them to be happy. so, author, please leave my boys alone. they’re tired. i’m tired. my poor y/n has been through more shit than i can comprehend. we’re relying on you, love.

also, i want to lay out all my cards on the table right now and admit there are the two members i genuinely want to physically fight (fists ‘n all): yeosang and hongjoong. the pair of them i want to throw off the airlock myself, never mind them threatening to do it to me. watch me do it. firstly, starting with the former: what the fuck is my guy’s problem? i cannot count the amount of times i got punched in the gut, slammed against a wall, choked (not in that way, people), almost DIED because of this motherfucker, and for what? it’s not my fucking fault wooyoung and i are halves of one soul. like i asked for this shit? dude needs to get his shit together ASAP, and i’m not saying that for his behalf (even though i’m sure therapy would be very good for him), i’m saying it for my behalf. because best believe he tries me again, i will swing, and i will absolutely clock his crown jewels, no pun intended. i’ve been sparring with jongho recently, and he tells me i’ve gotten better. so don’t even try me, mate.

his ONLY redeeming feature and the last remaining bit of patience i have for him relies in how good he was in bed in chapter 45. that’s it. i don’t fucking blame wooyoung. for anything. because i understand it all.

secondly, the absolute audacity personified himself: kim hongjoong. him and i are on a poorly constructed rollercoaster at the moment where the worker is dozing off behind the control system. one minute, the man has me seething, and the next, i’m wildly attracted to him. and then he says something shitty and the rollercoaster starts again. they’re not allowing me off at all, so i suppose i’ll be here forever. unless… they solve their problems within the sheets. and hear me out, okay? it (kinda) worked for yeosang, so sex with the captain? how scandalous. and it would help let off some of that pent up frustration between the two of us — my frustration with him, mostly. he genuinely gets on my tits. but i love him.

(don’t think i forgot that bath scene, miss author.)

on note of that, i actually made a list in my notes app at the beginning of reading this series where i ranked how good the sex would be with each crew mate (that’s if she were to do it with all of them). however, i did remove the members we’ve already done it with, so here’s my hypothesis (of the members we still have yet to):

rank 5: mingi. cons include, haven’t actually had a proper conversation with him ever, he scares me still a bit, i wonder if he even knows my name. pros include, has the power for it, no doubt he’s probably amazing, but please take me to dinner first.

rank 4: jongho. cons include, dude is like my little brother, would be very very awkward during and afterwards, endless teasing from the others and i’m too sensitive for that right now. pros include, he’s a berserker so no doubt he has the capabilities in him, he’s not a touchy person, sigh.

rank 3: yunho. cons include, is still figuring out his feeling towards seonghwa and hongjoong, would hate to become between that, he’s my doctor so also very awkward. pros include, my man is hot as fuck, would be an absolute boss about aftercare and take it seriously (as he should), very romantic and sweet.

rank 2: wooyoung. cons include, yeosang would fuck me up, like seriously. i’d probably die. he’s half of my soul, so… no comment there. pros include, an absolute tease, the fucker, so caring, though he would definitely want yeosang there (is that a pro or con i can’t decide?).

rank 1: hongjoong. cons include, literally none. pros include, that man hates my fucking guts so no doubt i won’t be able to walk for the next month (not complaining), immediate bragging rights that i’ve fucked the scourge of the black sea yeah get fucked everyone hahaha, would genuinely ruin me, i get to sleep in the captains bed like how exciting is that? i haven’t even been in his quarters never mind his bed! will be a very interesting and intense chapter.

now, moving on to later in the series with that choice with the serum for mingi. i simply cannot fathom the amount of voice messages i recorded over this. it was gobsmacking to me that everyone was against her for wanting mingi to have a choice, instead of lacking him of such a ghastly thing apparently. she didn’t want to deprive him of making his own decisions and deciding his own fate, and the fact the entire crew got mad at her for it, knowing they didn’t even ask for his consent in the first place?! nah, i have beef with all of them at this point. literally fight me, i don’t care that you’re pirates. i’m a raging woman, i’m worse. and don’t even get me started on the jisung and hyunwoo ordeal. actually, let me start a new paragraph for this one because it’s gonna be a long one.

the whole situation is genuinely indescribable of how upsetting it was (not to me, but to y/n. well, i guess to me also, then). hyunwoo is very much worse than jisung, but jisung still fucked up from his shitty choice of decisions. y/n’s backstory is very unsettling and she’d never really had a solid ground and people to rely on, until she had her team in the military. perhaps they weren’t exactly a family, but they cared for each other. and that was enough. but, what hurts the most is she genuinely believed they were good people (i quote: “hyunwoo was like a brother to me”), trusted them wholeheartedly, openly defended them, and even spent years of her life to pardon the guy she thought died for her (ouch). in return, they manipulated her, backstabbed her to the gods, and planned on injecting her a third time to keep the good image she had of them for their own benefit— fuck me, i’m seething just writing this. however, i too, am mourning their deaths for the sake of y/n. they were the closest thing to family to her, and knowing hyunwoo had a family of his own… but, i guess the lesson we learnt here is once you make your bed, you have to lie in it.

i realise this story isn’t over yet, but so far, it was been such a incredible ride. the world-building is out of this world— can we take a moment of appreciation for the google docs of each planet? what. i’m so excited for what’s to come, but i just wanted to share everything. i have cried too many times over this series that it felt like a reblog wasn’t enough appreciation for me. i wanted to do more. my love language is words of affirmation for a reason!

main points of this rant (of sorts):

if hongjoong and yeosang piss me off any further it’s on sight. there’s nothing scarier than a woman whose been messed with for too long, i’ll tell you that.

i fucking loathe hyunwoo, and i hate jisung slightly less, but i mourn for them also. and for the sake of my own pride, i will not enclose how hard i sobbed over that scene. i will not. ever.

hongjoong and y/n need to fuck already. there i said it. the tension is too much i’m sure mingi could sense it from another fucking planet.

san and wooyoung and jongho deserve the world. i love those sweethearts. they could never do me wrong. i will love them ‘til the end of time.

the yeosang sex chapter was everything and more. etched in my mind eternally. incredible.

i’m so mad i can’t add this to my shakespeare series as it’s not a bts fanfic, but i am seriously thinking about making a series for ateez just to add this in there. should it be charles dickens or jane austen? ahh, don’t tempt me, please.

that’s it! a literal dump of my entire thought process going through this 48 chapter-ed (for now) series! i wanna take a moment to thank @hongism for spending her time writing and creating a piece of art for us. i, and many others, owe it to you :) we appreciate you so much.

if you do want to read this (if you haven’t already spoiled it for yourselves), the link is under ‘a series’ right at the top of this post. or you can go on @hongism’s account and check it out there!

thank you for reading,

nini x

[rosesbxrry]

Links for Jake 🔞

Warnings: this contains nsfw links and explicit commentary imagines on my end. Afab! Reader. Minors do not interact. Of course, this is all fictional and none of the materials represents them.

a/n: I feel like I went overkill while writing this one. I blame this comeback for awakening kinks I never knew I had ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 Also this album is such a masterpiece 😫😫 I can’t stop listening to all the tracks on repeat without crying or screaming at the top of my lungs.

Main Masterlist

Jake loves it when you ride him but loves it even more when he sucks and play with your nipples at the same time

Jake’s hands and lips will never be not on your boobs, no matter what position you are in. You’ll be on top and riding him real good, and he’ll watch with perverted eyes at how your tits will bounce as you move up and down his length.

“That’s it, baby girl.” He’ll purr, hands around your hips to keep you in place. “Fucking your tight and wet pussy with my cock, yeah?”

Leaning back with your palms on his thighs, you arch your back when his tip hits your sweet spot. You were breathing heavily, thighs burning at the constant movement.

Jake’s throat throbbed with agony, reaching out to take a hard nipple into his mouth sloppily. His lips were like a pillow— sucking on the tit before his tongue moved circularly on the skin around it. His thumb moved to stroke the other neglected nipple, letting his fingernails dig into the hard flesh.

“Fuckk,” You moan, holding onto his shoulders for leverage. He was suckling on your nipple, nose deep into the ample of your breast. Thumb and index finger rolling and pinching the other erect nub like a toy. “Faster! Jaeyun, God— let me come!”

He mumbles something on your breast, the vibration sending sweet pleasure straight to your core, coating his length with your juices as he did with your walls.

He rides you off your orgasm, biting and sucking onyour boobs, decorating it with dark marks. Your nipples were sore to the touch, but Jake didn’t stop even when you told him to— because he’ll leave it nice and bruised for you and him to see the next morning.

You told Jake that you like his hands so he shows you how good he can make you feel with them

You shivered when he slowly caressed your side, his fingers leaving feather-like touches that brought you goosebumps. Your back leans deeper into his chest, whimpering desperately when he starts to kiss and lick your nape sensually.

“Look at you,” He tutted, using his index finger to circle around the outline of your breast, avoiding your hard nipples. It throbs painfully the more he teases, making you grip his thighs for dear life.

Jake let out a hearty chuckle. “I haven’t touch you yet and your already acting like a slut.”

“Jake, please.” You pleaded, “Want your fingers to make me feel good.”

He gave you a satisfied hum before grabbing your left boob harshly from behind. His hand moves to trail down between your legs, and you buck your hips when his fingers glide through your folds.

“God, you feel amazing.” He groans against your ear, stroking your pussy up and down until your wetness coats his slender fingers. “You’re so wet, angel.”

He plunges two fingers into your hole, stretching your walls deliciously in a scissoring motion. You were already crying at the pleasure, but when he added his thumb to play with your swollen clit, flickering it back and forth, the world crumbled briefly before you came on his fingers.

“So good for me, look at how much you came.”

He pumps his fingers a few times into your hole before showing his fingers with a proud smile. Your juices glisten in the night light, watching him suck it clean hungrily have made you realize you’ll never look at his hands the same ever again.

When your pussy is daddy’s favourite dessert

Jake takes you by suprise when he push you to sit on the bed, pulling on his tie roughly after tossing his jacket on the floor.

“Spread your legs for Daddy, I want to taste you.”

It was an invitation you could never refuse when he asked so nicely. You open your legs wide for him, watching him dive straight into your cunt with no hesitation as if he didn’t have a full-course meal during your dinner date a while ago.

You felt lightheaded, grabbing a fistful of his soft hair when his tongue probed at your hole. You moaned, gasped, and breathlessly called out his name while his plump mouth kissed your clit gently before lapping it erotically. The lewd sound fills your shared bedroom, making you thrust against his face.

“Feels so fucking good,” You moaned loudly when he licked through your folds slowly and carefully, holding your thighs down when you trash around.

“Please don’t stop, Daddy.”

The knot in your stomach was getting hotter and tighter as he mouths your aching pussy. Jake looked up when you called out to him— messy hair, dark eyes staring right at your eyes while his swollen lips never ceased to eat you up— the sight was such a turn-on between your legs that you came immediately.

Jake ravishes every juice leaking from your wet pussy, lapping and swallowing you dry until you cry from overstimulation. He savoured every taste and scent you offered because, after every delicious meal, you were his sweetest dessert.

Jake showing you how needy he is when you’re not here to please him

You almost choked on your cup of coffee, putting your phone down in case any of your co-workers happened to pass by your cubicle. You silence the volume and move deeper into the corner before clicking on the video Jake had sent you.

He was on his knees atop your shared bed, wearing only a shirt covering nothing on his lower half. You nervously took out your earpiece, finally able to hear his desperate moans of your name slipping out of his pretty mouth.

He pulled his shirt over his head before jerking off his already hard cock. It was red and slick with precum, making such a lewd wet sound. You could hear his breathing hitch, a hand moving up to play with his erect nipples.

You were squeezing your thighs together, hearing his whiny moans and watching him fist his cock so hard that his knuckles turned pale. He stopped for a second, looking directly at the camera as if he was gazing at you.

His cheeks were flushed, and his mouth was open agape, showing you how he thumbs the head of his cock as strings of precum stretch thinly at the motion.

You feel the disappointment in your chest when the video ends abruptly, cold sweat dripping down on your forehead, the warmth that pooled in your underwear made you realize that you need to go home as soon as possible, frantically texting Jake back.

I want you still hard when I get home— don’t you dare come without mommy’s order.

He tells you that your boobs are the best sex toy

Watching porn with Jake was oddly casual. It was an impromptu suggestion that made sense when both of you were bored out of your minds in the middle of the night, and watching it together lets you explore some things that could spice up the bedroom.

You were wearing a crop top, and the material you saw on the internet fitted you like a glove, pushing up your boobs until the cleavage almost spilled up the space. It was ridiculous, but it did the task you needed to give Jake the best boobjob he ever wanted after seeing it being done in a porno.

“Fuck— wait a sec.” He groans, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, watching his cock push between your boobs. The sight and feel of it all were so intense that he was panting rapidly.

“I think I’m gonna cum.”

“Jake,” you started, “I haven’t even move yet.”

“I know, I know, but—“ He let out a strained groan when you teasingly started to move up and down. Your cleavage jiggled and coated with his precum until it glistened. “Your boobs look so sexy right now, I don’t think I can last long.”

You giggled while watching his face scrunch up in bliss and agony when you started picking up your pace. The area between your chest was so slick that his cock glided through easily, the wet sound making the tension more erotic.

You ride out his release, making sure that the red tip gets completely swallowed up by the pressure of your boobs. He shot up ropes of cum, some dribbling down your abdomen when you release his cock.

His eyes were stuck on the creamy liquid as it dripped down, seeing your hard nipples against the cheap fabric of the shirt, and you knew he was down bad to do it again.

Permanent Taglist: open/ take this form to be added

@forjongseong @skzenhalove @duolingofanaccount @sunnysunnysunnysunshine @sunnyjayjays @archangelaurii @won-shine @stnkyash @yoursjaeyun @hooneam @jjhmk @pshchives @heeseungssidechick @hoonslutt @hwihwi0o0 @seuomo @knowleeknow

[haejaetae-recs]

L. Donghyuck, "Haechan"

(All recs tagged here!)

Mature, suggestive, F☆vorites

Fics

Pussy Fiend by @domjaehyun | 2 pt. 68.9k total | M | ☆

(surviving) no nut november by @domjaehyun | ft. Mark | 28.8k | M

Romancing by @jenoloqy | 23.7k

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA by @lisired | 19.8k | M

learning languages by @tonicandjins | 18.5k | M

and they were roommates by @tyonfs | 17k | M

himbo haechan by @hyuckmov | 13.8k | M

double dog dare by @waithyuck | 12.1k | M

WHO NEEDS CUPID’S BOW? by @lisired | 11.1k | s

THE PRIDEFUL GAMER by @neochan | 10.8k | M

And They Were Roommates by @jishyucks | 10.7k

Sucks to be Him by @loudstan | <9k | M

We’re Exes But… by @saintlyhyuck | 8.7k | M

Mine too by @waithyuck | ft. Jaehyun | 7.5k | M | ☆

carpe diem by @kiachiako | 5.1k | s

Playing Games by @zh-lele | 7.4k | M

pretty in pink, but my head’s in the dark by @jaeminvore | 6.1k | M | ☆

rainy day by @moonlit-jeno | ft. Jaemin, Renjun, Jeno, Mark | 4.5k | M

make it fit by @haechaninmyheart | 3.5k | M

make it fit again | ft. Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin | 4.7k | M

the right one. by @starryhyuck | 2.8k | M

amortentia (the room smells like absolute shit) by @tonicandjins | 2.8k | ☆

My Hoodie by @nsheetee | 2.2k

handle bars by @haetkeeper | 2k | M

New Territory (expedition: you) by @sluttyten | 1.9k | M

morning with haechan *ੈ✩‧₊˚ by @sleeping-sirens | 1.6k | s

1:03AM by @saintlyhyuck | <1.5k | M

lazy mornings by @catboyieejeno | 989 | s

anyday, anywhere? by @luvrkives | 0.9k | M

anywhere, anytime? | <1.2k | M

[7:43am] by @aesthyuckic | <600

༺♡༻

Fake Texts

dreamies reaction to being called babygirl by @doyozen | s

Asking the dreamies “ass or tits?” by @doyozen | s

the dreamies spotting you in the crowd by @neochan | s

pictures bf! hyuck sends you of himself by @catboyieejeno | s

‘selfie pls’ with, nct dream by @jenosz | s

Random Texts by @onyour--ash | s

Random Haechan Texts by @fullsunstrawberry | s

༺♡༻

Headcanons

nct dream relationship habits by @nizhspo

[emo-elmi]

Making out with desperate Jotaro

|☆This takes place in Episode 8☆|

Warning: Pussy eating, Rough sex, blow job,breeding, stuffing sex toys!!! You have been warned

When it comes to you and jotaro, you two barely get alone until now, you being pinned down on the bed by Jotaro, as he leans in and nibbles on your neck playfully, kissing and sucking onyour neck aggressively, leaving red marks on your neck. "J-jotaro, slow down...!" You moaned out those words as Jotaro, unbuckles his pants and belt, revealing his big, thick and hairy cock, making you whimper with pleasure.

Then Jotaro shoves his big cock into you, making you yelp loudly and moan. "F-Fuck...!" You moan, as Jotaro thrusts into you harder and faster and more aggressively, making your toes curl and you clinging onto the sheets hard. When you thought Jotaro was done there... you were wrong.

Then, Jotaro cums into you and pulls out his dick from your pussy, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders and eating out your pussy. "FUCK...ugh~~" you moan loudly as he eats out of you, digging his tongue deeper into you. When you cum, he leans back, taking out a 10'5 inch vibratory, shoving it in you and turning on the vibrator. "Ahhh!~" you groaned loudly "Good Girl..." Jotaro said, as he kisses you deeply while the vibrator still vibrates your pussy at high speed, making you cum hard.

Jotaro then pulls out the vibrator and shoves his dick in your mouth, grabbing the back of you head and moving it up and down his thick, veins cock. Then when he cums in your mouth, you both flop backwards on the bed, panting heavily. "You did... good..." Jotaro says, turning to you and telling you how good you were

Here you guys go, a spicy story to read :3

[goatpalacezine]

Ribbons

Ribbons I cut the ribbons from my life to mark the pagesof the loves that made me cry, of the sleeplessnights knowing everyone has gone, from fieldsemptied over many years. I bravely look on. I wonder, will you remember my warm hand onyour hand, cooling as you slept away from me,the ribbon that kept us together now in a boxon my desk. The color of my life without you. I learned how to not grow…

[leopoldainter]

And I will nameless her cement slap on a French tux, I'll be pussy in blah. Always thought she was a good guy, it's a chick and look at her sandal wowsers. Ignore the officers gun fire, in my

What's ai damn funny about it, he only dies the nose un the song. That's krustiacean burger he sub.patty opinion she earned that ,

Sorry,2lift

Ding

And where does she come off. The roof tiles are removable. Someone shouts my catfood! Some of us dated that jessicah

We only got room to ride

I promise one day I'll get Kath najiminy singing about mashed potatoes to the jury mark this toaster!

Papers shuffle.. aha

Inother, found it over a fried chicken Advert. THATS MARTIAN GOLD THAT passes out note books of squiggles. I normally sell cheap smokes not able to stop a holehouse burn down. This one lost its insides before iflickedmabic.5$!

Oh, I don't play for the broncos

Oh, she just wants cocaine. Oh, she's horny. Stop switching to sex in the city she takes the dress off first chance she gets

Nu un... season 4 cziMiami. How can buffy afford Lando. Brits still won't brush.Cgreen scrap.Delightful.

She may have been a b actor but mangled on the side of the road like that, ideally her some flavaflayed

She came from the maternity ward she probably got the cotton from the Till. Gay, DEA. I have...a girlfriend.

Lisa:mom...your pathetic.

C'makes face

Woah. MSOHTUNIGHT! I think webinar stairway shall we. I'm really into this

Let's go

Shut up dean, Apparently there's too much monet from toothe paste maker's to a have a readily shareable clip hinting of the struggles of lesbian and Easter canadian public healtcare6years more. .it's a bridge bit its long. You can make pancakes using potatoes. I have a convertible toof and an eject button. I hope you brought a parasol she's gone

Bavarian Marx. ASSAULT!

Ellen DeGeneres rolling in some mud. It's not what it seems, he got in trouble for telling people his name was geronimo. The mud got on his clothes. Coこ? OK lady come back in three days I'm still getting the millionaire song on the street

But then he said never-mind. It was like my guardian angel knew I didn't finish my homework. Daria decides to attend one of these party's. It's a fenced in teen exhibit. Next time the crystal bull horn foe someone in Darias grade explodes I can sell your stuff Jane. Do you know how art deals happen.

Starts at Halle

Thanks monetx

Actually itllb Montague and you'll at least need to watch mrMagoos version of the count Monte cristo

I can order a mCrolissol at Tim Hortons

Whats to do lu

Much ado about nothing!laughs her skirts pencil

I can't keep up with whoopi. I have an eraser til, she sees pink. Yeah!

It is really weird. Right after hallucinating herself in her own body it's the three musketeers sayin haha we got your gugenheim last resort bridge

And if youlook through the wire mesh onyour right even shake n. Bakken to death they need hold in there pees that's the law. Ok I see you can't get tetras up here, but you can see the Brazilian skyline, let me think about it. That bridge was your shelter

And here we have the chef from the railings saying wait right there gotcha, we still got time who says this is the la. Laminated to each wall. 2.oz

[nexusnyx]

Hi! Would it be okay to tag me on your fezco taglist? 🥺 I just read the prologue to your series and I love how you write. ♥️♥️♥️

omg your dp is gorgeous 🥺 just added you to the tag list hun. i'm glad you liked the story <3

[for-a-muse-of-fire]

this is hungry work

the wench and the witcher

"this is hungry work”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader.

Summary: Your Witcher will be gone at first light. He’s determined to keep occupied until then.

Warnings: NSFT/18+ - you should not be interacting with this fic if you are under the age of 18. Facesitting, overstim, intercourse, sweet-yet-possessive!Geralt. It’s... it’s just smut, y’all.

A/N: Full disclosure, I tried to tell myself I wouldn’t use this song for any of my fics and I should have known better. It’s just peak Hozier, and I would be remiss for excluding it. I have approximately 3 fics left in this series - yikes, I accidentally wrote a series - and then we’ll see where the Wench wants to go from there...

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @witchernonsense - @owillofthewisps - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty​ - @wastingmypotential​

The only Heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well, amen...

The light of the full moon shines in from the window, fills the room with the silver-ice glow. It’s cool and soft – enough to see by, making up for the embers that now barely smolder on the hearth. It should be cold without the fire’s warmth, but the heat flashing over your skin leaves you misted with sweat. It weighs down your curls and makes them stick to the back of your neck, to your face; each sharp inhale feels heavy and damp in your lungs. One hand grips the headboard so hard that your palm aches.

The other hand is fisted in Geralt’s hair.

Your thighs bracket his head and he holds you in place over his mouth. His fingers press bruises into your flesh. With a ragged cry, your body arches and your hips press down; you grind down onto the Witcher’s greedy tongue, calling his name as you come again. You briefly wonder if anyone has ever died like this. The low vibration of the Witcher’s growl hums over the tender, throbbing flesh of your cunt and you double over, whining.  Trying to pull away is futile; his grip on your thighs is too strong.

There’s no counting at this point. The pleasure borders on agony and Geralt is relentless.

He leaves in the morning.

It seems he’s determined to keep himself occupied until then.

“Gods,” you pant as your hips rock in time to the tide of your orgasm. “Geralt – “

Hazy golden eyes flash up at you, the dark of his pupils wide and fathomless. Your limbs feel like water, putting up no resistance when the Witcher shifts and turns you onto your back like you’re a ragdoll. He fairly glows in the moonlight, miles of pale skin stretched over powerful muscle that flexes beautifully as he pulls your legs over his shoulders. The tip of his tongue flicks sharply over your clit and you jump with a low hiss, “Son of a bitch – “

Geralt chuckles softly, noses at your damp curls. “I’ve met sailors who swear less,��� he taunts.

You give a breathless laugh of your own. “You’re one to talk – oh!”

Fingers press, three thick digits slipping into your cunt with an obscenely wet noise and little resistance. The stretch makes your toes curl.  Geralt laps casually over your aching clit again to pull a sharp, desperate noise up from your throat.

“M’gonna miss that sound,” he growls and repeats the motion.

You whimper. His fingers press and thrust in time with the movement of his tongue until you’re shaking and cursing, fingers gripped tight in his shock-white hair. He groans against you when you tug, pushing the pads of his fingers up to stroke and circle over that soft spot inside of you – the one that makes your back arch from the bed as lightning goes flashing up your spine. His mouth closes over you, his cheeks hollow to apply a teasing suction and your voice breaks on a whine, “Geralt - fuck - I’m gonna - “

It’s a violent rush of blinding sensation – you shout, gushing over Geralt’s fingers as your hips rock into his mouth. He doesn’t stop.

You come again. And again.

He doesn’t stop until your muscles ache, until your voice is raw and you’re begging brokenly for respite. Panting, you glance down to see your Witcher smirking, his mouth pink and swollen, slick with your cum. He bows his head and makes his slow, ambling way up your body, chasing each flex of your muscles with a nip of his teeth. He’s already littered you with deep red marks, spots that you’ll press your fingers to when he’s gone, relishing in the dull ache. You shiver when he traces the bruises with his tongue, whine when he takes a beaded, tender nipple into his mouth. The sharp thrill of pleasure makes your cunt clench down on nothing and you whisper his name.

Geralt rumbles appreciatively. He guides you onto your belly, settles his warm, solid weight over your back. His lips feel like a firebrand on your shoulder blade  – his cock slicks over you, catching over the tiny ridge of your clit and making you gasp, “Please.“

He growls into your neck, easing his hips forward. The length of him splits you open, stretches your sopping cunt around him until you sob. It’s a slow and filthy pace that he sets. He rocks into you on a deep, grinding rhythm that makes you grit your teeth around a moan. Your fingers curl in the rumpled bedding beneath you. You feel the wet heat of his breath against your shoulder, the scrape of his teeth, and the steady, torturous rock of his hips. Your voice is a broken, ragged thing, harsh to your own ears when you cry.

A sharp, sudden push of his hips punches the breath from your lungs. “That’s my girl,” he pants against your hair. “Sweet girl – you take me so well, sweetheart. So fuckin’ pretty, taking my cock.”

He fucks into you, deep and unrelenting strokes. You pant, and grunt, too fucked-out to be self-conscious about how you might sound. You feel utterly spent, like there’s no possible way your body can respond, or keep up, but it does – you do. The Witcher pulls you up in one powerful motion, sitting back on his haunches and crushing your back to his front with one arm gripped tight over your chest. His skin is sweat-slick and scorching hot against your back. You grip at whatever you can reach, grasping at his hair, clawing at his arm; he chokes out a groan and his free hand pushes down the softness of your belly until his fingers brush where the two of you are joined, where you are stretched around him, soaked and quivering.

“Let me hear you,” he rumbles. “Say it, sweetheart – tell me – “

A flex of his hips. You feel every blood-hot inch of his cock, and clench down – your legs shake as you whimper, “Geralt – “

“Say it.”

He thrusts up into you, hard – a claiming. “Yours,” you gasp. “Oh gods – m’yours. Yours yours – “

The pads of his fingers drag over your clit. Your muscles lock. It’s a conflagration in your blood, roaring through your veins, leaving ash it its wake – your voice cracks as you scream. You hear Geralt snarl and swear as his hips stutter – he trembles against your back, pulses deep inside of you – filling you with the sticky heat of his cum. Your eyes roll back and then you’re floating, warm and boneless as if drifting on an ocean tide.

Geralt’s voice drifts through the fog. You come to as he pulls you against him, cradling your head on his shoulder while he strokes your limp curls away from your face with a tenderness that constricts around your heart. He’s watching you. Staring; as if attempting to commit each line of your face to memory while his thumb brushes at the corner of your mouth.

“Say it again,” he mumbles.

You have to remember how to breathe for a moment. “I’m yours,” you whisper.

Geralt kisses you lazily, delicately, and rolls you under him. His remarkable stamina has him pressing against the inside of your thigh again, hard and slick; you gasp when he slides in. You’re tender, borderline sore, but your hips still lift to take him. Your cunt still pulses at the welcome intrusion.

“One more, sweetheart,” he purrs against your mouth “Give me one more, c’mon…”

The Witcher barely moves. Just soft, shallow thrusts of his hips with his forehead pressed to yours and his fingertips tracing soothing patterns over your sensitized skin; you shake beneath him. The both of you balance on that precipice for an age, until a lark begins to call out its song in the courtyard outside. Geralt manages to coax one last slow, shivering orgasm from you; he moans into your mouth as he comes – you feel the steady throb of his cock, the warmth filling you as you shudder. You’re vaguely aware of Geralt’s weight settling beside you. Exhausted as you are, you utter a murmur as he curls you into his side.

Geralt’s fingers trace soft, meaningless sigils over your back as you let sleep take you.

[kumkaniudaku]

Trading Places

It’s 4:15 pm, I’m at work bored and wanted to post. So here I am. Enjoy. 

Put on something nice and be ready at 8. I’m taking you out.

Chadwick stood in the center of his trailer sporting a goofy smile as he read the text on his phone in his head. 

Is this a request or a demand?

Did you see a question mark? I’ll be in your city in five hours. Don’t have me waiting. 

Equal parts shocked and impressed by the tone of the message, he decided that no response was necessary. He’d been given instructions that he felt giddy to follow. Throughout the day he would take breaks between scenes and random conversations to read each message as if it was his first time seeing them before reading the name of the sender and smiling. Work had left little time for play, but he was excited to break the monotony of his two-month stay in Chicago. 

Especially with her. 

The restless energy coursing through his veins had him dressed an hour before his date arrived and constantly pushing the curtains aside to check for any movement outside of his rental. When the clock struck 8:00 with no sign of his date, he pulled out his phone to send a cheeky message. 

Attractive but late. Gotta take off points for that.

Before he could place his phone back on the coffee table across from him, a soft buzz alerted him to a response. 

Ha, try again. Come outside before we leave to drink wine without you. 

The mention of a third person made Chadwick’s head cock back with a tinge of jealousy as he walked around the small living room to shut off electronics and move toward the door. He was expecting a night alone, not a group outing. Though he wouldn’t turn down whatever was in store, he wasn’t happy about sharing the object of his affection. 

Step into the pleasantly cool night air, his slight frown spread into a grin when he saw her posted against a jet black SUV that matched her smooth but relaxed outfit choice. 

“Took you long enough,” she hollered as she watched him cross the street with a sparkle in her eye and mirth in her voice. “I almost had the driver leave you behind.” 

“Why? So you could enjoy the night with whoever else is in the car?” 

When they were close enough to touch, Chadwick bent to join his lips with hers. 

“Jealousy looks surprisingly good on you. Don’t worry, it’s just you me and the driver tonight. I’ll keep a third in mind for next time.” 

“Where is new personality coming from?”

Declining to answer right away, Tasha opened the back passenger side door and held it open. 

“We’re trading places tonight. Now get in. No more questions.” 

------------

An entire night catered to him felt foreign. He hadn’t felt like the sole focus of anything not involving an on-screen performance in years. It wasn’t that he was complaining as thousands of thoughts rippled through his mind in the short ride to their destination, but he wasn’t sure how to react. Did he turn around and offer a coy smile when she opened the door for him or ordered a drink on the sidelines? How was he not supposed to go for his wallet when a monetary transaction was required? Was he being rude by not saying thank you after every gesture? 

“You need anything else? I’m around if you want another.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I think we’re good for now. Keep the change as a tip.” CoCo flashed the sideline attendant her award-winning smile that produced an awestruck stare from the young man. When she turned to pass Chadwick the second beer in her hand, she lightly nudged his arm and laughed. “Loosen up! We’re at a Bulls playoff game! When is that gonna happen again?” 

A small laugh preceded a sip from his plastic cup, “Good point. And thank you...for the drink.” 

“If you say that again, I’m gonna have to take you home. I appreciate the thanks, but I also want you to enjoy the night. Your night.” 

He nodded to show that he understood but kept his eyes on the side of her face when she turned to observe the game. She sat relaxed in a slight slouch, silently commanding attention in a way that would be intimidating to anyone lacking the light that she possessed. He wasn’t sure how she functioned with so much power on a daily basis, but he was happy to be positioned beside her. 

Chugging the remainder of his beverage, Chadwick decided to literally roll his shoulder back, remove his jacket and loosed up to enjoy his surroundings. As the quarter rolled to the midway point, a buzzer sounded throughout the arena to signify a media timeout. 

“It’s time for your Coca-Colaaaa KISS CAM!” 

Fans not engaged in various conversations looked up at the arena’s jumbotron to watch the camera pan from couple to couple willing to display their affection for thousands of strangers. Some moments were sweet while others bordered on outrageous. 

Enthralled in a conversation that was quickly becoming sexual in nature, Chadwick and Tasha quickly forgot that with elevated social stature came unwanted attention. 

“Kiss Cam!” The first statement didn’t do much to get their attention. “Oh, c’mon! Kiss Cam!” 

Honestly, the second time around went largely unnoticed until the cheering from the crowd around them began to grow. Chadwick was the first to look up and see their faces broadcasted around the 360 screens. 

“Hey, look.” He extended his arm to direct CoCo’s attention to the screen. Initially, her eyes flickered with worry before softening into something he couldn’t decipher until she turned to face him. 

“Let’s do it.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Hell yeah. Kiss me!” 

“Co.” 

“Fuck it, I’ll kiss you.”

Before he could react, her small hands cupped his face to bring him into a kiss. The entire arena became charged with loud cheers and whistles as they engaged in the largest public display of affection either of them would have imagined. Just as the kiss ventured into waters to graphic for the viewing audience, Chadwick pulled away with a broad smile gracing her face. She watched Tasha’s eyes remained closed for a second longer before they fluttered open to focus on his features. 

“Loose enough for you, baby? Or should we have another drink?” 

CoCo took the comment in stride and smiled. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted her hand to signal to the sideline attendant. They’d be needing that second drink sooner than she planned. 

-------------

A few beers and a win from the home team created the kind of buzz and tension that a couple at the tail end of a date needed to wrap up the night with more than a peck at the front door. 

Hand in hand, Tasha and Chadwick walked through the sparsely populated park, enjoying the sounds of the passing city and each other’s company. They didn’t take themselves too seriously as they traded jokes about trivial matters and snuck kisses under the moonlight. The longer they walked, the louder a once distant saxophone became. 

“Yo, it’s jazz in the park,” Chadwick exclaimed, breaking contact with CoCo to point in the music’s direction. 

“You wanna go this late?” 

“Can we? For a little bit?” 

She could see the excitement in his body language as he impatiently shifted his weight on his legs. Smiling, she held out her hand to grab, giving him full permission to tug her along to the small crowd at the edge of the park. 

A few couples gathered under a covered area, bodies pressed together to move in sync to a jazz rendition of Adorn. Chadwick didn’t miss a beat as he spun Tasha in a circle and pulled her close by her waist. 

The vocalist sang a slower version of the song, making the moment feel suspended in time. This was the kind of spontaneity that characterized their time as kids ripping and running through the New York streets. A similar sense of carefree being settled over them as they spun in a slow circle in time with the music. 

“When I was 18, I met this girl with a big mouth and chicken legs. She had a million opinions about everything under the sun which I loved because she challenged me to be sure of my beliefs. So, for some crazy reason, we decided to be friends.” He felt the vibration of Tasha’s chuckle against his chest and matched it with a laugh of his own. “Now, here she is, drunk, dancing with me in the park and sporting the wedding ring I imagined giving her all those years ago.” 

After lifting her head from his chest, Tasha tilted back to look Chadwick in his eyes. They stared at each other with goofy smiles while they replayed random moments in their timeline that led to the present circumstances. 

“For the record, I’m not drunk,” Tasha spoke to reignite the conversation. 

“Well, I am. Take that for what it is.” 

Tasha’s sweet smile quickly changed to match her bedroom eyes as she trailed her finger down her husband’s chest. “Maybe we should get you back home.” 

----------

The quaint Chicago brownstone buzzed with muffled voices and music. Clothes lay scattered across the floor in a trail from the entrance to the bedroom leading to a spot where the air was thickest. Basking in the afterglow of adult activities, the couple lay on their backs staring up at the ceiling fan responsible for cooling their overheated bodies. 

“Is this what I do to you on date night’s,” Chadwick asked, turning his head against the pillow to look over at his wife. 

She smiled and nodded before breaking out in a small chuckle. “It’s great, huh? Being catered to for the night?”

“Hell yeah. You got it made.” 

“Mhmm,” she hummed before turning on her side to face him. “I’m gonna make sure you have it made more often. Starting with more of the last twenty minutes.”

Her lips left a trail of kisses from his shoulder to jawline until he suddenly used his body weight to press her softly into the mattress. 

“You’ve done an amazing job being me tonight, but I’m ready to get back into my role. I got some things I need to show you.”  

Both of their bodies became charged with excitement and visions of what was in store. They’d be trading places in a different sense for the rest of the night.

--------

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[teddyflesh]

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[dramaqueeenamby]

Space Between (13)

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Words: 5K

❤️#BUNBUNWEDNESDAY ❤️ (early)

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN’T READ TWELVE. YOU WILL BE UTTERLY CONFUSED.

ALSO......PLEASE DON’T HATE ME AFTER THIS.

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN THIS STORY, CLICK HERE.

MASTERLIST

SPACE BETWEEN (12)

“He’s lost his goddamn mind.”

“He really had her arrested?”

“Come now, he can’t seriously believe her to be guilty of these accusations?”

“He is clearly hurt by this and not thinking straight.”

“And what of Bunme? What is he to tell her?  Oh, your mommy is in jail for alleged crimes against Wakanda?”

“I’m not sure he’s going to tell her anything. Bast, he hasn’t even let her know that he’s returned.”

“We think she doesn’t know,” N’Jobu sighed. “Bunme is a very smart and crafty child. She very well may have caught wind of their return.”

“I can’t believe that she’s really his child,” Nakia shook her head, her face filled with astonishment. “I can’t believe she lied.”

“She must have had a good reason,” M’Baku chimed.

“Just like he probably thinks that he had a good reason for locking her up like some criminal.” Hawla hissed, pacing across the floor, rubbing her growing baby bump. “He was wise to have his wing of the palace guarded by Doras and that I am with child cause if not for them....” She finished with a groan, her husband placing his hand on her knee to calm her down.

Just then, Shuri and Erik walked into the room, both of them wearing irritated expressions.

“He still will not allow you access?”

“It’s a smart decision cause as soon as I get close enough, I’m knocking his bitch ass out.” The prince growled.

“We can’t just leave her in prison,” Shuri threw her hands up. “What are we to tell Bunme?” The general prayer among the group of concerned individuals was that the little princess would sleep later than her usual 10:00am wake-up-time in order to give them extra time to figure out a course of action.

“We shouldn’t have to tell her nothing. She should be free to tell her herself.” Erik was visibly and soundly irritated by everything. “Damnit, I knew she should have told him. If she would have just listened to me-“

“Wait, you knew?” Nakia pressed.

N’Jobu spoke up and explained how he and his son came to figure out the truth. Erik then chimed in toward the end to inform how Y/N was stopped from telling the truth after a phone call with her sister.

“At this point, does any of that even matter? Our number one concern and priority is figuring out how to get her out of this mess.” M’Baku informed, everyone offering various nods and small quips of agreement.

“You two are the highest in terms of the chain of command, can’t you free her?” Hawla sighed in desperation.

“Unfortunately, with the amount and severity of the charges being alleged against her, only the king can authorize her release.” N’Jobu shook his head, a deep scowl on his face.

“We could break her out-“

“And make her look even more guilty?” Nakia rolled her eyes at Shuri’s kind but naive suggestion. “No. Our only course of action is talking sense into T’Challa.”

“Or beating it out,” Erik muttered earning a glare from his girlfriend.

“I second that motion.”

“M’Baku!”

At that moment, Okoye entered the room full of mixed emotions.

Shuri stood up from her seat and wasted no time. “Can we see him?”

The general hesitated, aggravating Erik.

“Talk, Okoye.”

The fierce warrior glared before sighing. “He is not here.” Variations of “what” and “where has he gone” were thrown at the woman before she loudly and plainly stated. “He went to go see her.” Silence. “Alone.”

“To free her?” Hawla’s voice was full of hope.

“No.” Okoye’s eyed dropped to her ground. She was ashamed. “To take her testimony.”

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

Prisons in Wakanda were far different from the cells back in Niganda. This was something Y/N learned upon being locked in her “cell.” Though she hated even being there, she had to admit that a square shaped cell, covered by transparent walls of vibranium with a bed, mirror, table, and other pieces of furniture was far from what she was expecting.

Perhaps she received such a room because of her status as a royal. However, aesthetically pleasing surroundings could not make up for the inner turmoil that she felt.

She knew that telling T’Challa the truth would be a difficult task, but she never imagined that it would bring about such detrimental consequences. Laying on her side, staring at the wall across from her, all she saw was the broken man before whom she pleaded. All she could hear were his harsh words.

Yes. The fact that she was being accused of such vile treacheries bothered her to her core, but her main concern was getting through to T’Challa. If only he could give her time to explain herself, stress to him that she was going to tell him the truth that very night, but circumstances beyond her control prevented it from happening.

However, her biggest and main concern was Bunme. She didn’t know how her baby girl was doing and prayed that she was not told of her mother’s current whereabouts. How could you explain to a five-year-old that her mother was in jail? She didn’t want that stress on her daughter.

She just prayed that T’Challa felt the same way.

The princess sat up and looked straight ahead, her eyes immediately connecting with a stoic-faced lover of hers.

She wasted no time in standing up and walking toward him, stopping in the middle of the cell, his eyes raking over the stretch pants and an oversized shirt that she’d been given as part of her detainment.

She had so many things that she wanted to say to him yet her mind kept drawing blanks. Words failed to leave her mouth. It took a good minute for her to garner a sentence and even that was marked by brevity.

“Bunme-”

“She believes us to still be away on our mission.”

That bit of information brought some comfort to the young woman despite the remaining anxiety that ate at her. “So she doesn’t know that I’m here-”

“No.”

She winced from his tone and dropped her head. “Good-”

“Five years,” he spoke, his eyes focused on the floor, his jaw tense as he struggled to maintain composure. “I’ve missed five years of her life because of you.”

Her slumped shoulders and red eyes gave away her dejection. “T’Challa-”

“I was not there for her first steps, her first word, her birth.” She clenched her eyes shut at his pained delivery. “Why?” She sniffled and went to speak when his fist banged against the wall, causing her to jump back in shock. “WHY?”

“I was scared, T’Challa!” Y/N shouted, wiping at her eyes. “I was terrified at how you would react! I didn’t even know how to react.”

“You should have told me, you knew how I felt about you.” He was legitimately hurt by her deception, not that she could blame him. She’d done this, created this mess. “Did you honestly believe that I would turn you away?” It was damn near unbearable. She couldn’t take the disappointment in his question. She’d never seen him look so vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” she sniffled, her eyes avoiding his as he was now staring directly at her. “I was already hesitant on what to do and then I talked to my sister-”

“Your sister?” He interrupted, his tone starting to transition into anger. “So you trusted someone who you’d told me time and time again treated awfully over me? You allowed her to dictate what you did with my child?”

“If you would give me a chance to explain,” she crossed her arms and moved closer to the barrier between them. The physical barrier. “My parents we-”

“Inkosi Yam,” Okoye came running into the room. She sent an apologetic and sympathetic glance to Y/N before looking over at T’Challa. “It’s Klaue. We have a location.”

The Black Panther straightened and turned to a despondent Y/N whose eyes told a story that he’d yet to hear, but his first duty was to his people. He had to get Klaue behind bars before anything else.

Without another word, he turned to follow his general out the door.

“I didn’t do what she said, what they all believe me to have done.” Y/N called out as soon as Okoye was out of her line of vision, her voice barely above a whisper. “I would never betray you or your country. You must know that.”

He stopped, his fist clenched at his side as he looked over his shoulder. The queen held a little hope that her last-minute statement got through to him, penetrated the dense wall of betrayal and pain that she’d created.

Instead, her heart broke even more as he kept on walking. Once he was gone, she released the sob that she’d been holding in the back of her throat, covering her face with her hands as she went to go sit on the bed.

“Well,” she jumped from the introduction of the new voice, going to her feet, the tears continuing to stream down her face. “That was rather…...anticlimactic.”

Her eyes narrowed to crinkled slits. “You son of a bitch.”

Dumi smiled, walking up to the glass, his arms crossed. “I know you must be upset.” He laughed as she went to hit the glass, her eyes glowing white. “Now, now, princess, let’s not behave too recklessly.”

“This whole time you’ve been lying to me.” She hissed, her mouth trembling from a perfect combination of anger and hurt. “I trusted you.”

It made her sick to know that such a person had been around her poor child for five years. The man was practically a father figure and not once had she picked up on the underlying sinister nature. Truthfully speaking, she blamed herself. She should have seen through his facade.

“You mean as he trusted you?” His eyes widened with faux innocence as he motioned to the area where T’Challa and Okoye walked out just minutes prior. “Such a shame how that all turned out. Truly.”

“Why?” She whispered, her heart yearning, needing a reason.

“That comes later,” he nonchalantly waved her off. “What I will say is….do you remember Atu Arziki? No? What of Sibusiso Nuru?” He stepped closer to the glass, his eyebrows raised. “Still nothing?” She was silent, her brain wrecking for an idea as to who those two people were, but the names weren’t ringing a bell.

Y/N gasped loudly when he punched the glass. “Well, let me refresh your mind, princess. Atu Arziki was my older brother who just so happened to be unlucky enough to be forced to serve as a training partner for a young mutant child who refused an order from her dictator parents to kill him-”

She started to move back. “No-”

“Well, the dictators didn’t like their precious daughter’s act of obedience. Not at all. They were just requesting the death of the boy, no one else, but that little bitch couldn’t even do that.”

“Stop,” she squinted her eyes and covered her ears.

“So do you know what they did?” His smile dropped as his eyes hardened with anguish and heartache. “They killed him and his entire family, letting only one lucky child live to know to never again make the same dire mistake.”

She dropped to her knees.

He shrugged. “And Sibusiso Nuru? Well, he was a decorated Wakandan War Dog, one of the best. You remember him from your conversation with your sister, yes?” Y/N didn’t even bother to express surprise. She’d already garnered that Dumi was listening in on her phone calls with Anajah. She would have also bet that it was him who filled Ramonda’s head with all those lies regarding her working with Klaue. “Until he was captured, tortured, and murdered while stationed in Niganda. His family took it extremely hard, but none harder than his poor daughter….Ayo.”

“What?” Her eyes were bug-eyed as the second in command stepped from the shadows with a smirk on her face.

“Ah, yes, but Ayo always swore she would extract her revenge on her father’s killers.” Dumi continued, eyeing the warrior from head to toe. “It was such a perfect pairing, her and I. You know, guarding your little brat while she was at school became much more bearable after the union of Ayo and me.”

“You bitch,” Y/N sneered, her nose turned up at the sight of the woman who’d not only betrayed Y/N, but her king, and her country. A thought crossed her mind. “You two helped Klaue escape….didn’t you?”

“She talks too much.” Ayo rolled her eyes and looked over at Dumi. “Let’s speed this up, please.”

“So impatient,” the man snickered. “Ah, yes, of course. We are actually here to break you out.”

“And why in the hell would you do that?”

“To take you back to Niganda to answer for your crimes against our country,” he continued, his head tilted. “Did you really think we would allow you to escape? You or your sister?”

At the mentioning of Anajah, she froze just as her heart stopped. “What? What have to done to her?” She placed her fists against the wall. “If you even think of hurting her-” She was cut off by the Zenzi member rolling his eyes and lifting up a tablet with a video playing. Y/N gasped as she took in the sight of her bleeding and bruised sister, tied up by his wrists and ankles being savagely beaten by four men, members of the Zenzi.

“No!” She cried out, her heart breaking at the sight. “Stop! Please don’t hurt her!”

“Oh, don’t worry, princess. She’s fine…..for now.” Her forehead dropped against the glass. “You parents on the other hand…..” He sucked his teeth, hitting a button on the screen before pained screams of agony filled the princess' ears. She looked up and immediately felt her stomach drop.

On the screen, were her parents, tied up against two wooden poles, surrounded by hay and flames.

They were being burned at the stake.

Melting skin, intestines oozing out, and just the horror of it all prompted the princess to dub over and start vomiting.

“Yeah…..not an easy sight to stomach, huh?” He chuckled in jest. “Oh, and while I hate to be the one to pile on the agony-”

“The children’s hospital has been planted with bombs that will go off with only a simple phone call,” Ayo interjected. “500 children. Dead. If you don’t cooperate.”

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N sobbed, palms flat against the floor. “Why?”

“Niganda has suffered for too long under the rule of your family. No longer will we be repressed.” Dumi hissed. “Your parents are dead, yes, and eventually, your sister will be too unless you come with us.”

“And do what?” She screamed before another wave of projectile vomit hit.

“Share the same fate as your parents.”

She stared ahead, momentarily paralyzed by his statement. “W-w-what?”

“Your brother left long ago and is no longer a problem. Your sister could care less about us, but you, you are the anomaly that we cannot underestimate.” He narrowed his eyes. “If we are to truly become free from the terror of your bloodline, we must eliminate all possible threats to our new age.” A beat. “That includes you.”

So overcome by her grief, she didn’t even notice Ayo walk over and disable the shields as Dumi stepped into her cell, standing over her.

“Of course, you could always stay here and face Wakandan judgment, but then you have the blood of your sister and 500 children on your hands.”

All she could do was cry. They wanted her dead. She knew that the Zenzi wanted her family off the throne but she never could have imagined the brutality that would extend her way. She never pictured herself being punished along with her parents.

Her parents….they were dead.

She didn’t know how to process that. On one hand, she felt nothing. They were far from good people. On the other hand, she felt everything. They’d given her life, brought her into this world.

Did that not count for anything?

“So princess,” Dumi smirked, watching as she threw up, her stomach in shambles from the grisly and disturbing video. “Would you like some time to think about your options?” His smirk transformed into a sinister smile as he watched her hunched back begin to shake from the intensity of her sobs as her vomiting ceased. “How about ten minutes? No, that’s too long. Five?”

Y/N was stuck between a wall and a hard place. Going with them meant that she was signing her death warrant. Not going with them meant that her sister and 500 innocent lives would be lost.

Y/N wasn’t even sure if they would stay true to their word and spare the innocent if she agreed to forfeit herself, her life.

But was she willing to risk it?

She wanted to scream.

In a flash, Dumi had the princess up against the wall, his hand wrapped around her throat. “You have thirty fucking seconds to make a decision, thirty seconds till I make the call, thirty seconds till they’re all dead.”

The thought of all those innocent babies dead….because of her. It gutted her.

Almost as bad as just the thought of what she was about to say.

“No,” she managed to get out despite the lack of available oxygen. “I’ll-”

He tightened his grip, lifting her up so that her feet were starting to dangle.“What was that, Nala?”

“I’ll do it,” she forced out, her eyes clenched shut to keep the sight of the monster before her out of her vision. It was no use though because she was still haunted by the graphic execution that she’d just been forced to watch. There was no escaping this terror. “I’ll do it.”

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

“I want an autopsy done immediately,” T’Challa hissed, storming into the palace.

The lead that they had on Klaue was accurate sans one bit of information.

He was dead.

Stabbed through the chest some type of object, his body collecting insects and smelling of rotting flesh once they found him.

T’Challa was livid. He wanted the man alive, to stand trial, to see him suffer as they sentenced him to death.

Twice he’d been deprived of the justice that he so desperately sought.

T’Challa was preparing to head up the stairs when he felt someone coming behind him. The skilled warrior immediately grabbed the attempted assailant by the throat and forced him against the closest wall.

“Erik?” He was confused not just by the fact that his cousin was apparently trying to attack him but by the terrified look in his eyes.

“We gotta do something.” Was all he said as T’Challa released him.

He truly was in no mood for his cousin’s games. “About-”

“Come on,” Erik did not wait. He immediately headed for the library, the king surprised to find the bulk of his companions waiting for him.

Except that wasn’t the most surprising. No, what was surprising was the sight of Y/N interacting with Bunme who was sitting on her mother’s lap.

What?

The child’s eyes lit up as they landed on him. “Baba!” Bunme quickly jumped down from Y/N and scurried over to T’Challa who crouched down to lift her up and hug her against him. “You’re back!” She giggled as he struggled to find the correct words.

He wanted to act as though nothing had changed, like she was still the same little girl whom he’d grown to love, formed a bond with.

But she wasn’t.

Before, he viewed her as the daughter he always wanted but never had.

Now, she was the daughter that he always wanted and always had.

Slight change in wording.

Extreme difference in meaning.

“I’ve missed you, sam isipho.” He murmured into the top of her head, kissing her cheek.

Bunme giggled and pulled back with a broad smile. “Now we’re all back together again!”

His heart ached. If only she knew….

“Baby,” Y/N spoke as she stood up. That’s when T’Challa saw it. The anguish in her eyes and the strange bracelet on her wrist. It looked so familiar. “That’s what I need to talk to you about….mommy….” Her voice broke. “Mommy has to go.”

Bunme frowned as she wiggled in his grasp, prompting him to carefully place her down on the floor. “Why?” She started walking towards her mother. “You just got back.”

“I know,” she sniffled as T’Challa looked around the room and finally picked up on the fact there wasn’t a single person in that room who wasn’t fighting tears if not openly shedding them.  “But….you know the bad people back in Niganda….right?” Bunme nodded as Y/N got down on both knees and lightly grabbed her shoulders. “Well….they’re going to do something very bad if mommy doesn’t go back.”

T’Challa was utterly confused. What in Bast name was going on?

He pulled Erik to the side. “What is she-”

“This terrorist group called the Zenzi executed her parents, has her sister hostage, and are threatening to bomb a children’s hospital if she doesn’t turn herself over in the next hour,” Erik spoke in a rushed, quiet, and dangerously controlled voice.

T’Challa moved back ever so slightly as his eyes widened from all of the information. “Turn her over for what?”

A brief look of hurt flashed in Erik’s eyes before he calmly responded with, “What do you think, T’Challa?”

“But what if you get hurt?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Bun Bun.” Dumi’s voice sounded as he walked in the room, his signature smirk on his face. “I’ll be there with her the whole time.”

T’Challa growled and went to lunge at Dumi when Erik and M’Baku moved to restrain him.

“He’s with the Zenzi, T’Challa.” Erik hissed in a low voice as the king kept his deadly glare on the former guard. “Do anything to set him off and one phone call damns everybody to death.”

The king stopped. Dumi was a spy. 

He suddenly wished that he’d killed him when he wanted to. 

Bunme ignored Dumi, untrusting of the man ever since she was told that he wasn’t “nice anymore” by her mama following his firing, her pout still as prominent as she proposed the question that Y/N had been dreading. “When will you come back?”

It took everything in her not to break down right then and there.

“Do you remember what I told  you when the bad people tried to hurt us in Niganda before we came here?” Bunme reluctantly nodded. “I told you to hide in the closet while mommy fought them, and you asked me the very same question….so I’m going give you the very same answer.” T’Challa heard his sister's quiet sobs as an equally distraught Nakia tried to comfort her. “Where’s mommy?”

Bunme slowly lifted her index finger to her heart. “Right here.”

Y/N smiled through her pain. “And how long is mommy going to be there?”

Again, a pregnant pause. “Forever.”

“That’s right, baby girl.” Y/N sniffled, reaching out to caress the top of her head. “Mommy loves you so much.”

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Bunme questioned gently as Y/N dropped her head to try and blink away her tears even though she knew it was no use. “I’m scared….I don’t want you to go.”

Y/N felt all resolve break as her little girl threw her arms around her, clinging on to her for dear life, her own tears staining Y/N’s shirt. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m always with you, Bunme.” She promised, tightening her hold on her daughter for one last embrace. “Always.”

“Alright,” Dumi rolled his eyes and walked over, grabbing Y/N by her upper arm and yanking her to her feet. “Time to go, princess.”

“Hey!” Bunme shouted, crying and rubbing her eyes. “Leave my mommy alone!”

T’Challa immediately went over to grab her. “Bunme-”

“Baba,” she turned to him, the sight of her crying breaking his heart, but he maintained his stoic expression. “You gotta help mommy! Please!” At that point, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Even M’Baku was blinking away tears. “You promised you’d always protect her!”

T’Challa looked at his former lover, the anguish in her eyes, and then over at Dumi who was watching them closely, waiting for the king to make a move.

He only had one option.

T’Challa delivered with all the coldness that he could muster, “There’s nothing I can do.”

Heartbreak….just….heartbreak.

“It’s okay, baby.” Y/N tried to reassure as Dumi started to drag her out the room. “I’ll be okay.”

“No!” Bunme went to run after them, but T’Challa restrained her. “Mommy, please don’t go!”

The older princess looked from her daughter to her love one last time and whimpered out: “I love you.”

With that, she disappeared from their site.

“Mommy!” Bunme was screaming at that point, trying to hit at T’Challa. “Let me go!”

“Sam Isipho,” he attempted to calm her down, but it was no good.

“No! I hate you!” Those three words rendered him speechless as he unconsciously let her go, Bunme making a sprint for the door.

Nakia quickly jumped up and wiped at her eyes. “I’ll go get her.”

T’Challa couldn’t even respond as those words oscillated in his mind. Well, before he felt himself being pinned to the floor.

“You weak ass son of a bitch!” Erik yelled, raining fists on his cousin. “You just let her go like that?!”

T’Challa broke from his trance and easily pushed Erik off, jumping to his feet. “Er-”

“Man, fuck you!” Erik was in no mood for excuses or explanations. “You foul as shit, T’Challa!”

“Erik,” Shuri attempted to speak up but was cut off.

“Naw! You know they gon kill her right?! Probably torture her too! And yo’ ass didn’t do shit to stop it!” He continued as M’Baku moved to hold his arm. “You really gon let her d-”

“SILENCE!” T’Challa finally snapped, marching over and snatching him up by the collar. “I would see myself dead before I allowed that to happen!”

Erik maintained his fierce expression. “Then why the fuck did you just allow him to take her like that?”

“If I had given him any indication that I plan to go after her, who knows what he would have done?” T’Challa retorted harshly.

“Wait. So we’re going to save her?” Hawla questioned with the first hint of hopefulness to enter the room all day.

“Of course,” T’Challa did not hesitate. “But we’re going to need some help.” He informed, pushing Erik away and pulling his Kimoyo bead to his mouth. “Has he arrived?”

“I have,” everyone turned to the door where a dark-skinned man with a deep accept and solid build spoke boldly. “And just in time, it would seem.”

Erik sized him up. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man also eyed him from head to toe and scoffed before walking over to T’Challa. “We must hurry. My sister is in more danger than she realizes.”

“She’s powerless too.” Shuri chimed as T’Challa regarded her with confusion. “That bastard managed to break into my lab and steal the power disabling device that I’ve been working on. Somehow he gained access and knew that I’d completed it.”

The bracelet. T’Challa suddenly realized. That was why it looked so familiar.

“You don’t understand,” Belay shook his head. “Y/N is an extremely powerful mutant, but her weakness always has and always will be her love for our people. Whoever plans to take the throne should want her at his side, using the lives of Nigandans as collateral to secure her as his queen. The love of power would certainly overpower the hate and contempt for my family.”

“What are you saying?” T’Challa pressed. He was in no mood for riddles.

Belay’s eyes softened ever so slightly with fear.

“I think she’s walking into a trap.”

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

Y/N stirred from her sleep to find herself being dragged through the grand palace of Niganda.

Well, it wasn't necessarily sleeping. 

She’d been knocked unconscious as soon as she walked into the plane.

“Wh..” She tried to talk, blinking several times to clear her vision as she looked to her left to see Ayo and Dumi walking side by side. “Where are you taking me?”

“To our leader, of course.” Dumi scoffed. “And future queen.”

She stalled. Queen? What?

“You fool,” she managed to insult but cried out when one of the men dragging her on her knees hit her on the side of her head. “Niganda doesn’t allow women to rule.”

“Correction,” Y/N’s head shot up as she desperately searched for the source of the voice. That voice. She’d know it from anywhere. “They used to not allow women to rule.”

Y/N’s heart was beating erratically as she finally zoned in on the individual who emerged from the shadows. “Anajah?”

The bruised woman smirked. “It seems we have much to catch up on.” A beat. “Sister.”

[marknee]

marknee’s tags: a navigation

designed to help you locate whatever your heart desires on my page. they’re all here. for you.

# onyour : mark

this tag is specifically for those who reached the deep dark ocean floor of my blog in search of fics. i have now put them all in one area, so you can give your poor fingers a rest from scrolling for so long!

this tag can also be located in my description at the top of my profile, linked under the word ‘waves.’

# question : mark

this tag is designed for any of my responses to asks / questions from my ‘luv box.’ also, you can find fic recs requested by people in my asks under this tag.

# onmyknees

pretty self explanatory: this tag is mainly for my ult bias, kim namjoon. he sends me to the floor everytime, so of course, i had to give him a tag. though, it also may feature anybody else who sends me tumbling down. we’ll see.

# kneel : ing

this is for any edits / extra fics / art work / posts that i am amazed by. i find a lot of amazing things on tumblr, so i’d love to spread them here. not in that way. let’s not.

# thebees : knees

anything personal will be under this tag. this includes artwork, quotes, memes etc…

# kneeknee

my thoughts, anything i wanted to share, random shit basically. this tag will be purely me.

extra:

# shakespeare series

probably the most prominent tag you’ll see on my page. this tag will be under anything that revolves around this series, including any of my reblog replies. so, it may be the case you see this tag paired with any tag i have listed above more often than not. i put a lot of effort into this series and i’m proud of what it’s become so far, so i hope it’ll stick around for a while!

to be continued…

© marknee 2022. all copyrights reserved.

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[for-a-muse-of-fire]

to derail the mind of me

the wench and the witcher

"to derail the mind of me”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader.

Summary: Geralt’s temper needs an outlet.

Warnings: NSFW/18+ - Femdom, bondage (kinda?), edging/overstimulation, handjob, oral sex (m receiving), subby!Geralt.

A/N: Well THIS was a thought experiment. To be perfectly honest, I am not as happy with how our dear Witcher’s voice came through on this one - he’s fucking difficult, y’all - but gods be damned, here it us. Based on an idea from @witchernonsense​ with title and lyrics taken from “Sedated” by Hozier. At the rate I’m going, I might accidentally write my way through his discography.

@coconutxraikage - @kingniazx - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @pantrashtic - @alwaysnatz​ - @agniavateira​ - @witchernonsense​

Just a little hush, babe; my veins are busy But my heart's in atrophy

He’d agreed to this, he thinks to himself. Freely and gladly agreed to this torment, the torture you’d decided to enact upon him. Geralt’s hands grip the edge of the mattress so hard it makes his knuckles pop. He can feel the sweat on his chest and the cool prickle as it dries. His legs twitch; his abdomen burns with the tension of forcing himself to hold still.

 Your dark eyes peer up through soot-colored lashes. The tip of your tongue steals out, tracing a delicate line over the thin skin on his hip – you follow the track of his blue veins, stark on his pale skin and it feels like chaos flashing through him. He teeth click together around a breathless groan; pleasure courses through him, settles with a heavy weight at the base of his spine. His hips lift towards you.

 The pressure of your fist around the base of his cock stalls the breath in his lungs. “What did I tell you, dear heart?” you whisper into his sweat-slick skin.

 His tongue is so dry that it sticks to the roof of his mouth and you bite at his hipbone when he doesn’t answer fast enough. Pain bleeds in through the buzz of pleasure. “Fuck,” Geralt hisses. “I move and – and you stop – gods.“

 Hot and wet, he watches you run your tongue up the hard curve of his cock, still keeping him fisted tight in your hand. He’s slack-jawed, he knows, panting in short bursts of air until you lap your way around the head of him. The sudden jolt of it rocks him – like getting thrown into a wall, sweet fuck – but he holds, unmoved. You ease away and he breathes out on a ragged, desperate noise.

 You release your grip on his cock – the sudden lack of pressure sends a full body shudder through him. Your mouth is soft and gentle over his hip again.

 “Do we need to stop?” you ask softly.

The Witcher finds your gaze, and shakes his head. You’re aglow in the light of the many candles strewn about your room, bronze skin catching the light and turning you soft-focus. The brush of your hair over his naked thigh shoots heat straight through him and he can’t swallow back his moan. You just quirk an eyebrow.

 Geralt has been… well, an asshole. He knows it. The last hunt was, in every plausible sense of the word, shite. Shitty inns, shitty pay, shitty fucking humans – throwing insults and threats until they need him. He’d stormed back into your life with his temper riding a knife’s edge and where anyone else would have thrown him out on his ass, you’d refused to back down. You pushed back when he griped, stood your ground when he snapped and barked for no godsdamned reason.

 It had all come to a head tonight. One snide comment too many had you both shouting over the other until you had yanked him in by his collar and kissed him hard enough to bruise. The need had flared up through the red haze of foolish anger, but when he’d tried to grip at you, you’d slapped his hands away. A second attempt and you had simply shoved him – shock alone was enough to make him sit, hard, at the edge of the bed.

 “Oh, dear heart,” you’d murmured as you’d unlaced your corset. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

 You seem determined to make good on that threat.

 He shakes when your tongue begins tracing patterns again, back and forth – back and forth over his humming skin – with your teeth digging it at random intervals. You’ve already left your marks down his chest and along the other side of his hip. They will fade in good time, but for now, they are deep splotches of red and purple that stand out garishly on his flesh and the idea of wearing the marks of your mouth for even a few days has him nearly vibrating out of his skin.

 You move back to the center-line of his body, lips petal-soft and so smooth on the burning skin of his cock and dear gods, this must be what going mad feels like. The wet of your tongue, the gentle suction as you mouth your way up the length of him and the words tumble out before he can swallow them back:

 “Please, sweetheart - “

 The hum of your laughter against his aching flesh is almost enough to push him over the edge – he bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, but then you’re there, up on your knees and pressed close into his chest. You smell sweet, and ripe – honeymeade and cardamom – and he grits his teeth; he wants nothing more that to bury his face against your soft, scented hair, but the idea of you stopping now might actually make his heart give out.

 “Have you had enough?” you murmur against his temple.

 “Yes,” he chokes out.

 “Do you want to come?”

 “Gods, yes.”

 You purr; he can almost feeling it, silken and cool over his skin. Geralt closes his eyes, forcing himself to take slow breaths in through his nose, but then he smells the mellow aroma of sweet almond oil and then your fist is slick and warm around him and he shouts. He grips at you, one hand fisting in your hair and the other in the soft cotton of your shift – you don’t stop him when he pulls you in, hungry and desperate, slanting his mouth over yours. The pressure in his belly coils over, wrenches tight, electric and uncontrolled and over the thunder of blood in his ears, he can just hear the way his own fucking voice cracks when he whines your name.

 He smells the rush of arousal that fires through you. It’s what throws him headlong into his orgasm. He pulses hotly over your fingers, against his own belly.

 The plush of your lips just muffles his broken yell.

 Everything goes… fuzzy.

 Your voice is soft in his ear. He hears the rustle of fabric, the delicate brush of a cloth that draws a low hiss from him as you clean the mess from his lap and chest. With low murmurs and careful guidance, he finds himself stretched out on the bed and you, soft and naked and curled against his side. Sluggishly, Geralt wraps you in his grasp, finally able to press his face into your curls. Your low laughter vibrates against his shoulder.

 “You done bein’ a difficult prick now?” you tease.

 He rumbles out something to the affirmative. Probably. Hard to tell – he still feels a bit like he’s taken a full dram of poppy syrup, even as he cranes his neck to look at you. He studies your face, too exhausted to fight the strange wonderment that settles over him whenever he gets to see you up close like this and he feels… fuck. It’s hard to name – liar, his mind hisses – but it aches. It’s like a hunger pain, or the pull of a strained muscle. The difference, though, is that he’s not sure if he wants to make this stop.

 “M’sorry,” Geralt mutters at last. “For being a prick. I wasn’t cross with you, I just... it was a bad hunt, and I didn’t - “

 “Geralt?”

 “Hm?”

 “Hush now.”

 You kiss him. It’s gentle, soft and slow; the deep, ominous – wonderful – ache in his chest thrums. He turns towards you with every hazy intention of making the evening worth your while, but the bed is very soft and he is so very tired. Sleep catches him off guard. The last thing he hears is the sweet murmur of your voice as he drifts.

[dramaqueeenamby]

Family Counseling (12)

FAMILY COUNSELING (12)

Family Counseling (12) - Drabble

MASTERLIST

A/N: Saturday update??? I knowwww! This week has been...stressful. I literally fell asleep in the middle of redoing a portion of my thesis last night. Had a family situation that I’m still dealing with along with school continuing to plague my life (btw, I hate groups and trump supporters). 

We’re soooo close to shit hitting the fan. I think the next chapter will mark the beginning of the ending arc. I’m legit so excited to start writing that. Introducing a new (or 2?) character in this part because everyone deserves happiness okay.

I apologize for any confusing parts or mistakes. Been working on this on and off all week while watching my husband Chad on SNL (I actually hate potato salad lol), On My Block (PLEASE WATCH IT), and finished it off today whilst listening to Chun Li and Barbie Tings. *shrugs*

No outfit for this one because….yeah, there just isn’t. lmfaooo

Words: 6889

TAGLIST: @onyour-right @hutchj @janellemonaenae @dreamer7black @geminis2ndface @ruminationsofaraven @myrikal324 @groovybbyyy @iamimanim @parris-symone

Her arm was propped up against the pillow as she laid next to him, her fingers drawing nonsensical patterns along the sharp muscles that defined his back, which was toward her. She knew that he wasn't sleeping as she could see the rise and fall of his body. She also knew that he wasn’t in the same position that she was in; that is, his body completely spent from the consecutive, passionate, and exhaustive lovemaking that had consumed the two in the last twenty-four hours.

No, he was simply relishing the moment.

She eventually grew frustrated with the distance between them and scooted over, placing her upper body on top of his, her cheek pressed into the back of his shoulder blade.

She heard his deep chuckle. “Yes?”

“Do not excite yourself, love.” Her eyes shut. “I simply want you near me. Not in me.”

“You say that now, but your sentiments were quite the opposite just-“ He was interrupted by the slight sting of electricity crackling against his back.

“Hmmm?” She mumbled innocently, retracting her hand to his side and smiling when she heard him grunt. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“Nothing, my queen.” He muttered in irritation when he heard it. The sudden strange pattern of her heartbeat. It was just strong, normal, symmetrical, and then it was rapid. He looked over his shoulder. “What is wrong?”

She looked up at him in a daze, startled, and shook her head. “Nothing. I just…I suppose it will take some time.” He felt the pressure being lifted off him as she rolled onto her back as he then turned to hover over her, his hand going to lightly caress her face. “What do I know about being queen?”

“Absolutely nothing.” He answered honestly as she eyed him with incredulity before he laughed softly. “And that matters not because being queen has absolutely nothing to do with the title, my love. It has to do with heart, loyalty, compassion, and I know not one person who has more than any of those qualities than you.”

“You have to say that.” She rolled her eyes and frowned slightly. “You are my husband.” A brief look of astonishment fell over her face.

That did not slip past T’Challa. “What?”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “We’re married.”

He nodded hesitantly. “That is typically what a wedding signifies.”

“No.” She shook her head and grabbed his hand, rubbing it, as it rested on her bare stomach. “I just-I never imagined this could, that this would be us.”

His stomach dropped as he realized what she was saying. “That I would marry you?”

“That you would love me the way that I love you.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Actually, he did, but doing so meant that he had to acknowledge how much of an asshole he had been to her and in doing so would mean she would relive all of the shit he’d done to her over the years. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do anything that could potentially cause her to reevaluate her decision to be with him because he was just that selfish when it came to her, one of the few times in his life that he was selfish.

He couldn’t be without her, even if he didn’t deserve her.

He could apologize though.

“Y/N-“

She leaned up and placed her index finger over his mouth. “Don’t.” She smiled sadly. “I know that you are still unfamiliar with the concept, but honeymoons are supposed to be joyous occasions.”

“But I-“

She forced her lips to his, slow and passionate, before pulling back to whisper. “And we’re doing such a good job with the joyous part so far, no?” He didn’t get a chance to respond as she resumed their tryst, soon pushing on his shoulders so that he was sitting up before she straddled him. “And I hate to ruin such a good thing.” She moaned as she positioned herself and purposely took her time sliding down on his hardened length.

He gripped her hips, forcing himself to maintain composure as she intentionally started a torturously slow pace. “What happened to just being near you?” He forced out, shutting his eyes, the man trying his damn hardest to control the panther within.

She completely stopped her gyrations and shoved him flat on his back, flattening her palms up his chest, all the way to his shoulders. “Are you questioning your queen?”

Whether it was the brewing sexual frustration, the abrupt change in topic, or a combination of both, but something came over T’Challa.

Suddenly, they were both upright, his pulsating member still embedded inside of her, his hand wrapped around her throat applying the slightest of pressure.

“The question, my queen.” He hissed into her ear. “Is are you questioning your king?”

She gave a wry smile, eyes cast up at the ceiling because of the angle he had her head in. “I fear no man.” She then darted her brown orbs in his direction. “Or Panther.”

He froze at that, understanding what she meant. She was giving him permission to let loose.

They’d been intimate plenty of times in the past and with each act, he’d also ensure to hold back as to not hurt her. It only made sense. His abilities capable of leaving her bruised in the event that he lost control in the midst of their passion, which was more likely than not.

He’d already hurt her enough emotionally over the years. He was not willing to risk hurting her physically and was prepared to tell her that when he looked up and saw her eyes were starting to glaze over with white.

He then realized that he hadn’t been the only one holding back.

“T’Challa…”

The need in her voice, the compromising position, it was all too much. With a guttural growl, he switched their positions so that she was on her back and pushed up her legs so that one was wrapped around his waist and the other linked around his shoulder.

Her eyes immediately started to roll into the back of her head, the insatiable and suffocating feeling that accompanied having him fill her to her hilt indescribable. She’d only ever been with him intimately so she had no other man to compare him to, but she had no zero complaints.

Not only was the man well endowed, but he was well versed in that he knew exactly what she liked, just the right spots, the positions that left her crying, screaming, clawing his back raw, and thrashing around like an animal in heat.

No pun intended.

And while T’Challa was a relatively reserved man to everyone else, Y/N saw a different side of him in the bedroom. He was always attentive, caring, sensitive to her wants and needs, yes, but he was an arrogant bastard.

He knew that he was the only man she allowed to bend her over, to fill her up, to take her as he did, and he loved it. He loved hearing her scream his name, the tears that streamed down her face as he brought such unearthly pleasure to her body, the dazed look in her eyes as he stared down in her brown orbs while taking her from behind.

For the most part, he liked to be in control, but there were times that he let her take the reigns, reveling in the feeling of her being on top, guiding her hips as she rode him.

But when she was upset with him, as she often was when they reunited and engaged in initial makeup sex, she teased him, her pace slow and torturous, and there was only so much that he could take before flipping them, once again taking the reigns.

An hour later, the newlywed couple laid a tangled mess in the bed, Y/N completely spent, in a deep sleep while T’Challa simply held her drained body against his as he stared outside the large window of the bedroom.

He’d had never seen a Storm like the one they’d created that night.

Some pun intended.

+++++++++

“It’s just like the palace in here!” Nifa yelled with her hands in the air as she ran through the halls.

Asha seethed internally. “Sister. What did I tell you about running?”

“I am not running.” Nifa turned around and raised her chin in an attempt to signify boldness. “I am jogging.”

“Well, none of that either.” The teenager scolded.

The queen’s school for mutants was finally finished and she allowed an intimate group of individuals to tour it before the council would evaluate the building giving her approval to open it to the general public. 

Shuri, who was walking beside a stone-faced D’Kar, looked up at him out the corner of her eye. “What did you think of the training room?”

He glanced at her, forcing her to quickly divert her gaze back to the group ahead of them. He smirked. “Adequate.”

She frowned. “Adequate?”

“Yes.” He looked down at her. “I see no need for such unnecessary, advanced technology when it comes to fighting-“

“Unnecessary?” She repeated while balling her tiny hands into fists. “I will have you know, Jabari, that I designed that unnecessary technology-wait. Advanced?”

His smirk formed into a smug smile. “Yes. From your demonstration, it was clear that your configurations accounted for the wide range of abilities that the children will bring to the table. Quite impressive, unnecessary as fighting should always begin with the body before resorting to manmade gadgets, but nevertheless a testament to your expertise.”

She turned her head, suddenly wishing that he was not so close, that their arms would not occasionally brush against each other as they walked.

“Is everything alright, your highness?” The young man teased, his tone innocent enough, but both of them knowing he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’ve suddenly turned rather reddish in color.”

She snapped her head in his direction to send him a vile glare. “You do realize that I have vibranium gauntlets at my disposal, correct?”

He said nothing and neither did she when she suddenly felt a large, coarse but warm hand encompass hers.

She made no effort to pull away.

Y/N smiled broadly at the interaction only to look up and see a tense husband of hers. She rolled her eyes. “T’Challa.”

“Hmm.” He said while staring at the conjoined hands of his baby sister and the Jabari boy.

His wife, knowing that a pinch would do absolutely nothing given the enhanced density of his skin, decided to take her free hand, place it over his and send a jolt of electricity his way.

“Bast.” He jumped slightly and looked down at her with incredulity. “What?”

“Would you leave them alone?” She complained. “He is a nice boy.”

He looked like she’d insulted him. “What are you talking about?” His voice took on a slightly higher tone, a telltale sign that she was right with her hypothesis. “I never said that he wasn’t.”

“Then why do you keep looking at him as though you want to rip out his jugular vein?” She raised a brow.

He shook his head. “If that were the case, I would have done so at dinner.”

“No, you just interrogated the poor child the whole night.” She knew her husband was protective, but she couldn’t have imagined he’d be so overbearing as he’d been during the gathering between the dinner that saw her family meet with M’Baku’s family. T’Challa had questioned D’Kar on everything from his hobbies to his past relationships and had even taken the boy into his office for a twenty-minute one-on-one that had left even the queen nervous.

Needless to say, Shuri had given her brother an earful the following day.

“Is it wrong to want to ensure that my sister ends up with someone worthy of all that she has to offer?”

“Who do you consider worthy, T’Challa?”

He did not hesitate with his answer. “No one.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped as she shook her head. “It is for that reason our daughter will probably end up running off with some prince from a neighboring nation.”

T’Challa released a small chuckle, his head dropping to his chest before he raised his it and set his gaze straight ahead. “I shall kill him before they make the border.”

“She will never forgive you.”

“Forever is a long time, my love.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “And what if I assisted in their escape?”

He looked down at her and smirked before lowering his voice. “There are ways to handle a queen who disobeys her king.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “Oh?” Walking ahead, a sly grin fell on her face. “I would not know.” Almost immediately, she felt her body being pulled as her back was pressed into his front, his arms wrapping around her, hands planted on her stomach.

She lifted her hand to rub the back of his head as he kissed on her neck and spoke against her skin. “Their heartbeats are so strong….”

“It’s symbolic…..” She mumbled as his large hand moved in a circular motion. “In more than one way.” She craned her head to smile up at him waywardly. “They are most active at the sound of your voice.”

He looked at her, his eyes burning with an unreadable emotion when they fell on the top of her head. “What is this?”

She frowned. “What?” T’Challa grabbed a ringlet of her kinky curls and let it drop in front of her face. She gasped almost immediately.

It was completely white.

“Is it anywhere else?” She started to feel around her head as he examined it.

“No.” He confirmed and then sensed the distress radiating from her. “Relax, love.”

She glared. “Let a piece of your hair turn white, and we shall see how well you adjust.”

He opened his mouth to reply but she pulled away from him and started to widen the distance between them.

He sighed heavily.

“Damn hormones…”

Meanwhile, Erik watched from atop the balcony, waiting for the whole thing to be over. He had a meeting with a rather…nubile handmaiden who was quite gifted with her mouth and hands.

“I must say.” Erik Stevens jumped from shock, the first time in a long time that he of all people had been caught off guard. “They're not completely vomiting inducing. Slightly unbearable. But not intolerable.”

He eyed the cocoa complexioned woman with large

senegalese twists who was also leaning over the balcony, her stance shedding light on a toned and shapely physique.

Still, Erik didn’t like not being in control of situations.

“Who the fuck are you?”

She looked over at him out the corner of her eye and chuckled humorously. “Relax my prince.” She said the last word with a hint of sarcasm, turning around so that her forearms were against the railing, her chest touted against the sky. “Your favorite cousin down there summoned my presence.”

Her answer was loaded. Not only was she the first person he’d met in Wakanda to actually address him as a royal, but she was also the first to match his wit. Though he’d never admit it, Erik was slightly…slightly intrigued.

Especially now that he knew who she was.

He stepped closer, keeping one hand on the railing. “You’re Nareema.” He identified with a tilt of his head. “Y/N’s friend.”

“And here I was saving the best part for last.” She sighed with faux disappointment. “And you’re the long-lost royal who managed to almost fuck the nation up in less than twenty-four hours. I think that’s a record.”

Make that very intrigued.

“Oh love,” Ramonda breathed as the group finally met up at the grand circle of the school. “This place exceeds expectations.”

The queen smiled in satisfaction, T’Challa’s hand wrapped firmly around hers. “Thank you, Ramonda.”

“I think it’s awesome!” Nifa shouted while raising her fists for unnecessary dramatic effect. “I really like the relaxation room!”

“Of course you do,” Asha rolled her eyes. “That’s where most of the toys are.” She looked at the queen and shifted on her heels. “It is rather nice, your highness.”

Y/N smiled softly, grateful for the compliment given she could see that Asha was a special case, untrusting of a lot of people. “Thank you, Asha. And I told you before, I’d much rather you call me by my name.”

The teenager looked shocked and then nodded, offering a small smile.

“That’s nice and all, but can we take a moment to just appreciate my designs?” Shuri interjected, earning a scowl of disapproval from T’Challa.

The queen giggled. “You know that I adore you, sister. My gratitude for your contribution has no end.”

T’Challa noticed that D’Kar was perplexed. “Is there something wrong?”

“Question.” He directed his query to Shuri. “If the tech that you designed is as complex as you say, who will run it?”

“I have assembled a faction of the design team to operate it.” She shrugged.

“But won’t you still need someone to oversee it, princess?” Okoye spoke out, breaking her silence.

Shuri opened her mouth and then stopped. “I suppose I hadn’t thought of that.” She sent an apologetic look toward her sister-in-law. “Between the outreach center and overseeing the tech here, I do not think I can handle any more duties sister.”

“Do not trouble yourself, Shuri.” Y/N smiled softly. “I already have a director.”

“You do?” Both the Udaku siblings spoke at the same time.

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “Erik.”

The young man who’d been leaning against a pillar who’d been uncharacteristically up until that point finally spoke. “What?”

“Yes, what?” Shuri reiterated.

Y/N sighed and dropped her husband’s hand, moving to the middle of the circle so that she was closing closer to him. “You are brilliant, Erik. We all know it. You have the credentials and I know that if you don’t already know how to operate the designs, it won’t take you long to figure it out.”

“What makes you so sure of that, your highness?” He chuckled darkly.

“Because the same blood that runs through them,” she pointed back to Shuri and T’Challa. “Runs through you.” She saw the briefest flash of an undetectable emotion go through his brown eyes. “I need someone that I can trust to hold this position Erik, and I trust you.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Shuri spoke out and Y/N turned around to see that she was more sarcastic than she was upset.

“You do,” she nodded and then discreetly gestured to Nifa who was playing with Asha’s hair. “But, my dear sister, would you really cause a spectacle in front of a child? Or even worst, argue with a pregnant woman?”

D’Kar smiled and dropped his head, causing Shuri to elbow him in his side before she conceded. “I suppose Erik is the only other option.” A beat. “Unfortunately.”

“Appreciate the support, princess.” Erik shot her a wink before rolling his eyes. “But ya’ll really think the council is about to okay this sh-crap?” He caught himself when Ramonda sent him a look.

“This is not the council’s decision to make. It is mine.” Y/N stated firmly.

“Yes.” T’Challa supplied, walking up and placing his hand on the small of Y/N’s back. “And should they have any other unnecessary or unwarranted opinions, we shall see to it that they understand when and where their authorization is needed.”

“Wow.” All eyes turned to the sound of the new voice. “A lot has changed since my…..leave of absence.”

Okoye and Y/N stared in shock.

“Nareema?”

“In the flesh?” She pushed her body off the wall and stepped. “Oh, almost forgot.” She managed a sloppy bow.

“My queen.”

Y/N gave a watery laugh and pulled the woman in for a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

Nareema held her tight before they pulled away. “Indeed you have.” She looked down at her stomach. “So much so that you’ve succumbed to spending your time getting di-“

“Nareema!” Y/N scolded with a blush. “Still the same.”

The other woman frowned. “Is that a problem?” They then giggled as if they’d shared a secret joke.

“Nareema.”

The two broke away as the outspoken woman looked at the general with a bored expression. “General.”

“It is good to see you.” Okoye kept her poised expression. “You look well.”

“And you look the same.” Nareema quipped. “Courtesy of being a Dora, eh? One size fits all?”

There was a tense second of silence before the two women laughed, shared a warm embrace, and Okoye spoke in Xhosa.

“Welcome home, little sister.”

+++++++++

“Ramonda did all of this?” Nareema stared around the elaborate and expansive black and silver nursery that would soon belong to the prince and princess of Wakanda. “For Bast sake, it is beautiful!”

“Isn’t it?” Y/N blushed as she held her back to support the weight of her growing belly. “T’Challa and I practically did nothing except approve a few things here and there. She took care of everything for us.”

“Well,” Nareema stopped and wiggled her eyebrows. “I suppose you two were preoccupied with other things.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Why did you not tell me you were coming?”

“And ruin the surprise?” She placed her hand on her hip and tilted her head. “Twenty plus years of friendship and you still don’t know me?” She faked a sad sigh. “I am hurt. Truly.”

Y/N approached and grabbed her hands. “Promise that you will stay until the twins are born.”

Nareema squeezed their gathered hands ever so lightly and smirked. “What took you so long to ask?”

Y/N dropped her head and smiled warmly. “It is good to have you home, Nareema.”

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly and commented innocently. “There was once a time you would not even refer to this place as your home.”

“Much has changed, Reema’.”

“Indeed it has,” she gestured down to her stomach, before gently placing her hand down on it. “Twins….are you nervous?”

“The truth?” A beat. “Terrified.”

Nareema pulled her hand back, rolled her eyes, and dragged her friend over to a nearby couch. She watched with humor as Y/N had to take a few extra seconds to sit down, her stomach making a once simple task a slightly difficult endeavor.

Once she was situated, Nareema started to Q and A.

“For what? If anyone was put on this earth to be a mother, it was you.” A beat. “You’re actually nice.”

Y/N laughed softly. “While I appreciate that, it takes more than kindness to be a good mother, Nareema.”

“You’re right, it takes heart, patience, forgiveness, and basically everything that I am not, which you are so, ergo, a good mother,” Nareema said as if it was the most obvious thing ever, shifting her shoulders and rolling her eyes. “Great Bast, you always were hard of hearing.”

“And you never were good with encouragement,” Y/N teased.

“Hence why you went into counseling and I went into criminology,” Nareema shrugged before growing serious. “How is Nakia handling your pregnancy?”

Y/N mouth formed into a straight line. “As well as can be expected.”

Nareema exhaled in frustration. “So, in other words, you continue to let her disrespect you and your position-“

“Nareema-“

“No, I understood your initial explanation.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Absolutely not. I just said that to appease you.” The pregnant woman rolled her eyes. “But the fact of the matter is that Nakia never did and still does not want to be queen; she just does not want you to be queen or to have T’Challa, who she also wants.” A beat. “And if she truly loved him and if he truly loved her, they would not have spent years with that stupid on and off relationship of theirs.” She rolled her eyes. “Although I suppose it served as a nice cover.”

Y/N frowned. “Cover for what?”

Nareema laughed softly. “You.” When Y/N didn’t say anything, she moaned. “Oh, come now. Surely you’ve realized it by now.”

“Realized what?”

“It’s always been you. Well, perhaps not always, but for some time. Longer than I realized, at least…” She trailed off.

Y/N stared at her childhood friend with incredulity. “Reema’ what are you-“ She watched as the other woman grabbed her hand and raised it, shaking it lightly while pointing to her wedding ring, the large diamond reflecting from the sun emanating from the large window opposite the other side of the room. “I don’t understand.”

“Y/N, have you never noticed the absence of a ring on Ramonda’s hand? From any married woman in Wakanda? Wakandans do not believe in wedding rings.”

The expecting mother frowned. She certainly hadn’t, something like that being rather trivial in terms of things she paid attention to. Yet, she failed to see the relevancy.

“Okay…”

Nareema pinched the bridge of her nose. “You told me that T’Challa gave you your ring the morning after he proposed. That when you woke up, it was on your finger, yes?”

It was true. That night he asked her to marry him, they’d stayed up for some time, not engaging in intercourse, but instead just talking, enjoying each other’s company. At some point, she’d fallen asleep, and when she woke up, the gorgeous promise of commitment was on her ring finger.

“That ring was not for Nakia. He would never give her one because it is not the Wakandan way. It was for you, and I highly doubt he had a ring of that magnitude, that quality, and that luxury made in just a few hours. He’d had it for some time, Y/N.”

The queen stared off at the wall, in a state of shock from the load of information. Was it true? Had T’Challa had the ring for a while? It had to be true? Her friend for over twenty years had no reason to lie and Nakia had no need for a token that commemorated a foreign ritual. T’Challa most certainly had gotten the ring specifically for her, but when and how long had he had it? Marriage was a nothing to be taken lightly and something the two of them had never talked about and now she was leaning that he’d been harboring a damn wedding ring for an undisclosed amount of time.

If he wanted to marry her, did that mean he chose her? If so, then when? And why had he not told her?

“If he wanted to marry me, why did he not say so? Why not ask me?” She voiced her thoughts.

Nareema shrugged and then joked nonchalantly. “Perhaps he truly went the American route and asked your father who refused to give his blessing.”

Y/N’s head shot up. “What?”

Nareema elaborated. “Aside from the few of us with inside knowledge of the information to everyone on the outside, T’Challa was always destined to be with Nakia. The breakups were just temporary. She was going to be his queen. Hodari did not know of your and T’s….situation. Maybe your father thought that he was protecting you.” A beat. “Or Bast, maybe King T’Chaka was not tying to have the arrangement made at birth ruined by some mutant girl just like he would not have Okoyo’s mutant sister ruin his precious Dora Milaje.” She finished with a bitter chuckle.

Y/N, being the empathetic person that she was, immediately thought back to the first time she saw her childhood female best friend cry. No one knew of the unspoken ban that existed on mutants joining the Dora Milaje. That is, until Nareema voiced her desire to follow in Okoye’s footsteps and was informed by their parents.

She was crushed, never really the same after that.

“But whatever the reason, it matters not anymore.” Nareema reached over and lightly squeezed Y/N’s shoulders, realizing that the young queen was starting to reflect on the hypothetical scenarios she’d just proposed. “What’s done is done. You have T’Challa’s heart, you have the kingdom, and pretty soon, you will have children.” A beat. “Coming out of your vagina.”

“Nareema!”

+++++++++

Erik and T’Challa were in his office when all of a sudden Nareema came barging in. Except, she came through the double doors.

Literally through the doors.

“You better have a damn good reason as to why I had to just play a sick mind game with my best friend.” Was the first thing she said while staring down at an unphased T’Challa while Erik stared at her in amazement, unaware of the fact that she was a mutant. “You already having had the ring, okay? I can live with that because it’s true, but the reasons that I just had to feed her. I’ve never lied to her and because of you, I just did, so you better start talking Udaku!”

“Did you just-”

“I have the gift of intangibility.” She spoke without looking at him, eyes still burning on the king. “Answer me!”

Erik looked back and forth as she spoke to his cousin without an ounce of regard for the fact that he was her king.

“I like her.” He smirked, sitting on the edge of T’Challa’s desk with his arms crossed.

T’Challa gave his cousin an expression of annoyance before leaning back in his chair and sighing heavily. “I need to start planting the idea that Hodari nor my father…..they….”

“One ain’t worth shit, and the other wouldn’t  be shit either, but he already dead so.” Erik shrugged casually.

Nareema groaned. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Hodari has been working Princess Zanda in hopes to develop a cure for…mutants.” T’Challa hesitated with the last part for obvious reasons.

Nareema visibly tensed. “What?”

“Come on cuz, don’t leave out the best part.” Erik smiled broadly, playing with a set of Kimoyo beads. “Shit goes as far back as twenty years. As part of a mission started by my dear old Uncle T’Chaka.” Erik threw a set in the air, catching it easily. “Guess all that shit about wanting to keep Wakanda closed to the outside world had some stipulations, huh?”

“A cure?” Nareema hissed, her hand balled into a fist. “Of course.” She shook her head and then narrowed her eyes at T’Challa. “So you father was secretly cooperating with outside entities while parading around as though he was too good to allow Wakanda to associate itself with anyone else?”

T’Challa sighed. “My father was not a perfect man.”

“What gave it away?” Erik questioned with a raise of his brow. “Murdering his own brother? Or trying to cleanse his country of mutants?”

T’Challa stood from his desk and planted his palms down firmly. “We do not know for sure those were his intentions.”

“Do not be daft, T’Challa.” Nareema sneered. “Why else would he be willing to work with Narobia of all places? While their technological capabilities do not even come close to matching ours, they are far more advanced than any other country.” When the king said nothing else, she spoke again. “Where is Hodari now?”

“On a mission in the states,” Erik answered as she turned to look at him. “We’ve been monitoring his calls.”

“Why?” She frowned. “If he is working with Zanda on a cure, should you not be trying to trace where this cure is being manufactured?”

“That has been taken care of,” T’Challa answered vaguely.

Nareema narrowed her eyes. “How?” Erik mimicked an explosion with his hands which only further confused Okoye’s sister. “You two make no sense.”

T’Challa finally realized that feeding the woman who he called in as a way to help take his wife’s mind off everything that was going on (that is, the stuff she that she knew was going on) meant he would have to share more than just bits and pieces.

She needed the full story.

And so, he proceeded to tell her everything.

Starting with the discovery that Y/N was directly targeted while in California all the way to the latest information he and Erik had uncovered only hours ago.

Nareema was floored.

“This is insane.” She breathed. “What in Bast sake is really going on? Why is Hodari now so concerned with a cure? And how does a man go from wanting  permanent annihilation-“

“He was just following orders.” Erik chuckled darkly.

“I was not referring to him.” Nareema interrupted, her eyes set on T’Challa as an uncomfortable blanket of silence fell over the room. “I always felt as though your father never truly liked mutants what with the ban on them not being allowed to join the Dora Milaje, but this…this is beyond comprehension.”

“Forreal?” Erik interrupted as Nareema gave him her attention.

“Apparently we have an advantage over everyone else.” She spoke with pure sarcasm. “At least, that was the excuse then…”

“Regardless, she has a point.” Erik resumed the previous topic at hand. “And while I enjoy any conversation that includes pointing out what a weak ass leader my good old uncle really was, the real question is why Hodari is suddenly so interested in getting his hands on a cure.”

T’Challa forced himself to ignore the snide comment about his late father. After all, he was experiencing his own mixed feelings about the man… “Are we sure that there has been no paper trail between him and Zanda or any other Narobian official over the years?”

Erik shook his head. “Nothing. And if I can’t find it, shit must not exist.”

“What about that other company you mentioned?” Nareema chimed. “Sublime?”

“Filed for bankruptcy the same year the file for this mission was marked as completed,” Erik responded.

“Let me see that,” Nareema asked as Erik pulled up the interactive file as the two cousins watched the woman inspect it closely. “Interesting.”

“What?”

She looked at her best friend’s husband. “This company filed exactly one week after Y/N’s mother was murdered.” She then started searching for a few things. “And the CEO? A man by the name of Charles Lobe? Also went missing the same day.” A beat. “They never found his body.”

“As the filing of the bankruptcy?”

Erik asked while walking up behind her.

“No.” She looked up at him over her shoulder. “As the murder.”

T’Challa frowned and rubbed his temples. He was never one to believe in such an abstract concept as coincidences.

“The company that was manufacturing a serum that could kill mutants suddenly goes under, the CEO disappears without a trace, and Y/N’s mother is murdered.”

“In my tactical unit, we never left behind anything or anyone that could link us back to the mission.” He muttered while rubbing his beard. “Destruction links them all together, but that’s not enough, there was always a purpose and a reason. A stronger connection. A better linkage.”

“Her mother….what did she do for a living?” Erik asked no one in particular.

“She was a teacher,” T’Challa answered quickly. “Elementary school teacher.”

“And how exactly was she killed? I know the method, but what were details on the events leading up to it?”

“No one knows.” Nareema sighed. “She….she’s never spoken about it. It’s too painful for her.”

It was true. Not even T’Challa knew all the details of that day, but he suddenly thought of someone who did and a dark idea crossed his mind, one he never thought he’d resort to, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Instead, he decided to point out and share something else.

“Her mother…she was a mutant too.” The other two gave him surprised expressions. “We recently learned via genetic tests that there is a strong possibility the twins maternal grandmother was an empath.”

All of a sudden, Erik started to laugh, but his voice was void of humor. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?” Nareema looked over at him.”

“I told you. We never left anything behind.” He started messing around with the mission report. “Something went wrong. It must have.. Why else would the records here be clean of any trace of what happened? Think about it: the company, her mother, the CEO. They all had to be eliminated.”

“That makes no sense.” Nareema shook her head. “Are you saying that her mother was in on it?”

“I believe that she unwittingly became apart of it. Consider the historical context of the time period, mutants were in the same position that they’re still in now. Judged and criticized. But for her, if she really was an empath, she had it easier than some of the others.”

“You believe that she hid her abilities?” T’Challa was starting to follow along. “From the world and Hodari.”

“Makes sense.” Erik shrugged.

Nareema too began to follow their train of thought. “And it was already bad enough he diverted from the mission by developing feelings for an outsider, but he impregnated her.” A beat. “But he still left her?”

“I think you got this one, cuz.” Erik gestured to T’Challa who sent him a sharp look indicating that he was in no mood for games. Erik, of course, remained unbothered.

“Pull up his missions for the year that her mother was killed again,” T’Challa instructed as he scanned them, his eyes latching onto something. “What is this?”

Erik noticed too. “It’s the same mission. Twice.”

Nareema frowned. “That makes no sense.”

“No, it does not.” T’Challa quietly agreed. “Because it is a decoy.” A beat. “A mirage to disguise his true location.”

“Let me try something.” Nareema and T’Challa waited as Erik proceeded to try and toy with the advanced technological systems, bypassing firewalls before he was finally able to hack in. “There we go.”

“Virginia….” Nareema trailed off as she looked at the two men. “Isn’t that where Y/N and her mother were living?”

“Yes.” T’Challa answered solemnly. “And it is also where she was struck down.”

“Why would he suddenly go visit her?”

“Wait.” Nareema exclaimed. “Y/N once told me how when she was younger that the only time she truly saw her mother get upset was when she went to go draw blood.”

“I recall that story.” T’Challa chimed. “For some reason, they would not allow her to because she did not pass…the screening.”

“Where was Sublime’s headquarters?” Erik pulled up another screen, did some typing, and swirled the projection so that they could see. “Virginia. And they also had a pharmaceutical company.”

“What’s that?” Nareema pointed as a message popped up on the screen.

“This is all archive data so it must be a leftover piece of correspondence from that day that didn’t get completely erased from the mainframe,” Erik answered and clicked around as a black screen popped up.

Start Encrypted Message

BACK PAGE

USER4958058

Tests came back negative, sir.

What are our orders?

USER93085041

Eliminate them.

USER4958058

….Even the child?

USER93085041

I said them.

USER4958058

It will be done.

End Encrypted Message

CLOSE BACK PAGE

Nareema gasped as she slowly stepped back. “Oh my…can you trace who these are between?”

“I ain’t gotta.” Erik answered lowly. “The person whose profile you’re under will always have their username enlarged.”

Nareema’s eyes widened. “No.”

T’Challa snatched for his Kimoyo beads and angrily pressed against the technology.

He answered on the second ring. “Your Highness.”

“Gather the men. I want you at the landing station in an hour.”

The White Wolf darkened his gaze. “What is the mission, sir?”

“Hodari.” T’Challa closed his eyes as he tried to calm his growing rage. “Bring him to me, I don’t care what condition he is in, just as long as he is alive.”

“It will be handled.”

The king disconnected the call.

“What are you going to do?” Nareema questioned hesitantly, cautious of her tone as she could see T’Challa was in no mood for her usual disrespect.

He was literally seething, the anger and ire radiating off his powerful form. “You cannot just arrest her father. It will crush her.”

“The less you know the better.” He said simply, his tone indicating he had nothing more to say on the subject. “I thank you for your assistance.” He looked over at Erik and motioned for the door. “Come.”

Erik hopped off the desk and the two men went to leave when Nareema appeared in front of them. “Wait. Please. I know that look. Just….let us think this through.”

“I have grown tired of waiting, Nareema.” T’Challa looked down at her, a certain gleam of wickedness in his eyes. “I want answers, and I will get them.” A beat. “No matter what it takes.” With that, the king and prince moved to either side of her, leaving the disturbed young woman to her conflicted thoughts.

On one hand, she wondered if she should go after them. She knew that look. The look of a man on the edge, a man who would do anything for the ones that he loved, and it didn’t help that he was being aided by that cousin of his who, much like her, did not necessarily know when to stop.

On the other hand, there was the part of her that somewhat wanted to even assist them. The part that hurt for her best friend who had no idea the heartache that was in store for her. The part that had no idea how she was going to continue to sit and dine and act like nothing had changed between her and her childhood friend when in fact everything had changed.

How she could sit in the face of a woman who’d spent over twenty years being reared by a man who she thought to be a loving and doting father.

Instead, that loving and doting father was the man who signed her and her mother’s death certificate.

And suddenly, Nareema wondered if she should have even returned to Wakanda at all.

[marknee]

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