Iâm Nia, a 8 year old adult (26) ADHD-riddled pansexual creative⌠basic, I know đ đŻđľđłď¸âđđşđ¸
My current hyperfixation is Attoye but Iâve also got a Harry Potter fic that needs updating đ Iâm a black girl who writes for black people. If youâve got an issue with it⌠đđž đŞ
Asks & Requests are open, but keep it cute đ
A List of Pillow Productions
Pillow Productions in Progress
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Summary: A quick 300-500 word drabble based on the prompt: Aftermath & Recovery
Tags: Fluff, A Whiff of A Hint of Plot, & a Smidge of Blood Mentioned
~~~
Her body was still shaking.
It was hard to know if it was the adrenaline leaving, or if she was going into shock. Being soaked to the bone probably didnât help matters.
Consequences of nearly drowning, she supposed.
Her ears were still ringing from the blast, and her heart felt like a herd of wildebeests stampeding through her chest. Her lungs burned for air, but she couldnât force her mouth open for anything more than a gasp. The shakes took on a violent tremble between one breath and the next, and her teeth began to chatter loudly. She blinked, trying to clear blood and blurriness from her field of vision to no avail.
A hand found her hip, sending a flood of warmth from the point of contact. Another wrapped around her back, pulling her away from the cold steel sheâd been trembling against and into a steady, heat-filled embrace. The ringing in her ears began to fade into a jumble of faint murmurs as her surroundings began to orient themselves again. She tried focusing on the voice, brows furrowing as she heard a string of profanity.
âShitshitshitshitshitshit.â
She felt herself being maneuvered to the floor and bundled into the talking warmthâs arms, curses and questions spilling out in equal measure as they moved.
âOkoye? Can you hear me, in yakunaj?â The voice grew clearer as the tremors began to subside, murmuring a dozen assurances against her forehead. âItâs okay. Youâre okay. Weâre gonna get you warmed up, I promise.â
Something just as warm was pressed into her hands, then guided up to her mouth, urging her to drink.
âDrink, mejen, drink.â
She swallowed reflexively, letting the heat and sweet slide down her throat, allowing herself two more guided sips before pulling back. She tried tucking herself further into the warmth surrounding her, only to be met with another string of curses.
âShit. Shit. Shit. Fucking shit!â
Calloused hands cradled her face, drawing her blurry eyes up to a familiar brown gaze.
Attuma.
Attuma, who was using more profanity right now than sheâd ever heard him use.
âChaac and Bast and all the damned heavens, âKoye,â he murmured, swiping a gentle hand over her bloody brow. âAyoâs going to kill me.â
The worried affection in his tone was also something sheâd never heard before.
âD-Donât tell me youâre scared of the General, oh m-mighty Nacom,â she teased, vision finally clearing as he cleaned the blood from her face.
âI promised you wouldnât get hurt, and you decided to get blown off an aircraft carrier,â he said, still cradling her face like she was something precious. âYouâll have to excuse my wariness in telling her about the three-inch gash across your head.â
Her lips quirked up despite the tremors.
âL-lucky for m-me, youâre a pretty g-good fisherman.â
Summary: A quick 300-500 word drabble based on the prompt: Warmth & Intimacy
Tags: Fluff, General Coziness, & an Absolute Lack of Plot
A/N: This is mostly just me attempting to revive my dead muse. Iâve written 5 of these so far and I think Iâll post one a day on here. If youâre impatient and wanna read them all, feel free to hop on Ao3.
~~~
The air felt chillier than usual tonight.
There was a bite to it, one that told her winter was coming sooner rather than later.
No more late nights on the beach, then.
As if confirming her thoughts, a swift breeze whipped off the incoming tide, spraying a fine mist over her body and sending a chill through her bones.
She shivered despite the fire at her back. It was a quick, almost imperceptible thing that wouldâve gone unnoticed by most people.
Fortunately for her, Attuma wasnât âmost peopleâ.
A warm arm wound itself around her shoulders before the chill had time to settle, pulling her into an even warmer body. Something like peace stole over her with the motion. Something better. Headier. She leaned into it, curling further into him with a wistful smile. Her knees pressed against his outstretched legs, and her fingers sought his, tangling togetherâeasy as breathing. She tucked her head beneath his chin with a soft sigh.
âOkay, in baâal?â He asked, voice a velvet murmur in the quiet of the evening.
To answer with a simple âyesâ felt like an understatement. She hadnât felt anything as simple as okay in weeks. Maybe even months. How could she explain to him that happy was too insufficient a word for the unending well of joy she felt when they were together? What words could possibly describe the sense of fulfillment that bubbled over when she was wrapped in his arms?
Okay simply wasnât enough.
âOkoye?â
A hint of concern bled into the warm depths of his voice, and she realized she hadnât answered. An easily remedied error.
She brought their entwined fingers to her mouth and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of his hand, hoping he could feel all that she wanted to say.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Summary: A quick 300-500 word drabble based on the prompt: Warmth & Intimacy
Tags: Fluff, General Coziness, & an Absolute Lack of Plot
A/N: This is mostly just me attempting to revive my dead muse. Iâve written 5 of these so far and I think Iâll post one a day on here. If youâre impatient and wanna read them all, feel free to hop on Ao3.
~~~
The air felt chillier than usual tonight.
There was a bite to it, one that told her winter was coming sooner rather than later.
No more late nights on the beach, then.
As if confirming her thoughts, a swift breeze whipped off the incoming tide, spraying a fine mist over her body and sending a chill through her bones.
She shivered despite the fire at her back. It was a quick, almost imperceptible thing that wouldâve gone unnoticed by most people.
Fortunately for her, Attuma wasnât âmost peopleâ.
A warm arm wound itself around her shoulders before the chill had time to settle, pulling her into an even warmer body. Something like peace stole over her with the motion. Something better. Headier. She leaned into it, curling further into him with a wistful smile. Her knees pressed against his outstretched legs, and her fingers sought his, tangling togetherâeasy as breathing. She tucked her head beneath his chin with a soft sigh.
âOkay, in baâal?â He asked, voice a velvet murmur in the quiet of the evening.
To answer with a simple âyesâ felt like an understatement. She hadnât felt anything as simple as okay in weeks. Maybe even months. How could she explain to him that happy was too insufficient a word for the unending well of joy she felt when they were together? What words could possibly describe the sense of fulfillment that bubbled over when she was wrapped in his arms?
Okay simply wasnât enough.
âOkoye?â
A hint of concern bled into the warm depths of his voice, and she realized she hadnât answered. An easily remedied error.
She brought their entwined fingers to her mouth and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of his hand, hoping he could feel all that she wanted to say.
CELEBRATING 44 YEARS OF BEYONCĂ GISELLE KNOWLES-CARTER đđâ
Born on September 4, 1981 in Houston, TX
"Iâve spent so many years trying to better myself and improve whatever Iâve done that Iâm at a point where I no longer need to compete with myself. I have no interest in searching backwards. The past is the past. I feel many aspects of that younger, less evolved BeyoncĂŠ could never f*** with the woman I am today. Haaa! [...] Iâve fought to protect my sanity and my privacy because the quality of my life depended on it. A lot of who I am is reserved for the people I love and trust. Those who donât know me and have never met me might interpret that as being closed off. Trust, the reason those folks donât see certain things about me is because my Virgo ass does not want them to see it... Itâs not because it doesnât exist!"
A low whistle of appreciation sounded from the doorway, and Okoye sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. The swirls of weightless imaginings fell away as her mind snapped into focus, and she blinkedâor tried to at least. The silk scarf folded over her eyes hampered the effort, forcing her to rely on her other senses. Her ears strained for anything more, seeking reassurance as she tried to quell the nervous jitters running through her.
The heavy thud of familiar footsteps gave her the first clue, and warm, calloused hands trailing along her skin gave her the next. Then came his voiceâsmooth, rich, and unmistakable.
âYou wouldnât believe how perfect you look right now,â Attuma murmured from behind her, voice as soft as his touch. âIâd say you should be in a museum with all the other masterpieces, but they have âŚrules about touching the artwork there.â
Her jaw ticked as she fought the smirk that threatened to rise at his cheesiness, but she didnât respond. She knew better.
Instead, Okoye focused on regulating her breathing as he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.
âRules I couldnât possibly hope to follow,â he husked into her ear, pressing another kiss just behind it. âNot with all the ways Iâve been thinking about touching you tonight.â
She shivered as deft hands made quick work of the silk ties that held her wrists together.
âHope you werenât waiting too long for me.â
She felt a brief flash of irritation at the false sentiment and huffed, unamused. He knew exactly how long heâd be goneâhow long heâd left her waiting and wanting. Even if she didnât. All she knew was that it had been long enough.
Long enough for her legs to go numb in their folded position.
Long enough for her mind to wander places it probably shouldnât have.
Long enough for her imagination to run wild, thinking of every sordid, filthy thing he might do to her tonight.
Attuma indulged her bit of brattiness with a dark chuckle, massaging her wrists for a moment before standing and circling her again.
She was acutely aware of him. Even blindfolded, the rest of her senses were sharp, alive, and full of nothing else. The heat radiating off his body as he loomed over her. The musk of his cologne, clinging to his skin. The sharp spice of cigar smoke she knew lingered on his tongue. Every carefully measured breath he took as he drank her in.
A hand grazed her collarbone, sending a shiver down her spine. It traveled the length of her neck, cupping her nape and tilting her head back, and a calloused thumb traced over her jugular vein. Once. Twice. Then, on the third pass, her lover pressed down, holding her there just long enough for her pulse to throb wildly against his skin.
Her lashes fluttered beneath the blindfold, a dizzying bolt of pleasure flooding her senses when he let go.
She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to quiet the moan in her chest, letting out a breathy sigh instead. He answered with a low hum, sliding his fingers into her hair to massage the base of her skull.
Then he bent down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
âI think it goes without saying,â he murmured, âbut you should know: I plan to do an awful lot of touching tonight, sweetheart.â
Her stomach flipped at the naked desire in his voice, and a sharp pang of arousal made her center throb with need. A steady nod was all she could manage, and the feeling of his upturned lips against her temple was all the warning she got before the onslaught began.
He was surprisingly gentle.
Whisper-soft kisses were brushed down her jaw and across her cheeks before continuing up the line of her nose. Then, a featherlight press landed on each of her covered eyes. The hand in her hair remained, scratching light, soothing circles in her scalp; the other cradled her face, turning her head this way and that as his lips moved in a pattern she couldnât decipher. He followed the curve of her cheekbones one moment, the slope of her nose in the next. Always close, but never where she wanted him.
She reached for his faceâonly to find her wrist caught in a fast, firm hold.
No touching, then.
A tender kiss on her fluttering pulse accompanied the soft shake of his head, confirming her thoughts.
He guided her hand back down to her lap. âKeep these here for me, hm?â
A gentle squeeze to both of her wrists followed his whispered request, and she nodded in understanding despite her disappointment. Her fingers twisted in the lacy hem of her negligee as he continued.
Unable to see him and unallowed to touch, Okoye had no choice but to bask in his tender attentions. Attumaâs kisses drifted up and down, in and out, tracing the ridge of her brow and the shell of her ear. Every brush of his lips stoked the low embers of her arousal. He nibbled on her earlobe, catching the sensitive skin between his teeth, tugging on it until she gasped.
She breathed a sweet sigh of bliss, mouth falling open, head tipping back as desire overtook her senses, dissolving her thoughts to nothingness. For a moment, she thought sheâd heard him murmur something, but it was lost in the haze clouding her mind.
She felt him smile again, lips quirking up against her cheek this time. He peppered a line of kisses along her jaw to the corner of her mouthâlingering there, then pulling away.
A near-silent whimper slipped from her lips.
She craned her neck, chasing the kiss heâd denied her, but a firm tug on her locs stilled her movement. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
âIâm going to need an answer before we continue, darlinâ,â Attuma said, answering the question she hadnât voiced.
Had he asked her something?
Had she missed it?
The furrow deepened. Okoye scrunched her nose and let out a questioning hum.
âDistracted, were you?â His thumb brushed across her lips as he laughed softly at her puzzled face. âI suppose I canât blame you,â he murmured, pressing another kiss to the underside of her jaw. âYouâre just as distracting to me, too.â
The words were breathed against her mouth in a pseudo-kiss that only made her ache more. Tempted as she was to steal itâjust one kissâshe knew better. If she did, heâd likely deny her for the rest of the night.
And that was a nonstarter.
She loved his kisses.
Attuma nudged her nose with his own, resting his forehead against hers, bringing her back from her errant thoughts.
âTell me your color, sweetheart.â
âGreen, Sir.â
The answer spilled out in a breathless rush before heâd hardly finished the command.
He let out a pleased hum and kissed the corner of her mouth again, trailing another line of featherlight kisses up her cheek to her ear. Okoye held back her whimper at being denied againâbut the disappointment didnât last.
Swift and sure, his mouth descended on hers.
She squeaked in surprise, then melted into him.
Their lips moved together in a rhythm of highs and lows. Meeting and matching. Pushing and pulling. A dance she knew every step to. He tasted just like she knew he wouldâbourbon and smoke and something nutty that told her heâd gone to his favorite cigar lounge after leaving her bound and blind to wait for this moment right here.
The kiss deepened as he pulled her into him, warmth blooming in her chest and pooling low in her belly. His tongue teased at the seam of her lips, tracing the fullness of her bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, nibbling it gently.
Feeling bold now that sheâd had a taste, Okoye grazed her teeth over his upper lip. His answering groan was muted and dangerous. Wanton. She felt it all the way down to her toes. He bit down on her lip in reprimand, jerking her closer, then snaked his tongue into her mouth and traced the back of her teeth.
She squirmed, thighs clenching as the heat of her arousal spread. He didnât miss a thing.
Attuma pulled back with a low, dirty chuckle.
âDonât worry, darlinâ,â he said, trailing hot kisses along her jaw. The hand tangled in her hair tightened in an instant, sending a sharp thrill racing down her spine as he growled in her ear. âIâm going to fuck your brains out.â
A soft keen escaped before she had thought to stop it, but Attuma didnât seem to care for the slip-up.
He crashed his lips to hers, all traces of his earlier gentleness swept away as his grip turned bruising. His mouth ravaged hersâall tongue and teeth and need. It was more claim than kiss, and she could taste his hunger.
Okoye balled her fists, nails biting into her palms to keep herself from pulling him closer, and surrendered to his unforgiving mercies. Her capitulation was rewarded quickly. His tongue swept between her lips, dancing with hers, drawing a long moan from deep in her chest.
Her lungs burned as air became a scarce commodity, but Attuma didnât relent.
He drew her up to her knees, keeping their mouths fused all the while. His hand slid from her hair down her back, palming the cheeks of her ass and pulling her flush against him until there wasnât a breath of space between their bodies. Her breasts crushed against the hard planes of his chest, and she shuddered as the silk of her negligee dragged across her stiffened nipples.
Attuma moaned this time and deepened their kiss, pulling her closer like he couldnât get enough.
Like thereâd never be enough.
Okoye pressed into him, eager to give everything he was taking, and whined pitifully when the need to breathe finally tore him away.
He didnât go far.
They panted in tandem, breath mingling, the air between them charged with a passion so heady it made her dizzy. She was drunk on itâon him. His hold softened, and he cradled her tenderly. Like she was something precious.
To him, she knew she was.
She could feel his heated gaze on her again. Staring. Studying. Her thighs clenched under the weight of it, arousal flaring as his thumb traced over her now-kiss-swollen bottom lip.
Gods, she wished she could see his eyes.
She could picture them perfectlyâhis usual dark brown blown black with lust, glowing with a hunger that made her shiver. They always did when he had her like this.
The damned blindfold denied her the chance. And worse, it robbed her of the opportunity to see him coming. Like now, when he ducked down to kiss her twice more. Less urgent than before, but still edged with a yearning that made her chase after each one, seeking more and more and more.
He denied her again, lavishing his affections down her neck instead. His tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat, making her tremble with need, and she threw her head back, biting her tongue to stifle the sounds of her pleasure.
It was futile.
The moment he brought his teeth into the mix, grazing the rigid line of her collarbone, a loud gasp tore from her throat. It echoed in the quiet of her bedroom and earned her an even harsher bite.
She knew better.
âQuiet now, darlinâ,â he warned lowly, grabbing a rough handful of her ass. âDonât you know pretty things were made to be seen and not heard?â The words were edged with something dangerous, sending a bolt of molten heat flooding through her. She bit her lip to suppress her whimper.
âIâd hate to have to leave you here for the rest of the night just âcause you canât shut up.â
She stiffened at the threat, shaking her head rapidly. Desperately.
âI know. I know,â Attuma said, the edge bleeding from his voice as he pressed a sweet kiss beneath her chin. âI donât wanna do that either, sweetheart. Which is why youâre gonna be good for me, yeah? Nice and quiet?â
Okoye nodded, swallowing thickly. Staying quiet was always a challenge, but she was miles beyond desperate now. Her thighs were slick with desire, and she could feel her pulse in every throb of her aching clit.
If he left her like thisâall worked up with no release?âBast as her witness, she would cry.
âGood,â he praised, pressing soft, almost chaste kisses to her lips in reward. âArms around me then, pretty girl.â
She obeyed without hesitation, winding her arms around his neck as his mouth found hers again. His hands slid down, palms curving over the swell of her ass before hooking beneath her thighs. He lifted her in one easy motion, and her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct.
Her bare center met the coarse denim of his jeans, and she gasped against his mouth.
The friction was a searing jolt, sending white-hot sparks racing up her spine. Her fingers tangled in the thick strands of his hair, scrambling for purchase as she rolled her hips into the rigid press of his arousal. He groanedâa strained, drawn-out sound that made her chest thrumâand his hands flexed on her thighs, pressing bruises into the soft skin.
The five steps between the chaise and her bed were a cruel tease. A test of her restraint, and had it been any longer, one she would have failed.
The mattress met her back with maddening softness, and she whimpered at the loss of his lips when he pulled away. She sat up instinctively, trying to keep him close, but he wouldnât have it. Gentle fingers unwound hers from his hair, and he stood to his full height, chuckling low in his throat when she pouted.
Then came the quiet rustle of fabric.
His shirt hit the floor near the foot of the bed, and her breath hitched.
The metallic clinking of his belt was next.
Fuck.
She cursed the blindfold for the third time.
All she could do was imagine the miles of tanned skin she couldnât see. His broad chest and sculpted arms. The wide, smooth planes of his back. The thick, corded muscles of his thighs. And his scarsâraised and rigid, lining his torso in perfect symmetry.
She could trace them with her tongue.
Or better yet⌠ride them until sheâ
A heavy thud snapped her out of her sinful imaginings.
His jeans.
Fuck.
He stepped back into her space, and she let out a shaky breath.
His skin radiated heat. She could feel it on her lipsâclose enough to taste. Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip on reflex. A hand fisted in her hair jerked her head back before she could dare, and his mouth crashed down on hers again in a carnal, lust-drenched kiss that tasted like pure sin.
He crawled on top of her, using the weight of his body to nudge her backward until her feet rested on the edge of the bed, legs splayed open, and knees cradling his hips. Filthy words were murmured between filthier kisses, and she tore her mouth from his when a hand cupped her center.
She nearly bit her tongue in two to keep from crying out, the metallic tang of copper flooding her mouth.
Attuma didnât care. And thank Bast, he didnât stop. Her lover pressed on, spreading her slick folds and slipping deft fingers through the heat of her wetness, moaning his praise at the feel of her.
âYouâre so wet, darlinâ... is this all for me?â
She gave a frenzied nod, her hips bucking into his hand. Thick fingers traced the length of her slit, gathering her arousal and drawing slow, torturous circles around her clit while his mouth found her neck again.
Her chest heaved, breaths coming in heavy, broken pants with every bruising kiss he left along the column of her throat. She bit out a strangled moan when the tip of one blunt finger sank into her, just enough to tease, before he drew back.
Over and over and over again, he toyed with her, playing her body like an instrument heâd spent years learning, driving her mad with need. She writhed beneath him, gritting her teeth to stifle her desperate pleas and frustrated growls rising in her throat. His answering chuckle was just as torturous as his unrelenting touch.
It was never that easy with him.
Sharp teeth grazed over the tops of her breasts, catching a stiffened peak between them and tugging until her back arched off the bed. He pulled the bud into his mouth, then laved at it through the silk of her negligee, making her whole body tremble from the sensation. A rough hand clamped down on her hip, keeping her in place. Reminding her she was utterly helpless and entirely at his mercy.
Fire licked through her veins as his mouth sucked harshly at her breast, and his teasing fingers pushed her closer and closer to an edge sheâd never reach.
She mouthed silent pleas, fervent and aching for something, anything.
Please, please, please.
The ragged breath she let out when he finally sank one thick finger into her was like a gunshot.
It wasnât nearly enough.
âOh, youâre ready, arenât you, baby?â he teased, almost cruel. âDo you need more?â
A broken whimper was all she could give, her hips bucking fruitlessly into his hand.
âIâll take that as a yes,â he said.
Whether he was feeling benevolent or merciful, Okoye couldnât say. She didnât particularly care. Her world had narrowed to the building rhythm and subtle curve of his fingers as one became two, and he began to fuck her.
In and out. Back and forth.
It was all she could do to keep her hands off him and her mouth shut.
She wasnât completely quiet, of course. Harsh pants and strangled squeaks slipped free as his pace quickened, faster and faster. A dull roar built in her ears, her blood rushing, her mind spiraling. Everything felt too good and not good enough.
His fingers curled again, setting her every nerve alight. She bit her lip to blood, hips rolling in perfect rhythm to his every thrust, chasing the high only he could give her.
Attumaâs mouth left her chest in a mess of wet silk and burning skin, trailing kisses up her neck to murmur wicked praises in her ear.
âThat's it, sweetheart⌠open up for me,â he purred. âYouâre doing so well. Think you can take another?â
Okoye nodded frantically again, without thought or care. She needed more.
She wanted everything.
He slowedâjust enoughâand two became three.
His thumb pressed against her clit.
His fingers curled deep inside her.
And she screamed.
The high sheâd been chasing slammed into her with the fury of a rushing tide, dragging a low, guttural sound from her throat. It was blindsiding, sweeping away every thought of restraint and ounce of her will, leaving her with only shattered silence in its wake.
She panted heavily, trying to regain her breath as the shock of what sheâd done settled around her.
His fingers stilled, and her body froze.
Fuck.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, prickling with dread.
She knew better.
For one harrowing second, the world went still.
Then, Attumaâs growl cracked through the room like thunder.
âOh, darlinâ,â he purred, low and dangerous in her ear, âyouâre gonna pay for that.â
His fingers slipped free in an instant, leaving her aching and empty, and her whimper turned into a startled gasp as his hands gripped her thighs. She didnât have a moment to breathe before he was dragging her to the edge of the bed like a rag doll.
âAttuma, Iâmâoh!â
The apology died on her lips as her wrists were captured in a vice-like grip. He yanked her to her feet, twisting her until her back was pressed against his chest.
âPlease, Attumaââ She tried again, the words tumbling out in a panicked rush. He squeezed her wrists, and she winced, righting the only error she could. âSir, please⌠Iââ
âShut. Up,â he bit out, grip tightening around her again.
Her jaw clamped shut at the command, not trusting her voice in the face of the dangerous tone his had taken on.
âOh, so you can keep quiet, huh?â he taunted, ripping the blindfold from her face. She blinked, eyes cloudy and stinging as light flooded in. âStill, it doesnât hurt to have some help, does it, darlinâ?â
Her lips parted in confusion, only to find her mouth full of silk as Attuma shoved the balled-up blindfold between them.
He didnât stop there, pushing her forward until her hands hit the mattress and kicking her feet apart so she was just off balance. Rough hands jerked her hips up, forcing her to her toes, and Okoye could only whimper through the makeshift gag.
âShut up,â he said again. A warning this time.
And she tried.
By the gods, she tried.
But they were as merciless as the man behind her.
Attuma didnât spare a second, lining himself up and sinking into her with one brutal stroke. And with no time to think or even breathe, Okoye sobbed.
Her hands scrambled, fisting the sheets as he drove into her. Unrepentant and unforgiving. Every thrust was tinged with the sweetest pain, and despite her efforts, each stroke forced a muffled, ragged keen from her. The pace he set was punishing, and sheâd be lying if she said she didnât love every moment. Her eyes screwed shut as her body sang with sensationâoverwrought and somehow still desperate for more.
Her next moan was closer to a shriekâhigh and reedy, barely dulled by the silk stuffed between her teeth.
A hand clapped over her mouth, pulling her upright until her back arched almost painfully. Her breath hitched. Her legs trembled. And he never stopped.
âShut. Up,â he snarled into her ear.
It was an impossible demand, and still she tried.
She wanted to scream. And so she bit down on the silk.
She wanted to beg. And so she dug her nails into the sheets.
But she couldnât silence the way he split her open.
She could only feel.
Every brutal thrust of his dick as he ravaged her from within.
Every slap of his skin against hers as his hips slammed into hers.
Every ragged breath he tore from her, trapped by the drenched silk in her mouth.
Every senseless throb of her aching cunt, swollen and dripping as he drove her further and faster to ruin.
She arched harder, head falling back on his shoulder, her hand desperately gripping the arm banded about her waist.
âWhatâs wrong, sweetheart? Is it too much?â He crooned, slowing his pace and driving into her harder and deeper than he ever had. His voice was soaked in mock sympathy, condescension dripping from his lips like honey. âDonât tell me you canât take it, pretty girl. You were so. fucking. eager. to come for me before.â
He twisted his wrist to grasp her clawing fingers and trailed both of their hands down her body to her drenched slit. Forcing her to feel how heâd split her open. How he was taking her apart, piece-by-blessed-piece.
âThis is what you wanted, right? What I promised you?â
The blindfold-turned-gag muffled another broken keen, but Attuma was undeterred. He let her wrist fall limp, both hands gripping her hips like steel as he sped back up. Short, sharp strokesâeach one unerring and utterly devastating. She felt every inch of him dragging against her trembling nerves, sending sparks skittering through her entire body. Okoye scrambled, hands moving in a frenzy as she tried to find purchase on something, anything.
âYou know I always keep my promises.â
Her whole body quaked, every muscle taut, every breath stolen. She rolled her ass back into him instinctively, tears burning in the corners of her eyes. The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter in the face of her impending climax, and she shuddered, moaning as the edge of delirium approached with frightening speed.
The gag muffled her wanton pleas, but that didnât stop her.
Please, please, pleaseâ
Her nails raked at the hand pinning her in place, but that didnât stop him.
âYouâre gonna come for me again,â he hissed into her ear, his voice a velvet rasp.
Okoye shook her head frantically.
She wouldnât dare. Not again. Not without permission.
âThat wasnât a question, baby,â Attuma chuckled, low and lecherous in her ear. âYouâre going to come for me again. You donât get a choice.â Each snap of his hips into hers was a deliberate strikeâmethodical and merciless and dismantling any hope she had of resistance. âYouâre going to come on my dick. Over and over, until that greedy little pussy of yours is all fucked out. And then,â he whispered, sharp teeth grazing her ear, âyouâre gonna give me one more.â
Rough fingers took up a rapid rhythm against her clit, drawing tight, messy circles around the aching bud in time with his thrusts. Her body writhed as he struck flint against steel.
Once.
Twice.
And she felt her body catch fire.
Heaven and hell met in a blazing inferno, and Okoye burned at its epicenter.
Her head bowed, and she wailed against the gag. She shuddered violentlyâsweet, aching heat curling in her veins. Pleasure roared in her ears, and stars burst behind her eyes. Her legs locked, and her back arched as she moved with and against him. White-hot pulses rolled through her in rapid succession, her second climax no less devastating than the first, and she writhed, somehow torn between wanting nothing else and needing so much more.
Attuma refused to let her come down. He was relentless, pace never changing, fingers never stopping. The hand on her hip swept back and hooked under her knee, lifting it onto the bed and sending her reeling. She teetered dangerously, barely keeping her footing on the tip of her toes, and dropped to her forearms as her leg buckled. The shift tilted her hips, opening her further to his unyielding drive, and she cried outâragged, broken gasps swallowed by the drenched silk in her mouth.
Merciless strokes kept her dangling at the precipice with no end in sight, forcing her to take himâto feel him as he drove into her. Harder. Faster. Deeper. Steel hands pinned her in place, deft fingers twisted just so, and she hit a new octave.
Her third high was a maelstrom of unending sensation. Blood rushed in her ears like thunder. Lightning crackled under her skin. Bliss cut like a knife, wreaking unholy havoc on every one of her senses, leaving her mind blank and blinding white. She keened, fingers scrabbling for purchase and tearing at the sheets, as she bucked against him.
A hand cracked against her ass, viciously reminding her she had nowhere to run.
âDonât you dare. You donât get to run from me,â he growled, both hands jerking her back onto his dick as he redoubled his effortsâfucking into her hard and impossibly deep, ânot after that little stunt you pulled.â Another smack landed, demanding her attention. Her penance. âYouâre going to take every inch of me, baby. Like the greedy slut you are. And we wonât stop until I say weâre done.â
A final crack of his palm against her skin rang out, the sweet sting punctuating his declaration, searing it like a brand into her skin. Her teeth clenched, biting down on the silk and choking out a strangled moan, knowing it wouldnât take much, not with how far gone she was. Okoye pressed her cheek into the mattress, hot tears spilling over as she arched back without thought.
Attumaâs pleased hum bordered on a groan. âMmm, there she is⌠Push it back for me, baby,â he breathed, raw desire bleeding into his tone. He gripped a handful of her ass, spreading her open for his lewd gaze. âCome on, greedy girlâI know you can give just as good as you get.â
It was base instinct that had her hips rolling back despite her trembling legs. Wanton need that had her clenching around him, bearing down despite her overshot nerves. Mindless abandon that had her wanting, wishing, praying, for the high that would bring her crashing down.
His hands were possessive on her body, dragging her down onto him as he drove upâmeeting her halfway with devastating precision. His voice dropped into that husky scrape that told her he was just as close to the edge as she was, and their rhythm coalesced into a carnal medley: the wet slap of skin on skin, her gagged and breathless moans growing higher in pitch and fervor, his gravel-and-sin voice guiding her. Goading her.
Praise and possession spilled from his lips in a debauched litany.
âFuck, darlinâ.â Attumaâs hips slammed into hers, âYouâre squeezing me so tight, baby. Taking me so well. And fuckâif you donât look good doing it.â
He spread her further, groaning again, and she answered with a choked gasp, knowing his gaze was locked onto where their bodies met. It was obscene and profane, and so, so hot.
âI know youâre gonna come again, sweetheart. I can feel it. Youâre gonna come for me, and thatâll be mine. Just like this perfect ass is. And this greedy cunt of yours.â
His fingers found her clit again, and an inhuman sound left her throat. Her eyes slammed shut as her hips bucked wildly, body writhing as he drew relentless circles across the slick, swollen bud.
âYouâre gonna scream for me when you do, and thatâll be mine, too. Just like you are.â
His thrusts grew frenzied, rhythm breaking as he drove them both to the very brink. Electric sparks curled up her spine with every ragged scrape of his dick inside her, and she sobbed into the sheets.
âI want whatâs mine, Okoye. Give it to me. Now.â
The command came in a vicious growl, and she couldnât do anything but obey.
The scream that tore out of her throat was nothing short of primal.
Her body jerked with it, nerves misfiring in every direction like a live wire. Agony tangled with ecstasy as she surrendered to the blistering waves of her fourth orgasm, and her senses blurred to static.
The world splintered apart beneath her, and she fell with itâdragging Attuma down alongside her.
He came with a guttural snarl, body shuddering and grip bruising. His hips stuttered against hers, fingers faltering, and she let out a weak moan as he filled her, flooding her with warmth.
Her limbs finally gave out, and she collapsed into the mattress, mind going blissfully blank.
~~~
Time slipped by unnoticed as she drifted in and out, her world shifting between slow, shuttered blinks.
Gentle hands smoothed warmth across her hips and back, soothing her whimpers as he eased himself from her body.
Strong arms lifted her fully onto the bed, slipping ruined silk and lace from her body, and rearranging her boneless limbs beneath his.
Careful fingers coaxed her mouth open, working the gag from between her teeth before massaging her jaw and neck.
Soft lips pressed kisses into the salt of her skin, trailing from her nape to her shoulder, whispering reverent praises between every breath.
âMm, you were perfect, darlinâ,â he murmured, kissing the underside of her jaw. âSo perfect.â
She stirred at the sound of his voice, lashes fluttering but never quite lifting. Another kiss dropped to her forehead, and she pressed her face into his, still too wrung out for words.
âWore you out, huh, sweetheart?â A quiet laugh rumbled through him as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. âBut you took me so well. You always do.â
Another kiss followed the compliment, landing on the corner of her lips, and she turned her head just enough to catch his mouth with her own.
It was soft and unhurriedâall languid desire and satisfied passion. They breathed each other in, lips pulling in long passes, tongues teasing but never taking.
Attuma hummed into her mouth, and she released his lips with a happy sigh, going lax into the pillows once more. He continued lavishing her with sweet praises, pressing gentle, adoring kisses on every inch of skin he could reach.
Slow hands roamed the length of her body, shifting her little by little until his mouth was leaving lingering, open-mouthed kisses across her ribs. Her mind drifted, floating somewhere far away in the hazy clouds of bliss. She sighed again, loose-limbed and pliant, and her hands found his hair as he dipped below her belly button, fingers slipping through loose strands.
Broad shoulders nudged her thighs open as he dusted kisses across her hipbones. He settled himself between her still-trembling legs, and her brow furrowed, warmth blooming through the haze. She blinked, slow and listless, and let out a soft whimper of confusion when his mouth met the slick skin of her thighs.
Her fingers stilled in his hair, breath hitching as his tongue traced the inner seam.
âWait⌠Attuma, wait, Iââ Her voice was a weak, barely there whisper, and she shifted, trying in vain to close her legs. âI donât think I canâoh!â
He pressed the lightest of kisses to her clit, and she flinched, her hips jumping at the contact, her protests dying before she could voice them.
âYou can,â he said, soft and sure. âYou will.â He nosed up her slit, speaking directly over the overwrought bundle of nerves at her center. Dark eyes flicked up to meet her half-lidded ones. âYouâre going to.â
The certainty in his tone shouldnât have been such a turn-on, but Okoye couldnât deny the slow spread of molten heat emanating from where his mouth was already doing wicked things to her.
His head dipped low again, tongue mirroring his earlier actions on the opposite thigh, and she whimpered.
âI made you a promise, didnât I, darlinâ?â he whispered, pressing another featherlight kiss to her clit, holding her steady when she jumped again. âLet me keep it.â
It wasnât a request.
She knew as much.
However nicely worded or quietly spoken, there was no mistaking the demand in his voice.
He was going to take her again.
She was going to let him.
Her fingers loosened just a fraction, body relaxing beneath him once more as he nuzzled the top of her mound. He hummed, satisfied by her submission, and ran a soothing hand over the trembling muscles of her stomach. His other hand traced the length of her thigh before hooking under her knee and spreading her further for him.
The shift brought her attention to the steady trail of wet leaking from her center, and she tensed all over again.
âWaitâdonâtâAttuma, youââ
Her objections shattered into a high, strangled gasp as he licked a wide, flat stripe up her cunt, groaning deeply as he went.
The sound sent a shock of vibration through her, and her fingers twisted in his hair againâtoo shocked for words and too weak to push him away.
He did it again, slower this time, catching every trace of âtheir combined spend in one long, languid pass of his tongue from slit to clit. Then he sucked her clit into his mouth, tapping it gently with his tongue before releasing it with a soft, filthy pop.
His pleased hum rumbled up her spine, and he grinned at her, wicked and wanton. âWe taste good together.â
Okoye didnât respond.
She couldnât.
Not when his mouth was back on her, moving in slow, reverent laps, savoring her like she was his favorite sin.
Not when his tongue was gliding through the mess heâd made of herâof themâlike heâd never get to taste her again.
She let out a hoarse moan, back arching off the bed as his tongue swept over her in tender, unhurried strokes. Her hips rocked up despite herself, thighs falling further open as he licked into her, teasing at her aching opening.
âThatâs it, sweetheart. Let me have you,â he coaxed, covering her mound with his mouth, laving at sodden folds.
He kissed and licked and lapped at her, every languid pass of his tongue making her quiver. It was all so gentle, yet still so devastating after all the havoc heâd wreaked on her earlier. She felt the telltale rise of heat pooling in her belly and let out a broken whimper, unable to comprehend her bodyâs response.
âLook at you, pretty girl,â Attuma murmured, voice low and laced with dark delight. âYou said you couldnât take any more, but here you are⌠dripping for me.â
He parted her folds with his thumbs and dragged his tongue up her slit again, grinning when a guttural moan sounded from deep in her chest.
âGonna come on my tongue, greedy girl?â
âI canât,â she said, dragging the word out in a pitiful whine.
Her body told a different story.
It was clear in the way her legs trembled and her hips rolled. The way her toes curled and her back arched. The way her fingers kept twisting in his hair and her empty, aching cunt clenched around nothing.
She was going to come again.
She was going to come again, and Attuma knew it.
âYes, you are.â His chuckle was filthy. Smug.
She almost hated it.
âCome on then, baby. Give me whatâs mine.â
His lips wrapped around her clit again, pulling the swollen bud into his mouth and sucking with just enough force to make her cry out. Then, he flattened his tongue and pressed, working it back and forth against her heated flesh until it was all too much.
The dam broke, and her lips parted on a high, desperate sound.
Bliss surged like a tide, pushing past her disbelief and denial, and swept her away, leaving nothing but the thrum of his name in her veins. She clutched at him wildlyâher hand fisted in his hair, her nails carving half-moons in his shoulderâtrying to anchor herself against the onslaught. Her body shuddered through the swells, rocking in time with his mouth as he coaxed her through it.
The high ebbed slowly, each wave smaller and softer until euphoria finally gave way to exhaustion.
Her body sagged beneath his, boneless and spent, and he finally pulled his mouth from her, leaving a gentle kiss on her clit.
He took his time making his way back up her body, smoothing his hands over her thighs in soothing circles as she trembled through the aftershocks. Another whisper-like kiss just below her belly button, and one more, right above her heart.
Then, his lips were on hers, kissing her sweet, slow, and deep.
âMine,â he whispered.
A truth that didnât need telling, but one she confirmed anyway.
âYours.â
~Finis~
A/N: There's a whole spiel in my brain about practicing BDSM safely, but I'm way too tired for the full lecture. Main points are Communication, Consent, & Trust. Communicate your boundaries long before you get into bed with partner. Make sure Consent is given explicitly and not just implied. And Trust your body, your limits, and your partner. Also please remember, no good Dom wants to hear your safe word. It's a safety net, not a goalpost.
This has been a PSA from your favorite Pillow Princess âşď¸
Next Up is Wall Sex, I believe and I think there might be a plot this time đ
**A/N: **I went to upload pt. 2 of this and realized I never uploaded pt. 1 on here so... annnnnywho this is an ongoing anthology of different kinktober prompts that I'm working my way through.
Welcome to Day 28: Phone Sex
Word Count: 6.2k
"Can you come by the lab later?"Â
Shuriâs voice sounded over Okoyeâs comms, making her tense as she blinked in confusion.Â
"What?" she hissed, eyes darting away from the convoy of covered trucks sheâd been surveilling.
"The lab. My lab," Shuri said slowly, "You know, the one where I work for the betterment of all Wakandans?" the princess deadpanned.
Okoye scrunched her nose, glaring at the passing trucks as though they were Shuriâs face. Sheâd been traveling through the northern Indian jungle for three days; she was hot, sweaty, and a little more than fed up. Shuriâs interruption was as untimely as it was agitating. "You do know that Iâm on a mission, right? One you tasked me with."
"Yeah, yeah, and Iâm sure youâre doing just fine. Can you just come by when you get back? Preferably before you head home."Â
Okoye could hear the lack of concern in the younger womanâs voice just as clearly as she could picture being waved off. Biting back a growl, she let out a long-suffering sigh and pressed her body flat against the branch she was perched on.Â
"Is it important?" she asked, eyes tracking each truck as it passed. One of them was carrying several crates of stolen technology that had been grabbed from the Avengers compound in New York. How itâd made its way across an ocean and a continent was a problem for someone else to solve; she was merely responsible for retrieving it.Â
Shuri was silent for a brief second before she returned her question with another one. "If I say yes, will you come?"Â
Instead of an answer, Okoye cursed as several of the trucks broke off from the main line, including the one sheâd singled out two days prior. "Shit! Aneka, where are theyâ"
"Aneka says theyâre headed northwest, towards the Pakistani border," Shuri replied, just as apathetic as before, making her curse again.
She kissed the back of her teeth, sitting up in fluid motion, and swung her body down, grabbing a low-hanging vine to lower herself to the jungle floor. "Dammit, Shuri! Put Aneka back on!"
Shuri grumbled in her ear, but she ignored the child, taking off in a sprint the moment her feet hit the ground. Darting through shrubs and bushes, Okoye slid into a crouch at the tree line and growled a curse at her little sister.Â
"I swear to all the godsâ"Â
"Just a quick stop!" the younger woman insisted.
Two more trucks turned off around the same corner while the rest continued down the road, and Okoye swore to strangle her if the damned contraband sheâd spent weeks hunting moved across another international border.Â
"Shuri!"
"Itâs important!"
"Yes! Fine! Put Aneka back on! Nâgoku!"
"Thank you! Love you! Make sure you come back before you go back to Azzaria, okay?"
The line switched back over to Aneka before she could curse the princess some more, and the younger woman apologized profusely.Â
"Sorry, General. She disabled the comm linkâ"
"Itâs fine," Okoye cut in, hoping she wasnât going to have to brave the Indian-Pakistani border. "Do you still have eyes on them?"Â
"Yes, theyâre still heading northwest. 30 or so clicks away from the border. Do you want me to send in the auxiliaries?"Â
Okoye eyed the convoy, counting the remaining trucks barrelling down the road, and plucked an EMP bead from her wrist. She rolled the bead onto the dirt road as the last truck approached, watching as it detonated in silence and brought the truck to a sudden stop.Â
"No," she said, grinning sharply. She pulled her spear from the holster around her thigh and twisted the handle, extending the weapon. "Iâve got a ride."
~~~
Okoye breathed out a sigh of exhaustion, leaning against the cool metal of the elevator walls as it carried her into the depths of Mount Bashenga.Â
Her legs felt like jelly, her shoulder ached, and she was sorely in need of a shower. Hopefully, this wouldnât take long, but there was no way to tell what Shuri wanted. She'd already sent the retrieved contraband ahead of her to Abasi with the rest of her extraction team, figuring Captain Wilson would appreciate having the tech back on American soil sooner rather than later. The elevator slowed to a stop, and Okoye sent up a silent prayer that this little side venture would be quick.Â
Nodding her greetings to the Dora on duty, Okoye strode down the short hallway into the lab and found her little sister in a familiar position as GRIOT announced her presence.
"Glad to see you in one piece, General," Shuri said, glancing up from the work table she was hunched over and giving her a quick once-over. "Everything went okay?"
Okoye arched an unimpressed brow at the formality and sniffed, returning the greeting in kind. "Glad to be back, Princess. And yes, the mission went well, despite certain... disruptions."
Shuri snorted at that and dropped all pretense. "Please; you've had worse."
"And they were just as unappreciated," Okoye shot back, nudging the younger woman with her hip and ignoring her grumbled protest as she leaned against the work table. "Now, why am I here?" `
"Left side table, on the far right," Shuri gestured with an indirect wave of her arm.Â
"This had better be worth it," she muttered, saving herself the annoyance of an ignored question.Â
Straightening, Okoye walked over to the table she'd been directed to and found herself staring at a kimoyo bracelet. Or at least, something like a kimoyo bracelet. As opposed to the round beads of black and silver that currently encircled her wrist, these beads were bright green and made up of small cubes. She reached to pick it up, then hesitated, looking back at Shuri in askance.
"Go ahead," she answered, not looking up from her tinkering.
Okoye lifted the bracelet gingerly, bringing it up to her face in order to study it closer. She moved the cubes through her fingers, admiring the feel of them, testing their weight. They were heavier than the ones she currently wore, and if she had to guess, she would say each cube was made entirely out of jade. There was no string tying the cubes together, but between each stone, there was a small golden bead, making the entire piece glimmer in the bright lights of the lab. Peering closer, Okoye realized each of the green stones was engraved. Intricate lines of golden filigree curved and intersected to form glyphsâ non-Wakandan glyphs.
Her eyes snapped up when she recognized a familiar symbol.
"Shuri, is thisâ?"
"Talokanil? Yeah," Shuri replied, suddenly appearing at her side with a smirk.Â
Okoye blinked, wondering when she'd left her workbench, how she'd managed to carve Talokanil glyphs onto a set of specialized kimoyo beads, and, more importantly, why.Â
Her little sister, who never missed an opportunity to ramble about her projects, answered before she had the chance to ask.
"Itâs the same hardware as the usual kimoyosâ with a few improvements, of course. The holos are interfaced for underwater visibility, and I added magnetic salinity stabilizers so they can detach individually without drifting off in the current. The gold beads can double as earbuds, and the range is fantastic, too. You could make a call from here to the deepest section of the trench without so much as a glitch," she said, smirk turning smug.Â
Okoye quirked a brow, mind still working through everything Shuri had said. "The trench?"Â
If Shuri heard her question, it went unacknowledged as she continued her spiel. "Thereâs also the added benefit of how gorgeous they are. I mean, I was a little worried about the filigree when we started, but they came out amazing. I wanted to do something flashier, but your little merman insisted that you wouldn't like it."
"My what?"
"Apparently, you don't wear your birthday present enough, so we had to âtone it down.â" Shuri gave Okoye a pouting glare but continued before she could get a word in edgewise. "Pure jade is a bitch to work with, by the way, so thanks for that, and the translation was a pain in the ass! Do you know how detailed Talokanil runes are? Theyâre almost worse than the hieroglyphs in the ancient temples! Luckily for you, though, Iâm something of a genius, and creating a high-pressure water pen was a breeze," she finished with an easy flourish of her hand.
Okoye looked between the kimoyos and Shuri, silently putting the pieces of explanation together from the younger woman's somewhat nonsensical ramble, and realization struck in an instant.Â
"Are theseâ"
"Long range, deep sea custom kimoyo beads made by yours truly? Why, yes. Yes, they are." The princess' smirk widened into a full-blown grin, and her eyes gleamed with pride.Â
"Do you intend to let me finish asking a single question today?" Okoye asked, exasperated and more than ready to box the child's ears.
"You finished that one, didn't you," Shuri retorted, sticking her tongue out.
She settled for flicking her.
"Ow!"
"Hush and explain yourself."
"That's not contradictory at allâ Ow!" Shuri started, then squawked when she earned another flick.Â
The younger woman glared, but Okoye remained undeterred. She wanted an explanation. Her sister sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, muttering out the brief and simpler story of Attuma approaching her for a set of kimoyosâ ones that would work underwater and keep him in contact with someone on the surface.
"He didn't tell me you were the one he wanted to keep in touch with until we were halfway through the design process, you know?" Shuri remarked, eyeing her carefully. "My initial plans were much simpler, but he kept going on and on about how special he wanted them to be. Elegant and expensive, but nothing too extravagant. Pretty but not flashy. Something you could wear out in the field if you wanted to. Took me almost a month to put the pieces together, and he still didn't fess up until it was time to carve the runes."
Okoye let out a soft, amused scoff, but couldn't find the words for much else. Her mind was still spinning, marveling at the lengths Attuma had gone to in order to do this for herâ for them. Her throat tightened as she ran careful fingers over the golden runes.Â
"He carved them himself," Shuri revealed in a quieter voice, nodding as if she was still in disbelief when Okoye's eyes shot up to meet hers. "Said the laser on the engraving machine wasn't doing it right. Or at least, not right enough. Something I doubt, obviously, considering I built it myself, but whatever."
A wet laugh escaped her this time, and Okoye smiled. That sounded like him.Â
Attuma was particular in ways she'd spent almost a year learning. He liked his cocoa hot, but his coffee cold. The teeth on his helm and breastplate were blunted, but the spines on his pauldrons were just as sharp as his spear, and he always carried at least three blades on his person whenever he left his home. He preferred actions over words, goat over chicken, and honey on everything.Â
And she loved him.
Bast help her; she loved him with every ounce of her being.Â
"I suppose that dopey little smile on your face means that you like them, huh?" Shuri's voice cut into her thoughts, and Okoye's eyes cut into a venomous glare. "I'll take that as a yes, then," the princess said, laughing and dancing back to avoid getting her ear flicked again. "You have an awful way of saying 'thank you'; I worked on those for months!"
Her gaze softened as she glanced at the kimoyos again, and she shook her head before smiling softly at the younger woman. "Thank you, Shuri."Â
"You're welcome," Shuri replied, winding her lanky arms around Okoye's midsection and resting her head on her shoulder. They stood in silence for nearly a minute, both staring at the bracelet in Okoyeâs hands as she admired the craftsmanship of the beads before the princess spoke again. "One day, when you're ready, you'll tell me why and how," Shuri murmured, arms tightening around her. Okoye squeezed her sisterâs elbow, making a silent promise. "Preferably before you get married, though. I would hate to have to invent something just to find out you're engaged."
She snorted and flicked her younger sister on the ear for a third time. "Brat."
Shuri opened her mouth to protest the title but stopped short before conceding with a shrug. Okoye huffed and shook her head, patting the younger womanâs arm so she could be let go. The princess released her after another affectionate squeeze, heading back to her workstation to resume her tinkering. Okoye stood still for a moment, tracing her thumb over the runes inscribed on the inside of the bracelet. Sheâd have to ask Attuma what each one meant the next time they saw each other. Which begged the questionâ
"Shuri," she called, turning to look at the younger woman, "is this a prototype?"
"Hm? Yeah," Shuri answered, already fully immersed in her latest project, "well, one of two anyway."
"And the other one?
"Attuma came to get it while you were in Punjab. He's probably expecting you to call at some point."Â
~~~
The temptation to call the moment she reached the flight deck was absurd, and it took every ounce of her self-control to keep the kimoyos tucked away in her holster.Â
Nine months of dating, or courting as Attuma liked to call it, and they'd been the very picture of discretion. To the outside world, they were friends and affable work partners when situations called for it. Theyâd perfected their public faces, sharing secret smiles and carefully timing their exits and entrances from official functions. Things were much different in private. They traded laughs and kisses in the dark corners of sparring arenas and talked for hours using the spare set of kimoyos sheâd slipped him. Private beaches and deserted islands were havens for their passion, and even with all of the sneaking around, Okoye didnât have a single regret.
Their business was just that: theirs.
Shuri's newfound knowledge notwithstanding, Okoye wanted it to remain that way.Â
So, she resigned herself to waitingâbut not for long.
Her original plan had been to debrief Ayo after stopping by the lab, then hop on one of the routine cargo flights from Bashenga to Abasi so she could file her official report before going back to her apartment in Azzaria. Instead, Okoye gave Ayo an abbreviated (and distracted) rundown of the mission, consciously ignoring the suspicion in her sister's eyes and unconsciously thumbing over the hidden beads. She skipped going to Abasi altogether, knowing she'd have to redo the report later if she tried to focus on it now, and boarded a rapid train straight from the Great Mound to Azzaria.Â
The kimoyos burned a hole in her holster the entire time.
She was acutely aware of their presence, and once the train had sped past the bounds of Bashenga, Okoye could no longer resist the desire to touch them again. She was discreet about it, of course, avoiding the watchful eyes of the aunties by folding the jade bracelet into her palm under the guise of loosening the straps of her holster. The towering spires of the city flattened out into grassy plains as the train raced through the Alkama Fields toward the Southern Border. She sat with her hands in her lap, one folded over the other, passing each bead through her fingers. The round beads were smooth, like the pearls he was always gifting her, and she could feel the slight downward angle where the golden inlay of the glyphs began. She longed to study themâ to know what he was telling her beyond the technology. There was a giddy feeling in her chest, a fluttering underneath her heart like she'd swallowed a kaleidoscope of butterflies. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep it from showing on her face and checked her regular kimoyos for the time.Â
Even without stops, the journey from Bashenga to Azzaria was just over an hour.Â
This one felt like ten.Â
When the rounded walls of Azzaria finally came into view, she let out a slow breath and re-tightened the holster around her thigh. Sliding the beads back into their hiding place, she tried not to appear harried as the train glided to a stop at the city center, mentally counting the seconds until she'd be home. The kimoyos vibrated against her thigh as she disembarked, and she lost the battle for control of her face, her lips quirking up into a delighted grin without her permission. She pressed herself through the weekend crowd and exited the station, heading straight for her apartment building.Â
If her walk home was closer to a jog, Okoye hoped no one noticed.Â
~~~
She slipped the bracelet over her wrist the moment she shut her front door and checked the time. It was nearing ten p.m. in Wakanda, which meant it was close to four p.m. in the Eastern Caribbean. They kept time a little differently in Talokan, but Okoye had a rough idea of his schedule. If he didn't have patrol duty, his workday was likely coming to an end. She tapped another bead to check the alert that'd come through at the station.Â
It was a short two-word message from Attuma: Two hours.
Slumping back against the door, she pouted like a love-struck teenager before pulling herself up and acting like the grown woman she was. Resisting the temptation to message him back, Okoye set a timer instead and distracted herself by making dinner.
~~~
Two agonizing hours, a half-eaten dinner, and a steaming hot shower later, it was finally time.Â
She settled on the center of her bed, cross-legged with a bowl of grapes in her lap, and switched off the television before pulling one of the golden beads from the bracelet. The giddy feeling in her stomach returned as she popped it into her ear and pressed down, hearing the soft ping of the AI waiting for a prompt.Â
"Call Attuma," she murmured into the quiet of her bedroom, biting into a grape.
Another ping sounded as it registered her command, and then the AI spoke back, "Calling: Sharkboy."
She let out an indelicate snort, rolling her eyes as the phone began to ring, and laughingly swore to box Shuri's ears for that tomorrow. The phone rang twice before the line connected, and the next thing she heard was Attuma's voice.
"Okoye?"
She smiled wide and bright, even though he couldn't see her. "Attuma."
"Hi."
"Hi."
A beat of silence passed between them, and they both laughed.
"Hello, in Chak 'Ek."
"Hello, sithandwa sam. Been busy?"
"A little," he chuckled, soft and rich. "I take it you like your gift, then?"
"I love it," Okoye said, admiring the jade and gold encircling her wrist again, "How'd you manage to keep it a secret?"Â
"There wasn't much to tell on my part. Your princess did all the hard work with her nanites and computer screens," Attuma replied. "I simply sourced out the materials."
"And carved the runes," she added, popping another grape into her mouth.Â
"And carved the runes," he acknowledged bashfully.
"They're beautiful, masoyina," she said after swallowing. "Thank you."
 "You're welcome, in puksiâikâal. How was your mission?"
"Successful despite certain interruptions," Okoye replied, reclining against her headboard. "I managed to get the stolen tech without causing an international incident, which Ayo will be happy about, and it should be on its way back to New York now, which Captain Wilson will be happy about. All in all, a pretty great day. How was yours?"
"Trying," Attuma said. "I lost a wager with Namora and was forced to lead the new recruits on this month's surface excursion."
She winced in sympathy, biting a grape in half. "I take it it didn't go well?"
"They moved like starfish in the shallows and could barely keep hold of their weapons."
"That bad?"
"Worse. I doubt their ability to guard the reefs from sea slugs, never mind the kingdom," he scoffed. "It was painful to witness."
"Sounds like it," she said, finishing her grape. "But they'll get better with timeâ and more training."
"Are you offering to host a seminar, in puksiâikâal?" he asked.
"Not on your life," Okoye shot back, laughing when he let out an amused groan.Â
"You laugh at my misery while also denying me the pleasure of watching you thoroughly trounce these little xluklu'um [worms] in combat? The gods have made the holder of my heart a cruel woman."
Her stomach did a little somersault as she laughed at him again. "Somehow, I don't think the recruits would benefit from being 'thoroughly trounced'," Okoye said, feeling her cheeks heat at his description of her. "And you're not fooling me, indoda krebe, I know you like hearing me threaten people."
"Maybe so," Attuma admitted, letting out a deep chuckle, "But I don't think I can be blamedâ you're very sexy when you threaten people."
"Is that so?" she hummed, arching a brow and eating another grape. "Was it my threats that drew you in, or do you fall in love with every woman that threatens your life?"
"I can't think of many others who would," he laughed. "But it wouldn't matter if they did. It was your light that drew me in, in Chak Ek'," he said, voice turning serious with his sincerity. "The fierce passion of your heart is like nothing else, and I'd brave any threat for the honor of loving you. There's not another soul on this earth that could possibly draw me away."
Her smile widened until her cheeks hurt from it. Gods above, she loved this man.Â
"Charmer," she murmured, moving her snack bowl and hugging her knees to her chest.
He hummed in agreeance, "One who loves you."
Warmth spread through her like sunshine. "I love you, too, Attuma. More than I think I could ever say."
A comfortable silence settled between them as her declaration hung in the air. He was the more verbose one between them, never afraid to tell her all that she meant to him or reticent with his fervent (and occasionally poetic) declarations of love. Verbal expressions had never been her strong suit, however. Life had taught her that words were wind and love required action. Attuma had taught her the two weren't mutually exclusive.Â
She rested her chin on her knee and held her wrist up, studying the jade beads again.
"What are you doing?" Attuma's question was quiet, and faintly, she could hear the current moving around him.
"Studying my present," Okoye answered, flipping three of the jade beads that rested on the inside of her wrist. These were the only ones with engravings on both sides, and she recognized the rune for 'storm' on one of themâ his family name. "Are you going to tell me what the runes mean?"
"Yes, but not tonight, in puksiâikâal."
"Why not tonight?" she asked with a confused laugh. "Is there something more pressing we should discuss?"
"There is. So pressing that I spent my entire journey home wondering about it."
"Mm, and what's that?"
"What color pajamas do you have on?"
A sharp cackle burst from her before she could stop it, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter.Â
"What?" Attuma asked, trying and failing to convey innocence, and she laughed harder, falling back against her pillows.Â
"You have no shame!" Okoye admonished through her snickers.
"Maybe not," he chuckled, "but the question remains: what color are they?"
Her breath hitched at the gruff tenor his voice dropped into, and she curled her bottom lip in, chewing on it as she contemplated her answer. On its surface, the question was simple, but she knew where this road led. A glance at the clock on her wall told her it was far too late to even think of playing this game with him.Â
It didn't mean she had the slightest intention of stopping.
She answered his question with a lick of her lips. "Red."
"Silk?"
"Yes."
"Are theyâ?"
"The ones I had in Seychelles?" she cut in, remembering the heat and hunger in his eyes the first time he'd seen her in the high-cut shorts and slinky little camisole she currently wore. "Yes."
Attuma hummedâ a low, gravelly sound that bordered on a groan, and heat curled down her spine. It seemed he remembered as well. "And beneath them?"Â
Okoye leaned over and moved her bowl of grapes to her nightstand before she answered. "Nothing."
Even without being able to see his face, she could tell the effect her words had on him. She could hear it.Â
In her mind's eye, Okoye pictured his pupils blown wide, eyes so dark they were nearly black, looking as though he was going to devour her. If she were in front of him, Attuma's fists would clench at his sides as he resisted the urge to drag her closer. He could be handsy when he wanted to beâ when she wanted him to be. Before him, itâd never occurred to her that she might enjoy being manhandled. Shame he was half a world away now.
"I didn't even realize when I put them on. The pajamas that is," Okoye said, her own voice growing huskier, "My mind was a little preoccupied while I was getting dressed."Â
"Too preoccupied for underwear?"
"I think you know by now that I prefer to sleep without them.â
"We don't do much sleeping when we're together, in Chak Ek', and I think you know that I prefer you with nothing on."Â
"It won't do much good for you now, but I can take them off if you'd like," Okoye offered, thumbing the elastic band of the silken shorts.Â
"No, keep them on," Attuma said, "I want to picture you as accurately as I can."
"There is a video function," Okoye reminded him.
"You'd need your hands for that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes."
"Then, no," he said, quiet and decisive like they were drawing up battle plans. "You're going to need both of your hands."
Her laugh was shaky, bordering on breathless. "Both of them? I've managed just fine with one hand before, you know," she teased playfully.
The implication in his words was enough to make her clench her thighs. She squirmed, attempting to stave off her arousal. It was pointless, of course. Attuma's voice alone was enough to get her worked up, never mind all the filthy things he liked to whisper in her ear when they were intimate.Â
"I don't doubt it," Attuma said. "I also know how much you enjoy having your pretty tits sucked when my cock is inside you."Â
Okoye choked, letting out an indiscernible strangled sound, and coughed as she tried to clear her throat. Gods, sheâd never know how this man could go from stunning eloquence to shocking crudity in the blink of an eye. Nor did she understand her body's response to it. The quiet rumbling of Attuma's laugh told her that his words had had their intended effect, and she narrowed her eyes. If he wanted to play dirty, she was more than happy to oblige.Â
She extended her legs and slid down, allowing her knees to fall apart, and slipped her hands beneath the soft silk of her camisole. "I suppose I'll just have to make do in your absence then," she murmured, tracing the raised edges of her isibeko with light fingers. They were sensitive despite their age, and the rough callouses of her fingertips glancing across the dotted scars sent goosebumps racing across her skin. Her voice dipped into a seductive rasp as she asked, "Should I narrate for you, masoyina? Tell you where and how I'm going to touch myself? How I'll be wishing for your hands the entire time?"Â
Attuma groaned in her ear, a low sound positively dripping with lust. It set her blood on fire.
"Was that a yes?" The question came out in a breathless moan as her eyes slipped shut. Her hands drifted in separate directions, the right finding the underside of her breast in short order and cupping the heavy mound. Another quiet moan slipped out as her fingers brushed over the stiff peaks of her nipples. "If it were, I'd start by telling you how hard my nipples are," she sighed softly, running her thumb over one, " They're like diamonds, masoyina," she said, gasping as she pinched and pulled the hardened nub, toying with it as he would, "And so damn sensitive."Â
A strained grunt came from her lover this time, and another spike of lust shot through her as her mind conjured up visions of him unbidden. She whimpered, imagining him in the seclusion of his room, legs splayed wide as he fisted the length of his thick member.
"What else, ch'ujuk ek'?" Attuma's voice cut into her fantasy, demanding her attention in a throaty growl, "What else would you tell me?"
"I... I'd tell you how wet I am," Okoye said, words tumbling out in a rush as her left hand slipped below her shorts and into her dripping folds. "Bast⌠Attuma⌠Iâm soaked." Her fingers slipped over her aching clit in the barest of touches, and she let out a low whine as her hips bucked. "I think I could come right now."
"Not yet," he said, taking control of the game with a soft commandâ a loss that didnât really feel like one, considering the rush of arousal she felt. "Tell me how youâre touching yourself, Okoye. Are you swirling your fingers around that sweet pearl for me?"
"Yes," she answered, drawing the word out in a low hiss as her fingers circled her clit.
âGood,â Attuma praised, âNot too fast now. Youâre imagining my fingers, remember? Itâs me touching you. You know I like to take my time.â
She drew in a ragged breath, stomach quivering as she fought the impulse to speed up. âYouâre a tease,â she accused.
âAnd you love every moment of it, pretty girl,â his answering chuckle was filthy in her ear, âYou canât fool me. Iâve seen how wet you get when I make you work for it. Iâve felt how hard you come around my cock.â His voice grew thicker as he spoke, and every word stoked the flames of her arousal until her blood was alight with lust. âAre you playing with your tits tooâ pinching and pulling on those pretty nipples of yours? Are you imagining my teeth?â
She hissed out another answer, teasing and twisting the stiff peaks in turn while she worked herself higher and higher. From the muted grunts and groans she could hear over the phone, Attuma was right there with her. Okoye let out a hoarse moan at the visual her mind conjured up.Â
âThatâs it. Keep going, koâoj,â he crooned. âTell me how it feels, Okoye.â
The callouses on her slender fingers were a pale imitation compared to the rough pads of Attumaâs, but she did as she was bid, hips undulating against her hand. âIt feels⌠fuck, Attuma⌠everything feels so slick⌠and swollen⌠my fingers keep slipping, sithandwa.âOkoye cursed, palming her breast and trying to gain more sensation. âAttuma, I⌠oh⌠I needâŚâ her words trailed off into an insistent moan as she tweaked her nipple, sending a ripple of pain-laced pleasure through her body.Â
âWhat do you need?â Attuma asked, urgency burning in his tone. The question morphed into a demand. âTell me. Tell me what you need.âÂ
âMoreâŚâ She wasnât above begging. âPlease, sithandwa⌠I need⌠need more. Iâ I want you inside.â
âOf course you do. Youâre always so eager for me,â he husked. âTell me, koâoj, is your sweet cunt empty? Is it aching for me?â Okoye keenedâ a low, needy sound that was somehow still embarrassingly loud in the quiet of her bedroom. Attuma took it as an answer, giving her leave to fuck herself in a rough growl. âGo ahead, then, greedy girlâ two fingers. Fuck that pretty pussy for me.â
Okoye didnât hesitate, sinking two fingers into herself with abandon and moaning loud and long at the sensation of finally being filled. Her fingers glided in with ease, sliding through her folds smoother than the silk on her skin for the arousal dripping from her center. A fleeting thought of how her shorts would be ruined once the night was over crossed her mind, but Attumaâs voice overrode everything else.
âOh, you are wet, châujuk ekââ I can hear you. Gods above, you must be drenched,â he groaned, cursing in Talokanil, then began rambling, âWish I could see you⌠feel you⌠taste you. You always taste so fucking sweet, koâoj⌠sweeter than honey⌠fuck! I canât wait to have you in front of me again, Okoye⌠Iâm going to spread you open and feast on you until you scream.â
Her fingers worked faster and faster as he rambled on, and she moaned again when he commanded her to add a third finger to the mix. The stretch of it forced a strangled keen from her throat. She fucked herself harder and harder, hips canting as she gasped his name between curses and pleas all the while.Â
âAre you close, koâoj? You sound close⌠you sound like youâre gonna come all over those pretty fingers for me, in châujuk ekâ.â Attumaâs breaths grew heavier in her ear, turning into short pants, then grunts as he worked himself closer and closer to completion alongside her. âIâm gonna come too, koâoj... Been here, listening to all the pretty sounds youâre making for me⌠youâre always making the prettiest sounds⌠Iâve been fucking my fist, imagining your sweet cunt clenching around my cock. Youâre always so tight around me⌠so wet and hotâŚâ he trailed off in a jumble of rapid Talokanil that she couldnât understand.
It didnât matter. The delicious coil of heat thatâd been building in her veins was prime to snap, spurred on by the sounds of her own arousal and the broken rasp of his debauched litany.Â
âAttuma⌠fuck, Iâm gonna⌠Attuma, fuck!â Her voice was desperate, and her fingers were flying. ââTuma, Iâm gonna come!â
âIn wojel, koâoj... I know⌠I want you toâŚâ he groaned abruptly, guttural and deep, before continuing rough and ragged, âCome on, pretty girl⌠come for me⌠come with me.â
Her hand darted from her breast to her clit, rubbing swift, tight circles around her aching bundles of nerves, driven by the sheer need in his voice. Pleasure burned bright and hot through her entire body as she fucked herself hard and fast, ecstasy drawing closer and closer with every movement until she toppled over the edge.
Her back bowed, her hips jerked, and Okoye shrieked.Â
Turning her head, she buried her face in the pillows, trying in vain to muffle the sound. Paltry as her efforts mightâve been, she couldnât truly bring herself to care. Her entire being was consumed with blinding pleasure as she rode the high of her climax, and Attumaâs continual talking prolonged it. His words were an endless stream of vulgar praise and carnal encouragement, stopping only when the bliss of his own release overwhelmed him, and it all coalesced into a heady, unrestrained groan in her ear.Â
Her body went slackâ lazy and languid as the aftershocks rippled through her. Several long beats of silence passed, filled only with their heavy breathing. A small, satiated smile graced her face as she listened to Attuma catch his breath. Pulling both hands from her shorts, she grimaced slightly at the wetness staining her fingers, and the sticky trail of arousal left between her legs. Her shorts were definitely ruined. She shook her head, chuckling despite herself.
âWhatâs so funny, in puksiâikâal?â
âI donât think my shorts are quite fit for sleeping in anymore,â she said, shifting her hips and wiggling out of them, âI doubt theyâre fit for anything other than the trash now.â
âAn unfortunate casualty of an otherwise perfect evening,â Attuma said, sounding genuinely somber at the prospect of never seeing them again.
She snorted and rolled her eyes. âFortunately for you, I happen to have another set. In a different color, of course.â
âOh? Care to share?â
 âKai marar kunya!â she exclaimed, laughing this time at his shamelessness. âBut since you must knowâ theyâre blue.â
Attuma let out a pleased hum, and all she could see was his dimpled smile. âWell, youâll have to bring those with you to Nightingale then, wonât you?â
âIf you insist, sithandwa sam.â
âIn fact, I do, in Chak Ekâ,â he said, laughter rumbling over the line. âSee you in two weeks?â
âTwo weeks,â she confirmed with a bright smile. âCall me tomorrow?â
âTomorrow,â he repeated. âIn puksi'ik'al tĂĄan wĂŠetel mantats' [You have my heart], Okoye.â
His words were sunlight, warming her down to her toes.
âI love you, too, Attuma. Ngonaphakade nangomso kwakhona [Forever, and tomorrow too].â
~Finis~
A/N: I didn't tag anyone in this because I figure most peeps have already read this one đ¤ˇđžââď¸
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@meinenaffenhosen kindly tagged me in a picrew thing and i haven't done one of those in ages sooo
maker is here
i just made my own post because the other was getting a little long and i'm annoying. tagging: @gaal-dornick @nevermindirah @sadbitchapologist @xenokattz @mongoose-bite
@bossymarmalade @rob-anybody @what-alchemy @scimitar-and-longsword @malaiikka aaand anyone else who wants to i hate tagging(tm)
explore the self through cartoon imagery why don't you
Hermione's family tree as shown in her inheritance test in Ch. 8 & 9 of my fic Blood Never Lies (minus the connection to Ravenclaw đ). I'm still working on the Black Family Tree.
âAnd here I was, thinking youâd forgotten me.â
Okoye acknowledged his presence without ever looking up from the papers strewn across her desk, right where Shuri had said sheâd be.
Attuma smiled at her from the post heâd taken up against her office doorframe.
âDarling, I think I could take a hoof to the head and still remember every damn detail about you,â he replied with a soft laugh.
Her writing paused, and she spared him the briefest glance before returning to her work, amusement dancing on her lips. âFlatterer.â
âMaybe so,â Attuma conceded, standing to his full height and flashing her a charming smirk. He strode over to the large oak desk and leaned close enough to smell the lingering scent of orchids and amber on her skin and see the bright glint in her dark eyes, âbut never a liar.â
She hummed in response, lips quirking up, and continued her writing. âStaying long?â
The question was a familiar one, and he thought he heard something like hope in her tone. But he ignored it just the same as the pang of disappointment that flashed through him, knowing the answer.
âJust until morning. We leave at first light,â he said quietly, rounding the desk and leaning against it as he admired her. Even after almost a year of thisâ whatever this was âhe still found himself awestruck by her. From the sharp arch of her brow to the wide set of her nose, the deep bow of her full lips and elegant column of her neck, the sleek lines of her collar bones and supple curves of her breasts and hips, Attuma could spend hours cataloging her beauty.
He had.
âTell me something,â Okoye started as she finished scrawling a few numbers in a ledger and interrupted his musing. âWhat does it say that your dog found her way here before you did?â
She chuckled at his questioning hum and closed her ledger, storing her pen. Then, she pushed her chair back, nodding to the black-and-white animal napping under her desk.
Attuma glanced down and snorted as Yawri sleepily blinked one eye open. âComfortable down there?â
She sniffed at him, then crawled from under the desk, yawning and stretching as she went and placed her head in Okoyeâs lap, preening as the woman began to scratch her behind the ears.
âYouâre an awfully spoiled thing, arenât you?â Attuma admonished playfully, shaking his head as her tail began wagging from Okoyeâs continued attentions. He was suffering from a unique sort of madness where he found himself jealous of his own dog. âbut I suppose youâve got your priorities in order.â
Okoye shot him a dazzling smile lined with mischief. âWhy Mr. Almehen, are you implying Iâm a priority to you?â
Attuma froze for a moment, biting his tongue to stop the answer from spilling out. She always left him floundering, on the edge of laying out every secret his soul held. Gunfights held less danger, and yetâ
His mouth curled into a dimpled grin as he replied, âNo need for implication, Ms. Khubana. You occupy every spare thought I have.â
The admission earned him a playful arch of her brow, and she stood after stroking her hand through Yawriâs fur once more. Her eyes remained locked on him, and her skirts swished softly as she danced around the dog to close the short distance between them. His hands moved of their own accord, winding around her waist the moment she was within armâs reach and pulling her into his chest. Okoye didnât object; she simply traced her hands up his arms and settled them on his shoulders.
âEvery spare thought?â
Her eyes studied him carefully, compelling the answer before there was thought to refuse.
âMm-hmm.â
She pushed up on her toes, nudging his nose with her own, and something sweet on her breath danced across his lips.
âWhat about the occupied ones?â
Nimble fingers mapped the veins of his neck before burying themselves in his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut as she began massaging the base of his skull.
âHm?â
His errant hands tightened around her waist and drifted down to the warm skin of her exposed back.
âDo I occupy your other thoughts? Even the busy ones?â
His eyes shot open, finding hers immediately. Dark eyes entranced and entrapped him, and Attuma drowned in twin pools of brown richer than the ripest cacao.
âYes.â
His confession was rewarded with a kiss this time, and Attuma found himself uncaring for self-preservation.
Slow and searing, Okoye kissed him until he was drunk with desire and the whiskey that lingered on her lips. He kissed her back fervently, moving his mouth over hers until his mind spun from the lack of oxygen. The hand in his hair tightened as he pulled back, and he cupped her cheek with one hand, resting his forehead on hers as they breathed in tandem.
Orchids. Amber. Whiskey.
Okoye.
He never wanted to leave.
~plus venire~
A/N: I got bored and drunk and Iâve been watching a lot of Yellowstone and this has been in my drafts for⌠a while. Just a lil bit though I might circle back later... excuse my rambling in the tags
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Okoye smothered a laugh with her hand, studiously avoiding Nakiaâs eyes as they watched Toussaint peer cautiously over the oversized crib the triplets slept in. TâChallaâs son stood on his toes, glancing back and forth between Okoye and her children skeptically. His face was twisted into the most adorable of frowns, and she nearly lost the fight to keep her composure when the boy turned to them with an aggrieved sigh.
âTheyâre very small, umakazi. And theyâre sleeping again,â TâChalla whisperedâ or at least, attempted to as he stepped into the space between her legs.Â
Okoye hugged her precious nephew, trying to quell the laughter bubbling in her chest at his decidedly underwhelmed expression. Junior had waited an eternity (nearly three weeks) to meet the triplets, and Okoye feared the three small infants (who did very little but sleep and eat) hadnât quite lived up to his expectations.Â
âI know they are, sweet boy. But they will grow; you have to give them time,â she consoled with a chuckle. âTheyâve only just arrived, you know.â
He returned her embrace, sinking into her arms and sighing again. âCan I still teach them Go Fish?â
âProbably not anytime soon, ingwe enci. But when they are old enough, Iâm sure they would love to learn.â Okoye lifted TâChalla into her lap, relishing the ability to hold him close without the barrier of her belly. âYou will be the first cousin they know, the one they love the most. Youâll be their best friend and greatest protector, and when the time comes, Iâm sure you will be the best Go Fish teacher in all of Wakanda.â
Her nephew grinned at that, chest puffing out proudly. âI will teach them Go Fish when I amâ,â he paused, counting quietly to himself, âten!â he announced, holding out both hands, fingers splayed. âIâll know other stuff then, too, so I can teach them lots.â
âIndeed you will, chan balĂĄam.â Attumaâs voice sounded from the doorway of the nursery, drawing both of their attention. He and Namora stepped into the large room, both still damp from escorting Ixtli and the Talokanil nursing team to the eastern side of the Continent for the journey home.Â
Toussaint wriggled from Okoyeâs lap and greeted them with exclamations of joy, only looking a little abashed when Nakia reminded him to keep his voice down. Nonetheless, he took a running leap toward Attuma and giggled when he was caught and hoisted onto her belovedâs waist. Attuma received an affectionate forehead press and Namora, a series of salutes followed by an enthusiastic high-five.Â
Her nephew touched Attumaâs hair, taking in his and Namoraâs damp appearance, and scolded them in a loud whisper. âYouâre still wet, Uncle Tuna! You and Nacomora need to use the dryer better.â
His face and countenance were so serious that Okoye lost the battle with her laughter at Nakiaâs unrestrained snort, the mangled combination of Namoraâs title and name sending them into a fit of hushed giggles. It didnât help that Namora refused to correct him. She claimed it was a blessing from her chan aj balĂĄam and even prohibited them from correcting him.Â
Indulging TâChalla was a crime they were all guilty of, and Okoye could already tell it would be the same, if not worse, with her children.Â
Her giggles tapered off, and she shook her head at her sister as Attuma set Toussaint down, crouching before the boy and solemnly promising to use the dryers better next time. Her nephew beamed at him, offering his littlest finger and extracting a pinky promise from his uncle before darting across the room to his mother, pestering her for the cashews she was snacking on.Â
Attuma rose with a quiet chuckle and crossed the room, stopping at her side and dropping a kiss on her head. Reaching up, Okoye pushed his hair out of his face and pressed their foreheads together. Heâd been gone for less than an hour, but sheâd missed him like itâd been days. They hadnât been apart since the triplets were born, and if this was how she felt now, Okoye dreaded to think of what she would feel when he went back to work.Â
That wouldnât be anytime soon, of course, so she put the thought out of her mind and tilted her chin up, kissing the corner of his mouth. Attuma turned his head and caught her lips in a brief kiss, and she gave a quiet hum.
âTs'o'ok u taktal in wilech xan, in yakunaj [I missed you too, my love],â he whispered against her lips, kissing her quickly again.Â
Okoye offered him a soft smile as he drew back and settled into the reclining rocking chair beside her, then turned to Namora. âDid Ixtli and the team get out okay?âÂ
âChaac has blessed the winds and the waters are calm; their journey home should be swift,â The Talokanil general replied, softening her voice as she neared the crib. She reached a careful hand in and traced the pattern on the edge of Bâatzâs blanket, smiling down at her godson.Â
âGood, Iâm glad to hear it.â Okoye said sincerely. âWeâll miss themâ Ixtli especially. Please thank her again for me, for us.â She would always be grateful to the iyom kâexelom for helping her bring three children safely into the world. She and the Talokanil nurses had made a world of difference in the delivery room and helped immensely in the week of bed rest sheâd been mandated to afterward.Â
Namora gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment, eyes fixed on Bâatz, gazing down at the sleeping infant with pure adoration. The Talokanil general loved all the triplets, but Okoye knew her secondborn already held a special place in her heart. Shuri and Ayo were the same with TâKhwezi and Ixazaluoh, and between their grandparents and godparents, Okoye could proudly say her children were well loved.Â
âI donât think she heard you, diosa. Her ears have gone, along with her head,â Attuma quietly teased his fellow general. He leaned close with a smirk and interwove their fingers. âYou could not have known, of course, but babies are one of Namoraâs greatest weaknesses.â Okoye snickered at his antics as her beloved gave a heavy sigh and a solemn shake of his head. âI fear our formidable Yeh Kaayeâ Nacom has gone kâiinich [sun-eyed].âÂ
The Lionfish turned to Attuma with a glare as venomous as her way and arched a sharp brow at him. âYou have little depth to tread, Uncle Tuna,â Namora spat back playfully. She leaned back on the railing of the crib and crossed her arms.âYouâve been kâiinich since a Kâiino [your Sun] buried her foot in your chest.âÂ
Attuma let out a garbled sound of protest, trying to deny it, but Namora pressed on, shooting Okoye a conspiratorial glance. âHis head has been full of ja'pĂĄak'alo' [seaweed] since he hit the water. I fear our mighty Xook Nacom hasnât been the same since,â she finished, flashing her beloved a triumphant smile.Â
The petulant look Attuma sent in Namoraâs direction caused Okoye to snort gracelessly, drawing chuckles from Nakia and Namora. Their amusement was only intensified by her mother entering the nursery with a bewildered reprimand clear on her face for their somewhat raucous behavior. Her stern expression nearly caused Nakia to choke on the cashews sheâd been snacking on, and Okoyeâs attempts to explain sent them back into fits of uncontrollable laughter, their mouths covered in failing attempts to keep quiet.Â
Okoye blew out a shaky breath as their laughs faded, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. Bast as her witness, she couldnât remember if sheâd ever been this happy. Here, in this blissful bubble where smiles didnât cease and laughter came easier than breathing, there was only joy. She was surrounded by more love now than sheâd ever known, and her heart sang. Â
âI leave for 10 minutes and come back to a pack of cackling hyenas,â her mother scolded, hands on her hips.
Okoye smiled at the newly minted grandmotherâs unimpressed glare. âJokes are meant to be laughed at, mama,â she replied.
âKeep it up, and youâll have more than just me to contend with,â the matriarch said, shaking her head, but the mirth in her eyes gave her away.
Okoye pressed her lips together to smother the last bout of giggles that threatened to escape, and she looked over to the crib where her babies slept, blissfully unaware of the lively chaos surrounding them. Namoraâs attention had returned to the trio as well, and she reached her hand in again, thumbing the edge of Ixazaluohâs blanket this time as Okoyeâs youngest grizzled in her sleep.Â
The Lionfish hummed, smile dimming slightly, and she cleared her throat, glancing back at Okoye. âKâukâulkan has also sent wordâ he plans to be here by the afternoon.â
Okoye couldnât hide her wince at the words, feeling the giddy atmosphere dissipate abruptly at the mention of the Talokanil king. She cast a fretful glance toward her mother, and the matriarch scoffed as if on cue.
âHe plans?â came the scathing question, her voice pitching along with her brow. âDid he ask?âÂ
âMama, nceda,â she pled, seeing Namora stiffen and hearing Nakia sigh. âNdiqinisekile ukuba unqwenela ukudibana nabantwana. [Iâm sure he just wishes to meet the children.]âÂ
âIminqweno yakhe ichitha iimbeko ezilula ngoku, hm? [His wishes overrule simple courtesies now, hm?]â Her mother retorted with a disbelieving huff, drawing a pointed hum from Nakia.
Okoye shot her sister a chiding look, and the woman shrugged, popping another cashew into her mouth. Nakia wasnât an avid fan of Kâukâulkan either, but they both knew her mother needed no aid in expressing her discontent. She turned to her mother, silently imploring her to choose peace. The woman kissed her teeth in response and gave a dismissive wave of her hand, agreeing to be civil for the time being. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she shook her head and muttered a quick prayer, asking Bast for patience.
âDid he send word on how long he plans to stay?â she asked, turning back to Namora, whoâd tuned them out, murmuring quiet words over the triplets instead. A dazed, questioning hum came in response, and Okoye elaborated. âI know MâBaku wonât mind, but Ayo certainly will.âÂ
The Talokanil woman blinked as she considered the question, and then her eyes widened almost comically.Â
Okoye bit back a snort at her friendâs distressed expression. âIâm sure itâs fine. The guest chambers likely wonât need much preparation, and Nakia can go with you so she can assist the General with security protocols.â Her sister stopped mid-cashew, gaze narrowing at her, and Okoye smiled blithely.
âWell, I suppose Iâve been given my marching orders,â Nakia huffed with a roll of her eyes. She unfolded her legs and stood, passing the rest of her snack to Toussaint. âCome, Nacom. Letâs pray to Bast and Chaac that the General is in a gracious mood this morning.â
Okoye chuckled at the pained expression that crossed Namoraâs face as they left the room. âYou can always bribe her with baby cuddles,â she called after them, snickering when Nakia kissed her teeth in response.Â
Hearing Ixazaluoh grunt softly, she glanced at the clock. If the pattern established in these first two weeks held true, they would all wake soon, and her youngest would wake firstâ loudly. She turned her head and found Attuma already standing and smiled as he leaned close, bracing his hands on the armrests of her chair.
âAny requests for your midday snack, na' in paalal? Fruit? Yogurt? One of your snack bowls, perhaps?â
âCan you check and see if we have more of those protein balls your mother made?â She cupped his cheeks and made her requests known through a series of chaste kisses against his lips. âThe peanut butter and date ones?â A few more kisses because she couldnât resist the smile in his eyes. âMaybe a cup of yogurt, too?â
âBix in yaakunaj ku k'ĂĄatik,â he whispered in reply, kissing her soundly before beckoning Junior to come with him as they went to raid the kitchen for more snacks.Â
Okoye rose from her seat, briefly meeting her motherâs knowing stare before rolling her eyes. âDonât startâŚâ
âEh? Start what, intomba?âÂ
Her motherâs attempt at innocence was laughable, and Okoye snickered accordingly as she crossed behind the elder woman.Â
âHeâs a good man, Okoye,â she said, putting her hands on her hips and fixing her mother with the same earnest expression sheâd been hit with far too often in the past few months, âHeâs already an excellent father. Why not make him your husband?âÂ
Her mother harrumphed at the imitation and mirrored Okoyeâs stance. âAnd why should you not?â she whispered exasperatedly. âAside from the fact youâre both singularly devoted to one another and have three reasons to remain so, that man worships the very ground you walk on. Every day I become more convinced he believes the Sun rises and sets at your behest. And no matter what you are determined to call it, the two of you are certainly not âco-parentingâ.â
She spat the word with such derision that Okoye couldnât help but shake her head. Sighing, she scooped her own daughter from between her brothers, hushing her gently with sweet kisses to round cheeks. Theyâd had this conversation no less than ten times and would likely have it ten more until Okoye acquiescedâ out loud.Â
She already knew she was going to marry Attuma. Sheâd known even while she was pregnant. Thereâd been no moment of grand revelation or wonder, just a deep easeâ something quiet and sure that settled over her while sheâd lain in the cradle of his arms after one of their countless hammock naps. There, in the afternoon sun, the pieces of it, of them, fell together seamlessly.Â
Theyâd be married next spring, just after the childrenâs first birthday. Sheâd wear blue, but not the blue of the Border. His blue. Attuma would wear white, as was Talokanil custom, and the children would wear a mix of both. Tradition also required they wed where land and sea met, and for that, Okoye could see no better place than Warrior Falls. It was fitting, and in some roundabout way, it would heal something in her she hadnât quite found solace for yet. Theyâd create a new memory there, a better one. Yoltzin and her mother would watch the triplets, Nakia and Ayo would be her matrons of honor, and the Muscle Brain would escort her bridal procession. And sheâd have henna this time. Maybe Mayan glyphs instead of the traditional patterns.
But the details werenât so important as the man, and the man was perfect.Â
Her motherâs insistent murmurings broke her from her idyllic reverie as she bustled around the room, grabbing Okoyeâs support pillow and a few burping cloths while she pressed forward on her mission to secure herself a son-in-law. âIâm simply sayingââ
ââas youâve been sayingââ Okoye mused, settling back into the rocking recliner and unfastening Ixazaluohâs swaddling blanket with deft fingers.Â
ââas Iâve been sayingâŚâ the matriarch looked ready to swat her with one of the burping cloths. âHe would be an excellent husband. He will be an excellent husband. And you wouldnât even be doing it just for you! Wouldnât you like to give your mother a son-in-law? A good son-in-law?â
âHave I not just given you grandchildren?â Okoye asked in false exasperation. âThree grandchildren?â she added before her mother could protest. âLetâs adjust to them first, eh? Then, we can talk son-in-laws.â
Her mother huffed in acceptance as she stepped closer and helped Okoye arrange the baby and the support pillow for both their comfort. Ixazaluohâs eyes blinked open slowly as she settled into Okoyeâs arms. The depth of their color hadnât fully settled yet, but they were dark and hooded, just like her brothersâ just like Attumaâs. Her daughter huffed, face almost immediately scrunching into a frown, and her mother chuckled above them.Â
She lifted her youngest from her swaddle and kissed her a few more times. âGood afternoon, intombi yam,â she whispered soft words against soft skin, âYour brothers are sleeping. Letâs not wake them just yet, hm?â
Ixazaluoh paid her no mind, nuzzling into Okoyeâs shoulder with soft grunts. Patient was not an apt descriptor for their youngest; cuddles would come after food.Â
Okoye balanced her daughter in one arm while undoing her dress with the other. Her mother kissed the side of her head, then Ixazaluohâs, before excusing herself to go find Attuma and Toussaint. She nodded absently, repositioning Ixazaluoh, cradling her against her left breast and helping her latch before her sweet girl kicked up too much of a fuss. Okoye traced the ridge of her brow, lowly humming that same lullaby from her pregnancy. The soft woosh of the door sliding open alerted her to Attumaâs return, and she glanced up, smiling at the overflowing tray of snacks he carried.Â
âI see she wasted no time,â her beloved said with a chuckle, setting down the tray on the small table between their chairs.Â
âDoes she ever?â Okoye replied, echoing his amusement.Â
Attuma retook his seat and held out the cup of the peanut butter and date balls sheâd asked for. She popped one into her mouth and smiled, humming in pure contentment. The man she loved smiled back, wide and warm, and Okoye never wanted to be anywhere else but here.Â
With him and their children.Â
In this space.Â
In this time.
She couldnât have prayed for anything better. Â
~plus venire~
A/N: There's a long ass author's note on Ao3 if anyone cares to read that. It details my upcoming writing plans in a little more depth. I won't bore you with the specifics here đ Instead, I'll say thank you forever and always to the Attoye Fandom for their continual love and support. Sharing my writing has been a privilege, and I hope to continue as the years go on. Thank you to every reader and for every reblog, reply, comment, and kudos. You all make my heart ridiculously happy đ
I suppose I'll thank @xenokattz for distracting me... apparently I was at risk of perishing should I choose not to do this game...
RULES: post the first lines of your last 10 fics/chapters posted on AO3 (if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics) and try to draw some conclusions.
THE LINES
There is a battle raging in the shallows near his home. ~ your seas sing of halcyon [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye]
Attuma had never met anyone who slept as deeply as his wife. ~ Snooze [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye]
If she had to guess, Okoye would say it started with their trip to Haiti. ~ Peaches & Cream [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye]
"Look at you, all worked up and nothing to show for it yet, huh?"
~ Eyes Wide Open [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye]
Attuma had always been big. ~ What An Experience [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye]
The dress was white. ~ Like Real People Do [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye]
Attuma stood at the edge of NâTandoâs property, taking in the sprawling expanse of Okoyeâs family land. ~ First Comes Marriage? [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye]
Okoye stared at MâBaku in bewildered shock, trying to process what he was saying. ~ An Angel, Drowned. [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye/Namor]
Soft and plump, Okoyeâs lips were the sweetest of fruit.
~ Sunbound [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye]
Okoye shifted against Attuma, trying to gain a bit more comfort in the hammock strung across their patio. ~ Stars Aglow [Black Panther MCU; Attuma/Okoye]
THE ANALYSIS
So... I write a lot of smut... but on the upside, we got to leave out the most profane bits, so I can still keep my sweetheart facade. Typically, I try to keep the opening lines very short. Simple hook to draw people in, then I get on with the story. For one-shots, I try to establish the story's direction/background/theme all in the first paragraphâ at least with the more plot focused ones anyway đ â which is where you'll find many longer sentences.
My personal favorite is LRPD. It's a very simple statement on the surface, but in context, it provides such a strong framework for the story and the characterization.
THE TAGS:
I don't even have anyone to tag, so go ahead and try this if ya feel like it đđđ