#RE UPLOAD

[springbon-t-art]

(i can finally post these again 😭)

Them. Just them.

I love this game so much

Please do not repost

#<3<3<3 #tsp #re upload #tspud #my artwork #the stanley parable #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #AAAAAA #tsp narrator #tsp stanley #gay gay homosexual gay #narrator is just trying to be cool help him stanley 😭

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter one : honeymoon (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 6.7k

summary : you've been married off to a far away prince, turns out, he isn't your prince charming. however he did gift you a bodyguard as a wedding present.

warnings, etc. : arranged marriage, language

Absurd.

That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” That’s what they had told you when they adorned you with the gaudy sapphire jewelry. “He’s going to love this.” That’s what they had told you as they pinned your hair into uncomfortable curls, braiding in unfamiliar flowers. They were horrendous, far too large and the smell of them nauseated you, or maybe that was just the nerves, who knows. If you were fortunate enough maybe you would discover a surprise allergy to the flowers and your throat would close and your face would turn blue. You wondered if the prince would like that.

Blue had once been a comforting color but not this blue. This blue was intense, harsh, hard to stare at for too long. Nothing like the blue that made you think of home. On the rare days where the snow stopped falling briefly and the sky was clear, Hoth was beautiful. The blue back home was quiet. The color of the sky seemed to swallow the snow and everything became one soft mix of periwinkle. This is not that. This is loud and garish.  

  The two girls who had been dressing you took a step back and smiled at you waiting for approval as you took in the sight of yourself in the floor length mirror. The dress itself was beautiful, if accompanied by tasteful accessories you might have actually found yourself almost nice to look at. A simple off the shoulder satin gown. On anyone else you were sure it would be absolutely stunning but it was so hot here, nobody had told you it would be this hot. The dress felt as though it was sticking to your skin, you hated the way it made you feel like you were trapped in some sort of fabric prison. But even with the thin sheen of sweat covering every inch of you it was the rest of the ensemble that made you look like you were supposed to be attending some sort of costume party, and not your own wedding. To say that the amount of accessories was excessive would be an understatement. Bracelets, bangles, arm bands, several tacky necklaces, even an anklet you couldn’t even see under the gown. All of the sapphires were so bright they seemed to glow, if you swayed your arms fast enough it almost mimicked the sight of hyperspace. The two ladies-in-waiting who had been assigned to you started to give each other nervous looks as you purse your lips silently taking in the ridiculous blue eyeshadow that adorned your otherwise unmade up face. The young Togruta girl speaks up first.

“Is everything to your liking ma’am?” 

No. You look like you should be working in a pleasure house, not marrying a prince.

But the anxiety in her voice is enough to soften your gaze as you speak what might be the first words to leave your mouth since you landed on Naboo. It seemed like everyone was comfortable speaking for you and you knew none of them cared what you had to say so why bother.

“You two have done a wonderful job… thank you.” You turned around to face them, giving them the warmest smile you could muster considering the circumstances. The relief on their faces as you spoke gave you more comfort than you’d had in days. “I am truly grateful to have such wonderful staff, thank you for making me feel so at home. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your names earlier?” 

“I am Elaine and this is Lysa.” The Togruta girl is the one who speaks up again, pointing to herself and then to the human girl. They both smiled as they turned you back towards the mirror and began to do last minute touch ups. You all stood in silence once more until Lysa spoke.

“You look so lovely, he is going to adore you.” She spoke softly, almost as if it was meant more for her own comfort than it was for yours as she straightened a flower in your hair.

He. That was how they referred to him. Nobody spoke of him other than to tell you how lucky you were, and how grateful you should be for this opportunity. No one described him to you in the slightest. No one even said his name, you were pretty sure it started with a “K.” Your betrothed was nothing more than a stranger. And as you stared at yourself in the mirror once more that was what you saw. A stranger. You didn’t recognize the woman in your reflection. She was not the young princess from Hoth, she was simply an item to entertain this “he.” Dolled up to be more appealing for a man she had never even met, adorned in his favorite color to make her more attractive to a man she had already decided she did not care for. 

“What is he like?” You cocked your head slightly as you deliberately observed the girls facial expressions for a reaction, you immediately regretted that decision because of the glance they gave each other. It was enough to make you not want to know the answer so you quickly stammer out another question. “What does he look like?” The Togruta girl clears her throat, you make a mental note that out of the two girls she seems to be the voice. 

“He is very handsome, my lady.” She straightens out your dress one last time and they both take a step back and observe you. “He dresses very well. Just like most of the royal family he has very defined features, striking blue eyes.”

“Oh yes my lady, he is very well known for his beautiful blue eyes.” The human girl smiles at you as she speaks nervously standing behind her partner now. A small part of you started to pray that his favorite color was not blue simply because that was the color of his eyes. They both seem to be struggling to come up with any other defining features of your intended which doesn’t exactly put you at ease. 

“He is also blonde.” Elaine chimes in with a reassuring smile as you watch your reflection frown.

You had always had a preference for brunettes. 

✩

He could be worse. 

That was what you had to keep reminding yourself as you sat now in the large dining hall, it seemed like everyone was laughing and chatting it up except for you. The seat to your left reserved for your husband was empty, you could see him in the crowd toasting with a group of men you assumed were cousins or brothers purely based on the physical similarities. Honestly you wouldn’t be able to tell your husband apart from the rest of them if he wasn’t wearing that horrendous electric blue suit. Your table at the back of the room, facing the rest of the hall, was empty. Save for you and Leodall. 

After your husband had so graciously run off after the ceremony to chat it up with his friends or whatever it was that was apparently much more important than you, you were walked to the reception by an orange Twi’lek who introduced himself as your personal servant, Leodall, Leo for short. No one seemed to even glance at you as they began to take to the dance floor. Of course your loving husband didn’t ask you to dance, why would he when he seemed to be taking the hand of a rather pretty red headed girl and wrapping his arms around her waist, laughing as they began to sway to the music. Prince Kodo Harand. That was his name, at least that is what the priest had said during the ceremony. He had given you a rather cocky “hello” once you had walked down the aisle, and he had kissed you with far more tongue than you would have liked, and now you sat alone. Princess Harand. Lucky you. And of course your family wasn’t here to keep you company, you don’t even think they were invited, why would they be? This wedding had nothing to do with you, it had everything to do with finding someone of royal descent to marry the prince of Naboo in exchange for trade deals. You wondered if there had ever been someone who felt as lonely as you did right now, at their own wedding. 

“Leo?” You turned to where he was standing directly behind you. He was also staring at the prince with a rather annoyed look on his face.

“Yes my lady?” He turned his gaze to you. He was far too serious for someone who only seemed to be a few years older than you were.

“I am getting rather tired, I should like to retire to my chambers.” 

You also should like to not watch my husband dance with some of the most gorgeous girls you’ve ever seen. Seems like he has found a rather attractive brunette now to keep him company on the dance floor. Leo looks to the prince and then back to you.

“It is rather early my lady… perhaps you could stay just a bit longer? It is after all your wedding.”

“Is it?” You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows at him, gesturing to the empty chairs surrounding you. Before he could object you stood and began marching towards the exit. 

“My lady! Perhaps you might enjoy some refreshments! And perhaps you might reconsider your early departure!” Even in the gown you were more agile than him as you weaved through the crowds, waving off muttered “congratulations.” Once through the large doors of the great hall you felt as though you could finally breathe. The halls out here were dark, a few guards seemed to be passing around a flask but they immediately straightened up as they saw you, you pretended not to see them, hoping they might resume they’re drinking. After all, someone should have fun at your wedding. You lifted your skirt slightly and tried to remember where your room was as Leo finally caught up to you.

“Was it right or left…?” You stare down the nearly identical hallways as you hear two sets of footsteps approaching you.

“Wife! Where are you off to? I have a wedding present for you!” How fortunate that you married someone with such a distinct, nasally voice so you can plaster on a faux smile before you face him. You turned to see a disgruntled Leo following behind Kodo. Great. Your clearly drunk husband has a present for you on your wedding night. You have to physically resist rolling your eyes as he takes your hand and begins dragging you towards your chambers, Leo stumbling to keep up with you.

“Are you sure this cannot wait until tomorrow dear husband?” It’s unlikely he’ll want to put this off but there’s no shame in trying. 

“No no no… trust me you are going to love this…” 

Well he certainly is confident in his abilities.

He stumbles through the many confusing halls of the castle until arriving at your door, stopping just outside. He opens the door just a crack and peers inside before shutting it again, putting his hands on your shoulders, a big dopey grin on his face as he drunkenly slurs. 

“I must be getting back to the party my dear wife but your present is inside, I left you a little note on your vanity.” He leans forward and gives you a sloppy kiss, you do your best not to recoil.

“I’m sorry? I don’t quite understand?” You managed to pull him off you long enough to speak. But he’s already walking away.

“Do not fret, wife, you will love it. I will see you at dinner in a few days!” He yells over his shoulder before rushing back down to the party. You turn to stare at Leo who is just as shocked as you are as you can’t help but double over in laughter.

“Is he serious?” You’re laughing so hard you’re practically crying, Leo doesn’t seem to find the situation as funny as you do. You wipe a tear from your lash line as you straighten up. “If our marriage is anything like today has been I suppose it shall not be all that bad.” You manage to say through your laughter. He doesn’t speak, he simply opens the doors to your chambers for you, placing his hand on your back to usher you inside.

“I suppose I should not have expected any less of our prince.” Leo mutters as he closes the door behind the two of you he begins lighting the lamps around the dark room. “Shall I summon your ladies-in-waiting to help you undress my lady?” You open your mouth to answer but you’re stopped dead in your tracks as you stare at the suit of armor in the center of the room. The mannequin it appears to be resting on is rather tall. You can’t help but stare at the way the lamp light flickers against the Beskar. A Mandalorian statue? What an odd gift. You instinctively walk towards it as you mumble.

“That won’t be necessary… it is late, do not wake them, I can do it myself.” Leo looks as if he is about to protest but the note on the vanity catches his eye, he holds it between two fingers and begins to read it to himself as you stand directly in front of the armor now, your fingers raised to trace one of the gauntlets. “It certainly is a beautiful set of armor… I just don’t understand what exactly he wants me to do with it.” You run your hands across the chestplate, admiring the fine craftsmanship before you turn to face Leo, a concerned look on your face. 

This better not be a weird sex thing.

“He doesn’t expect me to wear it, does he? Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” You find yourself looking back to the armor nervously. “It’s far too large for me… I think I would look rather foolish, like a child wearing her mothers clothing...” You bring a hand up to the helmet, a small shiver running down your spine as you stare into the lifeless visor. 

“Princess… perhaps you should wait a moment.” Leo stares at the note for a moment more before his mouth opens slightly to speak again as he gives you a warning look. But it is too late, you lift the helmet a fraction of an inch and let out a startled shriek as the armor shifts to grab both of your arms in one large hand, pulling your hand back down.

“Don’t.”

 The voice that comes from the modulator is low, it is gentle with you but is by no means joking as he releases his grip on your arm you stumble backwards. 

“Maker! You scared me half to death.” You bring your hand up to your chest as Leo rushes to your side to stabilize you, you stare at the Mandalorian in surprise for a moment before your gaze turns angry and you poke a finger into his chest. “What is your problem! Why didn’t you say something!?” He only shrugs in response.

“I was instructed not to speak to you until you read the note.” 

Bastard. 

Leo leans forward to whisper to you.

“It should appear that the prince has hired the Mandalorian to be your personal bodyguard, my lady.” Leo’s voice shakes as he stares up at the intimidating silhouette of the armored man but you are not so easily swayed, clearing your throat as you speak.

“You are dismissed Leo.” Your eyes never leave the steel visor.

“My lady, are you sure it is wise-”

“If my husband deems him fit to protect me then he is fit to protect me. Unless of course you are questioning the prince’s judgment?” You turn to glare at the Twi’lek who is now nervously tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. He does nothing but stare back at you for what feels like minutes until he finally sighs and makes a beeline for the door.

“As you wish, my lady. Ring for me if you require anything.” He closes the door and you turn back to the Mandalorian, who unsurprisingly hasn’t moved an inch, other than the way his helmet seems to shake ever so slightly but you ignore it as you walk over to your vanity, crumpling up the note and tossing it in the bin before starting to remove your jewelry, setting the ugly pieces onto the table.

“So what exactly is your job?” You don’t give him the courtesy of facing him, not after he scared you like that. 

“It was all written in the note.” 

It’s annoying how unbothered he sounds. You take off the last piece of jewelry, lifting your skirt and raising your leg to rest your foot on the ottoman to unclasp the anklet, you swear you see his helmet tilt in your direction in the mirror, but when you turn to face him he is in the same position, staring at the wall.

“I don’t care about the note. I want to hear it from you.” You fetch yourself a nightgown as you step behind the screen next to the vanity, carefully slipping out of the dress, out of sight of the Mandalorian.

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” He speaks so quietly you’re surprised the modulator even picks up his voice. Once dressed you step out from behind the screen and take a seat at the vanities mirror, wearing a gray silk nightgown. It’s fancier than what you’d usually wear but it doesn’t seem like they bothered to unpack any of your clothes you brought from home. You silently pray that they didn’t throw them away.

“So you just… follow me around?” You can feel the frown forming as you begin to carefully remove the now wilting flowers from your hair.

“Yes.” 

Not much of a talker this guy.

“Actually I’m good.” Your voice is snippy and you know you’re being a bit blunt but you’ve had a rough day. Finally, he deliberately moves, his head turning to watch as you undo the pin curls, your hair falling down in waves as you do.

“Excuse me?” Finally, some sign of emotion. Even if it is a twinge of anger.

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.” You rifle through the drawers until you find a rag to wipe the makeup from your eyes before turning around to stare at him. “You’re dismissed.” 

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” His voice is tense, if you could see his face you were sure he’d be scowling. It’s good to know he is capable of emotion. Even better to know it isn’t difficult to rile him up.

“I don’t know if you know this but I just married the eldest son of the king and queen. That makes me the future queen, I’m pretty sure I have the authority to do whatever I please.” You hadn’t said those words aloud until now, you hadn’t even thought them. It lifted a weight off your shoulders, somehow it made things a bit easier, to know that despite this entire situation you found yourself in that at the very least you found yourself in a position of power.

“I don’t know if you know this, but I have direct orders from the eldest son of the king and queen to not let you out of my site from the moment you leave this room until you return to it.” He mocks your tone exactly as he crosses his arms.

Shit. He’s got you there. Did Kodo have to pick this man to guard you?

“Well… I’m in this room now. So I don’t require your presence. You may go.” You wish you could come up with something more witty but you're tired, you just want to be alone, to have a single moment to try and process what a whirlwind these last few days have been. You swear you hear an annoyed huff come through his modulator. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” His voice is sharp and he speaks with a finality that makes you want to argue further.

But he doesn’t give you time to respond. He simply leaves. Once he is gone you rush to the door to lock it and begin to dim all the lamps in the room. In the pale light you stare at the comically large bed and your stomach drops. For the first time since arriving on Naboo you feel cold. The idea of spending your wedding night in such a big bed alone makes you feel sick. Were the ceilings of this room always so high? You find yourself opening the closet. It’s the size of your room back home, it’s perfect. All of the fabric of the unfamiliar clothes that were now yours made it quiet, and soft, and warm. You grabbed a lamp from one of the many small tables around the room, (who needs this many tables?) and bring it to the closet, closing the door behind you as you rummage through the many drawers until you find one full of blankets and pillows, making yourself a nest before settling down in it. It was just as comfortable as your bed back home and you wrapped yourself around one of the larger pillows.

You wanted to cry. 

You should be crying but you're not. You’re just staring at the flickering lamp. There were a million things you could think about to make yourself cry but at this point it wasn’t even worth it. You’re tired, and there will be plenty of time for crying later, after all this was your life now. So instead you closed your eyes and pretended you weren’t here at all, that you were back home, and you weren’t completely alone, your many siblings were just down the hall in their respective rooms. But they aren’t, they’re back on Hoth. You’re on Naboo. They are all still together. 

And you are alone.

✩

He won’t leave you alone. 

It’s been ten days since the wedding but it feels like ten months. And the Mandalorian will not leave you alone. You have only seen your husband twice since the wedding, short dinners the night of every fifth cycle, last night he had told you that he saw no need to produce an heir until his father died.

How romantic.

But as much as you yearn for companionship you cannot help but be grateful that he has not ever joined you in bed. He doesn’t repulse you by any means but he just seems… indifferent. Like he couldn't care less for you, which is fine considering you aren’t exactly infatuated with him. But you’re lonely nonetheless. Conversations with your husband are one sided, once you realize he doesn’t care for anything that comes out of your mouth your dinners become much less awkward, he would ramble on about anything he found interesting for an hour and then leave. You heard a servant in passing whisper something about him going to a brothel after your second dinner. You wanted to be more upset about that but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care. As long as it kept him out of your chambers. 

Elaine and Lysa are sweet but they are clearly intimidated by you, or at the very least they are afraid of upsetting you. So you’ve found that it’s best to just not talk to them at all unless it is to praise them or thank them. They show up like clockwork every morning to dress you and in the evening to undress you. You’re starting to feel like a doll. But they do not comment on the makeshift bed in the closet so you decide they are your favorites. Leo on the other hand has made it quite clear he doesn’t approve of your sleeping situation, you don’t bother trying to explain yourself because you know he won’t care, so now you let him watch you get under the covers of your ornate bed every night before you retreat to the closet. He can be a bit uptight and he’s terrible at conversation but the best thing about Leo is that he doesn’t hover. You honestly don’t know where he runs off to but he’s always there when you need him and he doesn’t overstay his welcome. 

Speaking of overstaying his welcome, you can see the Mandalorian over the top of the book you are currently pretending to read. 

He has become your least favorite person in your new life. He is ranked even lower than Kodo. You were currently dedicating your life to exploring every inch of the castle and mapping it out, you had taken to carrying around a small journal and noting locations you liked and places to avoid. This might be an enjoyable challenge if it weren’t for the walking hunk of metal that seemed to always be standing just out of arm's reach from you. It’s infuriating the way he always stands in your peripherals, you are always aware of his presence even when you are doing everything in your power to ignore him. 

Neither of you had spoken much since your first meeting. He had been rude, why would you speak to him? (Of course you had been rude as well but that's besides the point.) He waits outside your door every morning, and he is there when you return at night. Two days ago you had daydreamed about escaping out the window to avoid him, but considering your chambers were on the fourth floor you decided against it. 

A few days ago was when you had reached your boiling point. He had to sleep eventually, that was what you had told yourself as you opened the door to your chambers at 3 a.m. Under all that metal he was still just a person. (Or at least you were pretty sure he was.) So you donned a robe and a glowrod as you slipped into the hall. For the first time he wasn’t standing there. You just had to find your way to the library, you wanted a few books and you didn’t want to feel his steel gaze judging your every choice, you wanted something cheesy and romantic, something you could read in the closet when you couldn’t sleep. (Which was most nights.) Everytime he followed you into the library you found yourself too nervous to read so now was your chance. Surprisingly it only took you a few minutes to find it. Creeping inside you managed to find five books, clutching them in your arms you stepped back out in the hall and as you closed the library doors as quietly and quickly as you could you turned around and slammed into metal, stumbling backwards and landing on your ass, your books going everywhere. 

“Gods…” You groaned in pain as the back of your head knocked against the door, your eyes adjusted to the darkness as the glowrod illuminated a familiar pair of boots. “You are just- the nerve of you- I can’t even begin to-” Your mind stuttered through a million different insults but eventually you just gave up, huffing angrily as you picked up the light, he reached down to help you up and you shoved his gloved hands away. Leaving the books, you storm off, back towards what you hope is the direction of your room. He didn’t speak as he followed silently behind you, the only indication that he was still there was the reflection of the dim light against Beskar. You looked down two hallways trying fruitlessly to remember which way to go.

“Left.” 

Maker, he didn’t even sound tired. If looks could kill the glare you gave him as you turned left would have him six feet under. As you finally see the doors to your chamber you sigh in relief, just wanting to forget about this silly attempt to have a moment of normalcy. 

“I knew that.” Is all you can manage to mutter, still fuming to the point that you know you can’t form witty insults as you open your chamber doors.

“Sure you did.” 

As you turn to give him a piece of your mind you find yourself in the dark corridor alone. Oh you hate him. This is why he is your least favorite.

You don’t know much about Mandalorians, your mother had always said they were dangerous but that was all that was ever said about the topic. He doesn’t seem all that threatening. Sure he’s tall, and his shoulders were ludicrously broad, and he wore impenetrable armor but you’ve been sitting here staring at him for two hours now and honestly you were pretty sure at this point that you could beat him in a fight.  

Okay you might be starting to lose it. 

You haven’t had a real conversation with anyone since your wedding night, it’s not your fault if you’re starting to feel a little scatterbrained. Maybe you could push him out a window. That armor certainly wouldn’t save him from a fall. That might be too risky, with your luck you’ll end up going out the window with him. As you begin to ponder if Beskar is fireproof a familiar modulated voice breaks the silence causing you to drop your book in shock.

“Don’t.” 

In your fantasies of knocking a candle over onto his cape you hadn’t realized his helmet was facing you now.

“You really seem to love that word.” You cock an eyebrow at him. “You also seem to love scaring unsuspecting girls.” You mumble. 

“I heard that.” 

Stupid helmet with its stupid abilities. You really need to start keeping a list of what that thing is capable of. Maybe the helmet is what makes his stupid voice so deep.

“Of course you did.” You lean back in your chair as you look him up and down. “What exactly is it that you don’t want me doing?” 

“Don’t act like you can outsmart me.” 

Wiseass. 

“I wasn’t doing that, I don’t know if you can see through that visor of yours but I was reading.” You scoff at him as you cross your arms.You hear him hum softly through the modulator as he walks in your direction, standing between you and the book on the floor.

“What were you reading?” 

Dank Farrik.

You’re pretty sure you can see his shit-eating grin through the Beskar. 

“I’m not even going to humor the accusation you’re getting at.” For a split second you swear you catch the start of a laugh before his modulator cuts it off. Soundproof, you can add that to the list. He leans up against a bookshelf as he stares down at you now.

“Maybe it was another romance novel?” Maker, he's the worst. You fight back the pink that threatens to tint your face as you play dumb.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be.” You wondered if you could have him beheaded. Do they do public executions on Naboo?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about..” Is all you can manage to spit out as you reach to a nearby shelf and grab the first book your fingers touch, it looks to be some sort of architecture guide. Better than nothing. “Leave me be, I’m trying to read.” You open the book quickly and as your eyes glance across the pages, much to your dismay, you don’t recognize the language it’s in, he doesn’t need to know that though.

“You left some books out a few nights ago.”

You try to hide the way your breath hitches. There’s no way he went back for them. Unless he did. Why would he do that though there would be no reason. Why is your heart racing like you’re on trial? Why can’t you stop the pink that tinges the tips of your ears?

“I read a lot of books, you can’t possibly expect me to remember every one.” You turn a page and continue scanning your eyes across the unfamiliar text. 

“The Smitten Paladin… My Barbarian Love… Interstellar Bride… The Tongues of-”

“SHUT UP.” You slam the book shut and you can’t fight the rose tint that fills your face now. 

“As you wish, princess.” 

Oh you were definitely gonna kill him now. How hard would it be to get your hands on a vibroblade…? You didn’t speak now, you couldn’t even look at him. There’s no way he had seen those that night when you dropped them, the bastard went back for them. If you could find out where is quarters were maybe you could smother him in his sleep. You assumed he would resume his mockery of you but he never did, he just stared for several minutes as you returned to your book, doing your best to pretend that you knew what it was about until he finally broke the silence. 

“So how were you thinking of doing it?” 

“Doing what?”

“Outsmarting me. Or escaping me, or killing me? Whichever one it was you were plotting.”

You wonder if he was sweating under all those layers as you allowed yourself the first indulgence of really taking him in. He wears heavy black fabric under all of his armor. You wore light and flowy dresses and you always felt like it was too hot. You also can’t stop yourself from wondering if he purposefully makes his voice lower, he must scream into a pillow or something to make it that raspy. You didn’t like how warm it suddenly got in here. This stupid planet and its stupid heat. 

“Well I can’t just tell you my top secret plans, what will you give me in exchange?” You hated the way his helmet tilted to the side to mimic you. 

“How about a walk through the gardens?” 

“We have gardens?” Your eyebrows furrow in disbelief, just when you thought you were starting to map this place out… He nods and you ponder it for a moment before holding your hand out for a handshake. “Deal.” He takes your hand in his and gives you one firm shake but you hold him there and stare at his hand. “Your gloves are stupid, why are the fingers yellow?” He groans as he pulls away.

As he pulls his hand back you catch a glimpse of his bare wrist. You hadn’t really thought about what he might look like under the armor up until now. You’re sort of surprised by how tan his skin is. As you stare for what is definitely too long he clears his throat and you find yourself face to face with his visor. 

Shit, shit shit. 

“Sorry, I got distracted by how stupid your gloves are.”

“Keep talking like that and I won’t take you to the gardens at all.”

“That’s fine, now that I know they exist I’ll just find them on my own.” You stand up, making your way towards the library exit.

“You do realize I follow you everywhere right?” 

“You’re very observative aren’t you?” You scoff.

“You won’t find them on your own. You’ve lived here two weeks and you still can’t find your room without help from Leo.” 

“This is why you’re my least favorite.”

“What?” He doesn’t even pretend to sound hurt, his voice is filled with genuine curiosity and for a fleeting moment you want to give in because for the first time in weeks you aren’t thinking about how alone you are in a castle surrounded by people. Because for the first time since you arrived on this planet you were having a real conversation, and even though you hated him he was the first person who seemed like he actually cared about what you had to say, and not just because you were royalty and it was his job.

“Do you want to hear about my secret plans or not?” You decide to change the subject and watch as for the first time, he walks next to you, not behind you, as he nods.

“I’d love to know how you plan on getting away from a trained bounty hunter.” 

Bounty hunter. You’ll have to ask him about that later if he allows you to keep talking to him. A small part of you hopes that he will. 

“I thought I might start by pushing you off of something high up.” You grin at him. You can’t remember the last time you smiled and it wasn’t for the benefit of others.

“Wouldn’t work.”

“Oh come on, your armor isn’t gonna save you from a fall from one of the castle towers-” He pulls back his cape to reveal a jetpack and you shut up. “Okay new plan, I throw your pack off the roof first.” He nods.

“You would never be able to get it off me but sure. Next plan.” Maker, you hate how smug he is. You want to slap the stupid smile you have to assume he is currently donning off of his face. 

“Well I really only had two plans, plan number two was to light your cape on fire.” 

“Fire’s not gonna kill me, that's just gonna make me angry.”

“Well in that situation I wouldn't be trying to kill you, the fire would be a distraction as I make my escape.”

“There is not a single situation in this world in which you are capable of hiding from me.” 

Why does he have to say it so huskily? Why does it suddenly feel so hot in this stupid castle? You decide he deliberately makes his voice sound deeper to make himself more intimidating. 

You open your mouth to protest but you remember the bounty hunter thing and decide to save yourself from any more embarrassment. He stops walking and you stare at the familiar doors to your chambers.

“Hey! You promised me gardens!” He opens the door for you before taking a step back.

“It’s too late for gardens. We’ll go tomorrow.” You want to argue, you want to do anything to keep talking to him, even if you loathe him and his terrible attitude. But you don’t want to ruin this, and a part of you likes the prospect of more conversation tomorrow. 

“Promise?” You hate how eager you sound.

“Promise.”

You begin to step inside your chambers but he puts a hand on your shoulder. It makes you let out a small gasp as you turn to face him.

“Before you go I have to tell you something, princess.” The voice that comes from the modulator is hushed, he leans in as if he is going to tell you a secret and your eyes get wide, you can see your reflection in his helmet, your face is going pink again.

“W-what…?” It’s embarrassing the way you stutter but he’s so close now that you can’t help it, if he got any closer your breath would fog up the Beskar. You had no idea what he was about to say but for some reason your heart was beating out of your chest. God what is wrong with you today? The heat must be messing with your head.

“It was in Galactic Basic.” 

Well now he just wasn’t making any sense. Maybe the heat was messing with his head too.

“I don’t care for riddles.” 

“Your book, earlier, the one about architecture. The one that you couldn’t understand.” He takes a step back and you furrow your brows, how the hell did he know you didn’t understand it, but more importantly, obviously you spoke Galactic Basic.

“I didn’t realize you were capable of telling jokes.”

“You were holding it upside down.” His hand drops from your shoulder and he takes a step back, waiting for a response but any snarky comeback dies on your tongue as your face burns up, realizing he’s right. Is he leaning forward in anticipation? 

Scumbag.

“Good night, Mando.” As you start to close the door you can hear him chuckling. 

“Good night, princess.”  

Jackass. You hope that he’s ugly under the helmet. 

You also hope he’s brunette.

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[vixentheplanet]

illicit nights | part 2

“gimme few more minutes of this feeling. for right now time don't exist.”

shuri x black!reader | 18+

Summary: You were born and raised in Wakanda, but you chose to leave to pursue a modeling career. You've amassed global fame as an international model, gracing runway shows, featuring in luxury campaigns, and appearing in fashion magazines. You're in the spotlight, and the entire world is watching your every move. After a very public breakup, you decide to return home to reconnect with your country and the people you love.

You didn't expect to catch the attention of your sister's best friend in your attempt to get over your heartbreak, let alone end up in a private sexual relationship with said friend. The Wakandan Queen.

word count: 9k

themes: model/famous reader, queen shuri, childhood friends, hookups

warnings: very explicit sexual relations

i forgot everything… the summary. the tags. the storyline. i actually almost put up the collage that was supposed to be for part 3

i think this was the song… IDK IDK. i was supposed to re-edit it but i don’t have time. 😩🤍 y’all know how i feel about this… so DON’T 😐😒

The breeze tickled your skin as you sat outside, waiting for the sunrise. Your body had only begun to adjust to the time shift, and you usually woke up early enough to have breakfast with your mother before she left for work. The majority of your days were spent catching up with friends, spending time with Izara when she wasn't at work, and visiting some of your favorite places in your hometown—also, Shuri.

It’s been three weeks since Aneka’s party. Since you had left Shuri’s bed with the vow never to sleep together again. The next morning, when you saw Izara, she whistled at you, "Look at Miss, I don't sleep with strangers." She was sitting at the table with a half-finished plate of food. For a second, you weren't sure what she was talking about as she fixed her gaze directly on the bite marks on your neck.

To be fair, you said that there would be no kissing. You did not mention biting, but you're paying for it now. “Oh, yeah.” You speak plainly, attempting to dismiss it as nothing significant, but you know it won't work with your sister. Shuri had spent much time with her lips attached to your neck and a few scattered on your chest. You try to push the images away before they take over your mind and become too vivid.

There’s a bowl of fruit on the counter, and you make your way over to it, examining your options. Banana. Pear. Apple.

Izara keeps pushing. “How was it? Who was it? Did you get their number?” She pressed for specifics about the previous night, and it was too early for you to come up with a sensible explanation.

Ignoring your sister, you take another look at the fruit before settling on a pear and biting into it. "You're asking too many questions, hurting my brain." You speak once you've swallowed. Izara made jokes about you moving back in, but it appears she was the one who did. Despite having her own place, she came here very frequently. You're surprised she came here so early in the morning; she was probably looking for leftovers in the fridge to help with her hangover.

“She went to the market, and you’re lying. I've seen you drunk. You didn't drink much last night." She accuses, and you sigh.

Hangover or not, it’s too early to ask all these questions. "Am I your next research subject?" You sass.

She takes the hint this time. "No, I'm only observing because this means you hooked up with them sober," Izara exclaims, clamping her hands over her mouth. "They must have said something to charm you. You should see them again.” You laughed at her suggestion. Shuri was the one in question, and it couldn't happen again because-

You groan, “That’s not the point of a one-night stand.”

"Well, I guess not, but it wouldn't matter," your sister thinks. “You’ll be leaving eventually, and if you had a good time, I don’t see the harm in having another go at it.” She says carefully before picking up her fork and continuing to eat, and that's the end of it, fortunately.

There's a good chance Izara would give you different advice if she knew who you ended up taking home from Elixir that night. Your sister's words lingered in your mind for the rest of the morning. There was no harm in you and Shuri being sexually involved, considering that you would soon leave Wakanda. It was strictly between the two of you. No one else needed to know, and you're both single consenting adults. The fact that she's your sister's best friend adds a layer of complexity, but if neither of you told her, she wouldn't know. You are not required to inform her if you do not choose to.

That's why, after taking your sister's suggestion, the promise only lasted 24 hours. The next night, you were back in Shuri's bed. You weren't shocked when Shuri accepted your proposal for a no-strings-attached relationship. The two of you hadn't been drunk enough to blame your actions on altered brain chemistry the first time you slept together. Attraction and lust fueled your acts.

Since you would see each other routinely, it was important to reiterate the three terms and conditions established on the first night.

No kissing

No intimacy

Izara (no one) can never find out

With that being said, the past three weeks were filled with friends, spending time with yourself, and lots of Shuri. It was relaxing, and you weren't planning on returning to work right away, but your IMG agency team wanted to check in with you.

You were lounging on the back patio of your childhood home, laptop open, waiting for a video chat from Gabrielle, your manager. It was after midnight in LA, but she worked for you; everything was on your schedule. Your agency was lenient with you, but you understood it was because you are vital to the industry. In only a few years, you became one of the top-earning models in the agency, in high demand. Though that meant nothing in Wakanda, it meant everything out there, and as a result, you are held to a higher standard.

Logically, you knew they weren't going to get rid of you, but your stomach was knotted with anxiety, not knowing what to anticipate. Was the press slandering you as a result of your absence? Does the demand for your campaign involvement decrease?

The laptop on the table chimes, signaling Gabrielle's call, and you immediately answer, her face filling the screen. As she sees your face, her smile broadens. Her surroundings indicate that she is in her home office. The night sky could be seen through the glass windows behind her. "There she is, my lovely lady. We miss you, you know?”

"I miss you guys too." For the most part, you worked with a good group of people. Your team ensured exposure and opportunities at every fashion house, show, and campaign. The money was the product of all the hard work that had gone into everything.

"The team and I wanted to check in and see where your head's at?" Gabrielle says as she shuffles papers off to the side.

Right now is the first time you’ve thought about returning to work since coming home. There was no definite time frame in your mind of when you would return. "I mean, I've missed being in Wakanda and am happy to be back. I know I'll have to go soon, but I'm not ready yet."

Gabrielle nods her head, taking in your words. “Okay, that’s understandable. Of course, we'll give you as much time as you need, but you should be aware that you're the most talked-about person in the world right now," She informs you with a broad grin. A twinkle in her eyes indicates she has some important news to share.

In the industry, that could be good or bad. No publicity was bad publicity, but still. "What do you mean?" you question. You figured once you decided to drop off the face of the planet, it would all quiet down, and the media would go back to focusing on something else.

She responds to your question with a question of her own. “Have you been on social media recently?”

“No, I logged out of all my accounts.” You weren’t actively posting or monitoring what was being said about you.

Keyboard sounds break the stillness before Gabrielle begins again, "Okay, the good news. They're doing fantastic. Your last post a few months ago received 7 million likes. You've had a few viral tweets, and you're always trending on Twitter. Your name on search engines has skyrocketed, and many people wonder where you are. Why haven't they seen you in public?"

Your manager turns back to focus on you. "People want to know where you are and when you’re back on the runway. The phones are ringing. We have brands worldwide competing for your participation in their shows for the upcoming season."

She continues. "This has the potential to be tremendous, a defining career moment, a historic moment in fashion history. The return of Y/N to the catwalk." Gabrielle illustrates her point by moving her hands in a sweeping motion to the side, demonstrating how massive this could be.

She looks at you, eyes still sparkling with excitement.

But you’re anything but, “I don’t know. When would this be?” you ask.

"If you were interested, next month you'd have to come out for a couple of fittings for other companies," Gabrielle reads from a document. It would be completely under the radar. We'll have everyone sign NDAs, and you'll be back in Wakanda in no time." The way she puts it indicates that she considered every issue or inquiry you may have that might convince you to say no.

"The shows wouldn't be until the season starts, but you'd get rehearsal and additional fittings closer to the shows. Think about it.” The details were nothing new to you. You've been doing it for a long time. Fashion Week preparations took a significant amount of time and effort.

You pick at your nails while biting your lower lip. "I'll think about it," you answer.

The woman on the screen looks honestly surprised at your response. You get it. The entire world is waiting for you. Major fashion corporations from all over the world are vying for your attention, but you're reluctant. You would have leaped at this offer a few months ago. Her tone of voice when she mentions your name, "Y/N," is quite defeated. “You can’t let Mya win.” It's as if she's been thinking about it for a while and finally feels like she can let it out.

The mention of your ex-girlfriend irritated you a little. "What are you talking about?" Was she attempting to persuade you to make a decision?

“I mean this in the best way possible. I understand how difficult it is, but you can't hide forever. Particularly not from a chance like this." Gabrielle explains, but her comments are still hurtful.

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Don't pass it up. That's all I'm saying. You already know I want the best for you." She looks you in the eyes, yet her words sting. Were you allowing Mya to win by hiding? Was she satisfied knowing you fled due to the chain reaction your breakup caused?

This ridiculous fucking conversation. "Thank you," you say quickly, avoiding eye contact.

Gabrielle sighs, undoubtedly aware that she has upset you. She's been your manager for a while now. She is highly aware of your moods. “I’ll email you over everything, take a look and get back to me when you can. Take care of yourself.”

Your voice had escaped you. You finish the call with a polite nod.

Gabrielle assumed she was doing you a favor by presenting this ‘great’ news with her oh-so-helpful advice, but now you were filled with dread and regret. Is that what the rest of the world saw? Mya made you run? A heartbroken coward who would rather hide her face than deal with the aftermath of a poor decision to give her heart away to the wrong person. It's the first time you've cried since your split. You weren't upset over the broken romance. It was the fact that you were completely overwhelmed by the idea that Mya had won.

Here you were, at the top of your success, trying to figure out what to do next. Gabrielle wanted to make it appear as if the decision was yours. Still, how she illustrated and spoke about it being a part of fashion history made it evident that she was attempting to sway your mind into saying yes. Yet, you didn’t know if you wanted to, but you also knew in the back of your mind you’d be an idiot to pass this up.

You thought about going to Izara. Your sister was generally your go-to person in situations like these. Even though she was supportive, you knew that telling her you could be going would make her sad. Even though she still had work, you swear she spent every waking moment with you, and you would never complain about being in your sister's company.

It was reassuring to know you had time to think about it, at least because your mind was not in the ideal place to make such important decisions right now. You were in a daze all day, but your spirits lightened when you helped your mother test new recipes for her bakery. When your mother retired, she decided to run a bakery. She spent her whole life as a culinary master and was delighted to share her food with others. You grinned and joyfully took all the sweets she placed in your mouth. You were responsible for informing her if she needed to add more sugar or if the dough required additional butter; it was a tedious job.

Around 3 o’clock, you get a text.

Be here at 10.

Shuri. After typing a short response, you put your phone aside and spent the remainder of the day with your mom. The process of trying out new recipes was time-consuming, but she needed your help, and it was keeping your mind off of other stresses.

"You're distracted," Shuri accuses. Today was the fourth night you've been over this week; it's probably due to a lack of sex life in the months leading up to your breakup, but sex with Shuri is addictive. It's as if she passed a master class in your body, bringing forth noises you'd never heard yourself make. Reaching parts of your body you didn't know existed. Perhaps because there was no expectation of long-term dedication or closeness, which also played a role. Once the night's events were over, you dressed and went home, waiting for the next time you or Shuri sent a text arranging your subsequent encounter.

There was never any foreplay. This was supposed to be fast enough for both of you to get it out of your system and go before anyone became suspicious. That was mostly your mother and sister. Fewer people were in the halls at this time, and the queen's floor had restricted access. Except for Dora, no one was up here. Ayo always met you outside the palace to accompany you in and out as a precaution.

Shuri usually had you naked and trembling when you opened the door, but today, you were lazily sitting on top of her, rotating your hips. Zoned out. Her voice pulls your attention. "I'm not," you exhale, blinking and looking down.

Her hands come up to your waist, forcing you to stop. “You are,” Shuri argues.

Though it was a slow rhythm, the loss of it made you whine. “Stop arguing with me and get on with it.” You complain, brushing your hair away from your face. You should have tied it up. You'll have to redo it when you get home.

"You want me to get on with it?" she says, her brows furrowed. “You're on top of me."

The thought crosses your mind, "Can you take over?" you ask, sighing. She watches you with suspicion from her position below you. You can sense she wants to continue the subject, but there are other moments to start talking about everything bothering you.

Shuri is quiet for a minute before holding out her arms and saying, "Come here," You fall into her embrace, lying on her chest. The calm is only momentary as Shuri puts her arms around you, supporting her feet on the mattress, and thrusts up into you.

Surrendering to Shuri was a better idea than being in control. You lay in her grasp while she takes you apart, bringing you to that state of euphoria your body has grown accustomed to in recent weeks. That beautiful feeling you get after orgasm puts your mind at ease.

It's 2 a.m. when you're tugging your sweatpants over your hips. "It truly wounds my ego that you can walk away every time." In response to Shuri's vulgar joke, you roll your eyes.

"You know, I'm a model. I've walked away from worse circumstances." Rebalancing after an intense release was nothing if you could stroll down a runway in 120mm Louboutins. She's standing there, watching you get ready. She was waiting for you downstairs, where Ayo would meet and accompany you to your car.

You're about to tell Shuri you're ready to go when she asks, "Are you okay?"

Was she seriously going to bring this up once more? You lied when you said, "I'm alright," but you would be fine. The news from your manager was a lot to take in, and after reviewing the emails and all the details, it became clear how vast of an opportunity you had been given on a silver platter. Yet accepting this would mean being forced back into the spotlight without knowing if all of the previous gossip had finally died down. Even more so, being in Wakanda made you remember what taking a step back and breathing felt like. In Gabrielle's opinion, turning it down meant that your ex would win the prize, seeing you fragile and heartbroken.

There was too much to think about, and you couldn't unload it all on Shuri. This was not the type of interaction. You'd both gotten what you came for, and it was time to go.

Shuri must suspect you're not telling the truth. "You know," she begins. “We are still friends.” She's staring at you with seriousness, yet it's unsettling. You've never been close.

You tilt your head in reaction to her statement. You weren't friends; you spent time with Shuri when you were younger, but it was because you were stuck to your sister's hip. Izara adored you and would never push you away, even while you were in the company of her friends. However, once you gained independence, you rarely saw Izara's friends. “We are not friends. You’re my sister's friend.” You put more emphasis on it.

Shuri shakes her head, disagreeing. "That's not to say we're not friends, though." And there is a hint of disbelief in her tone.

"Name one thing we've done together," you challenged, your hands on your hips. Shuri's smirk and the way her eyes look across to the bed you've just finished in tell you exactly what's on her mind.

"When we were kids!" You exclaimed, a flush spreading across your face. She was irritable at times.

Shuri chuckles, amused by your reaction. “I’m trying to say that being Izara’s friend never meant I didn’t care about you.” Sharing your sentiments and emotions with anyone requires you to be attentive, clear, calm, and compassionate. All of these factors lead to genuine intimacy and trust. That didn't help bridge the distance you were attempting to build between you.

“I appreciate that, but I’m fine.” The tone of finality in your voice was enough to make Shuri drop the topic.

The emails Gabrielle sent you were overwhelming once you saw just how many brands there were. Dior offered you ten million dollars to start and end their show. Mugler, Tony Ward, Zahair Murad... You had previously worked with some of these fashion houses while you had just fantasized about others, and now your fantasies were coming true.

You'd be back on the radar of all the celebrity news and gossip websites if you resurfaced in the spotlight. Though, your split with Mya was in the past. What if people continue to link you to her? Mya Hope’s Ex-girlfriend, Y/N, reemerges from the dead after her ex forced her into hiding- oh, and she’s also headlining fashion week. Will your accomplishments become an afterthought?

Despite better judgment, you enter the actress's name into a web search. The universe intervenes just as you're about to torture yourself by pressing enter. The phone rings, and your sister's picture flashes on the screen.

Izara calls to invite you to her apartment to hang out. "I'll be me, you, and Shuri," she says. Immediately, it was odd she wanted all three of you to spend time together. You could understand if it was a group outing. But the three of you together? You haven’t done that since you were kids.

“Shuri?” you repeat.

“Yes, Shuri, it was her idea.” Naturally, it was. It seemed as though she was attempting to prove you wrong. You have no idea why Shuri suddenly became interested in your acquaintance, but it was completely unwarranted. Did she not realize Izara was too observant for her own good and could quickly detect something off between you if you suddenly became too close?

As far as she’s concerned, you and Shuri haven’t seen each other since Elixir three weeks ago. You put your laptop away, feeling even more nervous and anxious. One issue at a time.

You tried to come up with an excuse. You have been doing that a lot lately. “I don’t want to interfere. I have plenty of alone time with you-”

“No!” Izara is quick to cut you off, unwilling to hear any excuse. “How often will I have my two favorite people over?” And you give in because you would do anything to make your sister happy.

That's how you end up at Izara's on a Tuesday evening. Your anxiety was high. What if you and Shuri seemed a little too at ease around each other, and your sister noticed that something had changed between you two? The days of Shuri thinking of you as "Izara's little sister" were long gone since you began hooking up.

When you arrived, Shuri was already in the kitchen, helping your sister prepare snacks. Izara ushered you into the living room, handing you a blanket and telling you to relax.

She temporarily abandoned her duties in the kitchen to get you comfortable. “Shuri and I normally try to do this every once and a while,” Izara explains, turning on the television. “But I don’t mind you crashing. I want to spend as much as possible with you before you leave.” There’s a frown on her face at the thought. A ping of guilt hits you. You can’t imagine going from seeing someone every day since birth to barely spending time with them and being constantly miles away from you.

Your sister and Shuri shared the couch while you cuddled in the armchair alone. It was probably paranoia, but you didn’t want to give away anything that would suspect anything about the rendezvous you've gotten up to these past few weeks. You couldn’t believe Shuri had gotten the two of you into the situation. The woman in question emerges from the kitchen carrying two bowls of popcorn.

She holds the smaller one out to you, “I thought it would be easier for you.”

“How thoughtful,” you say, forcing a smile as you accept the bowl.

That was the first interaction you’ve had throughout the night. You both sat in your respective seats, enjoying the movie. It was good enough that it kept your attention. Occasionally, you would steal glances over at Shuri and find her already looking at you. Could she be more obvious?

Halfway into the movie, Izara hits pause on the remote, much to Shuri’s dismay. “Seriously, Zar, you could have stopped at a worse time.”

Izara’s moving the bowl of popcorn she and Shuri had been sharing onto the table. “I know we’re almost at the end, but I have to pee!”

“Hurry up!” Shuri calls as your sister throws the blanket off her and runs out of the room. You can’t help but laugh at the exchange.

The sound catches Shuri’s attention, and the laughter in your throat dies when you realize you two are alone. Without the movie or your sister’s presence, you can freely glare at her, crossing your arms to emphasize your mood toward her. “Can you stop glaring at me?”

“You’re the one staring at me.” you accuse.

Shuri rolls her eyes, “That’s because I can feel you glaring at me. Stop.”

“No, you did this on purpose, you know? You didn’t ask me if I wanted to be here tonight. You told Izara, knowing I couldn’t tell her no.” It wasn’t an accusation, simply a fact.

Shuri would never outright admit it. Instead, she flashed you a small grin. “This is a completely normal evening.”

You roll your eyes, “I shouldn’t be here, and you know that.”

“Y/N. Do you not realize how ridiculous this is?”

"You don't think it's strange that we're now making plans to spend time together after almost a decade?" While you and Shuri were alone, there was no one else there. You didn't have to be mindful of how you interacted with each other. As you began to spend more time together, especially around your sister, you would have to be extra conscious of what you were doing.

“No, I don’t.” Shuri protested. You wanted to throw the bowl of popcorn at her but opted for flicking her off and going back to ignoring her.

Given the lack of noise, you can follow your sister's movement back into the living room as she exits the restroom. “Okay! Press play,” Izara calls, announcing her return and Shuri’s pressing resume before she even has a chance to resettle on the couch.

In all honesty, Shuri chose a good film. Several actors were unfamiliar, leading you to believe it was an indie production. The storyline was interesting enough to hold your attention, and the plot twist was unexpected, which was a plus. Even though it was interesting, you were relieved when it was over.

"This was fun," Izara said afterward. Getting the dishes ready to bring into the kitchen. "It's been a while since I've seen you two together."

You’re helping with cleaning, folding the blankets, and arranging them neatly on the couch. When the comment gets your attention, You blink a few times, unsure what to say.

Purposely, and you know it’s on purpose. Shuri says, “We should find time to do this again,”

“Yes!” your sister agrees, looking at you. You hum in agreement because you can openly oppose the idea without alerting your sister's suspicions. You believe the discussion will stop there, with the hope of you hanging together again, but there are no firm plans, so nothing is certain.

Then Izara mentions, “Oh! We’re going to the beach on Saturday. You should come with us, Shuri.” You discussed it last weekend while out to lunch with your friend Eshe. Eshe told you about her and a few other people's plans for the upcoming weekend and agreed that the more, the merrier.

You shoot a glance at Shuri, giving her a look silently, begging her to say no, as Izara awaits her answer. Shuri looks you in the eye, “I would love to.”

Right then. You decide that she must despise you.

You and Shuri then depart Izara's after the cleaning is done. When you leave her apartment and head to your respective vehicles, she tells you both to drive safely and message her when you get home.

Shuri heads for the elevator, but you take the stairs instead. You decide to take your time and assume Shuri is already gone because the elevator is faster, but as soon as you exit the building, you see her leaning against the passenger door. Her determination is sexy, but you were annoyed. You bypassed her, going directly to the driver's side.

You managed to get into the driver's seat but couldn't close the door fast enough. “Move.”

Shuri leans inside the car, sighing hard. "Are you seriously upset with me?" Her tone is stoic.

"Are you really coming on Saturday?" You make fun of her serious style.

There is complete silence as Shuri's expression tightens. "Do you want me to come?" she finally says.

Now she needs your input on something. "Clearly, it doesn't matter what I think. You can do whatever you want." You reach for the door once more, but Shuri straightens her posture and shuts it for you.

She didn't contact you again for several days after that night. You didn't think much the first day. She was probably allowing you to calm down. The longer the week went on without so much as a "you up?" text or phone call, the more concerned you became. You realized how irrational you were by the time Saturday rolled around. Mainly because everything in your life had been unpredictable and uncertain. The one sense of consistency was Shuri, and now you don't have that.

You have no idea why you were so adamant about proving to Shuri that the two of you were not close. You had no reason to treat her as you did; the regret was tearing you up inside. You thought you wanted to put as much distance between you as possible, but now that you have it, it drives you insane.

This is why, when Saturday came along, you were excited at the possibility of seeing Shuri in person.

As you arrive at the beach, you immediately notice your sister setting up and laying out a towel. There are a few people you recognize surrounding her. Two of them are your friends, Eshe and Visola. But there was no Shuri.

You put your tote bag down on the ground and asked, "Is everyone here?" since it seems less suspicious than asking for one individual in particular.

"Shuri couldn't make it," Izara replies, spreading the patterned blanket on the sand.

She’s not coming. "Did she mention why?" you question, trying not to seem too disappointed. Was she upset with you?

Your sister shakes her head. “No. She tried to keep the phone call short, but I knew her. She can’t keep anything from me.”

Want to bet?

Izara frowns. "There's a lot of pressure on her in her duties as Queen. It's hard to make everyone happy in politics." Working with Shuri, she certainly knows more about what's going on than she can say, but it's reassuring to know she wasn't avoiding you but was merely responding to more immediate issues.

You don’t say anything else, not wanting to show too much interest. Others joined you, a mix of individuals you knew and strangers. The people you were getting to know asked you many questions about your life as a model, which you gratefully answered.

Wakanda had some of the world's finest beaches, where you could decompress with the sand between your toes and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. Your thoughts turned to Shuri. Why was she avoiding you? Was this her way of ending things? Have you overcomplicated things?

You couldn’t just outright ask forgiveness and say, “Let’s have sex,” that just seemed rude. But you needed to find a way to start a conversation.

You took a quick body selfie of yourself in the bikini and sent it to Shuri, writing, "Can't believe you're not here." That was playful enough to be true to the essence of your relationship while still acting as a check-in. If she texted you back, you could ask her why she wasn't here, hoping she'd be honest and not simply brush it off.

Shuri would reply as soon as she could; she had pressing matters to attend to. There was nothing you could do but wait, which was excruciating. Hours had passed while you swam, ate, laughed, and drank. Between it all, you couldn't help but check your phone for a single person's message. Nothing.

"You've been checking your phone all day," says Eshe as you collapse back down into your towel.

In the distance, you can see Izara building a sandcastle with some little kids who became drawn to her earlier in the day. "I have?" you say, pretending to be surprised. You knew your phone had barely left your hands today, except when you entered the water.

“Yes! Whoever that is, I hope to Bast that they respond soon." Eshe probably thought you were talking to someone. She's grinning at you, openly inviting you to divulge more details, but you're not going to do it.

“It’s not like that.” You explain leaving it at that. You felt bad, and not knowing how Shuri felt made you uneasy. This was really ironic... You felt like a dumbass.

Eshe rises to her feet, extending out a hand. "Whoever this is isn't thinking about you right now, and you shouldn't either. Give it some time." And you already know she's correct. Checking your phone was not going to speed up the response.

You reluctantly lock your phone and hand it over. Eshe grins and stuffs it inside the discarded shorts she wore over her bikini.

You squeeze every last bit of enjoyment out of the day before the sun goes down and the temperature drops. Along with the collection of selfies you took, you snapped a couple of photos of the sunset and Izara's sandcastle, which you helped find seashells to decorate it. Overall, you had a good time, and before you shower, you show your mother some of the photos you took. "Such a lovely smile. It's no surprise you choose to share it with the rest of the world." The comment warms your heart and serves as a reminder of how proud your mom is of you. She kisses you on the cheek before retiring to bed.

Shuri texts you close to midnight as if she can sense your never-ending thoughts about her.

I know it's late, but can you please come over?

After reading the text message, you feel relieved that 1. she wasn't mad with you. 2. Despite the fact that you've been a brat over the last few days, she was still interested in your arrangement.

Be there soon.

You immediately reply, changing into shorts and a hoodie, easier to take off.

The A.I. system recognizes your face, so the doors to Shuri’s living quarters open up as soon as you arrive. “You didn’t answer my text, you know. You’re lucky I don’t hold grudges-“ the joke quickly dies as you notice Shuri pacing around the room when you enter. She's dressed in her bed attire, which tells you she probably tried to get to bed but couldn’t with whatever was running through her mind.

She clearly isn't fine. "I apologize it’s so late. I've spent the entire day working on social and other issues, and-" She sighs, cutting herself off, her shoulders slouching.

"You're not going to like hearing all of this. All I need is to get my mind off of today." You've been overthinking, and the last few days have given you mental clarity.

You see, you're the problem, and maybe you've been taking it out on Shuri, who was trying to do nothing but be there for you, but you chose to push her away. This arrangement was supposed to be fun, but you've recently caused tension by acting in ways that seem intended to demonstrate to Shuri that you were not friends and that there's nothing left between you. What the hell is the matter with you?

Shuri has had a difficult day. They are to be expected, given the amount of responsibility she carries. While you wouldn't mind if she fucked you to vent her frustration, it wouldn't help her sense of peace. It would only be a temporary relief, and as soon as you left, she’d be right back inside her head stressing. That's when you decided to prioritize her pleasure. You would apologize another time.

You make your way over to her, removing your shoes. "It's alright, just breathe," you say as you take her hand in yours. You pull her into you and begin kissing her neck, creating a safe zone. Stripping her of her clothing, you guide Shuri over to her bed. "Lay back." You speak in her ear, and she complies.

You switched positions. Shuri was the one who needed your support to forget about the stress. Her legs parting instinctively, you bring your fingers between her folds to feel her, and she’s dripping. You wanted to make sure she made the most of this opportunity to focus on herself and her comfort.

A thought occurs to you. "I'd like you to take deep breaths in and out." You tell her, caressing her on the outside but not delving into where she needs you the most. You knew deep breathing was a good activity that helped stimulate tranquility and restore stability; it always came in handy before runway shows.

"I want you to say 'In' when you feel me inside of you," you finally say, sliding one finger into her wetness and feeling her clench around you. A breath of release lips passes her lips as you watch some of the tension melt away. "And when you feel me pulling away, say 'out' and take a deep breath."

You pull your finger back for a second, swiping along the ridged pleasure point and massaging her inner walls. Shuri responds with an "In," and as you retract, moving out and stroking around the outside of her entrance, she responds with an "Out."

The two of you continued with that pattern until Shuri's voice trailed off, no longer speaking as she relaxed into sheets.

"You need and deserve this. To be able to breathe and feel happy." You tell her quietly, taking pleasure in the way her face contorts in delight.

Breathy gasps escape her lips as she concentrates on the sensation of your fingers stroking around her, unconcerned about the tension of the day.

Your fingers were drenched in her juices, and the more you felt the moisture inside her, the more you wished to taste it. You get on your stomach with your head buried in between Shuri's legs. Shuri relaxed into your touch as you massaged circles into her skin, aware that the pleasure she was experiencing had enhanced her sensitivity.

Her fingers grasped the sheets, and her abs tensed in anticipation. You slid your tongue around the inner and outside folds before beginning a gentle licking with a flat tongue around the entire surface area. The moans from her lips turned you on and left you damp.

It was nice to concentrate only on Shuri's satisfaction. You appreciated the way her hips stuttered as you took her apart. As you pushed her further and further into ecstasy, she lapped up the sensations of arousal her body provided.

She was definitely close, and you couldn't wait to taste her on your tongue. Shuri soon had her hips working in little circles as she pressed into your fingers, chasing her orgasm. Moaning became increasingly audible.

You softly coaxed her inner walls with two fingers pushed inside her. "Mmm, Y/N," Shuri says as she calls your name. Her walls are spasming around you, and you know she's coming. Her breathing is labored, and you appreciate her strength because she's still careful not to squeeze her thighs around your head even though she's breaking.

You focus on her clit, sucking in tandem with your fingers, and soon she's letting out those lovely sounds, and her body jolts as you feel her release.

"Do you feel better?" you ask, happy at the satisfaction on her face.

"Yeah," Shuri confirms as she sinks lower into the bedding. Hopefully, she'll be able to sleep soon. You get out of bed and are ready to leave when she snaps her head up. "Where are you going?"

“Home.” You answer, straightening out the wrinkles in your hoodie from lying on the bed.

“Now? I figured we were going to-," She started, but you stopped her.

"I'd love to have sex with you, but I think you should rest. You're obviously overworked," you observed, frowning.

Her tone of voice shifts. “You think I’m going to let you leave my room without coming?” She's in charge now and not interested in a debate.

“I-“ The way she keeps cutting you off indicates that there isn't much you can say to convince her.

Shuri continues, “Giving you pleasure is relaxing. I like concentrating on you,” she admits. And that breaks you. How could you deny her? It’s enough to make you stop, but you don’t proceed to the bed, waiting for her next command.

"Take off your hoodie." She gave the order. You take the ends of the hoodie and pull it over your head. “Shorts,” Her instructions are brief but effective. You're not standing there in your bra and underwear, waiting for her next command, which never comes. Shuri simply lifts her eyebrows, and her look conveys all. She need not speak a word to command your submission. She already holds it.

You reach around to release the bra clasp, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. Shuri is biting her lower lip as she watches you take your time slipping your panties down your legs.

You climb back onto the bed, this time with your exposed body straddling Shuri's waist. You're in the same situation you were in a few days ago, but this time no other issues are distracting you. Shuri had you under her control.

“Are you happy?” Shuri seems absolutely ravenous, eyes burning with hunger. She can't get enough of you undressed, no matter how many times she's seen you. Her desire for you never dies.

"That's not where I want you," she says, biting her lower lip again. Shuri's voice is low, silky, and seductive, and you can feel yourself getting aroused at the sound of it.

“Where do you want me?” you breathe. You were unprepared for what she said next.

She points to her face, “Up here.” Shuri chuckles at the expression on your face. Completely surprised she was requesting such a thing.

You purse your lips, contemplating her request, “Shuri, that’s-“

Her hand grabs your ass, squeezing. "Don't make me tell you again. I hate repeating myself.” The hand on your backside is a warning. Knowing what would happen if she had to tell you again, you're nearly tempted to disobey.

Carefully, you climb up her body until her head is between your thighs, supporting your weight on the knees. In anticipation, you hover above her face, fingers gripping the headboard. "Mm, it's been four days, and she really misses me."

In this position, Shuri had complete access to your sensual zone and the most important spots to stimulate. She drags her mouth across your clit, as if sampling before diving in. Stretching her neck up to take the sensitive bud into her mouth and sucking, you can feel the flat of her tongue licking side to side in unison.

"S-Shuri," you gasp, already stuttering. You had to be careful not to put all your weight on her face, no matter how much you wanted to get lost in the feelings. You were intent on not harming her in the back of your mind. Both the pleasure of Shuri's actions and the effort of maintaining your balance cause a burning sensation in your core and a trembling in your thighs.

Shuri's tattooed hand reaches out from your waist and rubs across your skin. You whimper at the separation of her lips from you. "Stop thinking and ride my face," Shuri murmurs quietly beneath you. Her words make your pussy clench.

You readjust your position slightly. "I don't want to hurt you." You've had plenty of sexual interactions, but this was the first time you'd been asked to ride someone's face.

As teeth penetrate into the flesh, you feel a stinging ache on your right thigh. The ache lasts for a split second before transforming into pleasure that has you gasping. "Did you really just bite me?"

"If you did what I asked, I'd be doing something else with my mouth. Can you be a good girl?" Shuri's words are breathed directly into your heat as if she's speaking to it.

"I love watching your pussy react to my words." Although you can't see her face, you can hear her smirk in her words. Cocky. It was difficult to loosen up even when your muscles were begging for you to do so. Even if you want to, you are afraid of hurting her; there was no place for argument in the face of such a dominating tone. Shuri grabs your waist with a punishing hold and lowers you to sit on her face.

The sensation of feeling her beneath you is exhilarating. Her tongue moves slowly around your clit, igniting your pleasure in small sparks that will gradually consume your body.

Shuri's hands on your hips encourage you to rock back gently against her face. You submit. Considering Shuri's strength, you know that if you wind up injuring her, she'll quickly remove you. You rest one hand on the wall for support, slightly moving your hips as if testing. You were attempting to appreciate it, knowing that it was making you feel good as part of Shuri's relaxation. You kept rocking as she flicked her tongue on your clit, your knuckles paling as you grasped the headboard tighter.

Shuri is massaging reassuring circles into your thigh, letting you know relaxing and enjoying yourself is okay. Shuri was no longer licking into you with her tongue, allowing you complete control of your pleasure, and the fact that she was letting you use her made you increasingly wet. "Fuck," you exhaled, moving your hips and grinding against her lips.

Shuri effortlessly lifts you up to take a breath. “You’re doing so good, baby girl.” The name sends shivers up your spine. When Shuri lets you back on her face, she keeps her tongue still, allowing you to grind against it. You're thankful for this experience; it was so unique you can't imagine never feeling like this again. Hips snapping straight up and down, you find a rhythm and lose yourself.

"Shuri, I-I-" you cut yourself off with a gasp, and your mouth opens wide. The delicate, breathy sounds you used to make have vanished, replaced by loud, high-pitched moans.

Sensing you’re close, Shuri cups your breast, rubbing the sensitive bud between her fingers. The additional sensation causes your lips to falter. One of your hands lets go of the bed, clutching the wrist connected to the fingers holding your chest.

Your free hand grips the headboard, adjusting the pressure and pace. When you come, it’s with a scream of Shuri’s name you’re sure anyone on the floor could hear. Your brain whites out as your body curls in on itself. You try to move away from Shuri's face, but her grip keeps you there as she refocuses her attention on the fluids released during your climax. Her tongue laps hungrily across your pussy.

It was most undoubtedly the most intense orgasm you'd ever had. You're not even aware that tears are welling up in your eyes.

“Shuri! Fuck! Please, Shuri!" You cried, your voice rising in octaves as your stomach tightened. You will never be able to compete with Shuri's strength. She won't let you go until she's satisfied, at which point you collapse against the wall, exhausted. Your legs continue to twitch, and your body is oversensitive, yet you move lower till you're on her chest.

Shuri swiped two of her fingers inside of you as she watched you pant and struggle to come down. Your breath hitched, and your legs shook a little more. Coated in your come, Shuri brought them to her lips. She needed more, as if she wasn’t already covered in you. You lowered your gaze. Her face glistened, and you brought your mouth to her chin, sucking at the flesh and using your tongue to clean yourself off her. “Such a nasty girl.” you just moan in response, moving to the other side of her face.

You slide off her body and onto the empty side of the bed next to her. Closing your eyes. “Someone’s sleepy,” Shuri's tone is teasing.

Your eyelids are fluttering open, “How are you not tired?”

“Stamina, it’s a gift from Bast.” She moves closer to you, and the next time you open your eyes, she looks down at you.

Taking in your tiredness Shuri informs you, “You know you can stay, right? I don't kick you out or anything. You leave as soon as we're through." That is true. Shuri will never ask you to leave. You take the initiative since there was never any reason for you to stay. But your body is against the idea of standing up right now. You can't get up, so Shuri must have gotten her wish.

Instead of responding vocally, you wrap your sweaty body deeper under the covers. She should really change these.

Shuri speaks up again when she notices this. "Thank you for stopping by. I know you're upset with me."

This time you mumble, “I’m not mad at you.” Face shoved into the pillow.

“Really? Because you slammed the car door in my face the last time I saw you."

You turn to face her, and your eyes are half-closed. "Your pillow talk is awful."

There's a moment between you, and Shuri's expression is filled with uncertainty. She is hesitant to express her feelings. You're trying to appear interested, fighting against your body's exhaustion. Maybe this talk should have happened before you had sex. “Whatever is on your mind. Say it,” you encourage instead of shutting her out.

She takes another minute before saying, "I don't want you to think that all I want from you is sex. You're not some random person, Y/N. I've known you practically my entire life, so come to me if you have a problem."

“That’s why I told Zar to invite you to the movie night.” She explains. “I just don’t want you to think I see you as a body where you can’t tell me when you’re feeling down. It makes me feel shitty.”

You’re apologetic. “ I'm sorry. I didn't notice." You had no idea how Shuri was feeling. It must be difficult as well. She could not view you like a warm body and renounce her caring attitude toward you.

Since she was so honest, you told her what you failed to do many nights ago. "I received a call from my manager," you explain. "I have opportunities flying into my lap, and of course, I'm living my dream as the most in-demand model in the world right now, but I don't know what to do. I don't know what I'm doing for the first time in my life, and it stresses me out." The words flow freely off your lips, spilling out everything you've been feeling, and it feels really good. You understand how stressful it was to hold all that in and be burdened with so much anxiety and despair.

You sigh, adding, "And the only normalcy I have is sleeping with my sister's best friend." Saying it out loud puts into perspective the reason for your actions these past few days. Subconsciously, you were concerned that spending too much time with Shuri and opening up about your feelings might jeopardize what you had—realizing now how natural it is to talk to each other without awkward silences or pauses between. You may not have actively pursued a strong friendship, but you care about her well-being as much as she does about yours.

Shuri groans next to you, “Don’t say it like that.”

“It’s true,” you mumble, sinking deeper into the comfort of Shuri’s sheets. They smelled like her and sex, but mostly like her. Your body settled into relaxation post-orgasm, and you felt yourself getting sleepy again, eyes hazy.

“Whatever decision you make, you have people who care for and fully support you.” Shuri’s words are comforting and true.

You smile, eyes closing again. “And I know I said we’re not friends, but you’ve always been in my life,” you admit.

To summarize. “You’re you, and I’m me, and we’re just us.” The smile on Shuri’s face tells you she’s content with that.

“Wake me up in like an hour,” your body no longer has the strength to fight off sleep. You turn around and finally shut your eyes.

When you reopen your eyes, you're surprised by your surroundings. This room is way too large to be your own, and there's a lot of sunlight streaming in through the windows. You sit up, aware that you are still in the Citadel. Shuri isn't next to you, but you can hear noises coming from the bathroom and assume she's getting ready for the day. You adapt to the light by blinking a few times, feeling clear-headed and revitalized.

Who says you can't solve your troubles with amazing sex and a good night's sleep? You stand up and begin your usual practice of playing hide and seek with your clothes. Shuri has returned to the room by the time you're dressed, and her eyes widen as she sees you awake.

You playfully narrow your gaze on her. "I said one hour," you complain, but your words have no bite.

Shuri defends herself by raising her palms. "In my defense, I fell asleep."

You grab your car keys as you smile at her surrendering. "I think I should go." You've definitely overstayed your welcome.

"I'll have Griot direct Ayo to keep the hallway to the rear entrance clear for the next ten minutes." She is already planning your getaway, and you can’t help the laugh that manages to escape you.

“What’s so funny?” Shuri inquires, her expression questioning.

“You are using the Dora Milaje to distract people so you can get your sneaky link out of the palace undetected.” You chastise, mockingly shaking your head.

Shuri laughs and tilts her head. “You have such a colorful way of describing things.”

Before you leave, Shuri asks, “Are we good?”

"We're fine," you say.

Shuri smiles and nods.

As you walk away, your cheeks begin to hurt from smiling so much.

#cai fics #re upload #illicit nights #shuri x black!reader #shuri fanfiction #black panther shuri #shuri black panther #mcu shuri #princess shuri #shuri udaku #shuri fic #shuri smut #shuri x reader #shuri of wakanda #queen shuri #shuri x you #i think i got them all #idk what else to tag #omg #Spotify

[error404-drawnotfound]

I still love this sketchy drawing I did years ago of a fucked up rung

I just think it's neat :)

#transformers #fanart #rung #maccadam #re upload

[mostly-him]

I have yet to see anyone mention it but:

In the "We don't have a cat" series, the tiny Jazz poster ("have you seen him?") is an amazing detail and I love it

This was the last time Ravage saw him 😶

This is a series I really enjoy working on! As soon as I have another scenario in mind be sure that I will draw it

#loool #thank you!! 😁 #transformers #we don't have a cat #old drawing #re upload

[palatine]

They may never meet each other.

#moomin #moominvalley #snufkin #too ticky #too-ticky #re upload

[goodby3sun]

"I want to hold your hand but you are the sun and I am the moon and we will never collide"

#stony #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel fanart #marvel #avenger fanart #fanart #my art #re upload

[juliatv]

a little care ^w^🤍✨

and yes, I myself have been sick since yesterday, and I wanted to finally draw this for

@oddpizza - the best bun, from his art I get high from bliss looking at his works of art ( ✋˘ ˘👌 )

It's okay, I'll definitely get better from my cold soon (｡ﾉω＼｡)🍵🌼

And it's re-uploading, sorry for that Ó╭╮Ò

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #artists on tumblr #art #2024 #fanart #re upload

[noellehenry-original]

Autumn at Fairbridge Hall by noellehenry

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: M/M Fandom: One Direction (Band) Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson,Niall Horan/Gemma Styles,Liam Payne/Sophia Smith,Tommy Napolitano/Lottie Tomlinson,Julia Carey/James Corden,Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles (implied) Characters: Harry Styles,Louis Tomlinson,Gemma Styles,Lottie Tomlinson,Félicité Tomlinson,Phoebe Tomlinson,Daisy Tomlinson,Liam Payne,Niall Horan,Sophia Smith,Tommy Napolitano,Eleanor Calder,James Corden,Julia Carey,Original Female Character(s),Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency,Marriage Proposal,Autumn Ball,Fox hunting party,Period-Typical Homophobia,Bottom Louis,Top Harry,North Yorkshire,Country House Words: 14438 Chapters: 1/1

Originally published on 23 Sep 2017

Summary:

It is October 1817. Mr Louis Tomlinson hosts an Autumn Ball and a Fox Hunting Party at his estate Fairbridge Hall, intending to find suitable husbands for his younger sisters.

A Regency AU where Louis does not want to deal with marriage proposals, a stubborn sister and unwelcome guests. The only things he wants are peace and quiet and…, the handsome Mr Styles.

Written for the @hlhistoricalexchange2k17

#autumn at fairbridge hall #noellehenry #larry fanfiction #larry fic #re upload #hlhistoricalexchange2k17

[lemotyan]

Mask and Claws are good but what about their roles? In the theatre play these two have played all of the Bound. And you know what? They have done their best. 👏👏🌟✨

I just couldn't miss these two their roles – Aspity and Maria.

I'm a huge fan of Aspity and the Executor played her more than well. And it's not only about the good lines. He saved all of her: husky voice, gait, posture, manner of speech. I enjoyed it so much that I drew her when the first version with the bad recording have been published. 🥺💖✨

Maria was played so damn well that even if I disliked this character, I couldn't admit that this was the best Mask's role. Maria was so expressive and dramatic that I almost cried when tried to draw her...it was difficult but definitely was worth it. *-*

#pathologic #мор утопия #maria kaina #aspity #мария каина #оспина #executor #tragedian #theathre play #Театр Города на Горхоне #from twitter #re upload #Spotify

[kriselicate]

Foxy 🦊

#kiss band #kiss #the foxman #eric carr #fanart #artwork #re upload #art

[automeris-io-moth]

Fear

“Please Villain, please,” Hero pleaded, grabbing Villain’s jacket to lift themselves up.

So small, Hero looked so small in their arms, trembling and crying, clothes torn in some parts from the fight they escaped, nothing but rags left from their knees down, telling Villain far too clearly that they had crawled at least a portion of the way there.

With that, too, came the self-blame, the grief from a team they knew they had lost the moment Hero stepped outside the battlefield, and the mourn from having the image they had created for themselves slip right through their fingers.

Coward, and deserter, and murderer, even if not by their own hand, were what they could hear as their own two feet dragged them away. As panic settled deep inside their bones and an unexplained urge to flee rooted somewhere in their chest.

Hero didn’t know what was happening to them.

“Make it stop Villain, please,” they prayed, fists white from the pressure in their grip. “I can’t breathe, I can’t think, make it stop, I beg you.”

Villain’s hands were shaking, wet with the other’s tears as they crushed them away, as they moved their dirty hair from their face, hands as careful as they could be when Hero’s rushed to grab them, erratically, panicked, to plead with them in their hold.

Hero was not in their right mind, delirious they kept sobbing and shaking, and asking, demanding, for the other’s help, Villain, with their heart twisting inside their chest, burning tears sliding down their cheeks, could not.

They had promised Hero, but Hero could not remember.

“I’m scared, I’m so scared I don’t know what’s happening to me, please help me,” Hero screamed.

“I can’t Hero, I’m sorry,” Villain murmured, lifting Hero closer to their chest “It’okay, nothing’s happening to you, you reached me, you’re fine.”

“Then help me!” they wailed, trying to push themselves away from the other “Help me! Why won't you help me?! Are you enjoying this?!”

Villain swallowed.

"Why are you so cruel?" a last cry, lossing it's strength.

A lot of things were wrong, yet, priorities were clear, infection was quick to settle when dirt was, as it was, deep in the cuts and scratches, they needed to be cleaned, to be bandaged, Villain had to look for the rest, for the bleedings and the burns, but for that Hero needed to be a close semblance to calm.

Supervillian was ruthless when they fought.

Hero’s eyes grew unfocused, they grew cloudy as their begging subsided.

But they would not calm down, their suffering only quieted, but never eased off.

The sobbing became wimpers, but the panic in their dilated pupils remained.

“You know what to do,” a voice called from the other side of the threshold, the front door still wide open from when the Hero scrambled inside “look at them, don’t they look pathetic?”

“And who’s fault is that?” Villain seethed, not looking up to the familiar face approaching their way.

A gloved hand entered their field of view, settling softly against Hero’s cheek, making them frown, bringing back the loud uneasiness in soft weeps, Villain slapped it away.

“You can help them, Villain,” Supervillian said “you know Fear won’t subside on its own, not if I don’t allow it.”

Villain looked up to meet their gaze, brows furrowed and hands shaking in anger.

“And I won’t.” Supervillian added “It’s your choice at the end, you know what to do with your gifts.”

“My gifts?”

“Indeed, happy work anniversary, Villain,” they finished, standing up and brushing the dust off “Have a good night.”

Upset, Hero kept their hold tight to the other.

And Villain sighed.

With one softly placed over Hero’s head, and the other gripping their hand, Villain apologised and crossed the bridge the other had once prohibit.

Hero fell limp at the other’s entrance to their mind, crying quieting down, breathing evening out.

Fear was truly the cruellest ability to endure.

_

Masterlist

This is a re-upload because of a little problem Tumblr had with the tags, sorry :(

#villain x hero #my writing #creative writing #short story #hero x villain #writing wip #heroes and villains #hero #wips #writing snippet #scared hero #hero whumpee #villain caretaker #hurt hero #supervillain whumper #re upload

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter six : torment (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.1k

summary : you confront the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, teasing, lowkey brief orgasm denial, din djarin is a little shit, helmet stays on

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. You’re always alone with him, why is this any different than the days upon days you’ve spent together completely alone in the library? 

Well… the library isn’t dimly lit. 

And the library definitely doesn’t have a bed. 

Why did you invite him in? What was the end goal with such a stupid and impulsive decision? What the hell did you want? 

Him. That much is obvious, no point dancing around that fact anymore. 

But it’s purely sexual.

Obviously.

Nothing else. 

You’re friends. That’s it. You’re friends and sometimes you just so happen to have brief sexual fantasies about him. Can that really be considered cheating? Is it cheating if you didn’t want to be married in the first place? If you didn’t have a choice in the matter? If he’s a disgusting slob of a man? 

It doesn’t matter because you aren’t going to do anything.

Then why did you invite him in? 

Maker, you're an idiot. 

A stupid, stupid horny idiot. 

He’s just standing there. You should say something, but you waited too long and now it’s weird. This whole thing is weird. You invited him in as friends, you’re friends after all. You spend all day in the gardens together as friends, you read together in comfortable silence as friends, you hold each other intimately on the floor of empty hallways to reassure yourselves that the other is okay as friends, you think about him when you touch yourself as friends. Kriff you need to do something, you can’t just stand across from each other in silence. Do what feels natural, you’re friends, friends are comfortable around each other. What would you be doing if he wasn’t here? Get ready for bed. 

You turn to the dresser to start looking for a night gown, but you can feel the way his visor is trained on you, burning into your skin, so you grab the first thing you can find, barely looking at it and tossing it on the bed. Finally turning to look at him. 

“I’m just gonna change real quick…” You whisper it, no sense speaking any louder than that, you know he’ll hear it. He simply nods, turning to face the wall, it’s the first time he’s moved since he walked in. 

You go to summon Elaine and Lysa but stop yourself. How the hell would you explain him being here this late? It isn’t worth the trouble, you can get out of a dress yourself. 

Except you can’t. 

You were wearing one of the overcomplicated blue gowns you wore on days where you saw Kodo and you’re struggling to undo the bodice. 

Fuck.

This is fine. You’ll just stay in this until he leaves. When is he going to leave? Usually someone leaves when they are done doing what they came to do but with seemingly no objective here there’s no logical reason for him to leave. 

“You can turn around.” Gods, you’re embarrassing. He doesn’t speak for a moment as he turns and stares at you. 

“You’re stuck.” He says it so plainly that you know he’s certain that’s the case. You wish he would make fun of you. This would be so much easier if he was taunting you, like he usually was. You could hate him and send him away. But it’s getting harder to hate him by the minute. 

“It’s fine.” 

“I could help?” It’s a question. He doesn’t often ask for permission with you. But he won’t do this without your permission. Why should he need permission, this is innocent enough, he’s just helping you out. 

Friends help each other. That’s what they do. So you turn around so he can unlace it for you. And he’s on you before you have a chance to move somewhere else, anywhere else, but it’s too late. Without even realizing it you’ve put the two of you in front of the mirror. Well at least it can’t get worse than this.

But it does.

Because he takes off the gloves. And you can see his hands as he gives them to you to hold. Tan, calloused, littered with scars. You only get a glimpse, but it’s enough for you to realize that the hands you imagined him having don’t compare to the real thing. They’re big, you could tell that from the gloves but you hadn’t expected them to be so defined. You could write a million stupid romance novels about the vast ridges of his knuckles, or the veins that spread across them. 

Maker you’re so fucked. 

You can feel the dress loosening as he meticulously pulls each ribbon free, you wish it were possible to watch him do it. Instead you’re stuck staring at your stupid dumbfounded expression in the mirror, intently observing him until he finishes and immediately steps back and turns around. 

You wish he had taken his time. 

But you quickly slip out of the dress and don the nightgown on the bed. For Makers sake could you have grabbed a skimpier outfit? It’s practically lingerie. You reach for the silk robe hanging on the mirror and try to make yourself look as covered as possible.

“I’m decent.” You hate how small your voice sounds. He turns again and you give him his gloves back, drinking in one final glimpse of his hands. 

You need to talk about what happened. Just get it out of the way. 

“We should talk about it.” You take a step towards him but he flinches back, just a hair. It’s off putting to watch such an imposing man react like that so you stop dead in your tracks. 

“Nothing happened.” It’s gut-wrenching to hear his voice sounding so strained. It took weeks for him to warm up to you and in an instant he had put those walls back up.

“Don’t do that.” Gods, at least try to sound less like a wounded little girl.

“I’m not doing anything.” You want to rip that stupid modulator out of his helmet for making his voice sound so cold. 

“So I’m just supposed to pretend like you weren’t hyperventilating on the floor a few minutes ago?” The sympathy you had for him is rapidly depleting as you take another step towards him, trying not to raise your voice. 

“Yes. That is exactly what you’re going to do.” 

“No.”

“No?” The anger in his voice is palpable. Good. You want him to get fired up, you want to fight about this because at least you’ll be talking about it. 

“No. We aren’t going to ignore this, we are going to have a conversation about it because you scared the hell out of me.” He scoffs, it’s sharp coming through the filter. 

“You’re fine.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

It’s like the night you met. He’s standing in the middle of the room. A cold, unmoving statue of Beskar, and you, the scared little girl, charting unfamiliar waters. 

“ You weren’t.” You furrow your brows as you say it. The visor is trained on you but you’re sure he isn’t looking at you. “You couldn’t even move. It was like you couldn’t see me and I was right in front of you.” The chill that runs down your spine lets you know that he’s looking at you now that you’ve said that. He takes a long stride towards you and you hold your ground, tilting your head up to keep your eyes on his helmet.

“Why are we still talking about this?” His voice is so low it’s practically a rumble.

“Because we’re friends and friends talk about these things!” 

“We aren’t friends.”

Ouch. 

Well you should have seen that coming. Of course he wasn’t your friend, you can’t believe you were naive to ever think that he would be, he was probably just humoring you. Now you’re the one who can’t look at him as you stare at the floor, feeling like a child who’s just been scolded. 

“Of course we aren’t.” You wish you didn’t sound so bitter, as he sighs loudly. 

“Come on, don’t just stand there and pout at me, you knew we weren’t friends. We can’t be.” The contempt in his voice cuts deep. 

“Fuck you. Get out.” You start walking in the direction of the closet but he grabs your arm before you can get there. 

“Don’t do that.” His tone is a little gentler but it does nothing to sway your temper, shoving him off of you. 

“Why not. You’re right. We aren’t friends, I’m just the ditzy little princess you’re charged with watching, I don’t know why I ever thought you actually might care about me.” You’re trying not to cry at this point as you throw your hands up in defeat. “Is that what you wanted to hear? You were right. I was wrong. You win Mando, was that little episode in the hallway just now an act to get me to this point? If so you’re a fantastic actor, really had me going. I almost thought you actually gave a shit about me.” You turn sharply to open the closet door, wanting nothing more than to retreat to your pile of blankets but his large hand lands just next to your head slamming it shut. He raises his other hand so they’re boxing you in, he towers over and you scowl, your faces inches from each other now. 

“Why did you invite me in?” The crackle of the filter is low and it makes you want to tear the whole helmet from his head and slap him. And maybe do a few other things while it’s off.

“I want you to leave.”

“No you don’t”

“I hate you.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make all of this okay?”

Smoke. Metal. Fresh Linen.  

“I hate you.” The back of your head is against the closet door as you take a step back, he leans down, closer to you, your forehead is practically touching Beskar. 

“That’s what I tell myself to justify it all.” Gods, why do you wish you could feel his breath on your face? “So why did you invite me in, sarad’ika?” Your knees buckle slightly and his hands fly to your waist to support you.  When you don’t respond he leans just an inch closer, your breath is fogging up the steel of his helmet now. “Say it again.”

“I hate you.” It’s practically a squeak as you say it this time. He hums softly in response. 

“I can’t stand you.” He murmurs. “It’s like you were put on this planet to make me suffer .” His hands put the slightest bit of pressure on your hips to accentuate the end of his sentence.  

“Do I really bother you that much? What have I done to you that is truly that terrible?” You do everything in your power to make it sound cold and harsh but your voice still trembles. 

“Don’t play dumb cyar’ika. Don’t act like you don’t know what you do to me.” The words are labored as you savor the heat coming off of his body. “The way you torment me.” He’s practically snarling. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” Of course you do. As you gingerly bring your hands up to rest on his chestplate, trying to put a distance between the two of you uselessly. You know exactly what he’s talking about because it's exactly how you feel everytime you stare into the cold and unforgiving steel of his visor. The misery of absolutely loathing a person purely because you cannot have them, because you cannot escape them. Because it’s not just that he’s always physically there, he’s there when you close your eyes and when you sleep, he lives in brain, there is nothing you can do to get rid of him. To free yourself of the brand he has burned deep into your psyche.

That can’t be what he means though.

“Why do you do it? Hmm?” He brings the helmet down to rest against your cheek, you can feel the vibration when he hums, the sensation has you arching your back before you can stop yourself but thankfully his grip holds you in place against the door. 

“Do what?” You groan softly, he squeezes your waist tighter. 

“ This.” He grunts. “You do all of this. You wear that green dress, read those dirty books right in front of me, for fucks sake look at you. You invited me in and you put on this?” His fingers yank at the loose hanging fabric on your hips. “ This pretty little black slip of lace? You must truly despise me to put me through this lovely little bit of torture…”

“I don’t do those things for you.” You manage to spit out. It’s sort of true, you don’t entirely do those things for him, sometimes they just happen by accident. 

 One of his gloved hands comes up to grip your chin. “Don’t even get me started on this filthy mouth of yours, the way you talk to me sarad, when you insult me, berate me, all I can think about is how I could make this pretty mouth talk so sweet, make you beg and whine just for me, never talk back to me again.” 

Maker this isn’t real, it can’t be. You must have fallen asleep again, but he feels so solid, and palpable, and the wetness pooling between your legs certainly felt real. You’re speechless at this point as you just let out a little whimper that has him chuckling softly.

“Is that really all I had to do to make you behave? Whisper vulgar things into your ear? If I had known all you wanted was a little attention I would have done this the day I met you mesh’la. Is this what you want? I need to hear you say it.” He’s sweetened immediately and it’s making your head spin. You need to think clearly, be realistic, you can’t do this. No matter how badly you want this. 

But right now it’s hard to do much of anything besides lightly scratch at his chestplate and whimper. 

“Tell me to leave right now. I’ll do it, I’ll hop on the first transport ship off planet and you’ll never see me again.”  You know he’s serious. He could easily do whatever he wanted with you in this position but you know him, and you know if you don’t explicitly ask for it he won’t go further than this. Why is this so hard? You know what you need to do, you need to tell him to leave, to get as far away from you as possible but you know that it would never be far enough. There is nowhere he could go that would free you from this agony . 

“W-we can’t do this.” You manage to stutter out, your eyes are squeezed shut at this point, just trying to stop any more noises from slipping out.

“Then tell me to leave.” He says it almost like it’s what he really wants, that he knows, just like you do, that there’s no coming back from this. 

“I hate you. Every part” Stars, why can’t you just tell him to go? 

“I know you do cyar’ika.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, he can probably hear it. You need to convince him that you can’t do this, because you know you can’t stop yourself, it has to be him. 

“Do you know what would happen if we were caught?” You breathe out, grabbing the sides of his helmet to pull him back slightly so you can stare into the thin black line. 

“I know.” 

“They’d hang us both.”

“They’d hang me.” 

You know he’s right. They’d be substantially worse to him, you’d most likely just be locked away until it was time to produce an heir. 

“They’d hang you.” You whisper. 

“The moment anyone found out I would be swarmed by guards. They’d lock me up and throw away the key.” His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly

“They’d do worse than that.” For fucks sake, everything you’re saying is true and you know it, why isn’t this making either of you stop. 

“They’d torture me.” He says it so plainly, like it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. 

“They’d torture you.” 

“They’d cut out my tongue if they knew what I wanted to do to you.” Then why does he sound like he doesn’t care?

“Then don’t do it, it isn’t worth it.”

“I could do most of it without a tongue.” 

“I’d miss your tongue.” You need to stop. 

“Would you?”

“I would.” You would. 

“I thought you hated my tongue. Every part of me .” 

“I do. But it would be a shame for them to cut it out before I get to put it to good use.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Maker, did he just growl?

“You don’t like it?”

“You’re supposed to be telling me to leave. Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to stop myself.” 

“Then don’t stop yourself.”

“Tell me to leave sarad’ika.”

“Stay.”

And that’s all it takes. He hauls you over his shoulder and before you can even process what’s happening you’re being thrown down on the bed. He’s hastily removing things, buckles and belts, tossing them aside with his gloves as he pulls his cowl over his helmet, letting his cape fall to the floor as he drops the pack on top of it, you can’t help it as you reach up and grab the edge of his chestplate pulling him closer.

“Don’t bother, can’t wait.” Is all you say as you trace your fingertips across his now exposed neck, you can work around the flight suit and armor. His now bare hands find your waist again, this time tearing the fabric to shreds as he rips the negligee off of you, tossing the scraps to the side. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed about your bare chest being exposed to him now as his hands found the hem of your panties.

“Do you need these?” He says breathlessly, his visor keeps moving ever so slightly across your body like he doesn’t know where to look as you shake your head no.

“I have plenty of others.” That’s all he needs to hear before those are ripped to shreds too and he’s crawling onto the bed to hover above you, his hands slide under your thighs to scooch you upwards so his head is closer to your stomach. He wastes no time as he pushes your legs up to bend your knees so he can access all of you. You can hear the soft gasps from the modulator. 

“Sarad… bid mesh’la.” One of his hands presses to your inner thigh as he spreads your legs wider for him, his other hand moves up to swipe two fingers through your folds. “Cuyir ibic an par ni?” It’s like he’s talking to himself as he holds them up so you can see how wet they are. Your face turns red at the sight. “Is this all for me sarad?” You put your hands over your face sheepishly as you nod, you barely register the sound of air hissing as you peek through your fingers just long enough to watch as he slips his hand under his helmet to suck his fingers clean, letting out a low breathy moan.   

Maker, you don’t stand a chance. 

“Fuck, Mando, quit stalling.” You whine out, bringing your own hand between your legs in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure that’s building there. One of his hands gently grabs your wrists, effortlessly pinning them above your head as he clicks his tongue. 

“Needly little thing.” He chuckles as his other hand traces down your body, stopping to palm your breast, going between them as you whined, squirming under his grasp, there’s got to be a wet spot on the sheets already as he continues to taunt you, lazily rolling one of your nipples between his fingers. “So pretty mesh’la. I knew you’d be so perfect, smooth and soft under my hands.” He pinches the nipple he was playing with making you squeal. “You have to be quiet sarad. Can you do that for me?” He rubs circles over your tit with his thumb, soothing the ache as you nod. “Good girl.” You can practically hear the grin on his face as you flush red at the praise. He releases your wrists as he brings both hands down across your chest now, following the blush before finally one of his hands dips between your thighs. 

“Please Mando…” You whisper as your hands grip the sheets. His fingers massaging your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding your core. 

“Please what, princess?” Maker, he sounds so smug. 

“Gods, I hate you.” You squirm uselessly underneath him, not bothering to try and touch yourself, you know he’d stop you. His gravely laugh seeps out of the modulator. 

“I like you like this, my little star flower.” One of his hands smacks your thigh, it isn’t that hard but you still have to bite back a moan. “I wish I'd known how easy it was to make you behave. I’d have bent you over and done this weeks ago if I knew it would have the effect on you.” 

“Maker, are you going to touch me or are you going to just talk all night Mand-” Your voice catches in your throat as he slides two fingers into you without warning. Your back arching off the mattress until his other hand rests on your lower stomach, pushing you back down. He hums as he slowly draws them out before driving them back home forcing a choked out groan from you. You were right, he does feel better than your own fingers as he slowly and deliberately fucks you with his hand, his helmet moving back and forth to watch his digits slip in and out of you to your face as you bring a hand to your mouth to try and quiet the obscene noises that start slipping out.

“Maybe next time you mouth off to me I’ll just do this, would you like that?” 

Overconfident son of a bitch.

You’re having a hard time thinking of a witty comeback and when you don’t respond he hums softly, curling his fingers to hit that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Naughty. Speak up princess.” The warm drawl of his voice is suffocating as he curls his fingers again, your body trying desperately to writhe at the sensation but his other hand keeps you held in this position. “Use your words. I know you can, you’re always so mouthy” His tone is mocking as he curls his fingers again ruthlessly and your other hand flies down to his wrist. 

“Yes.” You manage to yelp you as he withdrawals his fingers and you whine softly at the feeling, trying to keep hold on his wrist to bring him back against you. He tuts as he brings the hand to his pants as he unzips the flightsuit and you sit up on your elbows to get a good look as his cock springs free. He lazily strokes himself, using your slick as a lubricant, his visor trained on your face as you let out a small gasp. 

Of course he’s so arrogant. With a dick like that anyone would be, he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever seen and just generally nice to look at. You didn’t even know it was possible to have such an attractive cock. It’s hefty, thick, veiny like his hands, the tip is such a pretty shade of pink as he swipes his thumb across the beads of pre-cum that spill out, drawing a sharp inhale from him. He leans forward slightly and slides the head through your folds making you fall back onto the bed, your head sinking into the mattress as you whine. You’re waiting for the delicious sting of him pushing in but of course he doesn’t. You lift your eyes to stare into the visor, he’s looking at you expectantly, you can virtually see the smirk on his face. 

“Be a good girl, princess. You know what I want.” He rubs the tip against your neglected clit and you cry out softly, reaching up to grip his shoulders.

“You’re such an ass.” You manage to gasp out as you try to hook a leg around his waist to pull him against you but of course he’s able to stay exactly where he is as he continues to leisurely stroke himself, bumping the head of his cock against your clit every so often, watching as you squirm. After a few moments of watching you wriggle under him he pulls back ever so slightly causing you to whine, leaning forward to grab his arms, uselessly pulling him back towards you. 

“I thought you didn’t want it?” He says in that stupid condescending tone. Even now he’s insufferable but you can’t help it, you’re so worked up at this point you’ll do damn near anything to get him inside you. 

“Please.” You whine softly. He hesitates before he leans back down, one hand gripping your hips as his other lines himself up with your entrance. Your hands squeeze his shoulders, trying to get any sort of leverage to force him into you.

“Please what sarad?” He tilts his head ever so slightly to the left.

Oh you’re gonna kill him.

After. 

“Please, for Makers sake just fuck me already.” You groan out, you only get to roll your eyes for a second before he snaps his hips forward, pushing himself only halfway into you but the stretch is immense as you scratch into his arms, whining loudly, the dull pain is worth it though as he brings his helmet down against the mattress next to yours so you can hear the guttural moan that falls from the modulator. Both his hands are on your hips now as he digs his fingers into the skin, trying to steady himself, you’re definitely gonna have bruises. He lies breathlessly on top of you for a few moments before he speaks again.

“Are you okay mesh’la? Are you okay if I move?” His voice is tense and you can hear him panting, you’re surprised you don’t cum right then and there as you nod against his shoulder, your nails scratching at his back now to stabilize yourself. 

“Yes, please, please Mando” You breathlessly mumble, shifting your hips slightly, wincing as you take a bit more of him and that’s all the permission he needs to grab your hips and gradually pull you down on to his length. By the time he’s fully inside of you you’re a whining mess.

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not when you can hear the Mandalorian groaning in your ear, mumbling incoherently in Mando’a to himself as his cock twitches inside you. 

He isn’t moving, you know he’s trying to catch his breath but Maker he feels so good and you don’t feel like waiting so you gingerly pry one of his hands off of your waist and guide it down between your legs, that seems to bring him back to reality as he starts rubbing small circles against your clit which has you keening immediately. He still doesn’t move inside of you as he intently watches you gasping and moaning, you shut your eyes tight as he brushes his fingertips slowly across your swollen bud. 

Of course he’s him so he doesn’t let you enjoy it for long because once you’re thrashing underneath him because you’re so close he draws his hand back and you breathlessly grab his wrist.

“Don’t you dare.” You give him as stern a look as you can but it sounds more like a plea. That gets a small laugh from him as he ever so slightly pulls out before slamming himself back into you, watching as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckles as he repeats the motion, pulling out ever so slightly before fully sheathing himself once more, you’re seeing stars again. 

“If you don't put your kriffing hand back between my legs I won’t ever let you do this again.” You try to scowl at him but all it takes is another snap of his hips before you’ve lost all your resolve. He finally picks up the pace, slamming his hips against yours, the thrusts growing brutal as he unravels you to nothing but whimpers as you claw uselessly at his shoulders. You’re pathetically whining now, it’s unfair how easily he’s able to get you there. It’s almost like he knows how close you are as he lets out a small groan when you clench around him, his hips stuttering slightly. 

“Ask nicely, princess.” He grunts out as he picks up the punishing pace once more. “Use your manners and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He growls as he brings his hands to your thighs to force them against your stomach, letting him push into you deeper. The feeling makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightens immediately as you let out a high pitched whine. 

“Please… for fucks sake, let me cum or I’m gonna rip your stupid perfect cock off the second we’re done.” You manage to grunt out through gritted teeth. He chuckles breathlessly as he brings his hand back to your clit, pressing rough and rapid circles against it. 

“We’ll work on that.” He laughs softly as you can feel yourself rapidly slipping back towards that edge and before you know it you’re right there again. He doesn’t let up on his ruthless motions this time as you finally reach your peak. 

You’re loud. 

Probably too loud.

But Maker, he loves it. It’s like it’s fueling him because he’s chanting your name and mumbling in Mando’a again as his thrusts grow sloppy and you manage to open your eyes just in time to watch him pull out and frantically stroke himself as he cums with a low growl, his other hand locked around your thigh as he shoots his load onto your stomach. 

It’s oddly gratifying to watch as he writhes, kneeling over you as his chest heaves. Collapsing down next to you once he’s finished, gasping for air. A nice reminder that under all the talk he is still just a man. Your man. 

Nope. Nope. Nope.

You fucking idiot. That’s not what this was. This was… 

Shit what was this? 

Casual sex. 

Friends with benefits. 

You can’t just have sex one time and start calling him your man are you crazy? You’re still married.

Fuck. You’re married. 

You turn your head slightly to look at him. 

If you didn’t know what to say to him an hour ago you definitely don’t know what to say to him now.

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[vixentheplanet]

illicit nights

“a little less conversation and a little more touch my body.”

shuri x black!reader | 18+

Summary: You were born and raised in Wakanda, but you chose to leave to pursue a modeling career. You've amassed global fame as an international model, gracing runway shows, featuring in luxury campaigns, and appearing in fashion magazines. You're in the spotlight, and the entire world is watching your every move. After a very public breakup, you decide to return home to reconnect with your country and the people you love.

You didn't expect to catch the attention of your sister's best friend in your attempt to get over your heartbreak, let alone end up in a private sexual relationship with said friend. The Wakandan Queen.

word count: 5.9k

themes: model/famous reader, queen shuri, childhood friends, hookups

warnings: sex, drinking, idk i forget y’all read this before

hi! 🤧😔 this is actually kinda hard because i never title my stories in the documents and i make copies when i’m editing in case i delete something and i want it so i’m going through so many documents to find the right one and then all the outfits are gone. i can’t remember the themes and warnings i put… anyways, y’all good sister is back up

When you decided not to attend Wakanda University to pursue a modeling career, you did not doubt that you would succeed. Your parents wanted you to follow in the footsteps of your elder sister, but subjects like physics and calculus never piqued your interest. There was a lot of debate regarding your decisions, especially when you told your family that you were leaving Wakanda. Many Wakandans live beyond the borders, but you weren't looking for a simple life.

You were blessed with breathtaking beauty and the qualities for which others were willing to pay millions. It's hardly surprising with a face like yours, in just a few years, your career has skyrocketed to unfathomable heights, catapulting you into worldwide fame. Every fashion week, you're on the runway, traveling worldwide for campaigns, fittings, and numerous billboards of your face.

While you like the acclaim and spotlight, you quickly learn that being such a public figure in the entertainment industry has drawbacks. You have been in a highly publicized relationship with actress Mya Hope for nearly two years. Maybe it was your naivety, being new to everyone, but you and Mya hit it off immediately. It was lovely initially, but as your relationship progressed, it was just continuous disputes, mistrust, and resentment. You endured it because you expected things to change one day, but then Mya cheated. You learned through a gossip article that several individuals provided you with via text and social media.

Because her infidelity provided concrete evidence that things weren't working out between the two of you, you broke up. It was awful after the public found out. You've had relationships in the past, but they were the silly childlike attachments all kids have as time passes. Nothing has ever been this long or public. Being followed around and pressured into making a statement about something so personal was a culture shock. Who in their right mind wants to expose their private grievances to the rest of the world?

This month was an emotional roller coaster, and after wrapping up a photo shoot for Dior's upcoming campaign, you instructed your manager not to arrange anything else. You needed some alone time and wanted to go home and rest away from everything and everyone—home, not LA.

With the help of your older sister, Izara, by the end of the week, you'll be back in the safety of your rightful home, Wakanda.

Your mother never approved of Mya, and despite your best efforts to keep your family informed, she had kept up with your activities in your work through Western media, including your relationship. You guessed it was because she was afraid you'd end up permanently residing outside of Wakanda, but maybe mother intuition told her the relationship wasn’t right for her daughter.

When you arrived at the house where you'd grown up and rushed back to your mother's arms, she didn't criticize or tell you that you should have listened. "I expected you to say I told you so." You inform her.

"A mother can only guide her child and hope that they will listen, but it's our responsibility to be here when you fall," she adds as she pulls you tight.

The next day, your sister comes over first thing in the morning. Izara was four years older than you. You two were close; she was your elder sibling, and you naturally respected her intelligence and accomplishments. However, as you matured, you came to see that you had different interests despite your shared affection for one another. While Izara excelled at technology and engineering, you discovered a love of fashion and beauty. You loved your nation and knew you could build a successful career in Wakanda once you found you wanted to be a model, but you wanted to be known worldwide.

Being the baby of the family, it was difficult for your family to accept that you were going, but they realized deep down that there wasn't much they could do to influence you or your choices. As they witnessed your success, your family became increasingly supportive and proud. The only disadvantage is that your career has kept you away from Wakanda and the people you care about. It was challenging to find time to return home while growing your profession. You weren't worried about taking time off now that you were in a secured position in the industry.

“What are you moving back in?” Your sister makes a joke about all the things you brought. One packing rule you had was that it was better to be cautious than sorry. You’d rather overpack than need something thousands of miles away. After all, you didn't arrive by plane. A Wakandan aircraft had no weight restrictions.

Your mother is quick to reprimand her. “Hush. My child is always welcome to come back.”

“I- I don’t know about moving back yet,” You admit, dismissing any thoughts your mother has about you moving in. "But, I'll be here a little while." Though you did not intend to stay in Wakanda indefinitely, you weren't in a hurry to go. The combination of fresh air and your mom's homemade pastries positively impacted your mood.

Later, you and your sister relaxed in the living room while your mother was in the kitchen. She was so excited to see both of her daughters under the same roof after such a long period that she rushed to prepare tea and lime cake. Your favorites. “No moping. Your sadness is going to make me sad,” Izara says, frowning at you.

"I'm not moping," you say with a sigh. “It wasn’t even going to last. We fought a lot. I knew I was unhappy, but all the attention was overwhelming. It simply has to blow over." Your sister was the only person who understood the ins and outs of your previous relationship. She was your closest confidante and had warned you to leave Mya so often that she was probably exhausted by how stubborn you were.

Izara hums understandingly. “Don’t worry. It will. Those silly foreigners will find something else trivial and pointless to focus on. In the meantime, you need to be out and enjoy being single.” She advises. “Like, when’s the last time you had sex?”

“Izara, shut up,” there’s a warning in your tone. You confided in your sister about many things, but that was where you drew the line. She didn't need to know what you did, and you didn’t need to know what she did. Though the question did make you think, it’s been over a month since the initial break up, and you and Mya had long stopped being intimate. The passion just wasn’t there.

Izara is always persistent and keeps talking. “What! We’re both grown. We can talk about that now.”

“Absolutely not.” You groan, deciding to change the conversation to focus on your sister, “How is work?” She’d recently been promoted at her job working in the laboratory at the palace. She had called to tell you, but you had been in the midst of a photoshoot. Part of you felt bad you couldn’t give her your full attention upon hearing the news.

As the director of research methodologies, she spent a great deal of time in the various villages conducting focus groups to determine where improvements were needed. She then brought the data back to the lab, where they worked to enhance the areas that needed it. “It's incredible. I feel good knowing that my work has a positive influence.” Your sister has always been active in the community, dedicating her life to helping others.

“That’s amazing, Izara. I’m proud of you.” You say because you genuinely are, even though you didn’t take after your sister and her love for science. Her drive and passion are admirable. “It’s okay. It’s your job not to be fucked up so I can be the rebellious one.”

That gets a laugh out of your sister. You’ve missed that sound. “Not to brag, but I’ve been considering returning to University for my Ph.D.. Shuri is encouraging me.”

Shuri. Since childhood, the Princess, now Queen of Wakanda, was your sister's best friend. They attended the same primary school and connected instantly. You recall when Izara snuck Shuri into your home for a playdate, unbeknownst to your mother and the King and Queen. The Dora Milaje arrived at your mother's home with spears in hand before learning that the mischievous princess had sneaked away to play with her new companion. Your cheeks rise as you recall that day. "There's that smile again!"

“Just remember the time you almost got our entire family executed.” You chuckle, and Izara groans. She hates this story.

“We didn’t know any better!” After that day, Queen Ramonda invited your sister to the palace to play to prevent any other misunderstandings. Shuri would occasionally come to your house, allowing the two girls to form a lasting bond. “You had the biggest crush on her. You used to follow us around whenever she’d come over,” Izara added, laughing as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

For the record, it was a brief crush. The wooden doll house you had collapsed a few weeks before your seventh birthday, and you cried all night about it. Shuri presented you with a fully equipped doll house for your birthday. You recall looking on with wide eyes as she demonstrated all of the functions, the lights switched on, and water poured out of the sink. Still, you'd never acknowledge it. “I did not have a crush on her. I was following you. I wanted to be just like you until I realized how boring you were.” You snickered. A look of disbelief crosses your sister's face, and you laugh harder.

"I should thank Shuri," you say once you've quieted down. When you told Izara you were planning to return home, she enlisted the assistance of her best friend, who made every effort to ensure your safe arrival. You're not sure you could have endured another moment amid the chaos.

“You should, and she would love to see you.” Your sister agrees. “I have to go to the office tomorrow. Actually, we can stop over there, and then we can go to the shops. I have to buy Aneka a birthday gift.” Aneka, another one of your sister's friends. She had such a bold personality but was always kind to you. “Oh, and you’re coming Saturday.”

"I-" you start, thinking for a moment. There's no justification for you staying at home, feeling miserable over a failed relationship that wasn't going anywhere. It's been a little more than a month, and you're supposed to be unwinding and having fun. Izara squeals and orders you to be prepared by an ungodly hour after you accept.

You and your sister traveled to Birnin Zana the following day. You knew the Golden City but had never been within the Citadel. While your sister is likely to be familiar with both the interior and outside of the high-rise glass tower, you have never stepped foot inside. With all the Dora Milaje present, it was a little intimidating, and you did your best to keep up with your sister in your heels. As Izara was a few steps ahead of you, someone you imagined was a staff member gave you a strange look. “Stop walking so fast.”

Izara ignores your request and keeps moving. "No one told you you had to wear those shoes." She lets you catch up by coming to a halt in front of an elevator.

“It’s not the shoes. It’s you.” You argue, coming up to her as you wait for the elevator.

As you rode the elevator, your thoughts turned to the new Queen. Several years have passed since your last interaction with her. Shuri had always impressed you with her intelligence, and she was extraordinarily strategic and visionary. She undoubtedly carried those attributes with her when she ascended to the throne.

“I didn't tell her you were coming. She’s going to be so surprised.” Izara scans her badge and enters the lab. You follow behind her. “Shuri, I have the file you asked for; sorry, I was reviewing it over to make sure we caught all the errors from the last trial and-”

Shuri had looked up when she heard your sister's voice, but you saw her eyes widen in your presence. “Y/N?” You watch as she blinks a few times, taking you in.

Shuri’s hair was short now, the sides shaved, and her hair coiled into a mohawk. She wore a light gray boiler suit. Truth be told, you did have a crush on Shuri when you were younger but grew out of it. It was the projection of a childish imagination. It faded with time and age as you ventured away from your sister and developed your own relationship with friends, no longer in the same space as the Wakandan Princess. But now, she looks good, very good.

“Hi,” you say, happy to see another familiar face. After being surrounded by strangers and new faces for the past few years, the familiarity of home was comforting. "I appreciate you arranging transportation for me to get here." You instantly tell her, knowing the reason for your visit. You did not intend to disturb her.

Shuri is quick to respond, “Of course, Izara said you wanted to visit. It was no trouble.” It was the honest truth. You know Shuri would do anything for your sister and, in relation, you.

Izara smiles, “I’m happy to have my little sister home though I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m trying to cheer her up.” Your sister pinches your cheeks and immediately moves away from reach when you swat her hand away. She might be a little obnoxious. You are not a baby.

“I am not a baby.” You vocalize, rolling your eyes.

"You'll always be my baby," she replies with a childish pout. "Now, wait right here. I’ll be back. I’m going to grab something from my office.” Izara says as she walks out of the lab, leaving you and Shuri alone.

You begin to appreciate the painting on the cylindrical pillar in the room, assuming you won't bother Shuri anymore, but Shuri speaks. “To what do I owe this visit? Not every day, I have Wakanda’s most famous supermodel walking into my lab,” she jokes.

It’s clear she’s being humorous, but your face heats up. “Oh, I wanted to see you and say thank you. I’m just following Izara around, and we’re going to pick out a birthday gift for Aneka.” You explain, trying to ignore the sensation in your cheeks.

Shuri is now leaning back against one of the tables, completely focused on you. "What did Izara mean when she said 'better circumstances'?" She inquires, her gaze fixed on yours.

She patiently waits. You pause, unsure how much you should reveal. All the arguments and nights of crying make you question if your sister ever mentioned Mya to Shuri. You make the decision to keep things simple. “I’m going through a very public breakup which means nothing to anyone here but everything to the media out there.”

“You know how hard it is to be walking down the street and be harassed with a thousand questions about your ex?” It was a rhetorical question. The media was ruthless and would stop at nothing until they could pull enough out of you to exploit for their own selfish advantage.

Shuri, being the intellect she is, probably realizes you'd rather not discuss this and moves on. "Wakanda, thankfully, does not have such an animalistic journalism system." Culturally, there was a high level of respect and awareness throughout the community that your business was private. Wakanda was far more developed and gave little thought to gossip and drama.

You were thankful for that. Breakups aren’t easy, no matter how shitty the relationship was. External stress wasn’t helping with your mood. You finally felt like you could breathe. “Exactly. Anyways I’m happy to be back.”

“Any plans?” She asks.

You shake your head. “Other than spending time with my family, no.” Further into your stay, you’d probably come up with some type of itinerary, but you were laying low for now. “Izara thinks I should be out enjoying being single.” She or your mom would probably try to set you up sooner or later.

Shuri nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know? There’s no reason to waste time thinking about someone who isn’t thinking about you when you could be having fun.”

The bluntness of Shuri’s words surprises you. “I suppose I’m young. I should be doing what I want with who I want.” You remark in a lighthearted tone.

Shuri glances at you, licking her lips, and winks. "Exactly," she replies. Your heart rate increases. Is she hitting on you?

Izara returns, and you both say goodbye to the Queen before heading to the shops. The brief exchange has left your thoughts in a frenzy. You spent the rest of the day trying to persuade yourself. Shuri was undoubtedly attractive, but there was no way a years-old crush would be rekindled within seconds of seeing her again. A crush you had when you were five at that, but the way her tone held so much suggestion.

Wakanda's nightlife was always lively. People come together, clubbing at the same venue, existing at the same time in the same place. It was an essential aspect of the culture and many people's choice for a social gathering or celebration.

The next night, you're on Elixir's second floor, famed for its massive and powerful alcoholic beverages. Aneka's party had the entire floor to themselves, and she leaped up and down as soon as she noticed you. “Ah! Baby Izara! We see your billboards when we’re on missions outside Wakanda.” She tells you, and you feel shy under all the attention. It was nice to know that the people at home were supportive in seeing you thrive. "Thank you!" You exclaim as you hug her. You said hello to a couple more people before ordering a cocktail and settling in. You're seated alone in one of the many round booths. Your sister and a few others had gone downstairs to join the sea of crowded and sweaty bodies.

You had the idea to go down there. Dance on someone, make an emotionless connection, and return to their apartment, but you know in the back of your mind that it wasn't for you. Impersonal connections lack the comfort of knowing each other's bodies and personalities.

There's quite a commotion at the club's entrance, and you peek down to see all the excitement. Shuri navigated the crowd with a small group of individuals following behind her. The woman was dressed in all black, with form-fitting pants and a tailored blazer—dark shades, shielding her eyes from those around her.

You felt something stirring deep within you the entire time your attention was drawn to her.

The sheer strength and command of her presence divides the crowd. She doesn’t have to ask. Everything about her screams dominance, and you can't deny that you're drawn to it, trying not to let your imagination wander into the illicit territory. This was not a crush. This was pure want. Shuri makes her way up the large metal steps, where she is embraced by the bubbly birthday girl who has had too many drinks. “Shuri! You made it,” Aneka says excitedly. The sweet look Ayo gives her excited girlfriend warms your heart. They're adorable.

Before hugging Aneka, the Queen leans in and says something only she can hear. She fades from view as she moves deeper into the scene, most likely conversing with others. When you see Shuri again, she's walking over to you, drink in hand, her steps purposeful.

She slides into the booth across from you without asking. “I’m surprised you’re not down there dancing. What happened to being young and single?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Please," you retort. "So I can have sweaty men press their balls on my back. Thank you, but no." Your lips were pursed.

“So you came out to sit around?” Shuri comments. “In such a pretty outfit,” she notes. Her eyes are covered behind those black shades, but her statement indicates she's checking you out, taking in the way your boobs sit nicely and the tiny skirt displaying the silky flesh of your upper thigh. There's a trace of something in her voice as if she's coaxing you to reveal more, understanding there's more to your decision to isolate yourself. Again, a tempting tone.

You’re not in the mood for mind games. “You ask a lot of questions. Besides, are you not doing the same thing?” Your voice is laced with skepticism as you eye her.

Shuri lets out a disagreeing sound. “I’m here to celebrate Aneka and enjoy my night.”

If she can tease you, why can’t you do the same? You twirl your tongue around the straw in your drink, and Shuri can’t look away. “Since you’re here with me, am I a part of the enjoyment?”

When your eyes meet, there’s a glint of danger in them. “I think you should behave.” Her tone was low and warning.

If she believed that would get you to listen, she was mistaken. That resulted in the opposite effect, as you felt arousal between your legs. "And what if I don't?" You push, your eyes innocent, as if you had no idea how provocative your tone was. She looked damn good in that suit.

You were putting aside the complication caused by the fact that Shuri was your sister's best friend and the Queen of your country. Something enticed you to make a move on her. You notice the cherry in her glass and immediately say, "I can tie that with my tongue." It was a cool trick you picked up from a model in Cannes. People were always shocked at how simple you made it look before trying it themselves.

Shuri glances at you as she takes the cherry into her mouth instead of answering vocally. The stem is just beyond her lips, and her brows are lifted, waiting for you. You bend across the table, making sure not to brush your lips together as you move the stem from her mouth to yours. She keeps a close eye on you while you concentrate on your task, stretching your tongue upward and trapping it against the roof of your mouth.

You stick your tongue out after pushing the end through the loop, revealing the knotted cherry stem to Shuri. She removes her glasses, folds them, and sets them next to her cherry-free drink. Eyes filled with fire. “Stop looking at me like that.” You could sense a level of hesitation from the woman. Behave wasn't a no; it simply indicated she was attempting to get you to back off since her resolve was slipping.

You roll your eyes as you remove the stem from your tongue and place it on a napkin. “You know you’re practically undressing me with your eyes.” You could see a glimmer of hunger in her features, and you knew you had her right there.

“Mmm, I’m not the one showing off tongue tricks,” Shuri smirks, sipping her drink.

Before you can say anything, a breathless voice breaks the tension between you. “Shuri!” your sister and two of the girls had returned from the dancefloor. “Scoot over. I’m taking a five-minute break.” Izara says. You can see the sweat on her forehead. You start to shift over to make room for everyone, and you’re forced to be pressed against Shuri, depleting the distance.

Upon their arrival, Shuri redirects her attention to her best friend, “Hey, Zar. I was just asking your sister why she wasn’t dancing.” Glancing at you with a smug look, she was enjoying this.

Izara nods, “I told her she needed to get down there and have fun. It’s been five weeks, and the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.”

As you drum your fingers across the glass table top, a sigh escapes your lips. I’m trying, you think. "I'm not keen on hooking up with strangers," you answer instead. You were discrete with your words. Sneaking a quick look over at Shuri when you say it, you find her already staring back at you. Her expression has now become unreadable.

Izara sighs. Her sole motive for inviting you was for you to have fun; she probably believed you weren't having a great time, but your attention was attracted to something you didn't need to search for. You wouldn’t tell her that, though. "Oh, Bast, you need more liquor." She approaches a waiter and orders a round of shots.

As soon as the waiter places the shot glasses on the table, all eyes turn to you. You reached forward, grabbed one shot, pinched the lime, and tossed back the tequila, promptly sucking the lime between your teeth and dropping it into the empty shot glass. "That's my girl," Izara says, clapping.

The five-minute breaks last a lot longer than five minutes. Your poor sister was utterly unaware that she was cock-blocking. She and Shuri were having a casual conversation about who knows. You weren't paying attention. Maybe she senses you getting restless beside her, but you feel a hand rest on your leg. Shuri continues to converse with Izara while her fingertips brush your left thigh. You let out a sharp, deep breath before composing yourself. The soft touch riles you up. Shuri taunts you by not moving her hand any higher. She rests it there, stroking your skin, knowing it’s driving you crazy.

Shuri is winning this game you're playing together, but you have a plan.

When your sister returns to the main level, she attempts to get you to accompany her, and you make up an excuse, promising to do so after you use the restroom. When you and Shuri are alone again, you slap her hand and glare at her. “You should move your hand if you’re going to start something you can’t finish. I’m not in the mood to be teased.”

As you get up to leave, you grab a second shot, downing it before smiling. It's a mind-numbing high that blocks all of your feelings except lust. "I'll be really upset if this night doesn't end with me in your bed." You whisper, walking away, not bothering to wait for Shuri’s reaction. There was no point in playing games when you wanted her, and she clearly wanted you. That’s why you knew she would follow you.

The bathroom is located down a dim corridor with purple fluorescent lights. You're walking down the hall when you hear quick footsteps behind you. A hand catches your waist, pressing you against a solid body. Away from prying eyes, Shuri holds you against her, moving your hair to expose the side of your neck, “Do you want to dance with me after?” She speaks with hushed tones.

Mission completed.

You shook your head and turned to face her. "I wasn't here to dance." Dancing was a waste of time because neither of you wanted to do it. Every second more you spent in this club was a moment wasted when she could be inside of you.

Shuri paused for a moment, her eyes clouded with longing. "You realize what you're asking of me." Your mind wanders to Izara. All the red flags were flying in your head. This was your sister's closest friend and her most recent boss. Shuri felt off-limits for some reason. But you swiftly block out all of that.

“Don’t complicate things. I wouldn’t be here asking you to bring me home and fuck me in the middle of a club if I didn’t,” you said. You've teased and flirted with the Queen all night, and now nothing stops you from ending the night in bed with her. “No kissing, no intimacy, it’s just sex.” You assure her.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You gasp as Shuri thrusts back inside, making your body tremble in response. It’s one of the many compliments you’ve given her through the night as she takes you further into euphoric bliss.

Maybe it's because you haven't had sex in what seems like an eternity, but the slide in feels like heaven. The first thrust has you seeing stars, and every move since then has you letting out an endless stream of moans. You were on your knees, Shuri kneeling behind you, going at unrelenting speed.

You're both high on adrenaline and lust, making your body hum and your head spin—sweaty bodies work together as your heartbeats syncopate in a rhythmic acceleration. You can't recall the last time you felt so attuned to another person, so alive.

Her hands are all over you, one of her arms reaching from behind to support your upper body, cupping your chest while her fingers tease your nipple. You figure the mind of a genius is used to focusing on multiple things at once because despite her fast thrust, the fingers on Shuri’s other hand stroke along your clit, gently knowing what you need, where to touch you, and how to touch you.

“Harder, harder- fuck, don’t stop.” You reach around to find Shuri’s hips and hold them, following her movements in an attempt to feel her closer. “Such a bossy girl.” Shuri pants but drives into you with more force.

She eventually removes the arm that has been holding you up and pushing you forward. At this angle, she's hitting the spot inside you that has you unable to speak, trapped in an endless repeat of pleasure as the sensation causes your skin to prickle.

Collapsing onto the bed, you cushion your head on the pillow, and your back arches beautifully. “Fuck Shuri. C-close,” you stutter, your voice weakly coming out between your pants. The way Shuri was easily manipulating your body to take her deeper made you want to scream. "I can't wait to see you come looking for me." Shuri breathes and snaps her hips.

"You're going to look gorgeous." She goes on, talking you through it. "Should take a picture and put it on the front cover of every magazine. Everyone can see how pretty you are when you’re getting fucked so good.”

Shuri's comments fill your head with filthy thoughts, even though you've never considered yourself an exhibitionist. Imagine one of the world's most famous models being railed by the Queen of Wakanda on a magazine cover. You two are certainly an obscene sight. “Should I let everybody see what a good girl you are, or is this only for me?”

"Only you," you answer thoughtlessly. Your mind was only centered on pleasure now. As you inhale sharply, the heat inside of you grows, and your body is frozen in ecstasy. Your eyes slip back as your stomach muscles contract in anticipation of eventually feeling that relief. Your eyes widen, your brows rise, your breath stutters, and your eyes close tightly. So tight, and you’re coming. It's quiet for a few moments, and then you're screaming Shuri's name, your voice breaking, your nails sinking into the covers.

As you move your hips back, little gasps escape your lips. “You’re perfect. It feels so good. Want to keep fucking you.” Her words and tone are desperate as she pants, grinding into you, using the friction and pressure to reach her orgasm. You could get off just from the sound of her moans alone.

When Shuri pulls out, you fall into the satin sheets and turn over, sticky and satisfied, staring at the ceiling. You take a few moments to collect your breath and come down from your climax. You sense the bed shifting as Shuri fades from view.

On shaky legs, you stand up to scan the room for your belongings. There was no need for closeness or caressing. Both of you agreed to just sex, and you needed to get home as soon as possible. Your top is lying right in front of the door. That was the first thing to go.

“I’ll have a member of the Dora escort you home.” Shuri comes back into the room from the bathroom, a tee shirt and boxers on now while you’re still struggling to locate your underwear.

“Are you crazy?” You pull the straps of your top on your shoulders and try to situate your breast inside. “I’m not even supposed to be here.” You whisper-shout. The reality was settling in now that the fire inside you had been put out. Izara would most likely interrogate you in the morning, thinking you went home with someone and you had time to think of a lie once you were home.

“Imagine going to my mother's house with the Dora Milaje. - have you seen my panties?” Her head wanders sideways, and you follow her gaze to discover your underwear on top of the lampshade on the bedside table.

They undoubtedly landed there in her haste to strip you naked. Shuri takes them and hands them to you. "You're so messy," you mutter as you take them from her, leaning down to slip them on.

"You weren't complaining," Shuri chuckles. There goes that smug tone.

Before leaving, you get dressed, put on your heels, and turn to Shuri. “This never happened. I was never here." You're both consenting adults, but having your sister in the mix complicates the situation. It was acceptable for the one time you both received much-needed relief, but it couldn't happen again for the sake of preserving normalcy. The elder remains silent. "Did you hear what I said?"

A confused sound leaves her lips. “I can’t hear anything. I'm here by myself.”

You roll your eyes and walk out the door. That’s the end of that.

When you’re showered in bed and reflecting on tonight‘s activities, it's later when your kimoyo beads ring.

It’s Shuri.

“Yes?” you answer, ensuring not to disturb your mom. It was late.

“I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.” you knew her concern was genuine because Izara would never forgive her if something happened to you.

“Yes, I did. Thank you.”

She hesitates for a second, staring at you in contemplation before asking, “So, are we going to talk about it?” There’s humor in her voice.

Not this. “Didn’t we agree that I wasn’t with you?”

"I'm not addressing that," Shuri responds immediately. "There is something far more intriguing on your lower back," she taunts, winking.

Your lips form an unconscious gasp. “Shut up!” The first and only tattoo you’ve ever received was in Paris after your first fashion week. You and a few other models get tattoos while feeling celebratory and possibly under the influence of a bit too much champagne. A tribal butterfly is permanently affixed to the center of your lower back. "No, we can't discuss it since you've never seen it." You remind her of this, your face heated. You can't believe you overlooked that.

"I completely understand." She responds, but the way she looks at you and bites her lip suggests otherwise.

Everything about her was enticing. You decide to end the call, “Goodnight, Shuri.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You went to bed vowing never to do it again, a commitment tainted by dishonesty because it happened again.

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[wasrumis]

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[dragonace1555]

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