Welcome to "The Unsweetened Truth," a haven for those who crave raw and authentic romance narratives featuring Black protagonists. As the author behind these narratives, I invite you to join me on a journey where the stories reflect my real life with a giant sprinkle of delusion. But be warned: the content found within these pages is intended for mature audiences only, with themes and imagery that reflect the complexities of adult relationships. So, take a seat, immerse yourself in the stories, and discover the unfiltered beauty of romance through the eyes of Black protagonists. And remember, all content is exclusive to this platform, protected under #unsweetimagines—because some truths are meant to be savored, not shared.
* indicates smut
The Adored One (Complete)*
Nereyda is a member of the Doras—a marginalized class whose purpose is solely for pleasure. But Nereyda is no ordinary Dora; she holds a special place as the chosen companion of Prince T'Challa.
The Adored One* | Giving You the Best | Warmth* | What You Won't Do* | On Your Mind | All This Love | Yours*
Who Hurt You (One Shot)*
T'Challa, the esteemed leader of Wakanda, ventures into the dimly lit confines of a hidden establishment, not as a king, but as a man driven by his own desires. There he finds you.
Come Sit On My Lap (One Shot)*
T'Challa isn't paying enough attention to you so you decide to go out without him. You're not ready for the repercussions.
Promises (Complete)*
Erik left more than just his girl behind. It was time to keep some of his promises.
Summary: T'Challa, the esteemed leader of Wakanda, ventures into the dimly lit confines of a hidden establishment, not as a king, but as a man driven by his own desires. There he finds you.
Pairing: T'Challa x Black! Exotic Dancer! Reader
Word Count:
Warnings: Smut, Animal instincts, praise kink
A/N: Originally written in 2019 (I think?) This was part of a phrase request, hence the bolded phrases.
He was back in the seedy club, dark with smoke curling around his face, but he kept focused on his task. On stage, he could see the woman performing acrobatics that even the strongest of warriors would be impressed with but King T'Challa would not be swayed from his mission. He'd left the Dora Milaje behind at the hotel, made his excuses to Shuri, and he was hoping not to run into Erik here. He had one thing—person—on his mind.
"T," he turned at the call of the shortened version of his name. The cute girl behind the bar with the freckles and pigtails grinned at him. "You looking for your girl?"
He smiled, tapping his fingers against the bar. "Is she available?"
"Yeah let me get you set up in your usual room and I'll let her know you're here." Bree walked around the bar and led him down a familiar dark hall. The red lights gleamed against her patent leather short shorts and T'Challa absently admired her figure. She led him to what had become "his" room, a private space he'd frequented since first being dragged to the club by Erik six months ago. A bottle of champagne was waiting for him but he was already struggling to keep his head clear with the remnants of her scent swirling in the air.
He absently heard the door shut behind him and his pulse raced as he sat on the bench. Just the thought of almost seeing her after a month of no contact made his palms itch and a rumbling come from somewhere deep in his chest. He'd been forced away from her city for business in other parts of the world, but after spending the day in meetings he half listened to, T'Challa just wanted to feel her against him, hypnotizing and soothing him in a way that only she could.
He'd tried to get his fix in the various cities that he'd had business in—top strip clubs in Miami and New Orleans, cabaret shows in Las Vegas, even the red light district in Germany—but no one could quite manage him like she did. He'd contemplated keeping her, flying her from city to city with him but he knew she was fiercely independent, a quality he loved about her. She wasn't looking to be saved from the strip club, didn't care that he was a king. And when he was with her, he felt stripped to his baser instincts, primal and just a man.
He heard the door open and she stood in the doorway, curves outlined by the red lights in the hallway contrasting with the blue lights of the room. T'Challa did his best calm the rumbling in his chest but the Panther wanted out, wanted to claim what it knew belonged to them. She wore a satin robe covering her body but he could see the lace bra peeking from underneath. He licked his lips and watched her track the movements and shiver.
"You've been away for so long I thought you forgot about me." Her musical voice rang in his ear and the Panther was clawing at the distance between them.
He spread his legs wider to accommodate for his length pressing against his leg. "Pour me a drink."
He could see the smirk on her face filling with knowledge; there was no way he could've forgotten about her. She'd made sure.
She walked over to the small end table, a swish in her hips, and T'Challa's mouth watered. She poured him a glass of the bubbly before crossing the room to him. He could feel the desire to snatch her into his arms the minute she was within arm's length but he held himself still. He only extended his arm to reach for the glass in her hand. He gestured with two fingers to the pole in the corner of the room. He wanted to watch her for a moment, give himself time to get under control before he unleashed the side of himself that he felt he constantly restrained. This—with her—was the only place he could be himself.
She stepped onto the mini stage, grabbing the remote for the music and setting the atmosphere with a slow, sultry tune, a favorite of hers, and subsequently his. She pulled the belt loose on the robe and dropped it to the floor allowing him to see the lace contraption that only seemed to hinder his view of what he really wanted to see. She curled herself around the pole and he watched transfixed as she moved through a series of moves that made his blood boil. Bending at the waist, she widened her legs and shook her behind before straightening up and unfastening her bra. She twirled it for a few moments around her finger, coyly looking over her shoulder at him before throwing it to the end of the stage. She turned and he could he see her breasts, perfectly sized for him, her nipples perked and ready. Her hands went to her hair and she arched back as if offering herself up to him. T'Challa passed a hand across his mouth, he was vibrating with the effort to stay in his seat as he watched her knead her breasts. She turned her back to him again, bending at the waist and sliding her panties down her legs. She was moving through her routine quickly, as if she could sense his waning patience. She tossed her underwear in his direction. T'Challa's hand shot up to grab them out the air, drawing them in for a sniff. He closed his eyes at the scent of her arousal, the dampness serving as evidence of her own impatience.
"Come here," he demanded. She stepped down from the stage and swaggered over to him. Holding out a hand for her, he pulled her onto his lap. "I think it's playtime" She giggled as she straddled his lap, reaching down to his waist to work on his belt. He caressed her ass, gripping her cheeks and kneading.
When his dick was free, she took him into her hand, pumping him a few times. The grip of her hand, small in comparison to his own was heaven and he slipped out a growl in response. "Please T'Challa can I have it?" He moaned and did his best to hold back the Panther but he knew his eyes were glowing yellow. She looked him in the eye, a tight grip on his dick still adding a twist of her wrist to the top. "Prove to me that you didn't forget about me." He nodded, panting and trying not to come too quick. It had been a while and she always knew what he liked.
She raised on her knees before beginning to sink down on him slowly. But the Panther inside wasn't having it. T'Challa grabbed her by the waist and tugged her down on him, slamming himself into her, all the way, until he was balls deep, the only way he wanted to be with her. Deep inside her, buried in her warm walls that hugged him a little too tight, T'Challa pulsed. Her eyes were wide, dark lashes framing the tears that threatened to spill from his force. When he pulled her up, separating himself from her, and then back down, she threw her head back and moaned. T'Challa savored the connection, it had been too long since he'd been able to lose himself in her. He snaked his hand up between them to press a hand against her wind pipe, careful to keep elongating nails away from her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed as she moved back on forth over him. Their lips came together, caressing each other's and T'Challa was forceful in his domination. They bodies moved in a frenzy, never slow but hungry in a way that bellied the truth of their relationship: she was his but he could not keep her. He was hers and he loved the power she had over over him, but it didn't matter when he had obligations that needed his attention. She was a distraction that he let himself have as a reward for hard work, only to get back to work and long for the next time.
She was coming around him before he knew it but he couldn't stop. He didn't know the next time he'd be able to come see her. T'Challa thought again about flying her to whatever city he'd be in next. When he looked up at her face, she was staring down at him again, the answers to his internal questions in her eyes. She smoothed a shaky hand over his curls before tangling her fingers in them and tugging. It was just the thing he needed to get out of his own head. She bounced her ass up and down on him and he did his best to focus on her face, on her pleasure. His hand came down hard and she let out a moan she'd been holding back and began moving faster. Anyone passing by would know what was happening in that room; T'Challa was pleased. Who cared what anyone would think when you were on the brink of the best pleasure ever experienced?
"That's right baby. Don't stop," he growled out. "You're so tight baby, I want to feel you like this all night. You're my precious baby girl." He saw her body bow to him in her orgasm, felt her wetness coat his lap, but he held on just a little longer.
"Challa," she panted out. "I'm so full. It hurts." He kept going, feeling his balls draw up and his breathing increase.
"I'm going to cum in you and you will take it all."
"Do it. I want to feel everything." She looked him boldly in the eye and he closed his own while his orgasm ripped through him. He clung to her tightly, claws leaving slight indents in her skin but not doing too much damage. They were both breathing hard, panting and limp in the seat.
"I love you" he heard her whisper. He smoothed a hand over her hair and down her back. It was part of the role she played for him, so in love with him, as if she'd been sitting and waiting for him to return to her. The panther was appeased, if only for the moment. He would have her again before he retired to his hotel room, only to wake up, once again, as the King of Wakanda.
AN: Request from Tumblr: Can I request a fic where the main girl is used to dealing with indecisive and small, in both body and mind, men and when she meets M'Baku who wants to court her she's just blown away by his big personality and size? Just completely enamored by his build and his presence.
Originally written in 2019 and somehow this still works LMAO
Desiree was tired. Once again, she'd had to walk out of a date with another man who found her intelligence, her ideals, her body to be too big to handle. In order to try to handle her, he'd begun talking shit.
"You know you'll never get a man acting like that," Christ or Craig or whatever the fuck his name was said.
"I'm sorry? Acting like what?" Desiree was playing dumb. Let this nigga dig his own hole.
Carlos couldn't let the moment to 'educate' her pass. He sat up in his seat, leaning forward eagerly. "You act too smart and too busy. I mean, I don't want a woman who knows more than I do or who makes more than I do. I'm the man so I'm supposed to provide for you. And what you know so much about politics for anyways? I don't even see the point in voting. I'm gonna be fine irregardless."
Desiree made note that irregardless was being used incorrectly and took a sip of her water. They hadn't even ordered yet.
"And I need a woman who's all about me and what I have going on anyways."
"I'm sorry what is it you do?"
"I'm a real estate agent but I work at Target too."
"Do you have your realtor's license?"
"Well...no. But I'm working on it."
"So you work at Target." Desiree rolled her eyes discreetly. But she was supposed to quit her job as the pricing manager of a major freight and logistics company to make him feel better about himself? She took another sip of water.
"Yeah I can get you a discount on jeans and pants and stuff." Desiree thought if the discount at Target would be worth it but then decided she'd rather pay full price at Target everyday for the rest of her life than to deal with his attitude. "You could lose some weight first and then I'll help you get some new Target clothes."
"Excuse me?" Her tone was icy; any other man with sense would've immediately backtracked.
Cory wasn't that smart.
"Yeah you could lose like 100 pounds. I don't need a fat girl who's gonna crush me while I'm doing it."
'Doing it.' Yeah she was done.
Desiree took another sip of water before lighting into this sorry excuse for a person. "Why would you think I'd want to fuck you? You're a pathetic man intimidated by the success of a black woman because you have none of your own. Quite frankly, you're not up to my standards and I pity the woman who will settle and out up with your misogynistic crap."
Is what she wanted to say. But there are so many women who end up getting killed after rejecting or embarrassing a man. So instead she got up and walked away.
Desiree sat at the bar of a hotel down the the block. She didn't want to go home and deal with her sister, who kept setting her up with these losers. Lexi had it in her head that Desiree should be out living her life, sleeping around and having fun before settling down and having two kids, just like she did. But Desiree had no desire to settle for a man just for sex and an occasional outing. She wanted to be swept off her feet by a secure man, who didn't demand her submission but willingly accepted. Who was worthy of being submitted to.
She was the youngest pricing manager at her big time logistics company. She was the final decision maker on several sales approving millions of dollars in revenue a year. She owned her own home, drove a car she bought herself, and had good friends that supported her. So what she hadn't had a relationship since high school? She had all the other aspects that made up a great full life. The man would come later.
"Is this seat taken?" A deep voice rumbled next to her and Desiree turned to look at the owner.
Good God she thought. This man is gorgeous. He was broad shouldered, bulging muscles showing through the button up and suit jacket her was wearing. He'd unbuttoned the first two buttons, showing his throat and Desiree had to fight the urge to nuzzle the skin there. Not that she'd be able to reach. At five foot four and 220 pounds, he dwarfed her. He was taller than she was sitting on a bar stool. Desiree wanted to be picked up by this bear of a man, seated on his lap, wrapped in his arms...
A throat clearing shook her from her thoughts. She'd been staring. Her face felt hot with embarrassment. When she glanced back at him, she saw a smirk on his face and she ducked her head gesturing to the seat to her right.
He signaled for the bartender and Desiree felt like a creep watching thick fingers tap on the bar. She noticed his nails were clean but the hands had the calluses of a man used to manual labor and—
No ring. He heart leapt at the thought that he wasn't taken but she tried to calm herself. In her experience, not having a ring didn't mean anything except that he wasn't wearing one.
"You make a habit of staring at stranger?" His voice once again rang through her ears, his accent just like the rest of him: thick.
Desiree met amused eyes. "Only if the stranger is interesting enough to catch my eye." His eyes darkened and Desiree bit her lip at her boldness. She was not like this normally. The bartender setting down his drink saved her from the power of his gaze.
"I'm M'Baku," he said holding out a hand.
"Desiree." The way M'Baku said her name back to her made he want to make him say it all night.
"Are you a guest at the hotel?"
Desiree felt her frustration return at the reminder of what her night had been like so far. "No. I ducked in here to get away from a bad date."
M'Baku signaled to the bartender again to bring her another drink. "Why don't you tell me about it."
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M'Baku had seen the beautiful Desiree while she was at dinner. He'd been with T'Challa, Erik, and some American business men hoping to wine and dine them into working out a deal. M'Baku wasn't interested, preferring to look around the fancy restaurant he could tell wouldn't serve enough food.
And something had caught his attention.
Glory to Hannuman, he thought, looking at the woman. She was elegant looking, natural hair a cloud around her face, delicate shoulders exposed in an off the shoulder top tucked into a shimmery skirt. The skirt reflected blue in the lights of the chandelier and highlighted wide hips and a round behind. She was gorgeous and M'Baku spent many moments staring at her.
His eyes slid over to the person with her. Her dinner companion was a small man. Not just in stature, but M'Baku could tell that he was small in mind as well. His body language towards the woman in front of him was dismissive and distant. M'Baku wanted to snatch the man up by the collar and give him a shake before whisking the woman away. What he wouldn't give to have such a woman dress up for him. Or undress.
He could see that the woman was annoyed with the man who was now eagerly talking her ear off. Before he could make the decision to rescue her from her date, she got up, gathered her things and walked out. He heard the man complain about her but he was a harmless punk who didn't do anything. M'Baku slumped and tried to listen to the schmoozing going around him. He'd missed his opportunity.
When he'd entered the hotel, he caught the glimmer of a sequined skirt out the corner of his eye. He didn't explain himself to T'Challa or Erik, walking towards Desiree without a backwards glance. He wouldn't let another opportunity pass him by.
Now he was sitting, listening to Desiree lament the details of her short lived date. She was more beautiful up close, her hand gestures wild and her hair moved as she did. M'Baku watched as her lips moved; he was enamored.
"Well his loss is my gain," M'Baku said sliding him arm across the back of her chair. He was testing the waters; it was clear she was attracted to him but enough to spend the night together? Enough to possibly spend their lives? M'Baku was all in already.
Desiree leaned into him. "My night has definitely turned around." She had a sexy smirk on her face.
M'Baku moves in to whisper in her ear. "Would you like to make the night better?" Her eyes smoldered. It was a go
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Desire was in the elevator, standing across from M'Baku, on the way to the top floor, panicking on the inside. She was a modern, 21st century woman; she'd had her fair share of sexual experiences but never so soon after meeting someone. She didn't think of it as a one night stand though; she could tell that he was serious. He'd listened to her and wanted to make her night better. Desiree was someone who went off of vibes with a person and she felt safe with M'Baku, as she'd known him for a longer time than just the night. Plus even if it was only a one night thing, Desiree knew it'd be the best night of her life.
She pushed off the wall to the elevator to approach M'Baku. His eyes were dark as he watched her. When she was chest to chest with him, she pressed up to her toes. He bent his head and met her halfway, pressing soft, full lips to her own. His beard tickled her chin and she slipped her tongue in his mouth. His hands ran down the length of her spine, over her hips, to curve to her ass and squeezed. Desiree moaned into his mouth and M'Baku pulled away to press kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, and her neck, suckling in a way that had Desiree mewling.
The ding of the elevator wrenched them away from each other. Desiree smiles at him bashfully and M'Baku answered with a grin of his own. He held out a hand and she placed hers in his. They walked in silence, hand in had to his room. They were really going to do this. Desiree couldn't wait.
M'Baku fishes the key out of his pocket and opened the door for her. Desiree steppes into the suite. It was extremely fancy. She could tell from his clothing that this man wasn't like anything she'd dealt with before, but his hotel reiterated this. She took in the neatness, clothes hung in the closet behind glass doors and a fur throw was at the end of the bed. Desiree ran her hand through the fur before turned back to M'Baku.
He was watching her move around his space. The air between them was thick with anticipation of what was to come. They both knew what the other wanted; it was just a matter of who would make the first move.
It was M'Baku this time. He slowly crossed the room, shrugging off his dinner jacket. The white button up was tight across his chest and his muscles rippled with each step. He wrapped thick arms around her waist before lowering his head and kissing her again. It was the same dance in the elevator, lips sliding along, tongues delving into one another's mouths. M'Baku nipped at her lips, tugging at the skin of her lower lip. Desiree wrapped her arms around his neck. Sliding his hands to her thighs he hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. If she wasn't in love before, she was now; this was some movie shit. She'd never thought she'd meet a man who could handle her in this way.
M'Baku sat on the bed before lying back, Desiree straddling his hips. She felt his erection press into her core and wound her waist to grind down on him. She reached to begin unbuttoning his shirt, caressing his skin as she went. He moved to help her undress, stroking her belly and putting calloused hands on her breasts. He pulled her nipples through her bras d he felt her grind down on him harder.
They rushed to get the other's clothes off, getting distracted as more skin exposed and pressing kisses to each other. When Desiree saw M'Baku's erection she felt faint. He was big everywhere. His fingers slipped into her panties and her played with her swollen clit before going lower to finder her already slippery. Desiree's eyes closed against the sensation. His fingers were thick playing with her, stretching her wide.
"Condoms?"
"I don't have any. Didn't plan this." M'Baku's rough voice sounded in her ear as he kept fingering her.
"I'm clean..."
"So am I."
"You can pull out." M'Baku groaned and Desiree was tossed on her back.
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M'Baku felt wild with a need he had t felt in a long time. This woman was strong his blood on fire underneath his skin. She was allowing him to kiss and caress her but also go inside and bring them both pleasure. He kissed her as he removed the rest of her clothes.
Desiree's dark nipples were puckered for his pleasure and ducked his head to suckled. Her moans were music to ears as he alternated between both, plucking with his fingers at the other. He leaned back to grip his dick, the head leaking already. He was hard and ready. He tapped the head on her clit after a few times before going in as slow as he could.
M'Baku felt her stiffen up. He did his best to keep still but she was warm and wet and tight. He wasn't even halfway in and he felt like he would burst already. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah..."She was panting. "Just go slow." M'Baku pulled out and pushed back in further. He heard her make a boise that had him dig in her deeper. His mouth fit over hers as he moved his hips, his dick sliding against her slowly, pulling on her clit.
"Baku," she cried out. She was gushing over him and he kept slipping and sliding deeper until he was all the way in. They were both panting while M'Baku wined his hips into her.
"What is it baby? What do you need?"
"That's it keep going like that. You got me so wet." She was winding her hips back on him, setting a new pace and M'Baku changed his stroke to keep up. His head was full of her. What was she doing to him
A deep groan wretched it's way out of his throat. Her pussy was gripping him. "Shiiiit...oh shiiiiiittt." Desiree wrapped her legs around his waist and bucking into him. He looked down to where they were joined and she was creaming, painting his dick white. The heavy sounds of skin slapping and Desiree calling him daddy was fading away to a ringing noise in his ear. He needed to pullout before he came.
"Come on Desiree. Cum for me." He kept dragging his dick thrusting hard. He felt her squeeze around him, gripping him almost painfully. She cried out loudly gripping his arms and dragging her nails down his bicep. The pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure had him scrambling to pull out. He drenched her clit and folds with his cum, his orgasm longer and stronger than he'd ever experienced. He had a brief thought of cumming inside her before brushing it away. Now that he'd found her. He had no intention of letting her go. There'd be other opportunities.
He looked at Desiree. She had a blissful look on her face and was laying boneless with glassy eyes. He'd fucked her well. He rolled over to the side of the bed and struggled to get to his feet. She'd fucked him just as good, his legs were shaking. He came back with a warm, wet rag to clean up the mess they'd made. When he was finished, he went back into bed and pulled Desire into his arms, navigating around the wet spot they'd left. Desiree was asleep, small puffs of breath tickling his chest. M'Baku was the epitome of satisfaction. He would wake her up in a few hours for another round but he was content to watch her, the woman he wanted in his future.
Summary: Erik left more than just his girl behind. It was time to keep some of his promises.
Pairing: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens x Ada Moore (OC)
AN: Originally written in 2018
Ada was used to Erik coming and going the way he did. He'd be in town for a few weeks before disappearing for months on end, leaving her worried and anxious. She understood that his job in the CIA took him away from her but a damn head's up when he was leaving or coming back would be nice.
And always back with more of the...markings. She asked him once what they stood for but he just shook his head, refusing to answer. She had an idea but was too afraid for him to confirm or deny what she already knew deep down.
Because despite his in and out act, she knew Erik better than anyone else. Even himself sometimes.
He was home today, back in Boston, and they were wrapped around each other in her bed. Always her bed, never his. Ada wasn't even sure where he stayed whenever he wasn't with her or if he had his own place in Oakland. She loved him like this, snuggly and pressed against her, his head resting on her chest and her scratching at the hairs on the back of his neck. There was that underlying current of sexual energy that always seemed to be present whenever Erik was within her vicinity but Ada just wanted to hold him to her a little longer.
It was hard having him leave and Erik knew this; he usually snuck out early in the morning, leaving nothing behind. When he came back, he brought gifts from his travels. Candle holders from Iraq, a rug from Afghanistan, Russian dolls integrated their way into the eclectic décor that made up her—no their—place. But it still never made up for Ada missing him like crazy.
"How long are you staying this time?" she asked tracing a pattern in the dots along his shoulder. These were fresh; she could always tell the difference in the new ones.
He made a noncommittal sound in his throat, snuggling deeper into her breast and Ada let him, wrapping both arms around him. She wanted to keep him. She knew he was damaged but just like the silly girls in movies, she just felt that if he would just give her a chance, she could fix him. But Erik was troubled, far more so than her one psychology class could handle.
When she met him, Ada thought Erik was the typical bad boy, but was instantly drawn to him the minute she heard him in a lecture on African Diaspora Studies. He spoke with such intelligence, such confidence and magnetism that every eye was instantly on him, including Ada. Interacting with him one on one was another level. Ada was no dummy by any means but Erik took intellect to another level and she found herself falling for the bad boy who was more misunderstood than anything.
Her friends told her that they had heard things about him, he was messed up, had anger issues, got into fights but Ada just knew that if she could keep him, she could fill that hole that he let fester and scab over with anger. She started to pray more, hoping that whatever was causing him to be the way he was inside would be healed and he could be the man that he was with her all the time. But she didn't mind being Erik's person; he was one person who Ada could depend on.
Erik sat up pulling Ada from her thoughts and took her hands into his. Tugging her into a seated position on the bed, she knew it would be bad because of the serious look on his face.
"What is it?" she asked afraid of the answer.
"I...I'm leaving tomorrow morning." His words hit like a punch to the stomach.
"Wait what? You just got here." Tears welled in her eyes and Ada did her best not to let them fall. It made no sense to be so attached to someone who pulled disappearing acts on the regular. She should be used to in by now but it still hurt and it was the first time she had known ahead of time when he was leaving. "Can't the CIA send someone else for once? You can't be the only person saving the world."
"This isn't for the CIA." The words brought her up short. If not for the CIA then what could possibly take him away so soon?
"You have to give me more than that Erik. You come in and out of my life and I'm supposed to just be ok with that?" The tears were flowing freely and Ada swiped them away angrily. Erik was the only person to make her feel this way, both so angry and in love and out of control. She began to pace. "What about me Erik? What about what I want? I can't keep living this life of never knowing when you're coming or going and not being able to live my own life because I'm waiting for you to figure out what it is you need. Why aren't I just enough?"
Erik grabbed her by the arms and sat her back on the bed. "Hey, hey, hey. Calm all that down. You're enough. You're more than enough." He rubbed the back of his neck. "This is something that I have to do. Something to honor my pops. Something he would've wanted me to do." Ada nodded. Erik didn't talk about Oakland a lot but she knew that his father was killed when he was young and he had meant the world to Erik.
"I need something more permanent Erik. I love you more than anything and it scares me whenever you leave and I never know if you're gonna come home to me." Erik wrapped his arms around her and Ada leaned her head against his chest. Their relationship was unhealthy one but not one she would give up for anything.
"I swear. This time is the last time. When I come back, things are gonna be different. I'm gonna take you to where my pops grew up, show you where I come from, treat you like a queen. My queen." He kissed her then, a firm pressing of his mouth to hers, and Ada wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. If her words couldn't keep him, maybe her actions would.
He pressed her deep into the mattress and she allowed him to take control as he usually did. Tongues tangled and clothes were removed and there wasn't a need for any spoken words.
Come home to me, she silently begged when she wrapped her legs around his waist. I love you, I love you, I love you. Love me too.
When it was finished, Ada wrapped her arms around him tightly, keeping him pressed to her, inside her, for as long as possible. There was a sense of fear in her, like this would be her last time to see him and it made her scared for him to leave her.
Erik pulled away and wrapped her in his arms, his fingertips tracing the smooth skin of her shoulder, her head on his chest. Ada pressed a kiss to his chest right over his heart where the thudding was singing her a lullaby. Before she drifted off, she felt him press lips to her hair and mutter something under his breath.
When she woke, Erik was gone and it was dark outside her window. Ada shivered from the cold that seeped into her bones. She would see him again, she vowed. He would come home to her and things would get better when he did. He promised and Erik had never broken a promise yet.
Except a month went by and she didn't hear from him. And another. And another. Until it had been six months and Erik had never been gone that long and Ada was sure that he wasn't coming back home.
Warnings: SLOW BURN. I'm stretching this out as long as I can take it.
Summary: Honey and Erik make a pact.
Word Count: 1,408
AN: I've had this in head for a while because this is a genre in fiction I like to call "delusional fact".
“Surprise!” we yelled out, only because we didn’t know what else to say. We were standing around Shelby’s living room for a birthday party she planned for herself but she had just made her grand entrance—come down the stairs an hour after the party start time—and being the best friends we were, we had to let her know she was appreciated.
I looked around as Shelby gave out hugs to party guests. For a small pandemic party, she turned it out as usual and ended up with a pretty good turn out. If only I had gotten the super casual memo. As usual, I was hella overdressed and trying to stop sweating in the leather brown dress I’d gotten my other friend to come over and zip me into. My makeup was starting to run and I’d already felt a little rusty after a year with no reasons to beat my face. The wig I’d thrown on my head was starting to nap at the nape of my neck and didn’t help with the heat emanating off my body. Everyone else was in jeans and mostly barefaced. Trina even wore a beanie on her head
“Ok everyone!” Shelby clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you so much for coming! I know this year was hard but it’s such a blessing to get to see you all and I’m grateful you came to celebrate little ole me.” Shelby was in true southern belle fashion, full of beauty and grace, confident yet humble in a way that only true southern girls could master. “Let’s pray and then we can eat.” She gestured to one of her older sisters who began to pray over the food.
As I bowed my head, I heard the alert go off letting us know that someone was coming through the front door. I glanced up to see a tall figure try to quietly slip in. I had figured I would see Erik here at Shelby’s party but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
Erik was friends with Shelby’s sister, Shavonne, then became friends with Shelby and by association, me. He was a few years older than me, me being the oldest in my friend group, and he’d gone to our undergrad and pledged just like we did. He was a good time, but I didn’t feel like we were super close friends, though I wanted to be. He had this way of making me feel seen and comfortable to be seen by him. Even before joining Greek life, he’d always been kind to me even if it was distant. Now though, he was warm and I really enjoyed his company. If Erik was in attendance, it was a party, even if it started off as a simple get together.
I tore my eyes off of him before he noticed and closed them while Shavonne continued to pray. I added in my own prayer that I would stop fucking sweating.
After everyone was full of the delicious food that I barely tasted, we all broke off in smaller groups to mingle amongst the friends we knew. I’d had biweekly FaceTime calls with my girls so I knew what was currently going on their lives but I was still feeling self concisous so I decided to stick to the people I knew. We made small talk on the couch before we were interrupted by Erik.
“Honey, do you know what time it is?” He was behind me, his hands on my bare shoulders and I leaned my head back to look at him since he was using my old college nickname.
“I don’t know, ” I said playing coy. “What time is it?”
“It’s shot o’clock!” He was loud as ever eliciting groans from the rest of the group I was with and even few from the rest of the party goers. Everyone knew how this would go and it was a Sunday afternoon for God’s sake.
“Erik Stevens, I’m not fucking with you today,” Shelby’s oldest sister, Selena, said from across the room, standing with her husband.
“Just one!” he insisted, holding up one finger. “To celebrate Shelby” He looked at me with puppy dog eyes pleading with me. He didn’t have to do much.
I smiled at him wryly. “For Shelby? Fine. But only for that reason,” I said dishonestly. I stood to my feet to follow him to the kitchen where all the liquor was. We stood shoulder to shoulder pouring shots while everyone else with only slightly stronger wills than my own lined up on the other side of the island bar.
“To Shelby” he shouted, gesturing to the cheesing birthday girl in her all white, arm in arm with her man.
“To Shelby!” We echoed and cheered. I raised my red plastic shot glass to Shelby before turning to cheers with the person closest to me, who happened to be Erik. We looked into each other eyes as we touched shot glasses, only looking away to actually take the shots. The tequila burned in my throat, heating me on the inside when I didn’t really need it.
I found my way back to my small group of close friends, greeting Angela’s boyfriend who’d just arrived. He was cool, if not a bit standoffish. Not really my favorite out the guys my friends dated but who was I to say anything. I was the perpetually single friend in every friend group I’d ever been a part of; I didn’t need the additional moniker of “hater” just because I wouldn’t have chosen those partners for my friends.
Shelby rose from her seat next to me to check on if she needed to make more of the mixed drink for those not opting to make their own drinks. The seat was shortly occupied by Erik.
He fit into the group easily, of course, catching up with everyone and casually slinging his arm along the back of the chair behind me. I hope I didn’t stink from all the sweating I’d done earlier. I was doing my best to avoid moving too much so I wouldn’t start up again.
“If Honey and I got married, it would be pretty epic.” I turned to him quickly. How the hell did we get here?
“What do you mean?” I asked gobsmacked that I was having this conversation.
“I mean it would be really elegant, really organized, a great party. You would have an amazing dress.” I watched his eyes flicker up and down my body and on the inside I was that white lady meme with the calculations flying across my face. “We could probably get married on a boat.”
“Like a yacht,” I couldn’t help but to picture it and he was right. It was pretty dope. “My sister’s an event planner, you know. She can make it happen.”
“Perfect,” he said looking me in the eyes. I felt myself get caught up but I quickly shook it off. We weren’t alone in the conversation nor were we alone in the room and while my friends were occupied in their own conversations, I still felt nervous about what was happening. What was happening?
“So when is this happening?” I joked. “When you turn 35? I think I’ll be 32?” I felt fuzzy in the head from both the shots—he’d convinced me to take another shortly after the first—and the conversation we were having.
He thought for a second. “Yeah that works.”
“We’ll have to shake on it then.” I held out my hand formally.
He looked me in the eyes and grasped my hand. We shook once, solidifying this drunken, silly plan, that somehow brought me comfort. If he took it seriously—and this was a huge if—then at least I wouldn’t be alone for the rest of my life like I seemed destined to be.
“Honey, come get in the picture!” The birthday girl yelled from across the room where the sparkly curtain that served as a photo backdrop was setup. The rest of my friends were already there when I didn’t even realize they’d left us alone.
I quickly shook off the conversation with Erik. I was pretty sure he wasn’t serious but I could admit it was nice to be thought of in that way. I’m pretty sure by the time he turned 35 and I turned whatever age I would be, we would just laugh about this silly little pact.
His head snapped to the side, and Erik didn't feel pain but more shock at what she had done. It was bad enough she was standing there looking the way she did, but she had the audacity to put hands on him? He'd never hurt Ada, but the old Erik would've had to hit back just from the disrespect.
But still, a part of him liked it, a leftover side effect from his past life, and he felt his dick twitch. He turned piercing eyes on her and she was frozen, eyes wide, hugging herself. Guilt fell on Erik like a cloak; Ada wasn't a violent person normally and the fear in her eyes let him know what she was thinking.
He felt the Dora Milaje shuffle next to him, probably ready to restrain him should he decide to choke out a pregnant woman. But Erik couldn't take his eyes off of Ada. She was pregnant. Pregnant. Questions run through his mind: how could this happen? Was it his? Or was she letting another man touch what was his in his mind?
Was she still his?
Because he was still hers. He'd wanted to die on that mountain, was willing to die for his mission. He was able to leave her behind physically but the idea of never seeing her again ate at him in what he thought was the last moments of his life. When T'Challa offered to save him, Ada was the only thing on his mind. He'd promised he was coming back to her and he'd never broken a promise to her before.
But Lucy had explaining to do before he went Killmonger on someone.
"Can y'all give us a minute?" he said, not taking his eyes off of her. He followed the curve of her face, the wide eyes and full lips, down her neck and to full breasts and a very rounded stomach. Her small delicate hands rested on her stomach, as if to protect her baby from him and Erik clenched his fists with the effort to not touch her.
There was more shuffling from the Dora before Okoye muttered "Akukho shishini elihle," and turned to exit the apartment. Erik waved them off; they were right to still be wary of him but Erik didn't want them there while he got his answers. In the meanwhile, Ada was eying him back; her eyes trailed over the golden jaguar suit and he felt that warmth in his stomach again. He wondered if she remembered the way he would stretch his body over hers, his skin pressed to her warm skin, glowing from the sunlight streaming through their window, pressing into her heat...Her eyes darkened and her lips parted in lust as if she did remember. But Erik wanted answers before he reenacted the fantasies he'd been having the last eight months.
"Seems like you got some explaining to do." He watched her skin flush in anger and Erik wondered if she would swing again.
"I have explaining to do?" Ada exclaimed. "Where the fuck have you been? I thought you were dead! Do you know what I've had to go through alone while you were off gallivanting, doing God knows what in your Catwoman suit?"
"Watch your mouth, Ada." He was doing his best to stay calm but she was pushing it and him. She wasn't about to be in here hitting him and talking crazy. "You don't know what I been through."
Tears filled her eyes. "You don't get to tell me what to do Erik! You've been gone for eight months." She put her hands on her bump. "We made a baby that last night. I've been on my own trying to figure this shit out. You're right. I don't know what you've been through. Because you never shared anything with me. I had to go through your things just to figure out that Wakanda meant something to you!" Ada buried her face in her hands and began sobbing.
Erik felt lost. He'd never been good with feelings and he'd had his fill of it talking through his own these last months. But it broke his heart to see his baby crying like that, painful sobs that couldn't have been good for the baby. His baby. He walked to her, soundless footsteps that crossed the space to her in a short time, but he felt like he had waiting lifetimes to hold her again. He slid warm hands over she shoulders, down her back and she shivered at his touch. She softened into his chest and Erik felt whole. He pulled her as close to him as her belly would allow, a physical reminder of their love and pressed a shaky hand to her belly. He put his other hand at his favorite spot, the back of her neck, giving them both a sense of security that had been missing.
"I'm sorry," he whispered against the top of her head and temporarily, things were right between them. There was a nudge under his hand and in his heart.
Translation: Akukho shishini elihle - "No funny business" (because Okoye don't play that)
Pairing: T'Challa x Nereyda (OC)
Word Count: 3,130 words
Warnings: Smut (we're back in love baby!), Breeding kink
A/n: Originally written in 2018. Translations: Mka-Fuck, Sithandwa sam-my love, usage-baby, ndiyakuthanda- I love you
Of course the press knew who Nereyda was, who she was to T'Challa, could see the way he seemed unable to keep his eyes off of her. The day after the ball, the news was filled with both the news of the outreach center and speculation of T'Challa's relationship status. Lunch with Nereyda had to take place in the palace gardens, where he did his best to entice Nereyda into a nearby bedroom or closet. She resisted, but T'Challa didn't mind. As much as he wanted her—and he wanted her so bad he could taste her—T'Challa wanted her back next to him more. He had plans to make her his queen.
Unfortunately he hadn't accounted for rivals.
Nereyda must have made a bigger impression on M'Baku than T'Challa had been expecting. But how could she not have? She was beautiful, smart, sensual. Anyone could tell from just a look and M'Baku must have been enraptured by a dance. Even if it had been cut short by the king.
M'Baku did what he could to court her in the months after, using the same methods that T'Challa himself had used in the beginning of their relationship. He sent vegetables that could only grow in Jabari lands, expensive furs for her bed and her body, and uncut gemstones. When T'Challa arrived to her apartment to find that M'Baku had sent hand craved figurines, he felt a bit put out.
Nereyda did her best to reassure him that she wasn't entertaining M'Baku, that she'd set up a meeting with him to return the items, but T'Challa was more upset with himself. M'Baku was a consequence of his actions; had he not lost Nereyda, M'Baku would not have had the chance to try his hand. T'Challa tried not to let it affect him in the council meetings but everyone could tell he was bothered and the reasons for it.
The next week, the gifts stopped coming, or at least they did as far as T'Challa could see, and though the previous gifts stayed, he didn't mind as he snuggled up next to Nereyda wearing a fur blanket and nothing else.
He lay in bed thinking about the past year and a half and the strides they'd made in their relationship. They had taken things slowly, careful not to fall into old habits and repeat mistakes. T'Challa was adamant that it would fall into place and Nereyda would be his queen. He just had to work on her time now and be patient.
But patience had never been his strong suit. He understood they were essentially starting from scratch but Bast. They had moved at a glacial pace in the beginning. She had kept the apartment, a fact that annoyed T'Challa. He didn't just want her back in the palace, he wanted her in his bed, sharing his rooms. But again, he tempered himself and allowed her to take the lead. On the weekends, he would take a car to her apartment on the edge of the city to spend the night with her. No sex though. They would kiss, making out like teenagers and dry humping on her couch. T'Challa's head would be full of her, her taste, the softness of her skin and the breathy moans she would make. He would be hard, a king ready to soil his pants for this woman, before Nereyda would pull away.
"We should stop," she would say and he would swallow his groan of disappointment and just hold her, his dick poking her as he tried to will it away.
They lasted six months like that and when he finally could have her, T'Challa thought he would cry at how good it felt to lose himself in her again.
A hand ran through his hair. "You're thinking too loud my king."
T'Challa smiled. He grabbed at the hand and pressed a kiss to Nereyda's wrist. "I'm sorry to have woken you, my queen."
"I'm not queen." He could hear her gearing up for a fight.
It was a point of contention for them, the fact that Nereyda had no desire to be queen. The council still made jabs at her, though Ramonda had relinquished small duties to Nereyda to ease her and them into the idea. Nereyda wanted nothing to do with it the idea though. The most she would do is sit in on council meetings—in the seat reserved for the queen—and offer sound advice that made even the council tone it down. It was also T'Challa's heavy gaze on them that held their tongues.
T'Challa assumed that her aversion to being queen would calm at her inclusion to the council meetings six months ago but if anything, Nereyda had become more adamant that she didn't desire the position. It led to arguments that T'Challa tried to avoid but he felt like she was being a little unreasonable. If she was gonna be with him, be his wife the way he wanted, she would have to be queen. She was great at her duties and balancing them but when he brought it up, Nereyda went almost as far as sticking her fingers in her ears and screaming at the top of her lungs. He wouldn't force her though. He was willing to move as fast as she wanted
"It's okay. You're my queen. " He rolled over on her pressing a kiss to her lips.
She rolled her eyes at the corniness but he could see the darkening of her cheeks. He settled in between her legs and found her ready for him, as usual. T'Challa bit at her bottom lip before sliding his tongue into her mouth. It wasn't a fight for dominance; the bedroom was one area Nereyda had no problem with submission if T'Challa demanded it.
He trailed kissed down to her breasts, suckling a nipple into his mouth. She moaned and pulled at his curls tangled in her fingers. Her breasts had been so sensitive lately, he was careful not to hurt her. He lined himself up with her pushing in slow, slow, slow. There was no rush to things; T'Challa wanted to take his time with the woman he loved, the woman who loved him. And finally everyone knew it.
Nereyda was panting in his ear at his ministrations. The slow pace had her wetter than he'd thought possible and she was clawing at his back. The pinch of her little nails on his back only exacerbated his need to come. He wanted to hold on as long as possible, had the stamina to do so, and their fast coupling from a few hours ago had taken some of the edge off.
"Don't hold back," he whispered in her ear. "Let me hear you usana." T'Challa pulled her knees up around his hips for a deeper penetration. She let out a breathy moan and he pulled back to look into her face. Her eyes were scrunched tight. "That's it." The sound of his dick moving inside her was almost too much for him and he picked up the speed of his thrusts. He was forceful and deep and Nereyda was moaning louder, pulling him in with her feet. When she came, it was a tightening of her insides that made T'Challa groan out of the effort not to follow her over the edge but he kept going.
"You will be my queen no matter what you say," he panted out. Nereyda was mewling, her pussy sensitive. "Rule beside me. You will carry my heirs. Mka...mka. Look how you're gripping me. Like you want me to impregnate you." She shuddered and cried out. "Is that what you want? For me to get you pregnant? I'll have your ass waddling around this whole palace." The thought of her pregnant, carrying his son or daughter is what did it for him. "Mka, ndiyakuthanda!"
When he pulled out, he gathered into his arms to watch the sunlight stream through their bedroom windows.
Nereyda walked around the courtyard of the orphanage watching the fifty girls who lived there play together. This was her hard work come to fruition and she had done it mostly alone, as was her plan. Once T'Challa caught wind of her idea for a girls orphanage, he tried to step in and handle things on her behalf. But Nereyda was determined to prove that she could build a life separate to his. He was upset at first; he was used to taking care of her and this independence she kept wanting to exercise was a blow to his ego. Nereyda had to sit him down one evening and let him know that while she loved him, she also loved herself. She wouldn't put herself in a position to not be able to keep going if something were to happen between them again.
He understood then and Nereyda used tribal events she attended with him as opportunities for networking. It wasn't enough for her to have the backing of the temporary agency; if she could get the support of the tribes, she would be able to eliminate the middle men and get full access to girls who had no where else to go. Joining the council went a long way to build relationships with the tribal leaders, as much as she didn't want to do it.
Nereyda had aversions to joining the council. Why would she want to spend time with the people who blatantly disliked her and wished she would disappear? They were willing to have T'Challa and Nakia be miserable for the rest of their lives before they decided to help people that looked like them. But her being queen was very important to T'Challa, and as much as he threatened to replace them, having a council that stood behind them would make things easier for them. She'd had some help arriving at that conclusion.
Nereyda was in the office of the orphanage. She had only six girls that were being watched by a woman who she'd hired upon opening. She had to get her numbers up or else the agency would stop sending girls her way and they would be sent to the dora or the Dora Milaje. As much as it had worked out for her, she wanted girls like her to have more options.
A knock sounded at her office door. "Come in." She didn't look up from the bills she was reading. They were piling up.
"Excuse my interruption, but you should really have a Dora with you."
Nereyda's head snapped up at the voice and immediately stood. "Queen Mother," she curtsied, more out of habit than anything else.
Queen Ramonda waved her off, looking around the office, a thoughtful look on her face. Nereyda desperately wanted to know why she was here.
"You love my son, right?"
She knew the answer; Nereyda would not have allowed herself to be publicly ruined further if she didn't love T'Challa. "Yes. With my everything."
Queen Ramonda nodded and they stood there awkwardly. It was the most they had spoken since Nereyda had moved out of the palace and the first time they had been alone since the night of T'Challa's ascension.
Finally, Ramonda spoke. "I think we both know that if T'Challa has anything to do with it, you won't be going anywhere, ever." Her tone was dry.
"Does that bother you? That your son loves me?"
She smiled a little. "No. Not anymore. I see that you are more than your status. What you have built here," she gestured around the office, "is proof that you have goals beyond being a king's wife. That you would publicly endure ridicule and show how much you love him is enough for me."
Nereyda did her best to keep her features still but she wasn't impressed with Ramonda's speech. It was a nice thought but Nereyda would proceed with caution before trusting her. Her silence was speaking for her though because Ramonda gave a small smile and sat in the chair across from the desk.
"Perhaps with time I can earn your trust, along with my son's." She looked a bit sad before shaking it off. "In the meantime, let's see how I can help you."
It was Ramonda who advised her to work the council to benefit her. After all, it was what T'Challa and Nakia had done, allowing the council to think that they were succumbing to their influence when in actuality the duo were playing the elders. Nereyda needed to take on small responsibilities to show that she was there for the long haul. Which she undoubtedly was. But now it was time to show the council. Moving back into the palace had been an exercise in patience but seeing the look on T'Challa's face the day she had shown up with all her things had made it worth it.
He had been so patient with her and she had not made it easy for him. He believed Nereyda didn't want to be queen and it disappointed him because his royal status was a part of himself that he—nor she—could avoid. But he was only partially right; Nereyda didn't want people to think she only wanted to be with T'Challa to be queen. If she'd followed him, she would've been his wife and queen within weeks and no one would have taken her seriously. As much as she wanted to be his wife, Nereyda still felt that she had to prove herself to the people of Wakanda, that she was more than T'Challa's dora or an inspiration to all doras out there. She was a business woman, head of an orphanage for young girls, that with her hard work would remain a place of safety for them that she'd never had until she met T'Challa.
But now things would change. As she stared out the window, she pressed a hand to her stomach and thought back to this morning. Nereyda was surprised that T'Challa hadn't already picked up on the changes to her body, the tender breasts, the small pudge that wasn't there previously, but she figured he'd been distracted as of late, getting ready to open another outreach center. When they were together, they were making love or he was knocked out after barely kissing her goodnight.
The only people who knew were Ayo, who'd been assigned to as her personal guard once she'd moved back into the palace, and Shuri, who'd confirmed Nereyda's suspicions. They'd both been sworn to secrecy but there was no denying it.
Nereyda was pregnant.
She'd been terrified before having an ultrasound with Shuri but after seeing the product of her and T'Challa's love, Nereyda felt a sense of peace wash over her. T'Challa would be ecstatic, especially if his words from earlier were to be believed. Nereyda kicked her work into high gear at the orphanage, hiring three more women in addition to the two who had been with her from the beginning and training someone to act in her stead to sustain the home for girls in her absence. She felt like they had their suspicions but no one mentioned anything to her. Luckily, her only symptom seemed to be a deep exhaustion that could be explained with the amount of hours she'd been putting in at the orphanage.
She could barely wait to tell T'Challa and have him shout it from the mountain tops but she knew that if she told him immediately, there would be no stopping him. T'Challa would have her on lockdown, meals at a certain time, three or four guards following her around, bed rest. She had to handle the orphanage first and make sure it would be in good hands before she succumbed to T'Challa's nagging.
She couldn't wait much longer though. Her stomach was growing by the day and she couldn't fit into most of her tighter fitting dresses. She patted her stomach. "You want to be seen now so I gotta tell your baba before you expose me." She smiled at the small flutterings she could feel.
She looked back out the window to see T'Challa himself coming into the courtyard. Older girls saluted him while some of the little ones crowded around him. He stooped to their level, listening to their questions and answering. Mia, a four year old who was one of his favorite children whispered into his ear. T'Challa glanced up at Nereyda and she waved from her place in the window. He quickly separated himself from the girls to enter the building and Nereyda watched him until she couldn't see him anymore.
She heard him enter the room and turned to face him. Just like that first time in the market place, she was struck at how handsome he was. He was an imposing presence that still took her breath away. She couldn't believe Bast had blessed her to get to love this man.
T'Challa crossed the room, and cupped her cheeks. "Sithandwa sam, what is the matter?" Nereyda had begun crying without realizing. Blasted pregnancy hormones.
"I'm pregnant."
She hadn't meant to blurt it out to him but she was tired of keeping it from him. He stood in shock, slack jawed and confused. "You are pregnant?"
"Yes, seems as if my birth control is no match for the Black Panther." T'Challa smirked before gathering her into his arms. Nereyda pressed her face into the crook of neck, allowing his scent to wash over her and calm her.
"You're having my baby," he murmured. She nodded, squeezing him closer. He pulled back after a few moments. "I've been waiting for the right time to do this."
He dropped to one knee, pulling out a ring. The newly dried tears flowed again and she covered her face. "Nereyda, will—"
"No wait. I just need a moment." She looked around the room, analyzing the way her life had turned out, the man at her feet, the fact that she was carrying his baby. She couldn't believe that this was her life.
"You can not possibly say no when you will be having my son," T'Challa joked.
"No, I just want to remember this moment for a while. I want to remember my life in this moment and how happy I am right now." They were there for a while. "Okay I'm ready."
T'Challa looked deep into her eyes. "Nereyda, my adored one, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"
"Yes." He slipped the ring on her finger before standing and drawing her in for a long kiss.
She stood there in his arms, basking in his scent and his warmth. She was happy, T'Challa made her happy, and she wanted to spend the rest of her life just being his.
Summary: A flashback to how T'Challa pursued Nereyda
Previous Part
Pairing: T'Challa x Nereyda (OC)
Word Count: 2,501
Warnings: None
A/N: Originally written in 2018
He never expected to take up with a dora. He was a prince first and foremost, but he was also a man, something that was forgotten by basically everyone. But her. Nereyda.
When T'Challa first saw her in the market, it was as if every nerve in his body lit up in response to her. She was gorgeous in an innocently naughty way, and he wanted to both protect her and claim her as his. He watched her in what he could admit was an off-putting way, ignoring W'kabi next to him yammering about rhinos. She was with a friend, who eventually caught his unabashed staring and nudged her. She looked to her friend who gestured to T'Challa and when their eyes met, T'Challa felt a swooping in his stomach. She smiled at him shyly before breaking eye contact and ushering her friend in the opposite direction. Her friend's loud laughter and over the shoulder wave were the only indication that he had affected her as much as she had affected him. He had to have her, he felt himself aching to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked.
"I know that look on your face, my friend. I'm here to tell you not to bother," W'kabi's voice cut through T'Challa's imagines.
"What look? What are you talking about?" T'Challa feigned disinterest but W'kabi wasn't buying it.
"I know you, T'Challa. That girl is bad news."
"Eh! That could be your future queen you are talking about," T'Challa slung an arm around his friend's shoulder in jest.
"Aye! Bast forbid! That girl is a dora. The council would hand the throne over to the Jabari before placing a dora as our queen."
T'Challa was taken aback. Yes, he knew of the dora, had heard of the reason for their origination and the subsequent downfall of the practice. But he didn't expect to be completely ensnared with just a look. He just wanted a taste...
W'kabi stopped him with a hand against his chest. "I'm serious T'Challa. You are a prince. It would do no good to have the mark of a dora stain your reign before it even begins. Do not let yourself be swayed by a pretty face."
T'Challa nodded and tried to take his friend's advice but over the next few days he found himself distracted by his thoughts of her. After some investigation–i.e., getting a reluctant W'kabi to find out–he learned her name was Nereyda, she lived at the house where all the current dora lived, and she was not currently seeing anyone. But T'Challa wanted to see her again. He started off small, sending bouquets of flowers from the palace gardens to the dora house.
When they kept getting sent back, he started ordering the delivery people not to accept her returns and make sure Nereyda read the card before they left. In it, T'Challa asked her to call him so that they may set up a time for dinner together. After several weeks of waiting for his kimoyo beads to ring, he started sending other gifts: a white silk robe with flowers on it he saw while attending a conference with his father; a gold necklace with a medallion, Bast embalmed on the front; and a midnight blue, satin nightgown that T'Challa hoped he would get to see her in and maybe take off of her...
Still, the notes accompanying his gifts went unanswered. T'Challa was growing impatient; most women gave in at the first sign of him pursuing them. Even with Nakia– who was almost pushed on him—there was little resistance once he put on the charm. T'Challa would have to do something drastic to get Nereyda's attention.
He walked up to the door of the dora house and rang the doorbell. There was shuffling from the inside before the door was flung open. Nereyda's friend–Nina, his "investigation" had uncovered–opened the door.
"Hi, I am looking for–"
"Oh I know who you are looking for," Nina said, a cheshire grin on her face. "Come in before someone sees you." She ushered him inside, leading him to a parlor room off of the foyer. T'Challa looked around discreetly. There was a wall of pictures, past dora photographed in with men in positions of power and pictures of those who went on to become Queen of Wakanda. He wondered which category he would fall into, just a powerful John, or did Nereyda have the power to convince him to make her his queen.
"You know I told her that you wouldn't take no for answer," Nina interrupted his thoughts.
"I never do when it's something I want," T'Challa quipped.
Nina rose an eyebrow at him before exiting the room. T'Challa went to get a closer look at the pictures, wondering if it was anyone he knew, before hear harsh whispers from the hallway.
"Why did you let him in Nina? I told you I didn't have any plans to see him!"
"Well I don't see why not! If he wants to date you and give you expensive ass things then I say let his ass spoil you! I know you hate being a dora. This could be your chance to save enough to get out and probably get some bomb dick in the meanwhile."
T'Challa could hear Nereyda scoff. "You don't know anything about him, much less about his dick."
"Sis. He looks like he got a big dick, doesn't he? Long live the Black Panther eh!"
T'Challa couldn't hold back a laugh at that. He heard shushing and then Nereyda's head peeked around the corner. He stood as she walked into the room, looking apprehensive at his presence. T'Challa wondered if it was a mistake to come. She made it clear she wasn't interested; he wouldn't be made a fool of.
"My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Her voice was sweet, even as the nerves were painted against her face. She wore a yellow dress, curls free, lips pouty, and once again he was taken aback at her beauty.
"I can assume you received my gifts?" He walked around her, eyeing her. She followed him with her eyes until he was standing behind her and she was unable to look at him. "Is there a reason why I haven't heard from you?" He came to face her again.
She pursed her lips. "I appreciate your interest, your highness–"
"T'Challa," he interrupted.
She rolled her eyes. "I don't think it's appropriate, your highness–"
"T'Challa. Please I insist."
Another eye roll. "And I'm safe to assume that you tend to get your way when you insist."
"Well yes," he quipped just to annoy her. There was another subsequent eye roll and a scoff. By that point, he wanted to spank the habit out of her.
"Well Prince T'Challa, this is one instance where you won't be getting your way. I'm sorry that you would sully yourself by stepping foot in here but I'm not interested."
"May I ask why?" He was curious at the disparaging comments about the dora house, and subsequently of herself.
She met his eyes. "I've seen what happens who become dora for the powerful men of Wakanda." A bitter look crossed her face. "They are a secret that everyone knows about and calls a whore, yet the man is greeted with salutes and honor because he is able to have his cake and eat it too. At the end of the relationship, if the man wasn't generous, she's forced to come back here in shame, no way to book clients again after being the long term whore of a powerful man. He goes on to live a happy life while doras come back here to live out their lives alone." She squared her shoulders and her fiery gaze burned through him. "I have goals. I don't want to become known as "The Prince's dora" for the rest of my life."
T'Challa raked a hand over his mouth. He understood: she wanted to escape the dora house with a better reputation, get married maybe, have children. It's a life most people expected but the stigma of being a dora made her chances slim. Being "The Prince's dora" would make those chances impossible.
"I understand. Thank you for giving me the honor of an explanation," he said sincerely. "But I am not one of those men who would leave you destitute at the end of an arrangement. Even if you don't become my queen–"
"You want me to become your queen?" The shock was clear on her face.
He grasped her hands in his. "I want the opportunity to get to know you and see where this goes." He swallows, embarrassed at what he's about to admit. "You've held me capture from the minute our eyes met. If we grow to love each other, I see no reason why you wouldn't be able to be my queen. But even if you don't, you won't want for anything. All I'm asking for is a chance." T'Challa could see her struggling for words at his confession and the reluctance was still lingering. "I could get on my knees and beg if you'd like," he joked, doing his best to meet her lowered eyes.
That brought a musical laugh out of her, a full belly one that had her throwing her head back, hands still clasped in his. When she was done laughing, she pursed her lips at the puppy dog look her knew he was giving.
"Okay. I'll give you a chance. One dinner."
"One dinner," he agreed. He had one night to pull out all the stops.
That dinner turned into two, then a sleepover, until Nereyda was moving into the palace. T'Challa ignored the looks and whispers among the staff; there were people who didn't agree with his choice of a bed partner but it didn't matter to him. For the first time since Nakia had left to find her place in the world, he was happy. After a long day of sitting in on meetings and training to be king, he had a place to go where he could be himself.
Nereyda was uncomplicated; he was pretty sure she had no leanings toward being queen and for the first six months, she held herself as one who expected the rug to be swept from beneath her feet. T'Challa did his best to reassure her that it wouldn't happen and he was serious about her, but after a conversation with his father he wasn't sure.
"And what of this...dora you have sequestered here in the palace?" T'Chaka asked in the middle of a conversation with his son. They were in the king's office, wrapping up a conversation about the last council meeting. T'Challa was taken aback; this was not the turn he was expecting the conversation to take.
"Nereyda. She is...okay. What do you want to know?" This was an awkward situation. There was little else a man kept a dora for and T'Challa didn't want to delve into details about his sex life with his baba.
But the sex was more than okay. It was mind blowing. After waiting longer than it was clear Nereyda was used to to have sex, T'Challa surprised her with a trip. Even though he didn't expect for them to have sex, they did and T'Challa was addicted. Nereyda was sweet like honey, her skin softer than he'd suspected, and she lit a fire in his body. He found himself craving her with a ferocity he hadn't with any previous lover, just the thought of her getting him half hard and distracted.
But it was more than the sex. His favorite moments were after he returned from a long trip, when they would meet in his rooms and he could tell her all his problems. She'd sit on the couch, his head in her lap and she would listen while stroking his head. It brought him peace to have someone to lean on. T'Challa was also surprised at some of her suggestions to issues he brought before her, and even used them in discussions with his father. Nereyda was turning out to be an asset to his life.
"T'Challa have you heard a word I've said?" T'Chaka interrupted his thoughts.
"Ndiyaxolisa, baba. What did you say?"
"That girl...please T'Challa do not lose focus on what the goal is," T'Chaka warned. "Do not allow your possession of a dora to keep you from doing your duties and please do not get any ideas in your head."
"What kind of ideas, baba?"
"Like marriage to her. She is not a viable candidate for queen."
T'Challa disagreed. "How so? She is smart, beautiful, kind almost to a fault–"
"Ach! You are not thinking with your brain in your head!" T'Chaka exclaimed. "You are nothing more than a job to her. The sooner you realize, the better it will be. Once you are finished with her, she will move on to the next powerful man willing to have the prince's seconds."
T'Challa swallowed his ire. He didn't disagree with his father often but T'Chaka didn't know Nereyda. T'Challa knew he was wrong; Nereyda felt more for him than as just another man she had sex with. She did not have to say it. It was clear in the way she looked at him, the way she touched him and cared for his needs.
But maybe his father was right. It could be a part of her training that helped her to be everything he didn't know he needed. She could be playing coy for the throne. As much as he wanted to stand firm in his belief of her, T'Chaka's words had gotten to him.
His father laid a hand on his arm. "I just want you to be wise T'Challa. You can not risk not having the council on your side. A dora as queen is a sure way to ensure they turn against you."
T'Challa nodded and he felt a negativity that he carried with him the rest of the day.
Later that evening in bed, T'Challa found he couldn't sleep. His father's words played over in his mind, a bitterness in his words that T'Challa couldn't figure out. He rolled over to face his bed mate.
Small puffs of air came from Nereyda, her long lashes fluttering as her eyes moved behind her lids. She was in the beginning stages of a nightmare, the quickness of her heartbeat and the tight way she held herself his clue. Soft whimpers pushed through her lips and T'Challa pressed a hand to her cheek. He stroked her smooth skin with his thumb and whispered into her ear as he gathered her into his arms. Nereyda nestled into his chest under his chin, gripping his arm tightly before falling into a calmer sleep.
T'Challa smiled into the darkness and fell asleep. His father was wrong.
