Give It to Me (Oneshot)

“Focus, M’Baku!” you roared. Though the wind and snow whipped outside, shaking the windows and howling to be let in, your voice carried across the arena.

M’Baku blinked rapidly. The sweat from his brow was streaming down in to his eyes. He held steadfast to his staff, hunched in a defensive position. He strained his ears to hear above the storm and his own heavy breathing.

Footsteps approached behind him. M’Baku held his position as they increased in speed. When they were mere feet from him, M’Baku twisted around, swinging his staff with raw power. The wood connected with the attacker’s ribcage with a mighty crack and pushed them back.

A barrage of assaults followed. Challengers descended upon him from all angles, spears clashing with his staff. You stalked around the 360° observation deck of the training center and peered down at the display. His power was unmatched, but his agility needed work. M’Baku continued to plow through his opponents. But this was the Jabari Tribe, so they continued to get up. The Jabari never yielded. They wouldn’t stop until you said so.

“Hand to hand!” you commanded from above. Everyone dropped their weapons. M’Baku’s meaty fists clenched in front of his face.

“Kuda!”

M’Baku’s equal in size and stature, a solo challenger stepped forth. He rolled his shoulders and barked in a demonstration of dominance. M’Baku returned his call and barred his teeth. They hurled towards one another. Hundreds of pounds of muscle crashed together. The two men were locked, muscles laboring to overwhelm the other.

With a twist of his core, M’Baku broke away from his opponent and swung his fist. The blow did not land, instead whirring past Kuda’s chin. M’Baku took a few hits to his temple and chest before their shoulders locked again. Fighting through the daze of the sudden impact, M’Baku beat relentlessly under the other man’s ribcage.

“Stop.”

You swung your legs over the banister and jumped down in to the theater. You strode forth, chin held high. The contenders rushed to line up shoulder to shoulder. You remained silent as you reached them, eyes coming to rest on M’Baku’s. The storm continued to rattle the windows, demanding entry.

You were two years their senior and one of the fiercest fighters of this generation. The elders had assigned you this particular group of promising warriors to mentor and you took it very seriously.

“Temitope, how much more energy does it take to swing and miss than to swing and hit?” you demanded of a sinewy female in line. Your eyes did not leave M’Baku’s as you spoke. He matched your gaze, unwavering.

“Twice as much, Y/N!” Temitope answered immediately.

“And what are we doing when we use twice as much energy but do not achieve our goal?”

“Wasting energy!”

“And wasting energy is…” you grilled. This was a rapid fire exchange.

“A waste of resources!” Temitope kept up with your questioning.

You paced up and down the line of students, now looking at each one of them individually to drive your point home.

“You land your hits for your tribe! You fight for your tribe. You WIN for your tribe! Everyone here works hard for you to achieve your goal. Do not disrespect our community by wasting the energy they planted, farmed, and prepped for you. Do not waste their resources and do not waste my time!”

You’d run them all day. They were visibly exhausted. You’d run M’Baku the hardest.

“We will resume tomorrow after morning gathering. Clean up and go home,” you dismissed them.

The unit shuffled out of the gymnasium, dragging their sweaty armor behind them. They began their miserable trudge back down the mountain to Jabariland.

You made your way to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The storm was picking up outside and you felt the same unrest inside.

T’Chaka, the current king of Wakanda was aging, and his son was already set to supersede him. If the Jabari had any chance of claiming the throne, they’d have to work hard and fast.

You rested your head against the cool pane of glass for a few minutes and closed your eyes. You racked your brain for strategy as you exhaled, reveling in the quiet.

“Y/N.”

“Yes, M’Baku?” you replied softly, not opening your eyes. You felt him approach you from behind. His massive hands came to rest delicately on your shoulders.

“You need a break.” He knew you never shut off. The Jabari were your mission. Their welfare was your life.

“And you should be studying,” you retorted. The work was never done. There was less than a year before M’Baku was to ascend the Jabari throne and you had no estimation of the date he would have to challenge T’Challa.

“Studying what?” he laughed. His booming voice reverberated in the empty arena. “Those ridiculous people and their gadgets? The Jabari way of life is tried and true. They will bow to our might.”

You whipped around, staring him directly in the face. You were the only person who could make him feel small.

“People will never follow you if you do not understand them. A king is nothing without his people. You cannot force loyalty through fear, M’Baku. When you defeat the Black Panther you are responsible for all people regardless of their traditions!”

He stood in quiet contemplation for a moment. You were the only one to ever dare call him out on his preconceived prejudices. He took what you said to heart, valuing your council in his journey to the throne. You were a queen in his eyes. Someone who he aspired to be and desired to be around.

“You make me a better person, Y/N,” he admitted in hushed tones. He stepped closer to you.

“It is my job,” you confirmed.

M’Baku’s brow furrowed. “Is that the only reason?”

“No, of course not,” you started. “I do it because I believe in you. Because I know you’ll-”

You were cut off by the lightest kiss.

The contact caught you by surprise. It could have been a knockout punch for how dizzy it made you. M’Baku’s wide lips skirted over yours as he moved his palm to cup your face. He paused a moment to see if you’d object.

“May I?” he whispered.

You looked in to his brown eyes, gleaming and sincere. In them you truly saw a future king.

“Yes.”

This time his lips crashed to yours and you met him there. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. He tasted of salt and smelled of sweat from the day’s training and you felt a sense of pride. You’d helped to mold this powerful man. This future king who wanted you.

His kisses became more and more frantic, like he was desperate to consume you. His lips dragged down your neck and his teeth grazed your jugular. The sloppiness mixed with slight pain had you squeezing your thighs together to relieve the heat building between them.

He could honestly kiss you forever. He could worship you in this way all night long. But you needed more.

“M’Baku,” you purred, distracting him from his ministrations.

He stopped; momentarily worried that he’d maybe gone too far.

“Yes, Y/N?”

You stepped back from him. You removed your clothing and let it drop slowly out of your hands and on to the floor. There you stood; naked against a backdrop of a raging blizzard, your brown body in stark contrast to the blinding white. M’Baku drank in the sight of you. You were an absolute goddess if he’d ever seen one.

“Give it to me.”

That was all he needed. Like your battle commands, M’Baku complied without question. With sheer brute strength, he grabbed under your hips and hoisted you up. You yelped, suddenly finding yourself with your legs over his shoulders, back pressed up against the ice cold window, and M’Baku’s head between your thighs. He braced his burly arms against the pane to keep you from slipping, and you laced your fingers in his coarse hair as an anchor.

M’Baku simply exhaled against your slit and a shiver of pleasure ran down your spine. The wet heat of his mouth mixed with the cold of the glass had you crazed with anticipation.

He finally pressed the flat of his enormous tongue against your opening. You moaned in to the empty room. It echoed your sentiments. M’Baku swiped his tongue up and down a few times at a maddeningly slow pace, always stopping short of your clit.

It was throbbing, begging to be acknowledged.

When M’Baku finally gave it the attention it deserved, your legs quaked against his shoulders. You cried out, unable to make words, as he circled around the ball of nerves. He took his time writing his praises of you with his tongue, darting in and out of your folds and punctuating each point with a suckle on your clit.

Your hips pushed farther in to his mouth and your muscles tensed. You squeezed your thighs so hard around his head that he couldn’t hear your desperate panting and cussing, but he knew you were close. M’Baku rolled his neck and fluttered his tongue with such precision that you couldn’t hold back your screaming if you tried.

You came loudly in the arena, relinquishing all control. Your body was racked with pleasure and you could barely breathe. M’Baku continued to lick you until you tapped out on his arm, unable to take anymore.

“I yield,” you gasped.

He unhooked your knees from his shoulders and brought you to the floor. Your legs felt like a new born calf’s and you clung to his broad chest for support. The aftershocks of orgasm were still running through you.

You’d painted his jet black beard with your juices. It glistened when he smiled.

“Let me show you something,” he whispered.

He turned you around to face the window. Below was Jabariland standing strong and steadfast against the tempestuous storm. You stood naked and exposed, towering over your home.

M’Baku’s arms snaked around your form and he brought his lips to your ear.

“It’s yours if you want it… Jabariland,” M’Baku hummed. “You deserve it.” He planted soft kisses along your shoulders. You could feel his hard on pressed up against you. Your pussy was wet again. “You could be my queen.”

M’Baku’s hands caressed your body, eventually leading up to your breasts. He rolled the brown nipples between his fingers.

“Anything you ask of me, I will do.”

You looked out over your compound, pressed your hands against the glass, and arched your back. You wanted Jabariland to lay witness to this moment.

“Give it to me,” you commanded.