#King of Backtalk. King of Getting His Ass Beat for the Backtalk

[burningcheese-merchant]

Burning Spice: lmao I fucked your mom

Pepper Jack, his actual, literal biological son: Damn that's crazy. Must've been the best five minutes of your life

Golden Cheese: *spits out her drink, covers her mouth to stifle her hysterical laughter*

[theomnicode]

Rumour mill and bad public relations

It's not just the lack of information going out that seems to keep the hero rumour mill busy.

Saitama? Attitude problem?

Does Saitama have that much of a poor rep in HA that there's rumours circulating about him being an ass the moment he moved in?

Apparently yes.

Not just a fraud, he's a jerk too it seems.

Although he hasn't exactly given out the best image of himself to other heroes whenever he has interacted with them.

One occasion is due to his own arrogance about his abilities, which is probably one of the reasons HA knocked him down a peg by starting him at c-rank. Then his self-assuredness in his own abilities was absolutely demolished in the Garou fight, very intentionally.

Saitama is mostly a humble person and he never brags, but his confidence in his own abilities was bordering on arrogance. And rubbed other heroes the wrong way.

Saitama does not have to intentionally display his unflattering character traits in the open though. When he tries to be helpful, social and open and mingle with other heroes, he finds out that being honest and himself just doesn't work out that well and instead of endearing himself to other heroes, they end up disliking him.

Saitama being easily distracted and not your atypical hero who does not need to worry for his own safety, does not make him look like the serious type of hero either and a hero who just does not care enough, another point not in his favour. Attempting to explain his reasoning and avoiding confrontation is seen as backtalking too.

Other heroes really get the sense that Saitama only cops an attitude with them, is arrogant to a fault and challenges their leadership and talks back and generally a jerk. Not to mention a mission screw up.

Which is already apparently making more rumours circulate around how he's problematic to work with and making other heroes he has never met before make up their own minds before they've even met him.

There is one thing that can make it even worse however.

Genos talking about Saitama's unimaginable heroics can be extremely damaging to his public image. Everyone believes now that Garou beat up all the S-rank heroes and Blast or unnamed hero they don't know about beat Garou.

If Genos starts talking about how amazing Saitama actually is, for one, nobody is going to believe him and two, if they do happen to believe him, it will be seen as Saitama attempting to get some undeserved clout out of the horrible situation.

S-rank heroes are in the hospital and what does this fraud do? Claim he did some insane stuff like travel back in time and punch Garou in the face.

Making his already shaky public image even worse. A PR disaster. It can absolutely have very bad effects in how Saitama conducts his heroism if nobody will tell him anything and he loses trust of other heroes, invoke disciplinary measures and get HA upper echleon corrupt members looking for payback only add to the bad rumours.

And since Saitama doesn't even remember anything that happened, Genos telling things like that to other people which brings forth harmful effects, will only only further create tensions or even a rift between them if it looks like Genos attempts to unintentionally slander him.

Saitama wants to be seen as a hero and being seen as hero is important to him, that much he conveys to King. People should be able to look up to heroes and reputation is important when it comes to trusting heroes and Saitama has displayed in the past that he's willing to take the fall, long as it preserves the reputation of other heroes.

There may be curious easter eggs in OVA 2 about Don Pacino and his appearance, which forced the supermarket where Genoes attempted to buy a sale from to close, thanking the customers for loyalty. It may be a reference to irl Dom Pachino named guy. The same person also stole Genos' keys to Saitama's house.

Dom Pachino (born Domingo J. Del Valle in Manhattan, New York City) is a rapper of Puerto Rican descent. He is a former member of the rap group Killarmy and also has a solo career. He is also known as P.R. Terrorist, but he has rarely used this name since the September 11, 2001 attacks afraid that it may be taken the wrong way and affect sales.

It can be interpreted that slandering Saitama's public image can indeed affect the loyalty Saitama and Genos have for each other, get Genos kicked out of the house and make Saitama consider only working alone.

Saitama and Genos seems to be in for a rough time.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Tryst {Headcanon}***

Warning: NSFW. SMUTTY.

Words: 2.5K

Note: Back to my bread and butter T’Challa. There are Xhosa and translations within text (according to google.com). Also there is one interactive image link. Hope you guys enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another long day. Another long day of meetings and citizen appearances. He sat there in the throne room to listen to complaint after complaint and concern after concern and dispute after dispute. It was tedious, and he was tired.  

You were able to escape this because you weren’t in Wakanda. You were still on your trip to America to handle some of the diplomatic affairs oversees. He’d opted out and exchanged the trip with you to remain here because sometimes America was too much. The rules, the small-mindedness, the Totalitarian thinking, it was very backward when it was compared to the way Wakanda did things. 

When you’d told him that your trip was extended for four more days on top of the four you were already gone, he found his grumpiness increasing. He wanted you home already, wanted you close enough he could smell and touch and kiss. 

Then when he found out you were spending time with the Avengers on a few of those days, uneasiness settled in his heart. You were around not just one man who wanted you but two—your ex Steve Rogers himself and the other one who had tried to capture your heart, Sam. His grumpiness quickly turned to jealousy. 

Last night you were video calling him and telling him of your day, and you’d gotten the invitation to go out with them. You were supposed to be flying in the next morning. He watched as you accepted the invitation and watched as you dressed in something, he would never have chosen for you. It was too tight, and he knew their eyes would be glued to your frame.  

He wasn’t a jealous man, but when it came to you, he was downright possessive. Now here it was close to supper time, and you still weren’t here. So, now he was grumpy, annoyed, missing you fiercely, and feeling overwhelmingly jealous. It was the worst time for these feelings. 

After another hour and a half, your scent filled him. You were home. The giddiness he felt could barely be contained. He’d expected you to come to him right away, but after forty minutes, you still hadn’t. He knew you were in the palace; he could feel it, and that fact made every emotion he’d felt hours ago increase. 

When the doors of the throne room opened, and you walked in half of him wanted to jump out his seat and run to you, but the other half—the stubborn half, the animal half remained seated. He watched you slink closer and watched all who were there salute you as they would him. Every step you took, you demanded respect and showed your power but grace and kindness. You smiled at them all and waved. He’d missed the air around you, and he noticed those around him did as well. 

“Okoye, do I have any more citizens?” 

“No, Kumkani, you have seen them all.” 

Before you got to the steps to climb them and sit on your throne beside him, he locked eyes with yours. 

“Stop there.” You paused and gave him a cautionary look. It wasn’t one that said “what’s wrong” it was one that asked, “excuse me, who the hell are you talking to?” 

“Everyone is dismissed.” 

All in the room began gathering their things. They all collectively saluted him and walked out the doors. Okoye did the same, but as she passed you, she smiled. You pulled her into a hug that she returned. Okoye did not hug, you’d turned her.  

When everyone was out of the room, you smiled. 

“Is this how my husband greets me, his wife, after such a long time away from me?” 

“Perhaps,” he responded, his voice was low and deep. He was ready to pounce, but he wanted to see you squirm first. “Come here, wife.” 

Slowly you ascended the stairs leading to him. His eyes roamed your figure. You wore an authentic green Wakandan dress that hid your shape

“Now you choose modesty when you are here with your husband.” 

You smiled because you knew he was salty over the outfit you wore on your night out. You knew he would never tell you to change or restrict you from wearing something. You purposely wore it knowing he wouldn’t speak on it. Leaving a foot or two, you shrugged as you stood before him.  His eyes roamed your body. You recognized the look. After two years of marriage, you’d become very good at cataloging his looks and deciphering what they meant.  

“Take it off.” 

“Is this how you treat your wife, ordering her around like she is in your service?” 

“Is this how you treat your king? Backtalk?” You smiled and turned around so your back faced him. 

“I can’t reach the clasp my—king.” It was a sweet innocent voice; he knew better than to believe it. He reached up and unfastened the clasp then pulled down the zipper slowly until it was to your mid-back. You stood, turned to him, and pushed the silken material off your shoulders. The billowy dress fell from you to the floor with a soft brush of air, and you stood before him as bare as the day you were born. 

“Bast!”  

You smiled wider than you intended. He hadn’t expected you to be naked underneath, especially with supper, and after supper entertainment was still on the agenda. You’d anticipated your husband being in a pissy mood and set the trap perfectly. 

“Who knew you were such a temptress.” 

“It seems marriage has unlocked this master-level—husband.” Your eyes dropped to his crotch, and you could see just how tempted he was. You stepped out of the dress that pooled around your feet and softly kicked it to the side then walked to him, closing the gap. 

“Did you miss me, husband?” Your breasts were right in front of his face. You knew he knew what you were doing. You also knew after nearly two weeks, he would easily crumble. T’Challa trailed his hand up the side of your thigh to the back and up your backside. His hand felt incredible on your skin, you had missed him. 

“Did you miss your king?” Your eyes locked with his, and you nodded while biting your bottom lip. T’Challa tipped his tongue out and ran it across a nipple once then twice, and your body was on fire. As if the taste wasn’t enough, he cupped your breasts then latched onto them and sucked, licked and teased them until you were moaning and whimpering with every touch.  

After a few minutes, T’Challa pulled your head down to his and claimed your lips in a searing kiss that opened the flood gates of your desire for him. The two of you moaned in unison. T’Challa pulled you forward to straddle him. There was not enough room for your thighs to comfortably rest, so T’challa pulled your legs to rest over the armrests of the throne. You were comfortably seated on top of his still hardening shaft. You moaned and began bucking your hips.  

T’Challa then quickly began undoing his pants with one hand as he held you suspended in the air just above him. It didn’t take him long, and the anticipation of him sliding into you was killing you. T’Challa slowly lowered you onto his need taking his time giving you every inch so you could feel yourself fill to capacity with him. Your eyes never left his, and it only intensified the moment. 

Once he was fully sheathed between your soaking tight folds, he grunted. 

“Show your king how much you missed him.” Not needing to be told twice, you rocked your hips on him first back and forth then in wide circles. T’Challa’s head dropped back to the throne and closed his eyes. He looked as if he were finally at peace, finally able to settle. Not for long you thought. You picked up your pace and began a steady beat in your head to one of your favorite songs and rocked your hips to it. You made sure to never keep to one motion long enough for him to get used to it. This was the way to drive him crazy. 

After a few minutes, your arousal was so high you dropped your hands to the armrest of the throne and used it so you could bounce atop him. T’Challa’s grunts and moans became louder, and soon his hands gripped you around your waist to hold you still as he flicked his hips up into you. Each thrust was powerful and reminded you just who you were dealing with—The Black Panther. 

T’Challa took control and angled your back so you laid back dropping your head between his legs so your eyes were pointed to the doors of the room, giving you an upside-down view. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Show your queen how much you missed her!” 

That was all he needed to hear before he was plowing into you, making your body shake with each bruising thrust of his hips. T’Challa’s grip on you was a tight one, one that said he would never let you fall, and he would always be your support, but his strokes said he was in control, he was king, he is the only one that could ever have you like this. Your moans turned to screeches as you felt your first orgasm escape. 

“Ah, T’Challa!” 

You didn’t know what was happening, but you felt T’Challa stand. He turned you to the throne then lowered you to the floor before he pushed you onto the seat with your back to him. You moaned still feeling the tingles of your orgasm. Assuming the position, you knew he loved you poked your ass out for him. 

T’Challa dropped a heavy slap across your ass, and another moan fell from your lips. He did this again and again before you felt the heavy thwack of his long, thick member across one side of your ass.  

“Mmm.” 

“Do you want it, Y/N?” You vigorously nodded your head. You didn’t care if you were a little too anxious, there was no such thing as desperation between husband and wife. T’Challa slapped your buttock with his meat again, and you held on to the back of the throne tighter. “I cannot hear you, my queen.” 

“Yes, I want it. Give it to me, Sthandwa {My love}!” T’Challa rubbed the tip of his need across your dripping slit and stroked the fire to the inferno that was quickly becoming too much to contain. “Ndiyacela. {Please}”, it was a whimpered plea. T’Challa didn’t have you wait too long. Without caution, he slammed into you, making you scream out and hug the throne as if it were him. 

T’Challa’s strokes were not gentle, and they were not slow. He was now a man on a mission, you could feel it. Every slam into you made your skin tingle even more, you knew you were dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, it was only a matter of time.  

“Eyam {Mine}!” It wasn’t a question; it was a confident declaration. You had no objections. He repeated it and rocked your core with the force of his thrust. Your body lurched forward away from his dick. 

“Fuck!” T’Challa gripped your hips and pulled you back to him. 

“Do not run from me, Y/N.” Again, his hips delivered a down for the count thrust, and you screeched having nowhere to run from the intense pressure you felt, it was a mix of pleasure and delicious pain. You didn’t realize it, but you were screaming with every connection his hips made. 

“Eyam! Yitsho {Say it}!” 

“Yeyakho {Yours}!” T’Challa released a low predatorial growl and sped up his thrusts. You couldn’t control what came out your mouth from that point on, it was all incoherent nonsense you were sure. T’Challa seemed lost in his pleasure. He grunted once, then twice and a third. On the fourth grunt and drill into you, his body shook, and you felt his release just as your final orgasm claimed you. You could feel the tight clench around him and the pulsating of his still hardened need. 

T’Challa whimpered and fell against your back as if he’d lost all strength. As your canal milked him for everything, he had his whimpers escaped to the rhythm of which you clenched around him. 

“So, you remember who it is that owns and controls your body, my love.” His voice was breathy and soft against your ear. You smiled and turned your head to the side, giving him a small view of you before you clenched around him again, this time holding the clench. T’Challa yelped out and shook again, the look on his face was one of shock, pleasure, and lust. 

“Mmm, so you remember who it is that owns and controls this, hence you my—love.” You released him, and he growled again and slowly began to pull from you before he pushed into you again. On the third slow, tantalizing thrust, there was loud pounding at the doors. 

“What!” 

“A message from the queen mother kumkani. Eh-em, we are all hungry and waiting, please control yourself your hunger for after we have eaten.” 

You snorted and laughed doing your best to stifle it. T’Challa smiled and softly bit your shoulder before he kissed it.  

“Thank you, general, we shall we there shortly.” He smiled and slowly pulled from your well-coated heat, as he did, he saw a few small drops of him seep out of you, decorating your nether lips beautifully. Just like that, he was filled with a renewed desire for you, not that it had ever left him. You flipped over and sat on his throne then spread your legs, giving him an unobscured view of his favorite canvas to mark.

Slowly your hand trailed across your stomach to the apex between your thighs. Using the mixture of your juices and his seed, you began circling your clit moaning while looking at him.  

“Y/N.” It was a warning. He knew what you were doing, but he also was but a man first and foremost.  

“You cannot go to supper that way, my king. Let me help.” 

“Help? Don’t you mean ensnare and sabotage me further?” Your smile was a mischievous one. 

“Ensnare? I object.” He smiled again and shook his head, not seeing right through you. “I know how hungry you are my love, come get your sustenance.” You brought your fingers to your lips and sucked them clean. His lust took over as he tapped his kimoyo beads. 

“Mother, the queen, and I regret to inform you that we will not be joining you all at supper tonight. You may eat without us.” Without waiting for a response, he ended the communication and went to you. You were right; he was hungry. As he slid inside you again, his lips quirked into a mischievous smirk. 

“You’re right, my queen, I am ravenous!”