#domesticattoye

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

Over the last several days, Namora had noted Attuma’s despondence, his mood a heavy cloud that weighed on those close to him. Sure, he ate and trained, the accuracy and strength of his blows still lethal to those not Talokanil and his speed unmatched by any surface dweller, but the fire that had once been the hallmark of his being was absent. And, while he’d been spending more time in Talokan, he hadn’t been taking part in the evening festivities as he'd done before.

Genuinely concerned, she sought him out, entering Wakanda to visit the residence he shared with his wife. It was near to the river, its side steps practically submerged in the water. It was here she discovered him, seated on a swing located on their house’s wrap around porch, a feature she’d not seen on any of the other Wakandan homes.

“Attuma,” she called, drawing his attention. The fact that he hadn’t already been aware and prepared at the movement of an uninvited guest entering his space was testament to how unlike himself he was being.

“Namora,” he responded, voice dull. “What brings you here?” He’d posed the question, but, in his inflection, it was clear that he was uninterested in the answer.

“I have come to check on you. You have not been yourself of late.”

Sighing, he turned from her, his focus returning to the sky. The full moon hung high overhead, casting a subdued light over the calm night.

“How am I to go on as though unaffected when my sun is gone?” He seemed to pose the question more to himself than to her.

Hurrying the rest of the way onto the porch, Namora joined him on the swing. She angled her body toward his and grabbed hold of his nearest arm. She knew the nickname he had for his wife, the man incessantly uttering the term of endearment when she was around.  

“What do you mean ‘the sun is gone’? Has your wife left you?” she gasped. Her eyes widened as she worked to process this new information. It certainly explained his change in mood. Though, why he hadn’t come to her or K’uk’ulkan was beyond her. Yes, at its start, she’d been less than thrilled with their union. Then, the treaty between Talokan and Wakanda had been in its infancy, and the trust had not yet been truly built.

With formally meeting the woman and getting to know her, Namora had changed her opinion. She’d even grown to admire their relationship, longing for one of her own as she witnessed their moments of tenderness. She’d come to think that they would be like her parents, falling deeper in love with each passing year until they found themselves old and gray—surrounded by children and grandchildren, their home the epicenter of their family’s merriment and treasured memories.

It appeared as though that would not be the case. She mourned the loss, though not her own, feeling a deep sadness on Attuma’s behalf.

Namora was abruptly brought back to the present when Attuma shook off her hands. He leveled a glare in her direction.

“Be still your tongue! Do not wish such horror on me!” Calming, he pouted, his form relaxing back into the seat. “My sun, my light, my Okoye has been sent on an away mission. She will be gone from me for several weeks. It feels as though she has taken all the luster in my life with her…” He trailed off, falling, again, deep in his morose.

Namora gave him a hard look, incredulous as all the sympathy she’d felt for him dissolved in an instant. Slapping the back of his head, she stood from the swing and muttered to herself while making her way back to the river.

“Useless, overdramatic men. I don’t know who is worse: him or K’uk’ulkan, fawning over their women as though they have lost the ability to do anything but… The sun is gone, my foot.”  

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

“I do not like the way that colonizer’s eyes linger upon you,” Attuma whispered in Okoye’s ear as he embraced her from behind. He’d finally been able to get her alone, said colonizer having, at last, gone away to prattle at someone else.  

They were at a dinner party, Okoye having insisted that they couldn’t refuse Shuri’s request to attend. After learning that K’uk’ulkan would also be serving as host, the couple unofficially debuting their relationship, Attuma had readily agreed. The gathering was an intimate, casual affair made up only of those close to the couple. How the American had gained an invite was beyond Attuma.

He'd been having a good time—his mood bright due to his full belly, the night’s dinner having been a complementary mix of delicacies from both Talokan and Wakanda, and the drinks he’d partaken in, the alcohol plentiful. He’d ended a conversation with Namora to go in search of Okoye, whose presence he missed. The two had separated, to connect with their friends, once the seated meal had concluded.

He’d spent the last few hours conferring with K’uk’ulkan, joking with Namora and getting to know Lord M’Baku, and was now ready to take his leave with Okoye. He’d been smiling, his cheeks flushed purple as his eyes searched the room. His jovial spirits had soured upon finding her speaking with the small man, who’d had an arm raised as though to touch his treasure. Her hard stare, at his hand, had the man lowering the offensive, in Attuma’s opinion, appendage, and had halted Attuma in his stalk across the room.

“Who, Ross?” Okoye asked, leaning back against his chest.

“Yes, his eyes are always filled with lust, and they follow you about,” he glared briefly in the colonizer’s direction. The man was now speaking with Shuri. K’uk’ulkan was nearby, his expression mirroring that of Attuma’s.

“You’re exaggerating,” Okoye snorted. “His eyes do not follow me, and his expression, that you’re misinterpreting by the way, is appreciation. I did free him from imprisonment, you know.”

“Yes, he appreciates the brilliance of your eyes, the beauty of your visage and the ample curves that make up your striking form, all of which are mine to cherish.” His declaration was followed by the tightening of his arms. He pressed his face into her neck, teasing the sensitive skin with the tip of his nose.

Giggling, she twisted out of his hold, and slapped, once, at his chest.

“Behave,” she instructed before allowing him to return her to the circle of his arms, this time face to face. While gazing up at him, she rubbed the area she’d struck. “Just because you spend every moment of your day pining after me, doesn’t mean that every man in my vicinity does as well.”

“That is because they are fools.”

“So, then you do want other men to look upon me with desire in their eyes,” she teased, her fingers walking up his chest.

“No, what I wish is for everyone—man, woman or child—to recognize your radiance and grace, but for every man, fortunate enough to find himself in your presence, to be too afraid to leer at your features for fear of my wrath.” His statement was serious, not a hint of jest in his tone. “In fact, the American should be the first to learn this lesson.”

He made to move away from Okoye, but she kept him close.

“Would you rather risk the treaty between our nations by attacking a man that is of little consequence to me, or would you rather take me home and cherish what you say is yours?”

The choice was an easy one, and made with no hesitation.  

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Sex Toy Chronicles #1 «

The last thing Okoye wanted to do—after a day filled with tending to her rhinos, caring for her garden and training both in and out of her Midnight Angel suit—was go to a party, especially one having to do with so-called, “lady goods”. Stomach growling, all she longed for, other than food, was the comfort of her bed and the warmth of Attuma’s arms wrapped tight around her. However, Aneka, in all her vibrant energy, had another idea.

“What even are lady goods?” Okoye asked with images of White women holding Tupperware flashing through her mind.

Aneka’s only response was a mischievous grin as she grabbed Okoye’s hand to hurry them on their way to Mosela’s house.

Grumbling, Okoye muttered, “There better at least be food.” She quickened her steps to keep up with Aneka, wincing at the younger woman’s tight grip.

Once they arrived, Okoye was delighted to see that her hunger would indeed be sated. The table at the far end was ladened down with food, calling her immediate attention. It wasn’t until she’d filled a plate, after greeting a few of the women she knew, that she took notice of what the other tables in the room held.

Choking on a bite of fruit, Okoye coughed violently as her watering eyes scanned the room for Aneka. She was easy to find in the group of women, her still shaven head standing out among the locs, braids and afro puffs.

“You brought me to a sex toy party?” Okoye demanded.

Aneka attempted to foreign innocence, but promptly gave up under Okoye’s scowl.

“Yes, sister. Don’t be so uptight! You might find something nice to use with that new man of yours,” Aneka teased. She’d placed her hands on Okoye’s shoulders and used them to sway her back and forth until her face softened. “Good. Now, let’s go find a seat. They will be starting soon.”

Reluctantly sat, Okoye watched as various lingerie, vibrators and dildos were shown to the crowd of joking and jeering women. Her attention waned, with her fatigue, until a striking sight pitched her back to full alertness.

It was an array of glass butt plugs, each beautifully crafted in a different color with a distinct decoration on its end. She found the pink rose one particularly pleasing, and imagined Attuma slowly stretching her out—with his thick, long fingers—before sliding the plug inside her, so that her ass could be full while he fucked her pussy.

Aroused by her imagination, Okoye bought several items once the presentation had ended. The pink rose butt plug was her favorite, but she also looked forward to blowing Attuma’s mind with the barely there lingerie and handcuffs.

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

Every time Attuma entered Okoye’s body it felt like returning home—no matter where their coupling took place: on the beach at midnight, a public sauna when no one was around, or even, one adventurous evening, in the throne room after everyone had been dismissed from a tedious council meeting (for which their presence had been demanded).

The way her slippery wet walls cushioned and massaged his cock was enough to obliterate any of the day’s small annoyances and chase away, at least temporarily, his more profound troubles. It was as though he was being immersed in her love—especially when her arms gathered around him, her thighs cuddled him close and her face pressed into his—their bodies as tightly connected as humanly possible.

Had he the option, he would have crawled inside her skin, compressing himself to be kept cocooned by her flesh and surrounded by her being. That was an impossibility, though, and, in all sincerity, he cherished moving through life by her side. Her affection, tenderness and devotion were blessings he never planned on squandering.

Waking up beside her each morning gave him the added strength to take on the day. Being apart from her as they performed their duties and completed their tasks was made easier, with the knowledge, that at the end he would return to her. And, concluding their night encased in her body—in any way she allowed, after having shared their day’s experiences—made him eager for first light, to do it all again.

Edited to add: Shout out to @xblackreader and her post where I got the idea for Attoye sexing in the throne room.

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

“Attuma, you can’t add things to our list without discussing them with me first!” Okoye shouted over the sound of running water in the bathroom.

She’d been on the way out of their bedroom, when she’d noticed a line of scribble in his handwriting on the, somewhat, haphazardly plastered paper on the wall. Though, carelessly affixed to its spot, the item was important to the both of them. It contained a record of their agreed upon rules—or laws, if you will—for their relationship. Okoye knew, from her constant viewings, that that last row of text hadn’t been there the day before.

It had begun as a joke, Attuma jesting that they should establish their own written alliance as the rulers of Talokan and Wakanda had done for their nations. Okoye had laughed off the remark, but it’d stuck with her. The following day, she’d sat Attuma down for negotiations.

He’d been surprisingly open, suggesting their first rule: We must never lay our heads to rest with anger at the other in our hearts. Okoye had heard the advice to never go to bed angry at your partner, but had always disregarded it. Her stubborn nature compelled her to hold onto her grievances. She wanted to do things differently with him, though, so she’d reluctantly accepted it as their first rule.  

Her addition to their list had been: No secrets or lies—italicized, bolded and underlined for emphasis. Attuma had bristled at that, insisting that exceptions be made for surprises on birthdays, anniversaries and whenever he felt was necessary. Surprises, he argued would require stealth and, yes, a few lies—white lies, harmless and inconsequential, to maintain the excitement. Okoye, a coy smile gracing her face, had approved his stipulation. They continued back and forth, adding and subtracting rules until they’d developed a concise list.

A list that had been sullied with the incorporation of a rule not previously agreed upon by them both.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Attuma smiled at Okoye’s scowling face.

“My love, have you read what I have written?”

Eyes narrowing, she turned back to the sheet of paper to find, Attuma must always make Okoye happy, penned on the page. The scowl fell from her face, a bemused smile taking its place.

“While I like what you’ve added, it seems as though it would supersede several of the other rules, and requires a proper negotiation,” she said, not wanting to succumb completely to his charm.

Attuma laughed and pulled her into the bathroom, readying to execute his new law.  

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Domestic Establishment #1 + I had this post in mind while writing this. «

The house was a mess. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence with having three rambunctious children—two of whom were learning to walk and had taken to grabbing and pulling down everything their new reach afforded them—occupying the premises. What was different was Okoye’s increasing annoyance at having to, not only, negotiate the chaos created by her kids, but also squeeze around the overly large furniture (needed to accommodate her husband’s colossal frame) and dodge all of the paraphernalia that they’d accumulated for the care of their little ones.

Her modestly sized house, which had previously only sheltered her and her daughter, was now filled to capacity with the addition of her husband and twin boys.

They needed more room. Attuma had introduced the idea, but she’d been resistant—unwilling to leave the place where they’d rediscovered one another and fallen back in love, or rather continued their love as it had never died. It was also where she’d given birth to their sons. She remembered laboring in the living room, her lower half submerged in a pool of warm water which had been arranged for her waterbirth. At the time, she’d begun planning how, while the boys were growing up, she would point to the spot, as she used the pain she’d experienced, to guilt them into acting as they should.

Despite her resistance, Okoye had always known, on some level, that they would eventually have to move. The house only had three bedrooms, including theirs. They already had three children, and the gleam in Attuma’s eye led her to believe that he would soon be campaigning for more. Also, while their abode was near the river, she knew it would be much more convenient for her husband if they were even closer—possibly in a dwelling partially immersed in the waterway.

Sighing at life’s difficult choices, she made her way into the kitchen. Her youngest son sat on her hip, clinging to her shirt, while his older brother toddled behind her. She’d meant to carry them both to their highchairs, but he’d refused, fussing when she’d attempted to pick him up. On her way, she edged past Attuma’s massive recliner and stepped over one of her daughter’s many stuffed animals.  

This being part of their daily routine, Okoye thought she had the layout of the kitchen memorized. She found she was sorely mistaken when, instead of an empty space, her foot made forceful contact with the leg of one of the highchairs.

“Shit!” She exclaimed, flinching so hard she nearly dropped her son. Fortunately, she regained her hold on him while she caught herself, using the palm of her free hand against the table. The small boy screamed in response; his chubby arms clenched tight around her neck as he cried in her ear. A soft thump sounded behind her and an accompanying cry came from his brother.

Both children wailing and her foot throbbing, Okoye’s mind was made up. They would, most definitely, be moving, and into the most spacious house possible.

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Also inspired by this piece of amazing fanart by @xblackreader. «

Stood in the shower, the hot water cascading down her body, Okoye gave a sigh of relief. The bustle of the day melted away, flowing down the drain as she washed off the grime she’d accumulated during her travels. The wash up she’d done that morning, after her sunrise run and calisthenics, hadn’t been this soothing: a quick scrub and rinse to rid her body of sweat before she kissed Attuma good-bye, hurrying to meet Nakia for breakfast.

The rest of her day had seen her navigating the marketplace (her kitchen’s bare cabinets the catalyst for her trip), where the mouthwatering aromas of all the available food clung to her skin and clothing. After she’d finished shopping, she’d paid M20 his daily visit on her way back. The rhino’s licks of affection had left her cheeks feeling sticky, the brillo pad of his tongue abrasive on her skin. Plus, the odor of animal excretions was added to the kaleidoscope of scents she’d obtained from the market. Dropping her purchases off at home, she’d then gone to meet Aneka for one of their tri-weekly training sessions. This had led, again, to her being drenched in sweat, and though she felt satisfied, her muscles pleasantly fatigued, she was ready to clean herself and spend what remained of her day in tranquil relaxation.

Her wishes beginning to come to fruition, Okoye tipped her head forward under the spray of water. Another sigh left her lips and they curved into a smile, her eyes closing for a brief moment as she inhaled the steamy air. She reached for her favorite lavender body wash, and was busying herself with lathering up her washcloth when she heard a shifting from beyond the shower stall’s entrance. Before she could react, the door was pulled open, and the massive frame of her boyfriend blocked the bathroom’s light.

His eyes roamed over her naked body, heating it in a different, much more carnal, way than the shower currently was.

“I didn’t think you would be home until late,” she said, continuing with what she’d been preparing to do. Under his leer, she ran the soapy cloth over her arms and chest. She spent more time than necessary stroking her breasts, lifting and fondling them with the suds for his benefit. She smirked at his deep inhalation then moved to lave the rest of her body.

He ignored her statement, his eyes steady on her, groaning when she bent forward to wash her legs and feet.

“May I join you,” he asked, finally speaking.

She paused in her bathing, the water flowing to rinse her skin, and looked him over. She’d expected to see lust in his eyes, but the underlying mischievousness in his expression was slightly unsettling—especially when he flashed his teeth at her, his tongue running over their sharp edges.

“Only if you behave.”

“Of course, my love.” He made quick work of removing his clothes, unconscious to where he threw them.

She was readying to lecture him about putting them in the hamper, but he stepped into the stall and crowded her against its wall before she could speak. He kissed her right shoulder, tenderly moving his lips along her skin. She leaned into his chest, letting her head be supported by his body. Lulled into a sense of calm, her eyes snapped wide open at the sting of his teeth sinking into her flesh.

“Ow,” she exclaimed, swatting at his head. She twisted in his hold and leveled a glare in his direction. “I told you to behave. I’m not done and I don’t need you distracting me.”

“I am behaving,” he claimed, moving to take a bite at her opposite arm. He was, for the second time, met by the slap of her hand, this one on his chest.

“This is not behaving, Attuma.” She tried to sound stern, but the hold his teeth had taken on her left cheek impeded her efforts. “Attuma!” She whined, closing her eye, lest it be poked out by his nose.

After a short time, his jaw relaxed, unhanding her face.

“I am behaving, my love. Had I not been, I would have immediately removed you from this chamber to receive me, on your hands and knees, in the comfort of our bed. I am behaving by allowing you to complete your cleaning ritual.”

Conceding his point, Okoye pouted softly. On one hand, she mourned the loss of her quiet evening, while, on the other, she was excited about where this bit of foreplay would lead. Rest was, without a doubt, no longer in her near future. Attuma was sure to filled their evening and night with passionate lovemaking.

Yes, she was now loved—far more tenderly and thoroughly than she’d ever been before—but at what cost? The question echoed in her head as Attuma gathered her closer to lay another bite on her, this time aiming for her breast.

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

Okoye truly enjoyed the sound of Attuma’s voice. On most days, its depth caused her body to swoon and her toes to curl of their own volition. Its timbre soothed her like no other: lulling her into the deepest of sleeps during her, now seldom, fitful nights of slumber. Its dulcet tones could hold her captivated—Okoye hanging on his every word during even the most tedious of stories, though, Attuma was far from loquacious.

In fact, he was quite the opposite: a man of few words, especially around people who weren’t her. He seemed to relish in their comfortable silences, simply wanting to end his day holding her close as she read or watching as she puttered around the house. Sometimes he’d stretch out on the couch beside her (which she’d had to have customized to adequately fit both his larger dimensions and her slighter form) with a notebook in hand, scribbling as he glanced up at her in short intervals.

Okoye had been tickled to learn that he was writing poetry. Demanding a private reading, she’d pleaded—bombarding him with every bit of her charm: widening her eyes, pouting her lips, using terms of endearment and peppering him with gentle kisses and petting touches—until he’d agreed, cheeks-tinged purple as his lips twisted in a bashful wince. She’d acknowledged his discomfort, but hadn’t relented, needing to hear his elegant prose from his own lips. The experience had deepened her feelings toward him and brought an increased intimacy to their relationship with the occurrence becoming routine.

Now instead of reading on her own, they read together. Attuma brought the pages of the mystery novels she so adored to life—reading aloud, with the assistance of Okoye’s Kimoyo Beads, as she cuddled close on his chest. He’d even introduced her to fables and text from his nation, telling her the stories with which he’d grown up. (She did the same on the evenings when he would turn the tables on her, requesting that she regale him with the tales from her youth.) The melodic cadence of his voice and rhythmic beating of his heart regularly held her riveted until her body succumbed to sleep.

When they weren’t engrossed in her books and their cultural exchanges, Attuma shared his newly written verses—including her in his treasured hobby, of which very few had knowledge. They discussed his work. Okoye sought its hidden meaning and developed an appreciation she hadn’t before held for the whimsical artform. In this way, they grew as a couple and in their admiration for one another.

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

His love had been tasked with a night patrol. Though, she was no longer officially part of Wakanda’s military, her and Aneka, the Midnight Angels, had been drafted into helping maintain the nation’s security due to increasing hostilities from the West. Since they’d been married, this wasn’t the first time that he’d had to sleep on his own, but usually it was because he’d been called away to Talokan or put in charge of an away mission. Attuma was finding that he didn’t like this change to their norm, evident in the churning of his stomach and the way rest eluded him.

Rolling over, yet again, he punched his pillow, working out the lumps that had formed. It also helped to relieve a fraction of the worry and frustration that ate at him. Of course, the mere thought of his wife in danger was unsettling, but this worry—this sleep stealing anxiety—was absurd. If Wakanda was under attack, alarms would be blaring—the entire country, with its advanced technology, alerted to the happenings. However, the night was calm. Only the croaking of frogs and the songs of grasshoppers flowed into their room on the cool breeze that blew in from the open window.

This was in complete contrast to Attuma, whose thoughts were running rampant. Different scenarios flashed through his mind, all ending with his wife injured, or worse, at the hand of colonizers.

As a warrior of Talokan, he’d always been prepared for war, at times, even anticipating the bloodshed—longing, in his heart, to avenge his ancestors and protect his people. Those desires hadn’t changed, but the course of his life had. A lothario when it’d come to women, Attuma had never believed that he would settle down. He’d thought he would forever be a bachelor—fulfilling his need for companionship through his family and friends, and having his sexual urges satisfied with flings and/or one-night stands (of which he’d had many). He’d indulged his nieces and nephews, pretending, for a time, that they were his own before returning to his bachelordom. When picturing his life’s conclusion, he’d seen it happening at the end of a blade, his lifeforce cut down while he worked to preserve his home.

Now, having found a love of his own, he needed more. He longed for children with his dimples and Okoye’s soulful eyes, and had woven fantasies of watching them grow up, assisting as they learned and developed their own lives and personalities. Upon making his vows to Okoye—really, after meeting her—the picture he’d had of his life’s ending became that of peace. He saw himself quietly passing away engulfed in the adoration of his children and grandchildren, moving onto the beyond to be reunited with his love.

Flinging his pillow away, he retrieved hers, moving to the spot where she usually slept while inhaling the fabric deeply. He took in the lavender scent left behind by her body wash and lotion as well as the fainter aroma that was all her.

His wife was a glorious warrior—more than capable of protecting herself and nation, especially with the enhancements provided by her suit. He felt foolish for his distress. They’d met in battle, the woman holding her own against his subordinates then drawing his blood. He smiled, fondly remembering the cut she’d placed on his cheek and the way her body had looked in the outfit she’d worn. He had no idea what it was called, but recalled it was red and tight, putting her curves on full display.

Before his thoughts could turn carnal, he heard the opening of the front door. Exhaling a sigh of relief, he continued to listen as she padded through their house. Her steps were light, but not quiet enough to escape his superior hearing. The sound of the shower running drew his interest, but he remained where he was, wanting her body over his in the comfort of their bed as opposed to standing underneath the spray of water.

She was quick, and soon later was with him in their room, her hand and knees on the bed as she climbed over him.

“You’re on my side,” she whispered, fitting herself on his chest.

He abandoned her pillow. Breathing in her scent from its source, he felt himself fully relax for the first time since laying down without her.

“How was your patrol?”

“It was uneventful, thank Bast. You waited up for me?” She smiled, giggling softly when he lifted, not only, his arms, but also his legs, to envelope her in his body.

“I had no other choice.”

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Sex Toy Chronicles #2 — Continuation of She bought five of them «

Attuma had tied her to their bed, using shreds of pillowcase. Okoye had purchased handcuffs for this purpose—ones made from inferior materials so that he could easily breakthrough them if the need arose—but, knowing how she reveled in displays of his strength, he’d grabbed the nearby linen and torn through it as though it was tissue paper. His eyes had roamed her scantily clad body the entire time, heating her flesh and moistening her pussy with their intense leer.

He'd been creative with his ties—ripping the cloth into long strips that he’d entwined around the headboard, twisting them so they resembled rope before they flattened to gently curve around her wrists. His efforts made it so he could maneuver her body as he pleased while keeping her fixed to the bed.

Testing the strength of the binds, she moaned, rubbing her thighs together. When she’d originally made the purchase, it’d been Attuma she’d imagined shackled, held down and at her mercy, but this worked for her just as well. No matter who was in control, their play was always euphoric for them both.

Stood at the foot of the bed, he’d taken his eyes off her to rummage through the velvet sack that contained the rest of what she’d bought. The handcuffs, which she’d greeted him with upon his entrance into their bedroom, were discarded on the floor. The negligee, she’d also acquired, was on her person. Its sheer fabric left little to the imagination and teased her erect nipples as she shifted on the bed. That left the several butt plugs as the bag’s only contents. The pink rose one, that had captured her attention, immediately came to mind.

As if reading her thoughts, he retrieved that exact one, looking it over while putting down the rest.

“Is this for what I believe it is?” he asked. Joining her on the bed, he parted her legs, running the plug’s glass surface over the inside of her thighs. Its cool touch caused her to jump, but quickly warmed with the passes he made along her skin.

“It’s for my ass,” she murmured, intently watching the flex of his biceps. “I want you to put it inside me then fuck my pussy.” She spoke bluntly, her eyes meeting his when his arm stilled.

Her nerves nipped at her, but were unceremoniously forgotten when he suddenly flipped her over, the binds crossing above her head. Her face pushed into the mattress when he lifted her hips, pointing her bottom in his direction. The thong she’d worn to tease and tempt him met the same fate as the pillowcase, the material seeming to disintegrate in his fingers. Okoye panted, spreading her legs, wordlessly urging him on.  

Despite her display, he still asked, “Are you comfortable, my love? Is this what you truly desire?”

His hands drove her mad, fondling the globes of her ass. He pulled them apart, blowing lightly on the puckered hole, awaiting her answer.

“Yes! Yes, please!” She begged, pushing back as far as her position and his hands allowed.

She could only groan in relief at the feel of his thick, slick finger entering her body. (Of course, he would take care of her, fetching the lubricant she’d forgotten to lay out.) Needing more, she arched her back and relaxed her pelvic floor, readying herself for the night’s coupling.  

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

Attuma was moping. Okoye could see him from her reclined position on the couch, though, he would have been hard to miss from anywhere in the house—his long, broad body stomping about the kitchen as it was. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, yet his dejected mood tugged at her. She’d been trying to ignore him, but that was something he’d always made difficult. Even before they’d gotten together. Well, especially then as he’d strutted around her—flexing and prodding, until she’d been compelled to act, fulfilling his desire for her attention.

Presently, that wasn’t his aim. His upset at the gruff words she’d said was genuine, and enflamed her sense of guilt. Of late, her hormones had been raging, the first trimester of her pregnancy bringing, in addition to the gift of constant nausea, the boon of uncontrollable mood swings. Hers hadn’t been of the teary variety (at least not yet), but a mix of anger and bone deep annoyance at those around her, even her adoring husband who’d only made the grave mistake of doting on her.

That morning, she’d woken up feeling more refreshed than she had in days, the queasiness that had been plaguing her a barely noticeable hum (as opposed to the thundering drumbeat it had been). She’d taken that as a sign her morning sickness was nearing its end, and indulged in a heavy breakfast, rich in flavor. It was the exact opposite to the bland toast and broths she’d had to eat to help ease her nausea.

Going down, the food had been heaven, her spirit happy as she did a jig in her chair. When it all came back up, less than a half hour later, Okoye had been sure she was in hell, her body’s heaving a clear punishment for past transgressions.

Attuma had tried to help, rubbing her back while she hunched over the toilet. It had felt nice. The warm expanse of his palm soothed some of the tension from her muscles, and the cool cloth he’d held to the nape of her neck was refreshing. If that had been all he’d done, she would have remained thankful for his presence, but he’d had to open his mouth.

“My love, I cautioned you against eating such heavily seasoned meat. You should have heeded my warning.”

While what he’d said had been true, he’d chosen the most inopportune time to say it. She’d made that abundantly clear, using the most colorful of language.

She remembered calling him a bullheaded, peacock of a man and knew that she’d cursed his existence before ultimately kicking him out of the bathroom, but recalled little else of what she’d yelled between bouts of vomiting. It must have been awful to have actually chased her husband away.

Rising from the couch, her body having recovered from the complete expulsion of her stomach’s contents, she approached him. She kept to the kitchen’s doorway and rung her hands, watching as he fell still and kept his back to her.

“I meant what I said to be a compliment,” she hesitantly joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Attuma’s only audible response was a sigh as he moved to resume his activities.

“I’m sorry!” Okoye exclaimed, stepping into the room as her eyes began to water. (So much for her fluctuations in mood not involving tears.) She propelled herself forward until he was within arm’s length. Touching her fingertips to his spine, she sniffled.

“Please don’t be angry with me. You know, I don’t actually mean any of what I said.” Had she not been desperate for his forgiveness, she would have been mortified by the sniveling that could be heard in her voice.

Embracing him from behind, she pressed her face into his hair, which hung in waves over his shoulders. Her arms encircled his waist, coming to stroke along his belly, her fingers catching on the shark teeth embedded in his skin. Her demeanor calmed, eyes drying, as he relaxed in her hold, his head tipping back to barely just rest on hers.

“All is forgiven, my love. I could never remain angry at the mother of my children.”

[tvreadsandsleep]

» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

For two people whose first point of contact had resulted in the exchange of physical blows, Okoye and Attuma got along remarkably well—once their nations officially made peace, that is. In their eyes, the transition from cutthroat enemies to begrudging allies then genuine friends to tender lovers had felt natural, with very few bumps in the road. To those around them, the changes had been unexpected, no one having imagined that the former General of the Dora Milaje would ever be on amicable, let alone romantic, terms with one of the Talokanil responsible for her disgraceful demotion. However, seeing how they were together—both softening from the hard, militant personas to display the playful and affectionate people underneath—it made sense.

On this morning, though, that sweet and considerate couple was far from sight, both at wits’ end. Having recently moved in together, they—Okoye, in particular—were finding the change of their own separate spaces converging into one much more difficult than that of the progression their relationship had made.

Woken out of her sleep by the banging of items in the bathroom, Okoye groaned before looking at the clock on her Kimoyo Beads. There was still some time until her alarm was scheduled to go off, but it wasn’t enough to make snoozing serviceable. Dismissing the alarm, she dragged herself to the edge of the bed, rubbing her bleary eyes along the way. She stood to make her way to the bathroom, but instead of a clear path, which had been the norm when she lived alone, a pile of Attuma’s soiled clothing stood in her way.

“Damn it, Attuma!” she cursed, kicking the garments. “Didn’t I ask you to put these in the hamper? It escapes my understanding how such a disciplined warrior can be such a slob in almost every other aspect of his life. This isn’t Talokan and I’m not your handmaiden. Pick up after yourself!”

During her tirade, Attuma had come to stand in the bathroom’s doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

“It is bold of a woman, who makes a disaster of the kitchen every time she cooks, to pester me about clothing upon the floor. Why can you not simply walk around it?”

“Because it isn’t supposed to be there! Just like how your hair shouldn’t cover every corner of this house.” Having been bald for well over a decade, Okoye had forgotten what a nuisance hair could be—clogging drains, invading food and coating furniture.

“Since you speak of covered surfaces, must you have multiple cups in every area you rest?” He snapped, pointing out the four cups that currently took up space on her nightstand. “And in the washroom, the tabletop is so filled with your bottles and concoctions that I cannot move about without knocking something over.”

To emphasize his point, he turned into the bathroom and retrieved three of the large containers of lotion she kept near the sink. They were such that she was unable to palm even one, but his large hands were able to comfortably hold three amid their grip.

“Why must they all be out on the table?” He demanded, his hold tightening while he shook them in the area before him. He was so aggravated that he misjudged his strength, squeezing the bottles beyond capacity. They exploded in response, a wash of thick, beige floral-scented cream coating his face, shoulders and bare chest.

Okoye, who’d been irate and prepared to argue back, let out a bark of laughter, bending forward at the waist and slapping her thigh, at the ridiculous sight. Recovering, she sauntered towards him, lips still curved in a smile, and cleared the lotion from his eyes and mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pecking him on the lips.

“As am I,” he conceded. “I will do better.” The scowl had relaxed from his brows and his eyes gentled, gazing into hers.

“So will I,” she vowed. “You know, messy tendencies aside, there’s no one I’d rather be with.”

“And, in spite of your many collections of cups and bottles, you are the owner of my heart.”

More laughter bubbled from Okoye as she removed the ruined bottles from his grasp to be dealt with.

[tvreadsandsleep]

» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

‘I was alone, but satisfied…or so I thought until I met you,’ Okoye mumbled to herself as she wrote at her desk. She’d been at it for almost an hour: writing, erasing, writing some more, editing and then again erasing everything she’d written. If she’d known writing her own vows would be so difficult, she wouldn’t have suggested they do it.

Pausing to think on her struggle, she found that her feelings were so grand that compressing them down to sentences on paper seemed inadequate. She hadn’t the words to describe the tenderness that emitted from her heart whenever Attuma was around and wasn’t nearly poetic enough to communicate how her body sang whenever he touched her. Pen and paper couldn’t convey how merely the sound of his voice could put her at ease after a day filled with minor, and sometimes major, inconveniences.

Okoye also possessed an undercurrent of worry, a fear that Attuma would be disappointed by what she said during their nuptials. She knew it was irrational as he’d always been content with whatever gifts or affection she’d bestowed upon him, but she yearned to make the day, their wedding day, more brilliant than most. She wanted him to experience the same joy and adoration she felt during his flowery and romantic declarations of love.

“It does my heart good to know that my existence has kept you from a life of solitude and loneliness,” Attuma beamed, breaking Okoye’s thoughtful silence.

Jumping out of her seat in fright, Okoye rounded on her fiancé and poked at his shoulder.

“How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me?” Okoye admonished. For such a large man, he was surprisingly light on his feet and had made a game of creeping up on her, and pouncing, while she performed her chores. She’d gotten good at sensing his presence but there were still times when he caught her unawares.

“Many but this time I announced my approach. You were simply too deep in your contemplation of your love for me to notice.” The smirk on his face grew, his self-satisfaction evident.

Huffing a laugh, Okoye turned her poking from his shoulder to tap him once on the cheek.

“Don’t go getting a bighead, Shark Man. I was writing my vows, which you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on.”

“How could I resist hearing my love speak of her love for me.”

Okoye rolled her eyes but went willingly when he pulled her into his arms.  

[tvreadsandsleep]

» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Domestic Establishment #2 — Continuation of We need more room «

The scan Okoye had performed with her Kimoyo Beads had informed her that none of the bones in her foot had been broken, but the throbbing, which had just begun to settle down after five minutes of icing, had her doubting those results. On a positive note, her ears had finally stopped ringing. Instead of crying and shrieking at deafening decibels, her boys both sat happily in their highchairs. They babbled at one another as they ate the food, she’d hobbled back and forth in the kitchen to prepare for them.

They were the only babies she’d ever seen who ate everything placed in front of them without fuss or delay. They inherited their father’s appetite, she thought to herself, smiling as she remembered the antics she’d witnessed, as a teen, when her younger cousins had fought and cried, throwing food about because they didn’t want to eat. That could never be her boys. The most they did was bang their little plates, demanding more.

Her amusement with her sons’ stomachs was interrupted with the entrance of her husband and daughter. Uproarious laughter came from the pair, Attuma tickling Naleli as the girl snorted and begged him to stop, that was until he took note of the ice pack Okoye had placed on her foot, the limb elevated on the seat in front of her. Naleli, following her father’s eyes, also glanced at her, cackle stopping short.

“What has happened, my love?” Attuma asked over their daughter’s, “Are you okay, mom?” Attuma unhanded the girl, and she promptly made her way to her mother, engulfing Okoye in a hug.

“I’m okay, sweetie. My foot just had a run in with your brother’s highchair. It hurts, but the pain is fading.”

“Oh, okay,” Naleli smiled, “Should I kiss it to make it better,” the preteen joked, eyes bright in good humor.

As always, Okoye’s heart melted, everything within her chest turning to mush, when confronted with the adorableness of one of her children. Naleli had taken after her father, his dimples carved into each of her cheeks and creating the sweetest, most charming expression whenever she smiled. Okoye was hard-pressed to deny that face anything, but had learned early on that allowing her daughter’s every whim would lead to ruin.  

“That won’t be necessary,” she answered, wiggling her fingers into Naleli’s abdomen. The girl giggled then jumped back out of Okoye’s reach.

“What you can do for me is take your brothers into the living room so that your father and I can talk.”

That piqued Attuma’s curiosity—drawing his attention from his sons, who both had begun gurgling and vying for his focus, while attempting to climb from their highchairs, from the moment he’d arrived. Placing the boys, who’d been climbing all over his person, on the ground, to their loud protests, he sat in a chair he moved adjacent to Okoye.

“Let’s go Eloy and Taavi. It sounds like dad might be in trouble,” Naleli threw over her shoulder as she dragged her toddling brothers out of the room.

Attuma snorted, but turned soft eyes on Okoye, faking a pout when he asked, “Am I in trouble, my love? What can I do to win your favor?”

Okoye gave him a hard look, glaring briefly and crossing her arms before sighing deeply to relax her face and limbs. She rolled her eyes, sighing again, unhappily.

“You were right,” she finally admitted. “We need more room. We have to move now, sooner rather than later.”

“I was right? It is not often that I hear such from your lips.” He leaned back in his seat, smug as he moved her foot from its perch on the chair to rest on his lap. He removed the ice pack to scrutinize the damage that had been done. He noticed several of her toes were swollen, but was satisfied that she was able to move them without difficulty.

“It doesn’t hurt as much,” she supplied, watching while he began to massage the rest of her foot.

“Does this have something to do with your sudden acceptance?”

“Yes, that and having to climb over your gigantic furniture and all the kids’ stuff in order to get across a room. The house is always a mess, and I can’t organize anything because there isn’t room for everything! We just need more space!”

Attuma increased the strength of his kneading, silently urging Okoye to calm.

“While I never want you hurt, I am pleased that you have finally agreed with me, especially as I have commissioned architects from both our nations to collaborate on the design of our new home.”

[tvreadsandsleep]

» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

“Such a sad, pitiful piece of furniture—barely deserving the title of ‘chair’,” Attuma muttered as he gathered the pieces of broken wood scattered around the kitchen floor.

“That’s a bit harsh,” Okoye said, grinning as she came into the room to stand beside his knelt form. “Not many furnishings, not made of vibranium, could withstand the passion of your lovemaking.”

“Oh, it was only my passion that let to its destruction,” he replied, sarcastically, pausing in his task to glance at her with an eyebrow raised. Dropping a piece of splintered wood in favor of grasping her waist, he pulled her closer to him. His chin poked into her abdomen, needling as he continued, “If my recollection serves correct, it was the last flex of your hips that sent the so-called ‘chair’ to ruin.”  

Okoye’s lips tucked together, holding back her giggle as she looked away sheepishly. Her body heated in response to his hold and soften toward him as she recalled their afternoon tryst that had led to the broken furniture.

She’d been singing while she cooked, her hips moving in time to the song playing in her head. Attuma had happened upon her and, enticed by the sway of her body, coaxed her to climb onto his lap once he’d settled himself into the chair. From there, they’d had quite an enjoyable time that, unfortunately, ended with Attuma clasping her close to him as they both went crashing down to the floor. Thankfully, he’d bore the brunt of the impact and neither of them was injured.

Returning to gaze at his handsome face, the dimples she found irresistible starting to make their appearance, she amended her statement.

“Fine. Our combined passion,” she conceded. Her hands lifted from her sides, one coming to rest on his shoulder as the other stroked through his soft, wavy tresses.

Attuma’s face relaxed, his eyes hooding and jaw slackening before he pressed his forehead into her stomach. A moan left his lips, muffled by her clothing as his body gave itself over to the enjoyment of her nimble fingers.

He took pleasure in her petting for several moments then shifted his eyes to meet hers. The leer in his warm stare made his next words no surprise.

“Shall we test the strength of the seating in the living room?” His hands had become frisky while he spoke, stroking along the curves of her bottom.

Okoye’s pussy throbbed, very much eager for another meeting with his cock, but her better sense intervened. Slapping him lightly on the back of the head, she stepped away from his tempting form.

“Put a pause on your seduction, and finish cleaning the mess you made in here. If you’re done in the next two minutes, you’ll find me naked and waiting for you in our bedroom.” At least the bedframe they’d—he’d, if you asked Okoye—destroyed days earlier had already been replaced with one made of vibranium.

[tvreadsandsleep]

» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Sex Toy Chronicles #3 — Continuation of Pillowcase «

Attuma’s dick pulsed, its hard length pressing into his belly as he fed the first of his fingers into Okoye’s ass. She accepted them, her lower muscles relaxing while her back arched towards him. Mesmerized, he watched his blue digit disappear into her body, thanking every one of his gods that he’d been mindful enough to grab the lubricant she kept stored in her nightstand. Any delay of his entering her body, in this way, would have caused grave damage to his soul. It was a near thing, though, his mind turned lecherous by the state in which she’d greeted him.

When he’d arrived at her home, he’d let himself in using the passcode she’d given him. He’d announced himself, bellowing her name, but there’d been no response. And so Attuma had gone in search of her. He’d found the kitchen and living room, the usual areas she could be located, empty. Moving further into the house, he’d headed for her bedroom. It’d been early, and, while Okoye wasn’t prone to napping, maybe she’d needed to lie down. He’d remembered keeping her up most of the previous night, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of her body until she’d begged him to stop.

Smug grin overtaking his face, he’d pushed open the door to her bedroom and had been, unexpectedly, greeted with the most arousing of sights. His warrior. His sun. His Okoye had been clothed in the most sheer of fabrics. Though it’d covered her breasts, he could easily make out her nipples, the dark tips pebbled and drawing his attention. A rose had been embroidered at its center, nestled between the globes, on which he loved to pillow his head, and situated above a slit that left the material to drape on either side of her abdomen and thighs.

Attuma had had no name for the clothing, but had delighted in all it revealed. Her legs, which had curved underneath her as she’d knelt on the bed were bare, thin strips of cloth visible along her hips. Taking in her scantily clad form, it’d been a while before he’d noticed what she’d held in her hand. A pair of handcuffs had rested on Okoye’s palm, their shine reflecting the fading sun let in by the window’s open blinds. They hadn’t yet incorporated the use of toys in their sexual play, and this mere welcome had let him know he was in for quite the evening.

His excitement had doubled with the discovery of her other purchases, and, now, slipping a second finger into her greedy back entrance, Attuma was on cloud nine. He’d poured more lubricant onto his hand, unwilling to harm her in anyway, and twisted them as he pushed and pulled the digits from inside her. Okoye’s answering moans were lyrical treats he gorged himself on while he envisioned replacing his fingers with his cock, fucking her tight passage until she screamed his name.

However, that fantasy was for another time. Tonight, Okoye had requested that both her holes be filled, and her desires always took priority, especially in the bedroom. Positioning, the butt plug nearer to him on the bed, he dribbled the lube over its surface then used his free hand to more evenly coat it.

“My love, I will place the toy inside you now,” he warned, kissing the cleft of her ass.

He gently pulled his fingers free, savoring the mournful sound she made for he too grieved the loss of her snug warmth around his fingers. Placing the slickened toy at her opening, he nudged it in—staring, transfixed, as it was engulfed by her body. The pink rose at its end looked darling against her skin.

Attuma knew he needed to cleanse his hands before proceeding with the second half of her request, but was unable to tear himself away. His gaze locked on the sight of her anus quivering about the toy, the muscles contracting and relaxing, until he was compelled to taste. He licked around the toy’s edge and inhaled her scent, pleased as she begged him to fuck her.