All Mine (T’Challa x Reader One Shot)
My entry for @brianabreeze‘s 4k Celebration Fic Fest, “You’re not going out in that outfit.”
I’m sorry this took so long.
Summary: You give T’Challa a gift - yourself.
Warnings: BDSM themes - domination/submission, use of collar and leash, spanking, rough/kink sex, hints of hybrid/panther T’Challa, oral sex
Word Count: 6,536
Author’s Note: If you know and read my work, you probably won’t be surprised to know I am into BDSM. I know it might not be everyone’s thing, so hopefully this doesn’t bother anyone. I've wanted to write this idea for a lonnnnng while. I hope someone out there enjoys this lol
Taglist: @brianabreeze @sarahboseman @kumkaniudaku @grandadchadwick @supersizemeplz, @purple-apricots, @deliciousstreetkidcroissant, @ashanti-notthesinger, @onyour-right, @maverickabull, @lavitabella87, @fullonfrenzy, @builtalongthewayside, @belauriette, @jaeee-http, @airis-paris14, @fortuitoushappenings , @queentearra, @h-challa @90sinspiredgirl @wildaboutchrisevans @theunsweetenedtruth @stevesthot @afraiddreamingandloving @killmongerrss @nah-imjustfeelinit @tchallaholla @a-heretic-child @simplyyamberr @tacohead13 @heyauntieeee @big3gocandykahn + I really need to do a new taglist sorry if I missed someone!!!
The morning before the New York Benefit for Science and Technology, where your husband, the King of Wakanda was the keynote speaker, you were out on the town, dressed incognito for a shopping trip while T’Challa was preoccupied with meetings and memorizing his speech.
Disguising yourself was necessary, not just to deter the usual attention you weren’t in the mood to receive, but because what you were shopping for wasn’t exactly something you wanted on the front page of the news. You could see the headlines now. The Kinky King and Queen of Wakanda, with a picture of you below, picking up your custom ordered, diamond-encrusted submissive collar.
It was meant to be a surprise. In the past year, you and your husband had been exploring dominance and submission in bed. There was nobody you trusted more than T’Challa. He was a loving, giving, passionate man, and when it came to experimenting with control, it was no surprise he was a natural at it.
The more you played, the more certain thoughts became fascinating to you, like wearing a collar, a symbol of your submission, and handing him the leash.
The collar was just a frivolous idea of fancy until you found a jeweller who was willing to create exactly what you wanted, and given the amount of money she was getting for it, with no questions asked. Also, she just happened to be in New York, your home away from Wakanda that week.
Her shop was a regular looking jewelry store out front, but when you gave the staff the false name you’d been using in your correspondence, she immediately came to collect you and bring you around back.
She was excited as she presented it to you with a flourish, removing a velvet purple covering atop a pillow to reveal a circular choker studded with hundreds – but glinting as if there were thousands – of sparkling diamonds.
In the center was an O ring, the crucial piece that turned a regular choker into a bondage item with the simple but necessary spot for clipping a chain. For T’Challa to hold and lead you however he desired.
You shivered at the thought, touching your fingers to the cold, shimmering icelike jewels. You had already wire transferred her the money, so you held out your hands to accept your purchase that was nestled protectively inside a black box lined with purple velvet, and closed with a special lock with a pre-agreed code.
You walked out, completely unrecognized, and after stopping for a coffee, you went back to the hotel where you could hardly wait to try it on together with your dress, also custom-made, from a Wakandan designer.
You had a feeling the King wouldn’t approve. The dress was daring, almost shockingly revealing, and T’Challa hated when men ogled you. He was possessive of your body, and wanted all that belonged to him to be his, not plastered all over Twitter and Instagram and the news for all to enjoy and stare at.
Part of you wanted his jealousy and possessiveness to come out that night, hoping the territorial beast inside him would come out and play.
He was still out when you returned to your royal suite. He’d texted you he’d be back in a few hours, giving you time to get ready.
You took your purchase into the giant marble bathroom, undressed until you were naked, and carefully unboxed the necklace. The bathroom walls shimmered with the reflected brilliance of light hitting the jewels.
You found it surprisingly heavy as you lifted it from its velvet home. Holding it up, you secured it with the clasp around your neck, then examined your reflection. It was perfect. Exactly as you had imagined.
Satisfied, you took it off, rehoused it and hid the box away before getting into the shower. You had several hours to prepare, allowing you to take your time.
It was close to 5:00pm, an hour before you were supposed to leave, when you finally heard the door open and saw an exhausted T’Challa walked in.
“Bast, these people, all they want do is talk,” He ranted before the door was even closed. From his tone, you knew he was in a foul mood, but the moment he saw you, standing in only your underwear, he softened.
“Come here,” you held out your arms and like a magnet, he was drawn to the inviting warmth of your body. After wrapping him in a hug, you noticed he was distracted at your nearly naked body.
Just you wait, you ain’t seen nothin yet, you thought devilishly.
“I hate being away from you,” his smooth voice lamented in your ear. The palms of his hands grazed your butt and thighs, pulling you up against him. He smelled incredible, and you desperately wanted to feel underneath the clothes covering the hard body you were pressed up against.
“The car is coming for us in half an hour,” he said regretfully, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. “Otherwise I would take my time enjoying every inch of this body.”
You were already on fire thinking about your present for him, and he was just adding fuel. You had to separate yourself from him or you’d never get ready in time.
“Save that for tonight,” you winked, withdrawing from his arms. “I’m going to get changed. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Your dress was in a black garment protector hanging in the master bedroom closet. You shoo’d T’Challa out to dress in a separate room, and with a mix of nerves and excitement, you zipped into the gown.
The neckline was so low, you would have to be constantly looking down to make sure your nipples were covered, even though the designer promised he’d constructed it to stay up. The colour was an orgasmic, explosion of red that billowed out from two panels in the front around your hips bustle-style to trail behind you in a long train, while at the front, the silky slip part of the dress stopped halfway up your thighs.
Finally, it was time for the showstopper. Your hands were shaking slightly as you lifted the diamonds up to your neck and clasped it, the weight of the cold choker giving you a pleasant shiver.
Lastly, you went back to your cupboard to pick up another item. Lifting it carefully to avoid the sound carrying to T’Challa’s sensitive ears, you arranged the bundle behind your back into one hand, so it would be hidden from view until you were ready to reveal it.
T’Challa knocked on the door. “Y/N, are you ready? The car is waiting outside –“
“Coming!” You reached for the door, knowing he was on the other side and braced yourself as you pulled it open.
T’Challa’s eyes bulged with shock at the cinched, busty, red extravaganza of a dress before him.
Silence and tension brewed between you as T’Challa’s expression hardened, his nostrils flared, and a twitch appeared in his jaw.
“You are not going out in that outfit.”
You didn’t have a chance to respond because T’Challa then noticed what was around your neck. His eyes flickered there, paused, and widened.
“Eh? What is this?”
He closed the distance between you with a single step, until he was close enough for you to hear his breathing, which had quickened noticeably.
You chose that moment to reveal what was behind your back. A slight jangling sound caught T’Challa’s attention, and his eyes snapped up to the chain dangling from your hand.
It was a delicate length of chain made up of thin, silver-plated metal links. On one end was a leather lead, and on the other end, a metal clip designed to attach to the shimmering diamond ring around your neck.
“It’s a gift … for you.”
You weren’t even sure your words were heard. T’Challa was a million miles away.
You took a small step towards him feeling an intense rush of power at the lust on your husband’s face. After a whole month of planning and anticipating this moment, his stupefied reaction was even better than you hoped.
Wordlessly and trance-like, T’Challa’s pointer and middle finger traced the bumpy, studded jewels, while his eyes blazed with the cold fire reflecting into the dark, inky depths of his eyes. His breathing slowed until you were sure it stopped as he took the lead and chain from your hands. You both watched him lift the clip up, and slowly, carefully, he snapped it onto the ring, leaving the cold length of metal chain to dangle between your breasts.
T’Challa’s expression would have been unreadable if you didn’t know him as well as you did. There were all the signs of a storm raging beneath the surface. His eyes glinted like steel, his jaw twitching, the hand holding the leash clenched in a tight fist.
Then, he blinked and shook his head, and broke out of the trance with sudden action, quickly unsnapping the lead from your neck and tossing it to the bed.
“We have to go,” he grunted.
“T’Challa?” You bit your lip.
He ran his hand through his coils. “You know I do not approve of this,” he gestured to all of the skin you had on display, growling, “but I will deal with that later.”
“Do you like my gift?” You touched your neck, worried that his gruffness was a sign of dislike, even though your gut instinct knew better.
He groaned. “I will show you how much I like it later, kitten. We must go.” He put a hand on your back while readjusting the telltale bulge in his slacks.
~ ~ ~
The King and Queen of Wakanda were the darlings of the night. The media loved you. At every red-carpet event, your arrival received the most attention, and tonight was no exception when the stunning King T’Challa stepped out, holding the hand of his gorgeous wife in a gravity-defying gown.
You proudly answered the first question on everyone’s lips, “Who are you wearing?” giving the name of a designer nobody had heard of, and imagined thousands of entertainment reporters, fashion columnists and bloggers furiously googling your answer later.
There was also intrigue surrounding your diamond choker and you had to admit, you did enjoy your husband squirming as you talked nonchalantly about something he’d be leading you around the bedroom with later.
T’Challa was, predictably, uncomfortable at the attention you were receiving, and in more ways than one. On the red carpet, you noticed him staring at your chest during an interview, which was unfortunately captured in a photo later shared online with the caption, We are all King T’Challa.
That night was the most absent minded and nervous you’d ever seen him. Normally he was so composed and in control, but you had to remind him of a few people’s names when you saw him staring blankly, and had to dab spilled wine from his black blazer when he missed his mouth taking a sip. It would have been funny, but you knew somehow, someway, he was going to make you pay for distracting him. Make you pay dearly.
Thank Bast, the speech went perfectly. The moment he was at that podium, the spirit of T’Chaka came to bless him, and you proudly watched as he delivered a beautiful speech that was as engaging and confident as any given by his father. The room erupted with thunderous applause and a standing ovation as T’Challa made his way back, giving a rare smile as he returned to your side.
He kissed your cheek and as the noise around you died down, whispered in your ear, “Can we get out of here now?”
But the curse of being a world leader and a distinguished guest forced you both into several more hours of drinks and conversation. He refused to let you out of his sight, and depending on whether your conversation partner was male or female, he would either be holding your hand, or keeping you locked against his side with his arm possessively around your waist.
At some point, the bottomless glasses of champagne rekindled your desire to enflame T’Challa’s jealousy a bit, and you started getting flirtatious. You began to laugh a little more, give your dreamy smile as you listened, and reached out to subtly brush your arm or hand against whatever man you were talking with.
You felt the heat of T’Challa’s side-eye burning into you, and pretended not to notice.
As the night was winding down, the venue owner came over to congratulate T’Challa on his speech. Unlike other men, he kept masterful eye contact with you, his gaze avoiding the inviting trap of your ample cleavage.
You were drunk, confident, and still wanting to mess with the jealous beast inside T’Challa, so as the two spoke, you did everything you could to draw his attention down without actually pulling his head into your bosom. “Oops!” You dropped something, and leaned down in front of him. Then, suddenly the front of your dress needed a little readjusting, making you spill out a bit more as they talked.
Then, some champagne missed your mouth. “Oh! I am so clumsy!” All three of you looked down at where it had splashed your breast, and that was when T’Challa had had enough.
Trembling with fury, he abruptly reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you again, but we must go. I am afraid there is an urgent matter to attend to.”
His deadly serious expression and steely tone made the man respond, “Oh, of course King T’Challa,” assuming a serious matter in Wakanda had just presented itself.
It certainly had.
There was a sudden need to handle a certain insolent Wakandan citizen, who happened to be his wife.
A hand, shaking with restrained power, slid around your waist as T’Challa hissed in your ear, “I know what you are doing, and if you think this ends well for you, you are wrong.” His breath was hot on your neck, his words sharp with authority. “Get your things, we are going. And I will not hear another word from you without my permission, is that understood?”
T’Challa’s words sobered you up. Shame crept in and you were about to apologize, but his intense stare made your mouth snap shut.
Silently, you took your purse from the chair and plastered on a fake smile as you passed people on the way out. A few tried to call out to invite you to after parties, but your elbow was in a vice like grip and he yanked you the moment you started to slow, so you waved apologetically instead.
The car took you home in silence. Your hands stayed curled in your lap, playing nervously with the short silk hem on your upper thighs. T’Challa hadn’t spoken since the benefit. When he held the door open for you to enter and exit the car, his eyes were straight ahead, unfocused. Ignoring you.
At the hotel, you both received stares from all directions at the distinguished, royal hotel guests that walked stiffly into the lobby and though you walked close together, a tension and distance kept you emotionally apart.
In the elevator, you could almost hear his thoughts churning. You vibrated with the need to speak, to explain that you were just fucking around, and it was stupid and you were sorry. You wanted your T’Challa back, to be held and cherished in his arms again.
The elevator opened on your private floor directly into your suite. Behind you, T’Challa held the door for you to step in first.
You turned on your heel and for the first time, captured T’Challa’s eyes on yours. You poured every ounce of your regret and apology into your expression but it was as effective as throwing yourself against a brick wall. His eyes were dark and impenetrable, his face a controlled mask.
T’Challa considered you for a long time. So long it made you sweat and shift uncomfortably, while he was perfectly still and composed. When you thought you couldn’t stand his intense gaze any longer, he took a few steps until he was behind you, and his fingers whisked the zipper down your back, parting the dress around you and with a swish it fell to the floor.
“On your hands and knees.” He commanded.
“T’Cha–“
He cut you off. “You are not to speak. Forget one more time, and I will find a way to silence you that you will not enjoy.”
The harsh edge to his words caused a flash of heat all over your body.
“Hands and knees.” He repeated impatiently.
Immediately, you lowered down until your palms and knees made contact with soft carpet. Your black panties were new to T’Challa’s eyes, another surprise you wanted to give him, that he was now taking in without a sign of acknowledgement. A man would have to be dead to ignore the allure of your ass, encased in criss crossing black ribbon. It was all you wore. No bra, no stockings, just barely there ribbons of fabric, and your diamond collar.
He disappeared from your side, and accompanying his return was a metal jangling sound. Turning your head, you saw the chain hanging down from T’Challa’s hands, swinging slightly as he walked to you.
T’Challa bent down, and with a clinking sound, he clasped the chain to your necklace. He tested the tautness of it with a small tug just inches from your neck and at the feeling, goosebumps raised your skin and the hairs on your neck.
You felt as if you were floating into new, unexplored, dark places and there was no turning back.
T’Challa’s finger touched your cheek with unexpected tenderness. Your breathing was rough, nervous, excited.
He took a breath to speak.
“You wanted to provoke my anger and jealousy tonight, is that right? You may speak, kitten.”
You raised your misty eyes, overflowing with emotion, up to his face like two shining moons. “Yes,” you confessed.
“You wanted attention. To be seen and wanted.”
“Yes,” you crumpled. You weren’t proud of it, especially hearing it spoken so plainly.
T’Challa sighed, his perfect features in torment. “Then I think I know a suitable punishment.”
Your eyebrows twitched up as you anticipated his next move.
“Come, kitten.”
The metal chain tightened, and you responded to the pull around your neck the only way you could, by crawling forward. In front of you, T’Challa held the leather leash in one hand, and in the other, he had curled the chain around his fingers to keep it tight and control your pace. He walked you into the bedroom like you were his pet, and instead of feeling demeaned, you felt more powerful than a thousand reigning Queens. A gorgeous, proud animal taking her rightful place in her kingdom.
Your crawling steps were slow and steady, following T’Challa until you were next to the master bed.
He slipped the leather loop over the top of the bedpost and with some of the chain, wrapped it around in the same spot, leaving the remaining chain taut, the length between you and the bed short enough that you would be able to move closer to the bedpost, but not further away.
T’Challa lowered himself down, bent at the knees until he was level with you. His bright eyes studied your face.
“You want attention, is that it? Then to punish you, I will leave you here alone.”
A cry rose in your throat and you looked up at your husband, betrayal in your eyes. “What? You-“
“Ah,” He grabbed your chin. “I did not give you permission to speak. You will stay here, quietly, or you will prolong your punishment.”
Your chin wavered and your eyes blurred over with tears as you looked up at the man you worshipped, adored, admired, and loved, who was taking away the one thing you wanted most – him.
Seeing emotion well up inside you, a compassionate look came into his eyes. T’Challa’s heavy hand gently wrapped around your throat, his thumb rubbing along your esophagus in a soothing gesture.
His tone was soft, sweet. A balm to the sting of his actions.
“You need to be taught a lesson. Do not be angry with me for teaching it. Show me how good you can be, and I will be good to you, my Queen.”
With his words echoing in your head, T’Challa left you in the room and closed the door, cutting you off completely from him. You strained for any sound, even testing the chain to bring your ear closer to the door, but there was no further trace of his footsteps.
You slumped on the floor with defeat. T’Challa had punished you before, but never by removing himself from your reach and you hated it.
Since the day you met him, the soft spoken, thoughtful man who captivated you with his beauty and grace had you hooked, obsessed, with everything he did. You knew the magnitude of your love and want for him was not normal or healthy. Together, your chemistry was explosive. It made headlines, put you on top 10 lists. In bed, he gave you fireworks. Every time. With your every need in life taken care of, the one and only thing you yearned for was more of him. As the leader of a country, you never had enough of his time and attention. You were greedy for it.
Time passed slowly and you had no grasp of how long he was gone for. It could have been hours. Your knees hurt, but still, you were patient, every muscle tight with anticipation for the moment T’Challa returned.
You were so tuned in and sensitive to any trace of him that you sat straight up at the soft shuffling of his feet towards the door with a wildly pounding heart.
The door creaked open. You faced towards it, legs folded under you, back rigid, wearing an expression of hope that you had done enough to absolve yourself.
The sight of T’Challa gave you a powerful injection of excitement, hope, and love. Somehow, he looked more stunning and poised than ever before. You were arrested by his beauty, unable to speak as you looked up into his face.
“My kitten,” his palm touched your cheek and you wanted to cry. The sound of his words after such a long absence were the sweetest drops of warm honey. You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, floating in bliss at his nearness. He allowed you to nuzzle him and then he left you to untie the chain at the bedpost.
You watched him with catlike curiosity. He seemed relaxed, moving with slow, purposeful movements as he transferred the leather lead from the bedpost into his hand, then wrapped the chain around in several loops.
He used the leverage to tug at your neck.
“Up.”
After a long time on your knees there was an almighty protest in your bones and muscles as you climbed back up to your full height, standing a whole foot shorter than T’Challa who towered above you.
“Undress me.”
Though spoken just above a whisper, his words, dripping with authority, boomed in your ears.
T’Challa was in a three-piece black suit, while you were nude, making for an erotic contrast as you stood close to each other, almost touching.
With loving care, you began to undress him from his expensive clothes, doing it slowly, while you exchanged occasional glances with T’Challa who watched you intensely.
You took your time as if it was your first time uncovering his body. The sight of his chest as you loosened his shirt filled you with butterflies. Slipping the stiff fabric off his shoulders, your breath caught at the gleaming skin of his musculature. He observed each and every reaction as your hands traced down his chest. He hadn’t said you couldn’t touch him. You wanted to explore him with more than just your fingertips, but knew it would be too much to ask for just yet.
It was difficult to restrain yourself as you unlooped his belt and worked the buttons down. Behind the thin fabric, against your fingers, you felt the press of him and soon you discovered he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. When you pulled the fabric down to reveal him, he bobbed free. It was near impossible to focus on getting his pants off of each leg. It required you to lower yourself to your knees, putting your face so close to his jutting, proud dick and ignore your hunger for it long enough to finish removing his clothes.
When you were done, you looked up, remaining kneeled at his feet. His pleased smile was like sunshine breaking through the clouds.
“Very good, my kitten.”
The small upward curve of his lips and his praise made you flush with heat and pride.
Pressure at your neck forced you up onto your feet as T’Challa tugged the chain. He stepped close to you, so close you felt the brush of his dick at your hip as he whispered, “Now I want to have some fun.”
He leaned back with a sexy, playful smile that made you lose your breath.
T’Challa began a slow walk backwards, letting free some length of chain but keeping you close as you were led to follow. His anger was gone and you were weak with excitement at the way he watched you following with his little grin staying fixed on his mouth.
He backed into the living room and led you towards the sitting area, next to a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window. Two lamps gave off dim, soft light while the city of New York glittered below you.
He bent and confidently lifted you onto the heavy, soft couch.
“Lie back.” His eyes glinted and you obeyed, watching him drop the leash and chain next to you, and you realized what was about to happen as he slid your panties down your legs, then encouraged your thighs wide and kneeled down in front of you.
“You have done just as I asked,” he brushed his nose against your thigh, smiling, “and my Queen deserves a reward.”
Your husband’s mouth lowered to lick the seam between your legs and you screamed.
His tongue, firm and pointed, licked all around your surface, leaving no part of you untasted or unexplored, while you mewled and shook in his hands. He let you make all the sounds you wanted.
His mouth grinded on you, side to side and all around, covering his whole face and beard with you and reveling in your taste and sounds. After withholding his touch from you all night, it was almost too much at once.
All too quickly, your thighs were shaking. No one but T’Challa could get you off this fast. You dug your hands into his coils while the King continued to worship you, moaning with enjoyment, the muscles in his back rippling with movement until you couldn’t hold out any longer. Your toes curled, your thighs and stomach muscles flexed, as you threw your head back and cried with sweet release.
Your moans were music to T’Challa. He licked all around you, inside, along your lips then teasing your clit, until he was satisfied at your dazed, blissful state.
He rested back on his heels, looking so proud of himself, and you caught the movement of his hand moving slowly up and down himself. Horny and hungry for more of you.
Eager for him, you leaned up on your elbows while T’Challa rose onto his knees. His hand gently brushed your stomach, and you both watched his fingers trace along the metal chain between your breasts, following the lead up to your neck. He slowly pulled, and your back parted from the cushions as you rose to meet his waiting lips for your first kiss of the night.
His lips were soft and yielding to yours. He tasted sweet, and you sought out your flavour from his mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. You both made sounds of pleasure as your tongues flickered together in teasing licks. Heat thudded inside you and you parted, your foreheads resting against one another.
You both exchanged the same air, panting as you shared a moment of quiet.
His fingers rubbed along the jagged, rough surface of your necklace.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful your submission is?”
You smiled warmly. “Not out loud. But you have told me in other ways.” You looked suggestively downward.
“I have yet to punish you for wearing this tonight. For distracting me on such an important night. You do not know how difficult it was to see you wearing this in public, knowing what it meant.”
“I have an idea,” you bit your lip. You felt his warmth and kindness slipping away again, as a wave retreats back out to sea, while you stood on the edge of the shore.
“You think you do kitten. But you do not. You have no idea what thoughts went through my head.”
A hard, dominant edge had returned to his voice. The storm you sensed was crashing, booming, thundering above you, and you were about to be caught in its torrent.
“Turn around. Up on your knees.”
A thrill shot through you sensing what was coming and your stomach was in knots as you arranged yourself on the couch. Now you were facing away, your anchor point gone.
Both of his palms reached out to caress and rub your cheeks, and he pulled the skin into harsh pinches.
“I have every right to beat this ass raw after how you tempted me tonight,” he uttered, more to himself than to you. His hands continued to rub and squeeze in circles.
“Yes,” you agreed in your most obedient voice.
The first hit came but a second later. A loud thwap as the center of his wide palm connected right at the apple of your left cheek and left you with bursts of colour behind your eyes as pain bloomed in your body.
“Bast,” you whimpered quietly. It was only the first one, and you already had tears in your eyes.
He hit the right cheek next, so abruptly you didn’t realize it until a second later. Again, the sound rang out with a loud clap along with your whimper.
“Four more, kitten.”
One, you whispered, and T’Challa’s next spank was so intense you saw stars.
You crawled forward out of instinct, but all it took was one tug of the chain to bring you back.
“Two,” he counted. A second later, the firm, slapping sound of flesh on flesh rang out, as did your cry.
“You think you should be spared the last two?” He challenged.
Tears pricked your eyes. Your mind was swimming. The metal jangled as he tugged the chain, prompting you to respond.
“Eh?”
“No, I-I deserve it.”
T’Challa’s fingers grazed over the sensitive flesh, slow and soothing, before he cracked against each cheek in quick succession, so fast you had no time to process it before he lifted and gathered you in his arms.
“Shhhh,” he whispered into your ear, noticing your tears that you had lost control of, and the shaking in your chest as you gasped.
Your body left the couch and you were floating, carried through the air in a set of strong arms. A hand caressed your back as you clung to his form. “Shhhh, my love,” his words were at your ear, full of warmth.
The chain was unclipped from your neck as he lowered you onto the bed, following with his body. The tingling pain was already subsiding, but T’Challa handled you gently as if you were made of porcelain.
“Did I hurt you?” his eyes twitched with emotion as they roamed your face.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you held both sides of his face and smiled. T’Challa bent and captured your lips, kissing you softly. You savoured the feel of his lips and marvelled at how gentle he could be.
Gentle sex with T’Challa was wonderful, but it’s not what you were still craving.
You nipped his lip and looked up at him with a little smirk, your eyes twinkling.
“I want to know. What kinds of thoughts went through your head at the benefit tonight?”
At your question he groaned, burying his head in your chest. “I wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you in front of the whole room, then come on you... Remind everyone who you belong to since you seemed so intent on flaunting yourself.”
Your head fell back at the rush of heat his fantasy gave you. “I would have liked that.”
He continued to speak with his mouth grazing your chest. “I imagined pushing you to your knees and putting that insolent mouth on my dick.”
Your thighs twitched at the thought, as excitement pooled in your core.
“Oooh…. anything else?”
His voice came from your chest, where he was alternating licking and kissing. “Oh kitten, I could go all day. When I spilled wine on myself? I was picturing my hand around your throat, pounding you from behind while everyone watched my horny little Queen trying to take all of her King’s dick.”
You stared in awe as T’Challa looked lustily up at you, sucking the tip of your nipple into his mouth and releasing it with a rough bite, testing you. When you groaned, he did it again, grazing your skin with his teeth, taking another sharp bite.
“T’Challa….” you begged.
“Tell me what you are hoping I will do to you.”
His command made you moan again as you tried to articulate your needs.
“I want... “ You closed your eyes, trying to find the right words.
“Mm,” he prompted.
“Use my body T’Challa. Take what’s yours and own me. I want all of you…” your voice dropped to a whisper, “and him.”
T’Challa lowered his face to your stomach, dark eyes peering up at you and the air around you changed. You both knew what you were referring to.
Your voice was husky and low.
“Let the panther out. Let him come and play, T’Challa.”
His eyes were totally black, the pupils blown wide. He twitched, something between a rumble and a growl coming from deep inside him. There was something distinctly animal that you felt shift behind his eyes. The way he was crouched over you, you knew you were cornered. If you wanted to get up and leave, he would hold you there with his teeth until he was finished with you.
A dangerous, wild energy surrounded you both as he crawled slowly up your body, eyes hooded, nostrils flaring. His fingers pinched your thighs and pulled them wide and you braced, muscles trembling as he revealed you to him.
He growled in your ear and thrust all of himself, every inch, deep into your heat without hesitation.
The pain of his entry was immediate, sharp and full in your stomach. Even wildly aroused, his massive size needed adjusting to, but there was no time for mercy.
Hot, animal groans left T’Challa’s throat as he began to fuck into you. His body was unnaturally strong, a gift from the herb, and you felt it trembling behind the surface, barely being held back. The panther was the unseen third party in the room, very much a part of what was happening between you. You could see it in his face. There was an absence, and replacing it was pure, raw need.
He shifted your position to hold your legs up against his chest and drove into you with long thrusts, making the headboard smack the wall. You were both usually talkative during sex, but between you now there were no words exchanged, only moans and hot gasps. You weren’t capable of speech. You felt scattered and thrown apart, your mind only frayed threads. He was so deep you couldn’t think.
It was an intense fucking unlike anything you’d known. It was like you were trying to rip each other apart. You were pinned. Bitten. Torn. Spanked. Held apart and penetrated like he couldn’t get enough, even though he was taking everything you could give.
You suddenly cried out as you were lifted and weightless, until your back crashed against the wall. T’Challa gripped your hips to still you as he began to fuck you again. It was clear this was not about your pleasure. This was purely T’Challa’s desire, the panther’s desire, to fuck and possess you.
For years, you’d kept to yourself a deep desire to have him this way. Always, he held back. Now, all inhibitions were gone and the thrill and excitement of it made your body unspool and let go.
You tried to reach out and hold him as you began to come. Your mind scrambled, your voice was incapable of sound, your inner muscles tensing and tightening where you were creaming on him being the only outward indication of your orgasm.
His hands moved behind you, parting your back from the wall and you were in his arms, flesh to flesh, rocking in his lap and feeling every shiver and shake as he finally released inside you. He growled and groaned against your shoulder where he sank his teeth. There was so much of his seed, it kept coming and coming with each powerful orgasmic wave. He ground his hips in circles up into your warmth until his growls turned into sighs, the release of his come sobering T’Challa back to himself.
You were sticky, exhausted, your muscles liquified and you slumped forward.
Two arms crossed your back, pulling you against a rapid heartbeat.
“Look at me,” he urged and when his eyes met yours, T’Challa’s face was a frown of concern as he studied you. The tear streaks on your exhausted face, the bite marks were the things he noticed first.
“I went too far,” he declared, voice thick with emotion.
“No, no,” you hurried to banish the remorse shining in his eyes. “The last thing you should be is sorry.”
A few sincere smiles and kisses from you convinced T’Challa there was nothing to worry about. You urged him to crawl under the sheets with you and hold you the way you loved, locked together with his knees behind yours, his arms around your stomach and his face in your neck.
T’Challa couldn’t resist running his fingers over your necklace one more time, before he unclasped it and released your neck from the collar.
“It is beautiful,” he examined it, before carefully placing it on the night stand, and returning to the soft skin of your neck where he placed a slow kiss and whispered, “I would have you wear it again some day, but for now, you may have your freedom,” he smiled.
“A merciful King,” you grinned, running your fingers up and down his arms. “I love you, T’Challa.”
He pulled to tighten you in his arms, rumbling his response and covering your newly bare neck with kisses before you both settled in to sleep.
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Destiny? Chapter Two: Somewhere
Author’s Note:
Thank you so much for giving this work a read! Quick disclaimer, for all intents and purposes MHA/BNHA are not mine they do not belong to me. The manga and anime have inspired me to write this fiction and dialogue as well as events are given credit to the beautiful people who have blessed us with this series. Aside from standard story line events this work is mine. Here's a long one for you guys, sorry about the long wait. I've been busy with finals and such.
Word Count: 1,398
Please note that
*abc* is a sound effect
'abc' is internal thoughts of whomever
"abc" is dialogue
(abc) is a side note from yours truly ;)
*~Love, DragonHearte*
The next day, I walked into class and someone was in the seat that I had chosen in the class before lunch yesterday. A small in stature purple-headed boy, upon approaching him, I realized the top of his head was barely even with my hip. He was standing up, clearly trying to be incognito in his approach towards the other girls in the classroom. 'He wasn't here yesterday, so I took his seat. Now, what am I going to do?' I think to myself as I look around and spot another desk clearly put there after my arrival earlier the previous day. It was off-set from the regular formation of the desks, in the middle of the line between Bakugo's row and Midoriya's row. I walk around the front of the line of desks I was in and go to the one that was empty. After sitting down, I see a tuft of pink hair rush towards my direction, I immediately brace myself for impact.
"Evaangeeliine~" Ashido exclaims with a lilt in her voice, "Are you excited?!"
"What for?"
"We have hero lessons now!"
"Yes, we do, quick question. Who's the small-fry over by the desk I was sitting at prior to lunch yesterday?"
'I immediately face palm, small-fry is a slang term, I need to adapt, get with the times Eva!'
"Small-fry? Oh, you mean Minoru Mineta? He got a nosebleed right before you came in, he probably was trying to stay as long as he could with Recovery Girl to avoid the rest of the lecture. From what I can tell so far, he's a massive perv."
"Oh, by the way do you know who-"
*Boom*
"I am... Coming through the door like a normal person!"
'Oh my gosh! It's frickin' All Might, I can't believe he's actually a teacher here. I thought that the rumors were what they were, just rumors.' I sit there mouth agape at the sight before me.
"I teach Hero Basic Training..." He then goes on to explain how crucial the Hero Basic Training course is to our paths to become Pro Heroes. "...Today we will be doing, Combat Training. With that comes the use of your costumes based on your Quirk Registrations and the requests you sent in before school started. We will meet up at Ground Beta after everyone is done getting changed."
Everyone is so excited, they're teeming with energy. I walk with the rest of the girls to the changing room. I quickly suit up. I'm a transfer from a different school.
Uraraka peeks over at the area I'm changing in and lets out a quick exclamation of surprise, then says, "Wow, your costume is really cool, what is it?"
Ashido and Yaoyorozu walk over too, they're already done getting dressed as well.
"It's tight-knit with copper fibers to promote circulation. When I use my quirk for extended periods of time my circulation becomes crappy, so I get rigid and tense, the fabric is supposed to stave off that effect. There's thinner mesh on my shoulders for movement purposes. The leggings also are tight-knit to prevent my blood from accumulating in my legs, my leggings also have rubber soles on the bottom with tread. I've tried shoes separate from my costume, but I found that my body was losing the circulation by my ankles into my feet, which left me with swollen ankles."
During the whole explanation Ashido and Uraraka have this look of awe on their face, meanwhile Yaoyorozu is nodding her head to different sections of my explanation.
"Anyways, it's time to go now don't you think?"
They all nod their head in agreement, and we head out of the tunnel to Ground Beta. When we step outside of the tunnel we split and I follow Ashido, while Uraraka waits for Midoriya. When we get to the other members of the group, the boys meet us halfway with some high-fives. Most of them at least, Bakugo just stands there with a demented smile on his face.
"By the way Evangeline, sweet birthmarks, they're really cool looking."
I instinctively touch my cheek with one hand, the back of my neck with the other, and smile nervously, "Yeah, birthmark..."
'There's no reason for me to tell them the reasoning behind the cracks on my skin' I think to myself.’
"Hey Kirishima, what's the deal with Bakugo and Midoriya?" I ask.
He looks over at his classmate and shakes his head, "I don't know I think they were friends before, but they had a falling out of some sorts. Bakugo really doesn't like Midoriya."
"That's putting it lightly." Kaminari adds, the others nod their heads in agreement. I'm lost in thought for a while until Ashido nudges me and I tune back into what All Might was saying just in time to hear the brief summary of what's going to happen and the process of choosing the teams.
"The hero team and villain team will be chosen by lots. The villain team has hidden a nuclear missile on one of the floors to the building they need to protect it for the full allotted amount of time, or capture the heroes. The hero team needs to find the nuclear missile, they win if they capture the villains or obtain the nuclear missile within the allotted time frame." 'So I'll be fine as long as I don't end up with-'
"Katsuki Bakugo and Evangeline Shaffer..."
'-Him. We should be okay as long as we're not going against that green haired boy, what's his name?'
"Izuku Midoriya and Ochaco Uraraka."
'Welp. I'm screwed, based on this match up, we're going to lose this exercise.'
I'm spaced out yet again, when an ash-blonde boy with furrowed brows and a grimace comes into my field of vision.
"Hey, you're my team mate right? Just stay out of my way."
The words on my skin emitted a pulse of heat, my eyes snapped wide open, in realization. There is a possibility that the person in front of me right now is my soulmate. Still reeling from my conclusion, I nodded my head yes. I follow Bakugo into the building for training, agreeing with a nod of my head at his plans. He doesn't think too much of it and continues leading the way. Most of the time has passed for the heroes to enter the building, that's when he turns to go down the stairs and I call out to him, "Hey are you just gonna leave me here?"
He turns his head barely acknowledging my presence and replies with, "I'm taking care of Deku because he's more dangerous. All round-face can do is make shit float."
I simply nod my head and let him go, caught up in the slight throbbing on my hip. 'It's only a matter of time before they show up and Evangeline, whatever is supposed to happen between the two of you does not matter, in this moment you need to focus on keeping the missile safe. As well as preparing yourself for when the other team inevitably shows up.' I execute my strategy, eliminate all objects of floaty capacity. Limit Uraraka's options, it sounds like from the yelling downstairs that it's Midoriya and Bakugo leaving Uraraka and myself as opponents. I shake my head to get the residual fog of finding my soulmate out of my head making a weird noise as I shake my head from side-to-side.
"Heehee."
I snap my head up at the noise.
"I know you're there Uraraka, come on out. I've gotten rid of all the items in this room that you could possibly use as one of your little play-things" I say with my wide eyes and creepy smile, "It's no use, you're here by yourself. And we both know one-on-one, you're outmatched."
Uraraka stands before me frozen in a mixture of what appears to be shock and fear. She says something into her comm. device, speaking with her team mate about her situation.
After a couple of moments, she turns to me and takes a running start in my direction, 'Is she gonna jump for it?' I ready my capture tape. She jumps and activates her quirk on herself?! I quickly use the capture tape to redirect her movements, after lassoing her foot, she's like a kite on a string. I flick her back to the direction she came from. The capture tape slips off her foot before she lands, which is unfortunate but, 'I just need to hold out until the timer is up.' However, as soon as this thought enters my head there is a loud boom and all the glass from the windows shatters. Uraraka grabs a pillar, and then proceeds to execute and impromptu special move called, "Comet Home Run" which distracted me enough for her to retrieve the weapon, causing our defeat, and our loss of the exercise.
"Hero Team wins, now come up to the monitor room for your evaluation." All Might says into the comms.
Chapter Three: Someplace
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