Happy 35th Birthday Roman Reigns🥳👑❤️🙌🏼.

The birthday girl💕

FINALLY.

Falcons vs Eagles #rise up (at The Georgia Dome)

Character day : Disney

Just finished getting my makeup done by this amazing makeup artist thank you Jiya ❤️

Spirit day UGHS 🎉

Finn balor

Due to his injury, @StephMcMahon and I jointly accept @FinnBalor relinquishing of the @WWE Universal Championship. This is how I feel about that....

Lost In The Moment (6)

T’Challa x Reader

• (Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)

• Loving Smut. Fluff. Smutty McSmut Nut. Light Angst.

Even though T’Challa was a man, you would fight to defend the fact that he was beautiful. Gazing down at him, you carefully took hold of his face and drew him toward you, dusting your lips lightly and slowly across his from side to side. “Relax, T’Challa~” Your voice was barely above a whisper but he found himself obeying promptly as though it was a command. When his shoulders finally fell, you both became vocal, him groaning lightly at the relief he felt, you humming your approval at his compliance. “Very good,” you praised, rewarding him with a warm, wet kiss that stoked the flames of passion in both of you.

It was slow and leisurely, the dance your tongues performed, punctuated by the measured way you rocked your hips, sporadically pressing yourself into his crotch in the hopes of waking his sleeping giant. Your arms snake around his neck to allow you more contact with his body, but you were unable to find the relief you needed with a barrier being enforced by the clothes you still wore. You draw away from him, freeing his mouth, and he grumbles in protest, his hands moving to pull you back to him before you put a single finger over his lips. “Shhh~” What made your smile so sexy to him was the fearless gleam in your eyes. It moved him to no end that you felt comfortable and confident enough to take what you wanted from his body.

“Take off your shirt.” When he complied, you allowed yourself a moment to appreciate the sculpted perfection that lay before you. While he wasn’t ridiculously ripped, T’Challa was definitely blessed with with enough muscle to keep your wandering hands busy. He was always bending to accommodate you and make sure that you were taken care of, inside and out. The desire to return the favor is what spurred you to behave so boldly and you could sense that he was enjoying it.

Gunfire rang out in the back of your mind, the evidence of the traumatic event no longer evident on your lover’s body and you silently pray that the memory would someday fade just as easily. Your fingertips dance lightly over the areas where his body had been struck, a preamble to the kisses you soon planted there. His abs clenched in response, the efforts of your tongue as it traced his stomach acknowledged by deep moans and a bulge forming beneath you. You whisper quiet promises to cherish this man until the end of your days between licks and soft love bites, your folds becoming as slick as you’re making him.

“T’Challa,” you train your lustful gaze into his hungry one as you take one long, slow, tantalizing lick up his torso from his waist to his neck. The warmth of your breath tickled his sensitive ears lightly as you whispered to him. “You are an amazing man, a wonderful protector.” You can’t resist the urge to nibble on his ear a bit. “My protector.” The buck of his hips into yours as the words seized him was accompanied by a deep moan and you instantly fell in love with the sound, encouraging him to make more as you increased the pace of the grinding slightly, adding enough pressure to stimulate your throbbing nub.

Hands holding his face again, you capture his eyes with your own, your words tailored to curb the negative emotions his spirit seemed reluctant to release. “I am still alive because of you, T’Challa.” Needing him to understand that he could release himself from the binds of guilt, you continued. “You saved my life. Thank you.” The tips of your fingers brush over his nipples and you’re both surprised to find that they are sensitive enough to make the King responsive. You began tweaking them between your forefinger and thumb causing his dick to jump, his legs becoming fidgety as you stimulated him. “I want you to know how grateful I am. I need you to feel it.” Your tongue was back on his body, the pads of your fingers tugging roughly then gently on his sensitive nips. “Will you let me help you relax, baby? Will you let me show you how grateful I am?”

He could only manage a nod, his jaws clenching as he fought the instinct to take over. Truth be told, he needed to hear everything you were saying to him as much as he needed your touch. He had become fearful that you would want to leave him, want nothing to do with him, so your praises and words of affirmation were right on time. With permission granted to proceed as you wished, you slowly removed his pants and briefs, gasping at the sight of him springing free. Once you’d thrown the garments unceremoniously to the floor, he sat before you, completely naked. Any other time you would have happily joined him, but now you didn’t feel it would be ‘therapeutic’ to see your body in its battered state, especially since you hadn’t had the chance to survey it for yourself.

Pre-cum oozed from his slit in abundance and without thinking you carefully swiped your finger across it, slowly drawing it towards yourself and leaving a string of the clear fluid dangling between his tip and your hand. His breathing shifted then, accelerating in anticipation as he watched you intently. When you brought the sample to your lips he stopped breathing entirely, his body having gone still as he watched you taste him for the first time. Your eyes flutter closed and everything in you responded all at once, the flavor of him acting as an aphrodisiac. You needed more.

Seeking to sate your new craving, you attached your mouth to his head, sucking the excess of his leakage greedily. You’d heard countless accouts from other girls in the industry regarding the taste of a man’s essence and it’d created a secret disdain for the act of giving head despite you having never done it yourself. The adjectives they’d used were either all wrong or the man they had sucked dry hadn’t been theirs to please. Because T’Challa’s shit was your type of shit and your brain responded like you’d taken a hit, urging you to indulge in your new drug.

His hips began bucking and that was all the encouragement you needed. Careful of your teeth, your mouth descended on his length a quarter of the way down before ascending again, the tip of your tongue pressing firmly into the sensitive ring of skin just beneath his fat mushroom head, causing him to swear quietly, the veins in his arms bulging from how tightly he’d bawled his fists in response to the stimulation. Once you found a rhythm, you dared to take him a little deeper every couple of bobs or so, making sure to trace the thick ropes that encased his meat with the tip of your tongue as you rose, quickly flicking it over his hole before repeating.

T’Challa was thoroughly enjoying watching you bob up and down on him, especially appreciating the clenching combined with the pressure of your tongue around his head. He’d been verbally praising, even thanking you for offering him this relief. So when you suddenly stopped and looked up at him pouting he was confused and overcome with frustration, his words coming spaced out as he attempted to catch his breath. “What, what? What’s wrong?” He wasn’t frowning at you exactly, just at the pressure that was building in his balls.

Your pout became more prominent. “I can’t take the whole thing in my mouth.”

You looked genuinely disappointed and he actually found himself amused. “That’s something we will have to work on over time, love. I told you, you’re doing just fine.”

“Will you teach me?” You gave him a long slow suck, speaking again when it plops out of your mouth and you fix him with a sweet smile. “How to make you feel good?”

He immediately took hold of your hand then. “Spit on it.”

“My hand?”

“My dick.” As best you could, you conjured up a glob of spit and let it splatter on his rod, the sight of it oozing down the sides turning you both on. He guides your hand to wrap it around him, keeping his hand wrapped around yours as he moves you both up and down in a twisting motion, spreading the lubricant provided by your mouth.

“Now, take me back into your mouth.” His instructions came out hoarse, the strain from keeping a neutral pace while he instructed you taking a toll. What he didn’t yet know about you was that you get off on him having to keep the urge to just drill you in check. You obliged, the light hum in your throat sending vibrations across his sensitive nerves. “Shit…” A few deep breaths later he croaked out, “Keep moving your hand, use it to grip the parts of me you aren’t able to take.”

When you found your rhythm again the pace increased and so did the sounds. From his grunting and moaning your name to you humming on his dick to the sloppy slurping sounds coming from all the saliva and friction. Wanting to maximize his pleasure you very gingerly fondled his sac which had him gripping your head now and face fucking you. You loved his loss of control and kept one firm grip on the base of his dick, the other hand caressing his nuts. You lifted your eyes to meet his and you held his hungry gaze, wanting to watch him using you to relieve himself. “Bast, you look so good with a mouth full of my dick.”

It pleased you to hear that and you began squirming and pressing yourself into the bed to get some relief yourself. He noticed. “Touch yourself Y/N.” His breathing was ragged. “I want to watch you pleasure us both.”

Your hand left his balls and disappeared into the pajama shorts you were wearing to manipulate your clit while you sucked him. His body began to tense, his thrusts into your mouth losing the steady beat he’d been creating. When you felt his balls retract and his cock swell you immediately broke free from his grasp, removing your mouth from his manhood and clamping your hand tightly around the base, effectively preventing him from cuming. The growl he released was menacing and he fixed you with a beastly glare on instinct, the expression melting into desperation quickly as he felt the build up subside. When his breathing evened out you spoke in a calm but loving tone, your hand resuming its stroking at an agonizingly slow pace.

“I’m not trying to ruin your fun, T’Challa.” A quick lick across the tip. “I just need to make sure that we end today’s therapy session with you having learned something.”

“I’ve learned that my woman gets wet at the thought of torturing me,” he grumbled.

Your hand stopped moving on his dick, frustrating him further. You were serious though. “What have you learned today.”

He thought a quick moment before answering, his tone significantly softer. “That you still want me despite what has happened in the past 24 hours.” You rewarded him with slow strokes.

“Good baby, what else?”

“That…that I protected you.” You increased the pace, gripping him harder. “That you are still alive because of me.”

“Yes T’Challa, tell me what else.” You begin licking him and it becomes a bit harder to concentrate.

“I shouldn’t feel guilty!” His muscles tighten when you begin bobbing on his dick again, your hand twisting in the same motion he told you he likes. He began speaking in his own tongues, a language mixed with your name and a lot of shits and fucks. You remove your mouth again but you jack him ferociously, your efforts focused on that sensitive ring.

Your voice was earnest. “Who does my body belong to, T’Challa?”

“Me!”

“Who is my protector?”

“Me!!”

“Who do I want to be with?”

“Ahhh…me!!!” He began pinching his nipples himself then, his body growing increasingly warmer with all of the sensations.

A tear actually escaped as you voiced the next question, your tone considerably softer and full of the adoration you felt for him. “Who am I in love with Challa?”

That’s what did it. The thought of you loving him. He erupted thick, long globs of cum that didn’t give a fuck where it landed. Some dangled from your chin, some on his thighs, a lot on his stomach. Through labored breaths he finally responded. “….me.” His chest heaved aggressively as he came down from his high. “You’re in love with me.”

“Yes, I am.” You began licking up the mess you made, content hums and mewls sounding as you enjoyed your tasty reward. Soon he grabbed you up in strong arms and pulled you to himself so that he could rain kisses all over your face, only taking breaks to kiss your lips, unbothered by tasting himself on you.

“I’m in love with you too. I think I have been since we got lost in that very first moment.”

A loving smile accompanied your response. “I know.”

“I wanted to drag you into the shower with me, but I’m not sure that you would like it very much if I messed up Ayo’s hard work on your beautiful hair, so I ran you a warm bath instead, my love.” He sauntered around, naked and free, his energy so much clearer and a genuine smile on his face. Making his way toward you, you giggled at his good mood before ducking underneath the covers to hide, only to have him assault you with tickles.

It was all fun and laughter until he accidentally pressed into a bruise and you sucked in a sharp breath of air. The sound alarmed him and he fought with the duvet to reveal your face and inspect the damage. “I’m so sorry, mnandi, forgive me. Are you alright?”

He attempted to lift your pajama top but you swatted his hand away quickly. “I’m fine.” Afraid of dampering his mood you shuffled from the bed and scurried into the bathroom only to be stopped dead in your tracks in the doorway. Reflexively your mouth flew open and you gaped at the sight before you.

T’Challa padded up behind you quietly, his hands gripping your waist gingerly, the gentle effort obviously to prevent from causing you discomfort since he couldn’t keep from touching you completely. Your eyes scanned the immense bathroom that was possibly the size of your first apartment in L.A. And while anyone with a fetish for great architectural designs and banging home decor would have lost their shit at seeing this, it wasn’t what had you so awestruck. “T’Challa, it’s beautiful~”

He’d taken the time to light scented candles, sprinkle rose petals throughout the room and in the large, deep tub, and to put on some light music. “Is that-?”

“The song we sang together on the second day? Yes.” You leaned into him then and he pressed light kisses atop your scarfed head.

“C’mon. Let’s get you in before the water gets too cool.” He maneuvers around you and takes your hand, guiding you to the center of the bathroom where the tub sat. When he moves to take off your top, you freeze, your reaction causing his hands to still.

When he searched your eyes for an explanation, you gave him one. “I don’t know what my body looks like right now…” You put your hands on top of his where they rest at the hem of your shirt. “I don’t want you to get sad again.”

Understanding, he gives you a few quick pecks and exits the bathroom, allowing you the privacy you need. Once he disappeared, you undressed quickly and moved to stand in front of a grand mirror that hung on the wall to do a quick survey of yourself. You don’t appear as bad as you thought, figuring there really was something to that tea Ayo served you earlier. You giggled lightly when you noticed that a lot of the hickies T’Challa marked you with were still there. The memory of your first time in bed together coupled with the sexual desire that had built in you while sucking your man had your body on fire again.

When you did finally settle in the bubble bath, your hand went straight to your slit, your eyes closing as you rested your head on the edge of the tub. You had enough imagery to focus on as you worked yourself into a frenzy, climbing steadily to your peak, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. When you thought you were about to finally cum, your hand was ripped away from your mound and lifted straight out of the water. Your eyes were startled open and were immediately met with T’Challa’s face. “If I recall correctly,” he started as he stepped over into the tub with you. “This body belongs to me.” When he was seated he gently pulled you to him and your legs automatically opened and allowed you to straddle him. “So if this body needs relief and release,” he took your left nipple into his mouth and sucked it aggressively. “I will be the one to grant it.”

You didn’t argue. He placed himself at your entrance and you slid down on him as if you’d done this a hundred times before, the depth at which he was able to penetrate you from this angle briefly overwhelming. “It’s-“

“Yes, I can get deeper inside of you when you ride me, love.” As if to demonstrate, he lifted his hips and pressed into you, further stretching your hole. “So much deeper.” Your neck became his feeding grounds as you rode him in the tub, your colliding bodies splashing water everywhere. You couldn’t understand why the feeling was so much more intense from this angle, but it wasn’t long before your walls contracted rapidly and you came almost violently. As the endorphins washed over you and your body went limp, he eased you off of him and began washing you, taking care not to press into your bruises, occasionally kissing his love marks. It was lovely having him tend to you and you cooed as his hands and fingers roamed. After, you gave his body the same attention and as you finished, he heard your stomach rumble and chuckled.

“Come, mnandi, let’s get you something to eat.”

Even you could tell he was strutting about like a proud peacock as he held your hand, fingers laced, dragging you about the palace. You felt unusually shy anytime you two came across anyone and found yourself wishing for the safety and comfort of his room.

After he’d had his personal chef prepare an exquisite meal for you, you inquired about his younger sister, wondering how she was doing and wishing to thank her. “Shall we give her a visit?” His smile was contagious and you smiled and nodded in response.

Her lab triggered your inner geek and you threw question after question her way, which she happily responded to. She showed you her latest inventions, cracked jokes on T’Challa, and without even thinking much of it, began applying medicated balm to the remaining scars on your face, all the while describing everything she wanted to show you in Wakanda.

You figured it was genetic, the easy charm and pull the siblings had on the people around him. Chatting with Shuri made it seem like the last few crazy days hadn’t happened, that everything was normal and you had known each other for years. While the two of you were fangirling over cute Hollywood celebs, much to T’Challa’s dismay, his kimoyo beads went off and Okoye informed him that the elders wished to meet with him. With and aggravated sigh, he turned to interrupt you ladies giggling. “My apologies, mnandi, but I am being summoned.” He kissed your forehead lightly and took a deep long look into your eyes, a frown claiming his forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

It took him a minute to let you in on his internal conflict. “Every time I leave you something bad happens. You disappeared. You were nearly killed. You were…tortured.” The last word was difficult to say and you both flinched. “I have half a mind to drag you to the meeting with me except I already know what those old people want and I’m not keen on putting you in the middle of that right now.” He gently rubbed your arms, the movement reminiscent of the first time he touched you.

You kiss him then, deeply, forgetting that Shuri was there until she cleared her throat in a loud dramatic fashion. You pulled apart and you smiled up at him. “Go. I’ll be right here. Or hiding in your room.” He was trying to believe it. “I promise.” He sighed, kissed you again, and turned to leave. “I will send Ayo to keep watch over you.”

When he was gone, you felt a weird emptiness and were suddenly a bit sad. “I have a gift for you. Maybe it will cheer you up?”

“Oh? For me?”

“Yeah, hold out your wrist.” Shuri was nearly bouncing with excitement. When you stuck out your arm, she gently slid a bracelet similar to the ones she and T’Challa wear onto it. “It’s your own set of kimoyo beads!” She excitedly explained how to operate them and when Ayo came to fetch you to escort you back to the room, you embraced the princess and gave her a heartfelt hug.

“Call me anytime!” She called after you as you departed. Once you had disappeared, she pulled up a screen she had minimized as you and her brother walked in. After going over the data one more time now that she had more information, she slumped over on her desk and sobbed, feeling horrible about her realization.

Evening gave way to night and your love had yet to return to you. Ayo wasn’t bad company at all, though. The two of you sat comfortably on the balcony just outside of T’Challa’s room chatting away under the twinkling night sky.

She taught you a few Wakandan phrases. Your accent was adorable to her too. Each new word came with a brief history lesson.

She complimented you on your outfit. “T’Challa picked it out, actually, he seems to have picked up on my style. I like it too.”

When your hand found refuge in your hair, your finger entangling itself in a coil to stretch it out, another thought struck you and you asked how she knew how to do hair so well. Ayo had a good laugh at that. You thought it was reasonable considering she was bald. Eventually you ended up talking about women warriors.

“You really think I could handle that?” You sounded completely skeptical and your facial expression said as much.

“I believe anyone that puts their mind to it can learn to fight with grace and skill. Plus, it would be extremely beneficial for when you become Queen.” Ayo’s voice had a soothing quality to it but your thoughts came to a screeching halt at her last statement.

“Wait, what??”

She didn’t get to answer though and dismissed herself quickly at the sight of the King, her many years of knowing him allowing her to pick up on the meanings of his body language, a lesson you were soon about to learn. No sooner than his door clicked closed was he on you, grabbing you from behind where you stood on the balcony and pressing himself into you, his movements hurried and aggressive. He was brick hard.

He grabbed your breasts and squeezed roughly as he spoke directly into your ear. “No matter what anyone says, you belong with me, Y/N.”

You were still confused but arousal came easily. You figured his meeting must have been stressful. You attempted to turn around to face him as you asked “Do you wan to talk about it?” But he swiftly corrected you and planted your ass on his crotch.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I want to claim you.” His hands found their way beneath your dress and he ripped your panties from your body. When he spoke again, his voice was low, guttural. “Over and over and over again. I just want to fuck.”

He kneed your legs apart and thrust into you forcefully, causing you to cry out in pleasure as he entered from behind, bending your body forward and coaching you to arch your back. His hands found their way to your titties again and he tweaked your nipples like you’d done to him earlier. Your moans started running into each other, stringing together like a harmony that could only be composed by T’Challa and the magic he was working on your pussy.

“That’s it, Y/N, sing for me.” As he spoke he pulled your dress up and over your head and tossed it over the balcony. You watched it float down to the world below as his onslaught continued, your inner thighs now glistening with how wet you were for him. He kissed your shoulder as he freed your breasts allowing them to bounce freely as he took you, tossing the bra to the side as if it was trash.

You were completely naked, outside, the chilly night breeze doing nothing to relieve the heat in your body. Only he could do that. “They think that they know you, that they can speak on you.” His drilling became faster. You figured he was referring to the council but your mind was having a difficult time focusing when he released one of your breasts to rub your aching clit. “But they don’t know you like I know you, do they, Y/N.”

“N-no” you moaned, your breath coming in gasps now.

“No.” He pulled all the way out, the cool air teasing your gaping hole briefly before ramming his dick back inside, balls deep. You yelled his name so loud you were sure that anyone in a 5 mile radius could hear you. “That’s it, love, scream my name. Tell them who you belong to, tell them whose heart you command.” He repeated the motion several times, each time you yelled his name.

“It f-feels so gooooood,” your voice raised an octave when he pinched your nub and you bucked back against him. His groan of approval had you doing it again, working out a rhythm with him. Your bodies did make beautiful music, juicy sounds and all.

You don’t know exactly what they did to piss him off but suddenly you were pissed for him. “Fuck the council.”

He sped up his ministrations between your legs. “Say it again.”

“Fuck the council!” You were on the verge of coming and let him know as much.

“Do it baby, cum for me!” His teeth sank deeply into your shoulder once he gave you then command, marking you as his own.

And you did cum. Loud as fuck. T’Challa didn’t make it out of you in time but you were too spent to care.

Sometime over into the following morning your wrist began buzzing. You wiped your eyes groggily and turned over to see your love still sleeping peacefully, tuckered out from keeping his promise of taking you repeatedly through the night. As you moved toward the bathroom to grab your robe to cover your naked body you realized how sore you were but smiled when you realized how good it felt to know why. That man had stamina out of this world and you were pleased to help him work through his frustrations.

You cleared your throat and quietly answered the kimoyo beads. A small hologram of Shuri popped up and she was a crying mess. “Y/N, please forgive me, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“Hey, Princess, what’s wrong, don’t cry, what is it?”

“I know who tried to kill you. I know who nearly killed my brother!” Her accent was actually a bit difficult to understand through the tears, but you guessed what she was saying and you felt bad for her.

“Y/N,” she sniffled, trying to compose herself. “It was Nakia!”

You peeked out of the bathroom to be sure T’Challa was still sleeping soundly before you sighed lightly and addressed the distressed teen, your face an unreadable mask. “I know.”

@elixirtchalla @sweettea-and-honeybutter @wakanda-4evr @hutchj @elaindeereads @idilly @misspooh @nostalgic-uncertainty @daytimeheroicsonly @kreolemami @ashanti-notthesinger @teechallas-blog @tchallaxlover @blaccjustice @lavitabella87 @brianabreeze @imagine-blackpanther @miss-jayjayy @killmongurl @blackgirloneshots @thekrazykeke @watchmythrone13 @coldcrevices @xxdarkdarlingxx @bekahdean87 @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers @lewatigress @ericazthoughts @whyugottabsorude @iwannalearnhowtoship @youreadthatright @bangtanandbruno @90sinspiredgirl @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @yukixxmura @pessimisfit @blackbxbe @mermaidchansons @petrashappyplace @lovely-geek @imaginewhoever @fitfinestayingalive @clydevevo