This Song Is Giving Reader Talkin About Shuri

This song is giving reader talkin about Shuri

OMGGGGG

YALL SAW BAE OR AM I TWEAKIN

RAHHHHH

I'm still working on Crown Royal but I had this idea at worm yesterday 🤭🤭🤭

Delightful will read another 283838 times

Crown Royal

Synopsis: Shuri’s been holed up in her lab, so you occupy yourself by going out with your friends. You return home and Shuri shows you exactly what she’s been working on.

Warnings: FILTH, StrapSlinger!Shuri, Drunk!Shuri, Drunk!Reader, drunk sex, oral (shuri receiving), throat fucking, spanking, Dom/Sub dynamic, hella dirty talk, alcohol, daddy kink (blink and you miss it), breeding kink, Panther!Shuri as always bc she has me by the ass, vibranium-laced alcohol, mentions of vibranum-laced hair products, just vibranium all through this mf, sub!Shuri for approximately 42 seconds; the pacing might be weird, idk,

Word Count: 8055

A note: Shuri speaks so much English in this simply because I didn’t feel like arguing with Google Translate. I was talking a lot of shit so I hope I made yall proud with this one 🥹🥹🥹

Tags *I do not have a taglist, but these lovely folk asked to be tagged and they’ve been so patient with me while I drag my feet in writing*:

@desswright29 @sleepynggafr, @christinabae, @sapphicvqmpires, @writtenbymarie, @likemick @melanated-queen @blacksapphhicmaddonnaicmad

“Little fireworks that light up for me….” You hum along to the Victoria Monet song filtering through your speakers as you brush your hair, carefully gathering each strand into the high ponytail at the back of your head. Today you had your first Wakandan blowout and to say you were pleased with the results would be an understatement. You usually kept your hair in protective styles to cut down on maintenance time, but one too many scroll-throughs of silk press transformations on instagram had you asking one of the girls at your job for stylist recommendations. Once she’d given you the social info of her stylist, you reached out to book an appointment and four anticipation/anxiety-filled days later, here you were—obsessed with your hair and invigorated with a newfound confidence. Your new stylist had given you The Queen’s Gambit; a blowout using vibranium-laced products to extend the life of the style, essentially making your hair moisture proof for up to four weeks, all while promising maximum curl retention once the products wear off. The method is extremely exclusive and requires extensive training to obtain a special license, which is usually reserved for only the most upscale salons and definitely not for new clients; however, once your stylist recognized you as Queen Shuri’s fiancée, she quickly made an exception and completed the service. Your hair cascaded down your back like a silken waterfall, and the bombshell curls added volume and sex appeal that you hadn’t seen from your hair in a while, so when your friends called you to schedule a night on the town, you couldn’t refuse; all of Wakanda deserved to see you feeling yourself this heavily.

Once the elastic is secured around your hair and tightened to your liking you move to finish your makeup, applying your lip combo: a luscious red lipstick with a black liner. You sigh—this was Shuri’s favorite lip look on you; something about how the red pigment accentuated the plumpness of your lips attracted her to you like a bull. But Shuri wasn’t here to see it, she was holed up in her lab as she had been for the past few nights. You didn’t feel jaded or abandoned, Shuri made it clear you were welcome in her lab at any time, and you often took her up on it, popping by just to vent about your day or sit and watch her while she worked. She also shuts down the lab for an hour every day to have lunch with you in the garden. You understand that Shuri’s duty to her country—and therefore to you—as the Queen and Black Panther keeps her schedule packed, but she still goes out of her way to make time for you in every way that she can. I should pop down there to visit her, you think to yourself, but you dismiss the thought quickly; you could kiss your night out goodbye if Shuri got her hands on you like this. You’re wearing a brand-new outfit: a black strapless leather mini dress, black red bottoms and all gold jewelry, save for the purple tint of the vibranium-laced diamond in your engagement ring. The boning in the bodice and subtle V cut push your breasts up and the stretchy leather of the mini skirt hugs your hips perfectly. This dress might as well have been made for your body.

“Princess, Leona and Leomie Anderson are approaching.” Griot cuts into your self-admiration and as if on cue, the door to your dressing room opens, revealing the identical smiling faces of your two closest friends. The three of you greet each other with smiles, hugs and compliments before starting to pregame, take a few selfies and head towards the door to the car waiting outside.

“Princess, you’re forgetting your kimoyo beads.” Griot cuts in

“I have my earrings, Griot.”

The AI continues to press, “I will notify the Panther that you’re leaving.”

“No, Griot. Please don’t disturb her. I should be home before she leaves the lab.” You close the door before Griot can grill you more about your departure.

The ride into Downtown Wakanda is calm, but outside the club is chaotic; the line to get in is almost wrapped around the corner, the street is blocked with cars, and there are paparazzi loitering trying to get a glimpse of anyone of importance as they enter. Thankfully, the three of you are able to enter without much hassle from the bouncers and without being spotted by the photographers. The inside of the club is dark except for purple uplighting on the walls, providing just enough light for the three of you to make your way to the bar and find three plush velvet seats. Your chest rattles from the bass in the afrobeat’s that the DJ is mixing. He’s keeping a watchful eye on the small but growing crowd in the middle of the dance floor; the night is still relatively young, so he’s not putting out his best mixes just yet. You continue to gaze around the venue; there’s tables along the far wall, a game area with darts and pool, a cigar room and what you assume is the VIP section behind a gold rope and purple curtain. 

“Can I get something started for you ladies?” The bartender asks as he approaches, his eyes lingering on Leona, “Or would you like me to make you something special? On the house, of course.”

Leona leans forward, making sure to push her breasts further onto display, “Give us something good,” She lightly caresses the back of the bartender’s hand, “And sweet.”

He smirks at her, trailing her eyes down to her chest, “Right away.” Before he takes his leave, purposely staying within Leona’s eyesight as he mixes your drinks with a mixologist’s flare. 

“Whore.” Leomie, Leona’s twin sister, mumbles.

“I’m just trying to find me somebody to take home tonight so I can be like Y/N when I grow up.” Leona leans forward, glancing past her sister to wiggle her eyebrows at you.

You laugh, “I didn’t meet Shuri in a club so you’re already off on the wrong foot.” 

“Okay but I’m not a good little nerd like you so I have to take some detours in the plan. As long as I end up at the same destination, I’m good.” Leona replies.

The three of you continue bickering, but it dies down when the bartender approaches, setting three brightly colored—almost glowing—drinks in front of you. Leona’s is orange, Leomie’s is red, and yours is two toned, “Something special for special ladies. Let me know what you think.” He steps back, patiently awaiting your reactions.

“Ooh, what’s in this?” Leona asks, watching the golden sparkles in her glass dance as she swirls the liquid inside.

“Yours is peach papaya, hers is blood orange mango, and the future Mrs. Panther’s is pineapple Dragon fruit.” He shoots you a wink, chuckling slightly as you bashfully hid your face; you still forget that you’re engaged to the Black Panther, to you she was just Shuri the Science Nerd. “All three have gin and rum, with a little extra syrup for sweetness. And those Panther swizzle sticks are custom.”

You sip your drinks, humming delightedly at the taste. “I hope they give you a raise soon because this is amazing!” Leona gushes.

The bartender smiles proudly before taking a small bow, “Thank you, I try my best.” Other people approach the bar; the crowd in the club is beginning to get crowded and the bar seats are filling up, “Let me know if you ladies need anything else,” He shoots a wink at Leona before moving away to help other patrons. 

The rest of your night out is filled with drinks, dancing and carefree fun with your friends. Many people watch, wanting to approach you and your girls, or maybe even take one of you home but they know better than to approach, lest they face The Panther’s wrath. After a few hours, however, your Outside Timer runs out and you turn to your friends, “I’m ready to go.”

Thankfully, Leona and Leomie share your sentiment, “Yeah, I’m gonna order us a car. Let’s go back to the bar, at least we’ll have a straight shot to the door when it’s time to go.”

Leona spends the duration of your wait flirting with the bartender, ultimately deciding to stay at the club and wait for him to get off work so she could leave with him. 

“Be safe Leona! Use protection!” You shout over your shoulder as you and Leomie make your way to the door.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let her get you pregnant!” Leona shouts back, nursing yet another experimental drink from the bartender.

“I just might!” You laugh just before crossing the threshold into the lobby.

The ride home is uneventful. The bit of liquor in your system is doing just enough to keep you warm, fuzzy and slightly horny, but not enough for you to be blackout sloppy drunk. The driver reaches Leomie’s home first, where you quickly say your goodbyes and confirm that the tracker in Leona’s bag was indeed active before Leomie leaves the car, and you alone. Your plan for the rest of the night was as follows: shower, change, prep a small meal to take to your fiancée as you collect her from her lab, see if you can’t get her to fuck you senseless (or eat her out for a few hours, whichever she preferred) once you got home, fall into a coma in her arms until tomorrow when the two of you have cake tastings and venue tours scheduled.

Before you know it, the driver is pulling up in front of your house. The lights are still off: Shuri isn’t home. You let out a small sigh as you exit the car, thanking the driver before closing the door and walking the path to the front door, scanning your fingerprint on the panel to gain entry. Once the door is shut, your heels are kicked off in one direction and your clutch lands on the foyer table in the other. You don’t bother with the lights as you walk down the entry hallway towards the living room. Shuri had this house custom built for the two of you and you know it like the back of your hand; you can practically see your surroundings, even in the dark.

Well, maybe you don’t have night vision.

Because if you did, you would’ve seen her sitting on the couch. You would’ve seen how she was sitting: manspread, hair braided back, arm thrown over the back of the couch, white sports bra peeking out from underneath an unbuttoned suit jacket. You would’ve seen the drink in her hand and the unmarked, half empty bottle sitting on the end table next to her. Maybe if you weren’t half drunk, you would’ve felt her eyes following you as soon as you crossed the threshold of your home.

But you didn’t see her, not until she turned the lamp on and flooded the room with light, nearly giving you a heart attack in the process.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” You yell before your eyes fall on the woman before you, “Shuri? What are you doing home?”

A half smirk flits across the Panther’s face, gone before your alcohol-laden brain can register it, “Am I not allowed to come home, sthandwa?”

“N–no of course you are baby it’s just–” You look around the room like the inanimate furniture was going to help you explain yourself. No such luck. “The lights were off when I pulled up, I–I thought you were still at the lab.”

Shuri hums, staring at the liquid in the barrel of her glass; it’s low. She’ll have to refill it again soon, “I called it a night a little early. I wanted to come home and show you what I’ve been working on. Only when I got here,” She cocks her head to the side as she looks up at you and you shrink under her intense gaze, “Intyatyambo yam wasn’t home.” (my flower)

Shuri is sitting halfway across the room, but you might as well be under the microscope on one of her lab tables with how closely she’s studying you. You’re positive she can hear how your heart is racing and see how you discreetly rub your thighs together in an attempt to quell the slick leaking from your core already, “I–I’m—”

“Did you have fun at the club, umfazi?” Shuri questions, another smile threatening to break out on her face.

You freeze, “I—How did you—Was it Griot?”

“I always know where you are, usana.” Shuri’s stare hardens as she looks at you pointedly, “Regardless of whether or not you have your kimoyo beads on you. How did you like the club? Did they take care of you? With the drinks and all.”

“We went to some club downtown. I don’t really remember the—”

Shuri reaches over, refilling her glass with whatever’s in the bottle. “The Panther’s Lair. How did you like it, usana?” A grin finally breaks out on your fiancee’s face.

You squint, “How do you know where we went? You don’t even keep up with the club scene, Shuri.”

“I own that club, mama.” Shuri leans further into the couch, cockiness oozing from every pore, “How do you think you were able to skip the line and walk straight in? Why do you think you didn’t pay for anything?”

“The bartender was flirting with Leona the whole night.”

“And why did the DJ only play your favorite songs the whole night?”

“I—I don’t know. Why do you own a club?”

“M’Baku wanted to be in charge of something after I took the throne. He manages the day to day operations, but my name is on the deed.” Shuri drains the rest of the liquid in her glass and refills it again before standing and walking over to you. Her eyes are low and lidded—no doubt from the contents of that glass—but they’re just as intense as ever as she looks you over, “Hmm, haven’t seen this dress before.” She notes, almost to herself as she grasps your hand, “Ndijike, ntombazana entle.” (Turn for me, pretty girl.)

You follow Shuri’s lead, allowing her to turn you every which way for her viewing pleasure, watching her reaction in the full body mirror across from you, “I just got it a few days ago. Didn’t have anywhere to wear it until tonight.”

“I’ll need to give you more reasons to wear it then, won’t I?” The Panther’s voice is deep as she speaks from behind you, running her hand over the material covering your ass until she reaches the bottom of your ponytail where she immediately curls her hands into your locks. “You got your hair done too?”

“Yeah, one of the girls at my job recommended to me her stylist and she gave me this vibranium-infused blowout. She said it’ll last for two weeks, even if I get my hair wet! It’s been so long since I had my hair straight. I’m thinking of wearing it like this for the wedding, or at least our engagement shoot.”

Shuri isn’t looking at you, she’s looking above you—namely, the ponytail on the back of your head. You watch her gaze darken with every revolution of her hand and once her grip is tight enough, she pulls, tilting your head back to expose your neck to her lips as she begins leaving lingering kisses on the skin of your neck.

“A sweat-proof blowout, huh?” Shuri huffs out a chuckle into your ear before she licks her lips, taking another sip from her glass, “Should we test that?”

A whimper escapes you before you can stop it, the effects of the alcohol and the woman behind you hitting you full force, “Shuri.”

The woman in question releases your hair, but her tattooed hand wraps around your throat instead, keeping your eyes locked on the two of you in the mirror as her lips continue their assault on your throat, tongue and teeth going to work suckling on your heated skin and pulling small moans from your throat as you melt into her.

“Should use this ponytail as a handle to fuck your throat. Get that pretty red lipstick all over my strap.” Shuri mumbles, locking eyes with you in the mirror. At your strangled whimper, she continues, “You’d like that wouldn’t you? For me to use you for my own pleasure, to treat you like the slut you are?" 

"Only yours, Shuri” Your eyes flutter closed as Shuri kisses from your neck, down your shoulder and arm before lifting your left hand to kiss up the back of your palm and around your engagement ring.

“Damn right you are.” Shuri’s mouth returns to your neck where she sinks her teeth into your pulse point. Your hand creeps up, caressing the shaved hair on the back of her head as you moan her name. “You’re mine. Forever.”

She releases you all too soon, spinning you to face her with a hand gripping your ass, “Go in the room and wait for me, usana. You know how I want you." 

A whine escapes you as Shuri avoids your kiss, ”Shuriiiii, you haven’t kissed me all day.“ You pout.

A hum sounds from the Panther in front of you before she kisses your forehead and the corner of your mouth, "I know, ipetal yam. But not yet.”

You continue your pouting, trying to get your lover to change her mind, but she only taps your ass twice, “Yiba yintombazana elungileyo kum kwaye uhambe uzilungiselele.” (Be a good girl for me and go get ready)

You stare at Shuri a little longer, but she remains firm, staring back at you as she drains her glass again, raising a single eyebrow when she sees you still haven’t moved. “Ngaphandle kokuba ufuna ndikohlwaye.” She says, grazing your chin between her thumb and index knuckle. (Unless you want me to punish you)

Your lips part, another wave of arousal hitting you as you barely conceal a moan. Yes, that’s exactly what you want. But you say nothing, knowing Shuri can read your body language with her eyes closed. Shuri’s gentle touch turns rough as she grips your throat, pulling you within a breaths distance of her, the scent of the alcohol she’s been drinking fanning over your face, intoxicating you further, “I will not ask you again, intombi yam. Go to our room and get ready for me.” Her lips graze yours as she speaks to you with the intonation of a Queen, and you can’t help yourself as you poke your tongue out, running the tip over Shuri’s plump bottom lip before you lock eyes with her as she slowly releases her hold, watching you carefully as you finally follow her orders, turning and walking out of the room, making sure to put an extra swing in your hips as you leave Shuri’s eyesight and head to your shared bedroom to prepare yourself for the Panther’s arrival.

It takes Shuri approximately 8 minutes and 26 seconds to make her appearance in your bedroom. She pauses, leaning against the threshold of your room, a newly refilled bottle in hand, observing and admiring the scene before her; you kneeling in the center of the bed, eyes down, hands folded in your lap and completely nude except for your jewelry. “Ngalo lonke ixesha ulungile kum.” Shuri mumbles as she finally approaches you, running her fingertips up your shoulder, neck, back and into your hair where she pulls the elastic loose, flinging it across the room as your hair falls in a curtain around your face. (always so good for me)

You take a chance in looking up at her without permission, “I thought you liked my ponytail.”

“I do, but that’s what my hands are for, sthandwa.” She turns away from you, taking a swig directly from the bottle before placing it on the nightstand. You eye the swirling contents curiously as Shuri steps back; the drink is dark, with an almost purplish tint.

Shuri seems to be reading your mind, as always, “You can ask the question, usana.” You can hear the smile in her voice without having to look at her.

“That’s what you’ve been working on?”

Shuri hums to the affirmative, her ravenous eyes still locked on you.

“You infused it with the Heart Shaped Herb?”

Shuri hums again, a smirk spreading on her lips, “I can get drunk with you now; my metabolism doesn’t burn through this as fast.”

“Can I try some?”

Shuri hums, “Maybe. It might be too strong for you, sthandwa.” She removes her jacket, revealing her toned arms and smooth chocolate skin as she approaches your form again. “Safe word?”

There’s no doubt a puddle on the sheets beneath you. Oh, I’m in for a night. “Petal.”

“Good girl.” Shuri’s voice has dropped an octave, vibrating low in her chest as you watch her deft hands unbutton and unzip her slacks, pushing them down to reveal the boxers she wore underneath—and the wet spot growing right in the crotch. Your mouth waters as you stare unabashedly at it, and Shuri follows your gaze, chuckling slightly as she spreads her legs slightly to give you a better view, “The drink seems to have some unintended effects. But I think it’s perfect for what I have planned for you, yes?”

You nod, unable to speak for fear you might drool as you watch Shuri kick the pants off her feet, her boxers and sports bra soon following and now The Black Panther stands before you in all of her glory. You’ve seen Shuri nude plenty of times over the course of your relationship, but you’re left staring in awe each time she reveals her marble-sculpted body to you. Your eyes linger on the few new scars she’s sporting; results of her work as the Panther. They’re healing and barely noticeable, but your heart still clenches at the thought of your baby being hurt—no matter how smart and powerful she is, your urge to protect her was only outmatched by her need to protect you. You find yourself reaching out, gently grazing your fingertips over the raised skin as you pull her closer. She obliges you as she always does, climbing onto the bed and standing on her knees in front of you before your brain catches up to your actions, and you snatch your hand away, ducking your head back down, “I–I’m sorry, you didn’t give me permission.”

Shuri says nothing, taking your hand, placing it back on her side and holding it there, “You always take such good care of me.” She speaks softly against your forehead before pressing multiple kisses to the crown of your head. “I love you so much, usana.”

“I love you too, Shuri.” You tilt your head up, seeking the lips of your love, and she briefly grants your request, grazing her lips across yours for a few moments before beginning to pull away, but you’re not having it. You surge forward, claiming Shuri’s mouth in a deep kiss, scraping your teeth against her plump lips and working your tongue into her mouth, your hands creeping up her waist and pulling her flush against you. Your hands begin to wander around Shuri’s smooth skin, and she grants you a full body shudder as you tease her nipples and massage her perfect breasts before gliding your hands down to her hips and to her soaking center, easily slipping through her folds and sinking two fingers inside.

Shuri throws her head back, a guttural moan sounding from her throat as she begins rocking her hips, riding your fingers while her puffy clit bumps the palm of your hand.

“You look so pretty like this, angel.” You mumble, sinking your teeth into her nipple and moaning when she clenches around you, a cry leaves her lips. Your lips work their way around her body, sucking and kissing on every inch of skin you can reach as Shuri’s hips work faster, the wet squelch of her cunt increasing in volume as you curl your fingers and issue one command in her ear, “Cum for me, Panther.”

One, two, three more caresses against that sweet spot within her and she follows your orders, flooding your hand with her essence. Her hips stutter, abs contracting, chest heaving as her orgasm overtakes her, your name falling from her lips like a prayer as her sopping, gushing pussy milks your fingers. You take over, thrusting your fingers and fucking her through her high, trying to draw it out as long as possible. Watching Shuri cum has always been one of your favorite sights, even before she took the Herb. Her orgasms were always so intense and powerful, wracking through her whole body and making her genius mind go blank, if just for a few moments. Your arm begins to burn from overexertion, as you lack the endurance the woman before you has, but you wouldn’t dare stop, not when she looked like a Goddess on her throne as she fucked herself on your fingers.

You only slow your fingers when the Panther before you begins whimpering from overstimulation. She opens her eyes, tears gathered in the corners of her ember gaze that you quickly kiss away as you slowly withdraw your fingers from her core and hold them up. Shuri acts immediately, maintaining eye contact with you as she takes one of your glistening fingers into her mouth, her tongue swirling and working to clean her nectar from your digit. You watch her intently before taking your other finger into your own mouth, tasting the essence of your love. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes as you both suck on your fingers, before Shuri pulls off, fisting her hand in the hair at the base of your neck and pulling you into a bruising kiss. Tongues and teeth meet as Shuri kisses you feverishly, hell bent on tasting herself on every surface of your mouth.

You pull away for air moments later, “You love the way you taste, don’t you?” 

“Only when it’s mixed with the taste of you.” Shuri presses more desperate kisses to your lips; she’s still riding the high of her orgasm, “Get on the floor, on your knees.”

You hum reaching for the long abandoned bottle on the nightstand, “Take drink first, love.”

Shuri takes the bottle and lifts it to her lips, taking several long swigs. You’re not sure if it’s from her still-shaking hands, or the speed at which she was drinking, but some of the liquor misses her mouth trailing down her beautiful neck, over her collarbones and between her breasts. You can’t help but to lean forward, poking your tongue out as you trace the trail of alcohol up her body, ending with sucking a mark into her pulse point.

Shuri grips your jaw, tilting your head back and hovering the bottle above your lips. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, and Shuri streams a small amount of the liquor onto your waiting tongue, watching you swallow three times before pulling back. The light floral notes of the drink accompany the smooth burn as it slides down your throat and the effects hit your bloodstream almost immediately. Your senses are dialed to 11; the cool air in the room makes your nipples pebble, you feel the slick as it leaks from you, you’re sure if you shift just enough, you could make yourself cum untouched. “Wow,” you muse, looking around the dimly lit room; you swear you’re seeing new colors. “Is this how you feel all the time?”

You feel Shuri’s breath waft over you as she huffs out a breathy chuckle, “More or less.” Your breath catches in your throat as Shuri slips her hand between your legs, mumbling a curse as her fingers graze over your wet pussy, “Bast, you’re so fucking wet.” 

You grip her wrist, guiding her hand to circle your clit as you breathe against her lips, “Shuri, please.” You begin circling your hips, adding to the friction from Shuri’s fingers. 

“Please what, mama? Tell me what you want.” Shuri’s eyes zero in on your hips, hypnotized by the motion of your curves.

Your head lolls back, your orgasm is a train, rocketing towards you at full speed, “I want you inside me. I wanna cum around you.”

Shuri’s lips find your neck, pulling a loud moan from you as her teeth work over your soft spot. Everything on you is so much more sensitive now and you can hear it every time Shuri’s expert fingers slosh through your dripping core, “Soon, my love. Wanna fuck your throat first. Can I? Please?”

You nod, quickly shuffling and assuming the position; on your knees at your lover’s feet, waiting for her to push the limits of your throat with your favorite strap.

“You ready for me, pretty girl?” Shuri questions as the strap materializes, the tip nudging your top lip as you instinctually stick your tongue out, allowing Shuri to tap it against your tongue a few times, “Get it wet for me.”

You start slowly, maintaining eye contact as your tongue caresses the tip, laying several French kisses on the mushroom head and then finally taking it into your mouth and sucking.

Shuri pulls in a shaky breath above you, fisting her hand in your hair in an attempt to encourage you further down her shaft; her control is already slipping, but she wants to prolong this as much as possible, “Don’t tease me, usana." 

You don’t respond verbally, instead you inhale through your nose, and sink your mouth down to the hilt. The tip of the strap grazes the back of your throat and triggers your gag reflex, but you resist, willing your throat to relax by taking measured breaths as you hold yourself down at her base.

Shuris grip on your hair tightens, ”Bast, I can feel your throat clenching around me.“ 

You pull off her slowly, your flattened tongue against the underside trailing behind your lips before you repeat your actions and sink back to the base. This time you don’t pause, quickly drawing back up before employing your hand to twist around Shuri’s shaft as you continue to bob your head. You continue like this for a few moments—alternating between slurping her shaft and suckling on her tip, just the way she likes. Shuri is a moaning mess above you, her head is thrown back with one hand in your hair and the other twisting her nipple. She looks gorgeous, but she’s still holding back, afraid her strength as The Black Panther might hurt you.

Your mouth detaches from her completely, but your hand continues stroking her, “Shuri, my love.” You coo softly to draw her attention. Your voice sounds wrecked already, and you haven’t even gotten to the main event yet––you probably won’t even be able to speak when you meet with the wedding planner tomorrow. It takes a few seconds, but her wild eyes eventually fall on your kneeling figure. They’re unfocused and completely clouded by arousal, but you still see your Shuri clinging to control as the Panther prowls, wanting to completely let loose and ruin you.

“You’re holding back on me, entle.” You start, continuing when Shuri begins to protest, “You know I can take it.” You hold eye contact as you begin trailing kisses down her shaft, across her hips and to the top of her slit sitting just under the strap, “Let Her go. I want you to use me.” Shuri lets out a guttural moan as your wet tongue licks up the underside of the strap before you remove your hand, folding both of them on your lap, your lips grazing the tip of the strap as you speak, “I want you to fuck my throat, okay?” 

The woman above you whimpers at your words, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You flash a smile, “How many times have we done this? And how many times have you hurt me? We have a safe word for a reason.”

Shuri doesn’t respond. You’re right; she’s never hurt you and she knows she never will. But that doesn’t stop her worrying: what if this is the time she takes it too far? Lets The Panther on too long a leash and can’t reel Her back in? She would never forgive herself—or touch you again—if she hurt you; you’d be resigned to boring, one-position, vanilla sex for all of eternity. You sense her conflict, leaning up to press a reassuring kiss to her abdomen before resting your head on her thigh and delivering the line that you know will do her in, “I want it. Please?”

Your lover groans, she hates that you know she can never deny you, and she hates that you use that against her so frequently. She squats down, gripping your cheeks and pulling you into a bruising, tongue-tangled kiss, “Tap my thigh twice if I go too far, okay?”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, “Of course, my love.”

Shuri kisses you one more time before standing up, fisting her hand in your hair once more to position you perfectly as her other hand strokes the strap a few times before lining it up with your waiting mouth. She slides in slowly but sinks in deep, not stopping until her pelvis is bumping your nose. A grunt sounds from deep in her chest as both of her hands gather your hair in a ponytail, holding your head steady as she begins thrusting, “Your mouth is so fucking perfect, usana. You know that?”

You can only hum in response, the vibration sending Shuri over the edge as an animalistic growl escapes her; The Panther has finally won, spurred on by the feel and sounds of your throat expanding and contracting to take her girth. She doesn’t bother trying to hold back her moans and grunts, knowing you love to hear them when you’re pleasuring her. She sets a pace that would have most people tapping out from the intensity, but you were you, and you weren’t betrothed to a Queen Panther for no reason: you proved time and time again that you could take everything she gave you, both in and out of the bedroom. Slick leaks from you in a stream as you look up at Shuri through watering eyes and running mascara. She’s a vision above you: eyebrows furrowed in concentration, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, biceps flexing, sweat glistening down the beautiful, sculpted planes of her contracting abs, her hips rolling fluidly as she defiles your mouth. You could stay down here forever if you could. Either tonguing her perfect cunt or sucking her off, anything that ended in her cumming down your throat was heaven to you. 

Shuri switches her rhythm, pushing the strap in, down to the base and holding it for a few seconds before pulling out entirely and repeating the action. You understand her silent command ‘swallow around it’. You obey, grabbing handfuls of Shuri’s ass to hold her in position as you use the back of your throat to stimulate the tip of the strap. Shuri’s leg begins shaking as she starts thrusting again; she’s close, “Bast, your mouth was made for me to fuck wasn’t it? You love me using you like this, don’t you? On your fucking knees, waiting for me to cum down your throat all the time. Like a fucking slut. My pretty fucking slut.” Shuri begins thrusting deeper, triggering your gag reflex with every push forward. Your eyes flutter closed as you trap your thumb against the palm of your hand; the trick works and your gag reflex subsides just enough. Your other hand creeps towards your dripping core, you’re still extremely sensitive from the Herb-infused alcohol and if you rub your clit just right, you could time yourself to cum at the same time as your love.

Shuri, however, catches on—even as the first waves of her orgasm begin to wash over her. “Don’t you dare touch your pussy. The only way you’re going to—fuck, oh Bast—cum is on my dick. Y–you understand?”

You whine, your hand shooting away from your core, opting to hold onto Shuri’s calves to ground yourself, leaving your glistening cunt abandoned for the time being.

Shuri’s moans increase in volume and her grip on your hair tightens as she throws her head back, exposing the beautiful lines of her throat, “I’m gonna fucking cum for you, mama. All down your fucking throat. You’re gonna swallow every fucking drop of me, aren’t you?”

“All of it.” Comes your muffled reply as your hands slide up Shuri’s legs to the back of her thighs, but you know your Shuri understands.

“I wish you could see yourself. You look so beautiful like this, usana. Always such a good girl for me—oh, fuck. FUCK!” The dam breaks and Shuri floods you for the second time that evening, your name on her lips like a mantra as her body shakes with the force of her orgasm. She pulls out a bit, allowing room for you to swallow as you drink what she gives you before your mouth goes to work to milk more out and prolong her high. Shuri’s knees give out and she collapses on the bed, but you and your mouth follow her, sucking intently on the sensitive tip to draw more nectar from The Panther. Shuri cries out in overstimulation, body going stiff, but her hips tell another story, thrusting into the warm cavern your mouth provides. You manage to pull a few more drops from her before she lifts you off completely, drawing you up her body to trap your lips in a kiss.

The two of you lay there for several moments, kissing each other deeply but leisurely as Shuri licks the taste of herself off of your tongue. Hands wander everywhere they can reach, over thighs, arms, backs, hair, breasts, before finally Shuri’s expert fingers wander between your legs, moving past your soaked thighs to delve into the source. Her lips pull away from yours, whispering a curse as she feels just how wet you’ve become, a smirk spreading on her lips. “You get this wet from sucking me off?”

You nod, angling your hips in an attempt to get Shuri’s fingers to slip inside. It should only take her one curl of her fingers and you’d cum all over her hand. But her fingers pull away as she takes note of your silence. Mild concern crosses her features as she sits up, gently pushing you off of her as she moves to the minifridge across the room, producing a water bottle and promptly uncapping it, helping you drink half before putting it on the bedside table next to the alcohol.

“Thetha nam.” (talk to me)

You wait a moment, clearing your throat and swallowing a few times, “Probably won’t be able to talk to the wedding planner tomorrow.” Your voice is rough and barely above a whisper but you’re speaking, and that satisfies Shuri, who returns the smile.

“You let me handle that. Color?”

“Green.” You respond immediately, perking up as you wait for your next command. 

Shuri regards you carefully for a few moments, looking for any reasons to stop for the evening. She evidently finds none, nodding her head to the center of the bed. “Hands and knees, face the bottom.”

You spring into action immediately moving into position and setting your back in a deep arch, just the way Shuri likes. You chance a glance at your reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the bed: your hair is a mess—still beautifully sleek, but disheveled and piled in a hornet’s nest on the top of your head, your cheeks are striped black from your running mascara and liner, and your lips are swollen. 

Shuri smiles as she approaches you, tracing her hand down the small of your spine, “Always so eager to please me, hm?”

“Always wanna be good for my Panther.” You push your ass back into Shuri’s hand, wiggling your hips in an effort to get her to move faster. She lifts her hand up, bringing it down in a powerful smack on your right asscheek. You moan out, feeling more wetness drip out of you, based on the way Shuri’s eyes darken as she watches you, she sees it too.

Shuri finally crawls on the bed and positions herself on her knees behind you. She swipes two fingers through your cunt, using your wetness as lube to stroke the strap as she watches your pussy drip untouched. She leans forward after a few moments, licking three fat stripes up your slit before sealing her lips around your clit. You spread your legs as you begin circling your hips, riding Shuri’s face as best you can. The moans escaping you rise in pitch as you get frustrated; she’s doing just enough to keep you soaked, but not doing enough to make you cum. “Shuriiiii, please.” You cry out. Your body jolts as she slaps your ass again before sinking three fingers in to the hilt, causing you to scream out. She curls them immediately, rubbing that spongy spot within as she pounds you. You begin fucking yourself on her fingers, chasing the orgasm that’s been circling you all night but Shuri’s eerily calm voice breaks through your moans, “You’re not going to cum.”

You whine, “Shuri, why? I let you cum.”

“I told you why, usana.” Her voice is still level, but you can hear the pinch in the tone as her other hand works her toward another orgasm.

“Then fuck me!” You yell, throwing your ass back on Shuri’s long fingers.

Shuri pulls out entirely, dishing six quick slaps on alternating cheeks before grabbing your throat and hauling you upright, pressing your back to her front. “Are you rushing me?” Her voice is dangerously low, and the vibrations from the bass go straight to your core as you drop again.

You try to rock your hips, hoping the thickness of your thighs provides at least a little bit of friction but Shuri—as always—is miles ahead of you, forcing your legs apart and cupping her hand over your sex. You sob, sagging against the woman behind you, she’s not playing fair.

Her grip on your throat tightens, the restriction on your airway only makes you wetter instead of making you listen, “You’ll take what I give you, when I give it to you. Understand?” She suddenly slaps your cunt, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. You try to squirm away, but The Panther holds you still, delivering four more wet slaps right to your mound. Tears well up in your eyes, you feel like you’re going to burst from how pent up you are, and your fiancée is apparently content with teasing you until you explode. “I’ve taken care of you every time, haven’t I?” Shuri continues, scraping her blunt nails up your thigh when you don’t respond. 

“Y–yes, Panther.” You sob out

“And you always end up satisfied and fucked thoroughly, right?” Shuri begins rubbing your clit in slow circles, avoiding direct contact.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to let me take care of you?”

“Yes, panther.”

“Good girl. Here.” She holds up the bottle, waterfalling some into your waiting mouth before taking a few long swigs of her own, discarding the bottle and pushing you back down on your forearms. She begins sliding the strap through your folds as the next wave of vibranium-infused liquor hits your bloodstream. You can’t help but to push back on her a little bit, but she lets you slide, simply gripping your ass to spread your lips apart as she watches herself move through you, “You’re so fucking wet.”

“All for you. Panther, please.” Your hips move on their own accord, working in slow circles to match the slide of the strap.

Shuri obliges you, thrusting in and quickly sinking down to the base, filling you to the brim. Both of you moan at the euphoric feeling, briefly pausing to soak it in, and then Shuri grips your hips and begins to move. She wastes no time pounding into you, using her strength and endurance as The Panther to set a pace no man would ever hope to match. Moans tumble from both your lips uncontrollably, as your eyes roll back from the pleasure. 

“Shuri, Shuri, fuck yes. Yes, just like that!” You begin meeting Shuri’s thrusts, shaking your ass and fucking yourself on her dick. 

Shuri slows her movements, allowing more room for yours, “Fuck yourself on me just like that pretty girl.” She grabs your hair, forcing your eyes to lock on your reflection, “Look how good you look getting fucked by me. Look at you, taking my dick so fucking good. No one else can have you like this.” Her eyes are drawn back to your ass, namely the way your ass jiggles in the aftershocks from the power of her thrusts. Her hand comes down on your ass several times, her palm smoothing the pain away as she grips the meat of your ass, using it as leverage to fuck you deeper.

The coil in your center tightens as your cunt clenches around the strap, your orgasm finally approaching after being edged for so long.

“You gonna cum on this dick?” Shuri asks, winding your hair around her hand and gripping your throat with the other.

“Yes, daddy. I’m gonna cum on this big dick.” You hold onto the bed sheets in front of you for dear life. You’re floating and your mind is gone, completely deactivated from the combination of the alcohol and the pleasure you’re receiving from your lover.

“I know you are. Can feel your pussy milking me. Give it to me, mama. Flood my shit, drown me in it.”

“Fuck me harder, Panther! Fuck this pussy.” Some part of your brain thanks Bast that Shuri designed this house to be soundproof, though you’re almost positive you’re testing it with the volume of your screams.

Shuri kicks it into third gear, wrapping both hands around your throat in a tight grip and adjusting her stance, sinking deeper into you and poking right at your g-spot as she drills into your cunt. Your moans get impossibly higher before your lips part in a silent scream as the band within snaps. Your toes curl, your vision goes white, and gravity seems to leave the room as the train of your orgasm finally catches you, crashing over you like high tide on the beach. A voice in the screaming “Don’t stop, fuck me through it.” sounds miles away, barely heard over the blood rushing in your ears as you gush all over the both of you.

Shuri pounds into you with abandon, chasing her third high. Her inconsistent rhythm and nonstop moans tells you she’s close. “I’m gonna cum, usana.” She leans forward, curling herself over your prone frame as she fucks into you from a new angle, intertwining your fingers, “Please, please tell me I can cum for you.”

“Cum in this pussy, daddy. Fill me up.” 

Shuri thrusts four more times before her orgasm takes her. She cries out, collapsing on top of you as she ruts her hips, pumping you full of her cum for the second time, her lithe frame shaking with the force of each wave. She trails her lips up your neck as she thrusts a few more times, making sure her nectar is securely buried in you before she stills completely to catch her breath. After a few moments of silence, Shuri speaks, “Neither one of us is going to have a voice tomorrow.” 

The two of you share a hoarse, breathless laugh before Shuri lifts off of you, slowly pulling out, dematerializing the strap and collapsing next to you. “Color?”

You snuggle into the junction of her jaw and throat, “Green. You?”

Shuri flashes a smile, “Green.”

The next morning, the two of you were tasked with coming up with a believable explanation of why both of you were walking with a limp and had suddenly lost your voices. It may or may not have worked.

Stud Shuri activities

How have u beeen?

TWIINNN I’ve been pretty good tbh. Goin to highschool soon so im kinda excited for dat. im also goin a water park tomorrow cuz it’s hot as shit in Florida