#Namor Fanfiction

[fushic0re]

─ 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥 𝘅 𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗔!𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — a prophecy has tied you to the feathered serpent god before you had even existed. now, it’s time to come home.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. possessive behavior. near death experience. smut; penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie (lots of cum bc i'm disgusting), breeding kink.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑❜𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — this has to be the most excited i've been for a fic in a long time 🥹 i had a blast including a little bit of my culture's superstitions and lore. my sincerest apologies for any inaccurate yucatec maya translations, i used a translator website. the song the reader sings is "daughter of the sea" by sharm. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 —

⁀➷ “anak” - child.

⁀➷ “po” - a respectful term with no direct translation used when talking to someone of higher rank than you such as elders or your boss.

⁀➷ “mag ingat ka” - “be careful.”

⁀➷ “ka’a suku’un u?” - “cousin?”

⁀➷ “ko’oten tin wéetel in kaxtik ti’ le ajawo.” - "come with me to find the king."

⁀➷ "in yakunaj" - "my love"

⁀➷ "in k'áaté" - my one and only.

⁀➷ "le ba'alo' leti'e" - that is her.

⁀➷ "bienvenido tin wotoch ti', in reina." - "welcome my queen."

꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡

FOR AS LONG AS YOU COULD REMEMBER, the ocean was your safe haven.

While others strayed from its depths for fear of the unknown, of the creatures that could be lurking down there, you had always been curious to know. There had always been an itch that couldn’t quite be scratched when it came to your love for the water. You frequented your local beach nearly every day, wandering aimlessly until you grew tired. Unlike others your age, your life was one of solitude. To an extent, you were content with it, for the ocean was your companion. It never judged you and always welcomed you. It listened when you spoke, carrying your worries far from you never to be seen again.

Nowadays, to your heart’s discontent, the ocean was not enough.

You were lonely. Truly lonely and feeling what it was like to be so for the very first time in your life. There were nights you stared into the abyss; eyes watery as you wished to drown in it. To be embraced by the one thing that was consistent in your life. Would you feel less alone then?

─

From the deepest point of the very sea you gazed into, the heart of a God grew heavy. K’uk’ulkan loved his people, adored them with every fiber of his body. Each and every one of the faces of those he ruled, dead and alive, were imprinted in his soul permanently. Every step he took was taken with them in mind. He prided himself for being a good leader, for doing everything and anything possible to keep his nation safe. After the events leading up to the alliance with the Wakandans, however, he did not know if that pride was deserved. He had made mistakes; misplaced his trust and allowed two of his own to die right in their very home. Namora, as loyal as she was, began to question his decisions. He was alone in bearing this burden with no one to rest his head on at night from the heaviness of the day.

What pained him the most? He knew he shouldn’t be alone.

He recalled the day he and his mother had been read the prophecy when he was a child clearly. The emotions he felt upon hearing those words spoken into existence were still fresh. There was someone for him. Just for him, and him alone.

“For His fealty, the First Son of Talokan shall be given a gift from the Gods; a descendant from the Heavens, a child of Bulan with the voice of an enchantress. For as long as He shall live, She shall rule the seas by His side.”

Years passed. Those years slowly faded into decades. After the passing of his beloved mother, it became difficult differentiating when those decades turned into centuries. Still, there were no signs of his soulmate. His people knew of the prophecy. K’uk’ulkan was all too aware of the anticipation his children felt as they eagerly awaited the arrival of their queen. Yet, she never came.

He grew angry at the so called Gods for turning on their promise – at her. Where was she? he’d hiss. My people, our people, have come dangerously close to being discovered. I have nearly died defending them all alone. My wings have been ripped from my flesh. Why isn’t she here? The prophecy meant nothing to him anymore. Just as he was naïve when he entrusted Princess Shuri with seeing his home, he was blindly foolish for believing in a fairytale.

Namor was without love in more ways than one.

─

You didn’t remember falling asleep. There was no explanation as to how you ended up perilously close to the edge of the water, the violent thrash of waves serving as a warning to you. Still, you remained completely still as fear immobilized you. You racked your brain for any recollections of your previous actions. Nothing came up. You couldn’t remember anything after you came home from the market.

Nothing, that is, aside from a single voice.

It cooed to you, whispered your name like it had waited a thousand millennia to taste it upon its tongue. Sang to you like you were its favorite person in the entire universe.

Come to me.

Come home.

In yakunaj.

In k’áate’.

Come home.

Taking a moment to steady your breathing, you slowly stepped away from the ledge before rushing back home. As you tucked yourself into bed that night, you tried your best to bury what had just transpired. You sought out every possibility – rational and irrational – that could have resulted in your odd behavior. You always went to the beach, maybe you just wandered there after dinner out of habit. Perhaps something went wrong with the batch of your usual tea and an ingredient that causes cognitive dysfunction was accidentally added to it. Maybe tomorrow morning you will wake up to a news report about your batch being recalled from all stores.

The explanation you vied for never came.

As time persisted, so did the bouts of blacking out, regaining consciousness, and finding yourself near the ocean. Each time, you got closer and closer to its waters. Every day after the next, you would feel the fatigue in your muscles from all of the walking. And yet, it did not stop you. You always found your way back to the ocean. It didn’t matter if you walked into ongoing traffic or if a concerned neighbor physically restrained you, the pull was stronger. Shamefully, you began to avoid leaving your home altogether. You couldn’t bear to face the condemnatory looks you were bound to receive. Whatever those in your area thought of you, you didn’t want to know. You were afraid enough of what you were becoming.

When you wake up from the next spell, you were waist deep in the ocean. Shivering as your thin nightgown stuck to your skin. Wrapping your arms around your torso, you salvaged any and all body heat. The gravity of your circumstances hit you all at once. Biting your lip, you held back your tears as your turned around and began making your way out of the water hastily. Just as your bare feet touched the white sand, you caught the eyes of the elderly woman who lived closed by. The two of you had never spoken, but her presence as a resident was always acknowledged.

“Sorry, po,” You spoke sheepishly, a polite and apologetic smile on your face.

Her expression was grave as she stared at you wordlessly. Silence stretched between the both of you and just as you were about to walk away, she harshly spat one single word.

“Magindara.”

Before you could seek clarification, she was back inside her small hut, the door slamming behind her acrimoniously. The only proof that the interaction with her was even real was the residual sting of her hostility and rage. Her persecution was the straw to break the camel’s back. Unable to maintain your resolve any longer, you fell to your knees and began to you’re your hands clutching at your chest in hopes to alleviate the pain. Humiliation, terror, anxiousness, and frustration were just a few of the emotions you were feeling. Even then, they were just the tip of the iceberg. As you cried to yourself, sand sticking to your wet limbs uncomfortably, you longed for nothing but someone to wrap you up in their arms – for someone to tell you that for once, everything would be okay. Just this once, you craved a life outside of isolation.

Once your breathing evened out, you stood up and leisurely began to talk along the shore. Soothing yourself in the only way you knew how, you began to softly sing.

“Beware, beware the Daughter of the Sea. ‘Beware’ I heard him cry. His words carried upon the ocean breeze, as he sank beneath the tide.”

Namora watched acutely as the quill in her king’s hands abruptly dropped to the floor. The warrior waited for the moment he would pick it up off of the ground and continue with his painting, but it never came.

“K’uk’ulkan?”

She received no response. His eyes held an indecipherable expression, one far away from the present.

“Ka’a suku’un u?” Namora repeated, her tone now carrying concern.

The King of Talokan turned to her for a split second before he stormed out of the room with speed she had never witnessed from him before. Namora was hot on his feathered heels, but the second she dived into the water, her cousin was nowhere to be seen.

“Attuma!” She bellowed. “Ko’oten tin wéetel in kaxtik ti’ le ajawo.”

K’uk’ulkan was stunned when he first heard it – the most beautiful sound to grace his ears. He was livid with himself for being unable to find a better word to describe the voice, for “beautiful” was such an understatement that it was borderline insulting. Without hesitation, he followed it. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know where it was coming from or who it even belonged to, he needed to find it. It called to him, turned him into a man possessed as he soared through the waters restlessly to get to it.

His head broke the surface, and that’s when he saw its owner – her. His soulmate.

She was the most exquisite living being he had ever laid his eyes upon. A gift from the heavens she was. Her beauty made him dizzy, his knees growing weak as he took in his beloved’s features. He admired her as she outstretched her arms, cupping the moon in her delicate palms. It paled in comparison to her. Everything did. Nothing could possibly compare. He remained paralyzed as she continued to sing, a foreign feeling settling in his stomach.

“Why this? Why this, oh Daughter of the Sea? Why this? Why did you forget your seaside days? Always the pride of our nation’s eyes, how could she go astray?”

The words of her melody pierced his heart. They reflected their journey far too accurately to be a coincidence. Did she know that she had always been destined for him? To be loved by the entire nation of Talokan? His lids fell shut slowly as he basked in her harmonies, feeling tranquil at last.

“I heard, I heard, across the moonlit seas, the old voice warning me. Beware, beware, the Daughter of the Sea. Beware, beware…of me.”

Namor studied her face as her song ended. He noted her red rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. Her damp nightgown stuck to her body tantalizingly. The despair in her hypnotizing voice was palpable. All of the wrath and resentment he had once harbored dissipated. Oh, my love. I have longed for you too. He could do nothing as he watched you turn your back to him from above, only pray for another encounter. He rose entirely from the sea, the wings on his ankles fluttering in the air as he watched her in the sky until she was safe in her abode. A quiet splash could be heard from under him. Attuma and Namora stared up at him expectedly.

“Le ba’alo’ leti’e’.”

He nodded slowly, eyes burning holes in the spot where she once stood.

“A human?” Attuma questioned, his voice rigid.

Namor shook his head.

“’A child of Bulan with the voice of an enchantress’.” Namor quoted the prophecy directly. “Bulan was a deity the heavens sent to the ocean to protect the moon from sea monsters. She is a siren; they are descendants of Bulan.”

“What is she doing on the surface?” Namora chimed in.

The king frowned, his fists clenching at his sides as he longed to feel her touch.

“She is lost.”  

─

Returning to the beach after the unpleasant encounter with the elderly woman who lived on its grounds probably wasn’t the most sensible decision. In your defense, however, nothing in your life was sensible nowadays.

Magindara was what she called you. A whole day’s worth of research, hundreds of Google searches, and several life crises later, you found out what it meant – siren. A subspecies of mermaids that were known for being especially vicious. You wanted to badly to laugh it off, to chuck it up to her being a senile old woman, but that was not an option. To do so would be like ignoring statistics. The facts of your life were laid out clearly; there was a connection between you and the ocean. A connection so strong that it bewitched you – mind, body, and soul. There were no traceable origins you could use to refute the woman’s claims. Afterall, you had no family. There was nothing more to do than return to the very place that could give you answers.

Your eyes darted everywhere in search of the familiar head of silvery locks. Once identified, you ran to her.

“Excuse me, po?” You called desperately, your eyes begging her for something. Anything. “What…what am I?”

She stared at you with a severe expression on her aged features.

“The man from the sea with wings on his ankles. Mag ingat ka, anak. He’s coming for you.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Could you expla—”

“Do not come back here.” She warned. “He will drag you down with him.”

With that being said, she entered her home and slammed the door in your face for the second time. Vexation filled you as you were met with another dead end. A man from the sea with wings on his ankles. What the hell was that alluding to? Did the elderly have to always speak in riddles? Were you in danger? Why was he after you?

You dragged your feet as you trudged home dejectedly. You were already exhausted, not sleeping a wink once you returned home after your stint last night. Sleep was unfathomable considering you were haunted by unanswered questions. Once you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, however, you could no longer ignore your body’s need for rest. Flopping down on your bed, you shut your eyes and instantaneously succumbed to a peaceful slumber.

That night was the last time you slept in your own bed.

The beach was eerily quiet, void of the usual sound of waves crashing against the shore. Seemingly, the ocean yielded to you, it’s queen, the second you stepped foot in its territory, entranced and guided by a single voice.

Come home. Come to me.

Your feet carried you to a cliff high above the sparkling midnight waters.

My love. My soulmate.

Home. You needed to come home. It was time. 

Come home.

Just a couple of more steps.

Come home.

This is your destiny. Fulfill it. Fulfill the prophecy.

Come home.

With that, you took one final step off the cliff and prepared yourself to plunder into the deep waters. Your feet were only in the air for a brief moment before a pair of strong arms caught you midair. Upon physical contact, you snapped from your trance with a sharp gasp, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to panic.

A deep, gentle voice lulled you. It was then that you finally registered who it belonged to. The being who had saved you was the epitome is beauty. Everything about him exuded regality from the air of confidence and ease he carried himself with, to the adornments on his muscular body. A large gold and jade neck plate took up the most space on his expansive chest. Ropes of auriferous shells and opalescent-like pearls hung around his neck. Gilded cuffs were locked around his biceps, wrists, and ankles. You quickly noted the alabaster wings fluttering away attached to them, the very wings responsible for suspending the both of you in the air. Your eyes trailed to his delicately pointed ears, embellished with jewels just like the rest of him. The only clothing he sported was a pair of emerald shorts that left nothing to the imagination. The walls of muscle that were his thighs were on full display, the muscles of a man built to withstand the brutality of the ocean.

This was the man the elderly woman was speaking about. The man from the sea with feathers on his ankles.

That revelation should have scared you. Every alarm in your body should have gone off.

Escaping him should have been the only thing occupying your mind. You should have kicked and screamed until your throat was raw and bloody.

But you did no such thing.

Instead, it was the way he looked at you, gazing at you with the most intense smolder in his eyes that occupied your attention. He gazed at you with pure wonder, and held you delicately yet fiercely in his arms like you were the most precious thing in the entire world. Instinctively, you placed your hands on his bare chest, mindlessly tracing the dew drops sticking to his golden skin. The beautiful man shivered beneath your touch.

“500 years I have waited for you.” He whispered reverently.

Your mouth opened, prepared for a response that never came. Instead, your vision went dark.

─

You woke up to hushed voices and heedful, diligent hands. One set of hands languidly brushed your hair away from your face. Another daintily shimmied clothing onto your body once they were finished drying you off with the velvetiest cloth to ever touch your skin. The last set secured what you assumed was jewelry onto your wrists, neck, and ears. Upon opening your eyes, your assumption was correct. The dress on your body was stunning, embroidered with hundreds of crystalline beads. The jewels on your wrists alone were probably worth more than what you had made in your entire life.

The women who stood above you were unlike you had ever seen before. Their skin was a brilliant shade of cerulean. Vibrant, yet pleasantly understated. Masks covered their mouths and noses, but you could still see the bright smiles behind them.

“Hello,” You greeted shyly. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Each of them let out a small cry, their eyes welling up with tears as they bowed earnestly.

“Bienvenido tin wotoch ti’, in reina.” They spoke warmly in unison, forming a gesture with their hands at you respectfully. Their mother tongue was foreign to you, but not for long. As if you had spoken it your entire life, your mind made quick work of interpreting it.

Welcome home, my queen.

Once again, you were puzzled. You had no idea where you were or who exactly that man was and why he had taken you here. You obviously hadn’t a single inkling as to what he meant by “500 years I have waited for you”. Now, these women were calling you their queen in a language you had never heard your entire life but somehow had the ability to understand perfectly.

The sound of feet pattering lightly gradually got closer and closer until the man of the hour stood before you at the foot of the bed. The women attending to you immediately turned their attention to him, bowing and forming the same hand gesture you had seen moments ago. He looked just as regal still, now adorned in a cape tucked into golden plates of armor on his shoulders. He regarded them gratefully.

“Leave us, my children. Thank you.”

They bowed to you both once more before swiftly making themselves haste. You now had his undivided attention.

“I hope you slept well. The healers said showed signs of exhaustion.”

“I—” You cleared your throat nervously. “I did, thank you.”

The barest hint of a smile graced his features. With graceful and controlled movements, he poured water into a glass and handed it to you.

“Do not be nervous.” He spoke lowly. “Speak freely.”

“Thank you.” You squeaked out again, taking a generous gulp of water before speaking again. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan. To my enemies, I am Namor. You are in our kingdom – Talokan.”

The water got caught in your throat mid swallow, causing you to cough obnoxiously. The man who you now knew as K’uk’ulkan, discreetly smiled to himself as if this was a reaction he had anticipated. Before you could blurt out another string of questions, he held his hand out to you.

“Come. I will remedy all of your concerns.”

As if you had done so a million times, you placed your hand in his and stood by his side. Namor lead the both of you through a series of corridors. Your eyes took in your surroundings with pure astonishment. Cavern seemed to be a secluded corner for the king, crystal waters surrounding its premises. Bits of glittery minerals were embedded into the sediment walls. An air of serenity blanketed the entire area.

From the corner of his eye, Namor gaged your reactions, his heart so full of unfiltered adoration that it felt like it would explode in his chest. His hand was still tightly clutched in yours like it was second nature. Subconsciously, you had drawn your body closer to his. He was a meticulous man of control and strategy, but at that very moment, K’uk’ulkan wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms and kiss you breathlessly. The moment was cut short when you reached his study. He offered you a seat at his desk, drawing the door shut behind him for privacy. It didn’t take long for you to deduce that the murals painted on the walls were ones depicting the history of Talokan.

“Centuries ago, my people took an herb that allowed them to survive underwater. The herb was infused with vibranium. We are the only nation aside from Wakanda to possess it.” He began, his hands tracing over a painting of a beautiful woman cradling an infant. “My mother was pregnant with me when she ingested it. That is why I am the way I am – why I am the only one out of my people that can survive on both land and underwater, fly, and age slower than the rest. For this, they made me their king. Their god.”

You listened intently, fascinated by the discovery that they had remained a secret for this long.

“There was a prophecy made shortly after my birth. The gods promised me a soulmate.”

Turning around to face you, he bore his soul to yours through his eyes as he read the prophecy to you. With each word that fell from his lips, the world around you spun quicker and quicker. It made sense. It all made sense.

“I gave up on the idea of the prophecy coming true as time passed. In yakunaj, when you have lived as long as I have, seen as much as I have, happy endings are nothing but meaningless fallacies. But then, that night came…the night I heard you sing for the first time.”

He approached you slowly, cautiously like a wild animal that would take flight if startled by any sudden movements. What happened next made your eyes fill with tears; he knelt before you. This man – a king, a god – surrendered to you with no hesitation.

“I have finally found you…” He breathed, his orbs shining with devotion. “You are home. Why do you think you have no family? No one to trace your roots back to? You were made for me. Mine.”

Your face fell in between the palms of your hands as you wept. Quickly, your hands were replaced by his. He held your face in his hands like he was holding the entire world, the pads of his thumbs gently brushing away your tears.

“Why the tears, my love?”

You shook your head, placing your hands on top of his. The spark you felt every time the two of you touched could no longer be ignored.

“Why did they just now bring us together?” You cried. “We’ve both been alone for all this time, how could they not do something about it!”

“Shhh,” Namor cooed. “You think I have not been angry with them, my sweet? I have held myself back from tearing their skies and oceans apart just to find you. But what I feel for you right now in this very moment? That feeling will always win.”

The both of you said nothing more, for there was nothing that needed to be said. Your long lost love held you in his arms as you liberated yourself from what felt like decades of anguish. His grip never faltered even as you gripped his flesh hard enough to draw blood. Instead, he soothingly rocked you as he recounted the stories of his people’s origins. Talokan was a clandestine national treasure, one of the only things on the earth that had not been bastardized. That was all the doing of this wonderful being who had been promised to you.

“They were wrong about you. Your name.” You whispered. “You’re not without love, quite the opposite actually. The actions you have taken, the lengths you have gone to protect your people and your home, are ones of a man consumed with nothing but love. You can see it in how happy they are.”

With cautious hands, you caressed his cheeks. He preened against your touch, melting right into your palms. The world would never see the stoic warrior king falter, but already, you had him firmly wound around your finger. He could sit there for hours soaking in your ardor.

“Our home. Our people.” Namor corrected. “They can’t wait to meet you.”

Lovingly, he pressed his forehead to yours, nudging the tip of your nose with his.

“Are you ready to meet them?”

He observed endearingly as your eyes widened as large as flying saucers as you nodded overzealously, a giggle tumbling from your lips. K’uk’ulkan noted once more how full of love he felt. He wondered if this was what your lives together would consist of, overcome with all of the possibilities. Was adoring you more than he did in this moment even conceivable? When your smile faltered slightly, worry filled him.

“I’ve never seen…myself.”

“I am honored to be the first to see your true form.”

The two of you stood, walking hand in hand out of his personal study and to the outermost cove surrounded with the most water. Inhaling shakily, you eyed what awaited below you with apprehension. You were not human, far from it, and yet it felt as if you and your true form were worlds apart. Namor was silent. He knew this was something you needed to do alone. The only form of assurance offered to you was a look of encouragement.

Slowly, you dipped one foot into the water and allowed the other to follow. Keeping your eyes closed, you focused on your heart rate as your body adroitly descended into the abyss of the sea. You could have easily fallen asleep if it weren’t for a tingly sensation disrupting your peace. It started small, gradually winding around you until all at once, currents of electricity bolted through your limbs. Instinctively, your lungs expanded, and you took your first gulp of air underwater. You ripped your eyes open in bewilderment when you didn’t choke on water. The clear-cut view you had of your surroundings despite no sources of light being near further consolidated your shock. A noise akin to a squeak and gasp escaped your lips and before you knew it, you were cutting through the waters with newfound ease until your head broke the surface.

Namor would have given everything to his name to capture the sight before him. There you were, beaming at him with unrivaled radiance. He stopped breathing when you lifted your tail out of the water. Just when he thought you could not be any more magnificent than you already were, you defied his expectations. The scales covering the muscle were a range of shades of lapis lazuli, emerald, and gold. Towards the tips of your forked fin, they all blended into a rich shade of dark indigo. Your torso was bare but hidden behind your locks as they cascaded over your breasts. Namor could have gawked at you for hours if it weren’t for you playfully flicking water at his face. He felt light and dream-like as your melodious laughter echoed through the cavern. He decided then and there that your laughter was his favorite song. The scowl permanently etched onto his face fell. In its place, a smile so wide it hurt spawned. For the first time in centuries, he laughed so hard his abdomen hurt.

Powerless to his desires, he dove into the water after you, finding shelter in your embrace once more. Intuitively, your tail curled around one of his legs. He submerged the two of you back into the water and before you knew it, his lips were pressed against yours. Skin to skin, naked chests were tightly pressed against each other, your arms locked around his neck as your mouths feverishly meshed against one another. A barely audible moan slipped from your mouth right into his as his tongue pushed passed your lips. Namor voiced his pleasure with a low rumble from his chest. Pathetically, you could cry again right then and there. How could you have gone without this your whole life?

A loud clearing of the throat caused you both to cease your ministrations. Namor was anything but sorry as he pulled away with the softest expression you had seen on his face thus far. He regarded the two individuals standing in front of you – a hulking man with long inky tresses and an ornate headpiece resembling the skull of a hammerhead shark and a fierce looking woman with a feathered lionfish-esque headdress. Though both clearly high up in the royal ranks with a cutthroat reputation to uphold, they studied you and Namor with mischief.

“K’uk’alkan, they are waiting for her.” The man spoke.

“You might want to put this on before you go.” Spoke the woman, pulling an opulent bra top from behind her back and extending it towards you.

The state of undress you were in hit you like a bus. Your face felt like it was on fire from embarrassment, your lover pressing a tender kiss to your heated cheek. Tactfully, he maneuvered you away from the eyes of the warrior you now knew was Attuma. The woman, his cousin and second in command named Namora, expertly laced you into the garment.

“That was so embarrassing,” You mumbled to yourself once your modesty was secured.

Namor cracked a hint of a smirk.

“Attuma and my cousin expected nothing less from us. Now, shall we?”

─

Talokan was a magnificent sight. The agriculture was impressive, the vibranium rich soil working wonders for the crops. Sea creatures from colossal sized sea turtles, lengthy luminescent jellyfish of different colors, lively fish, and enormous whales to start were one with the Talokanil, peacefully existing with one another. The treatment you received from everyone was something you would never get used to. Despite not knowing you, they acknowledged you as if they had known you their entire lives. K reina perdida they called you with earnest smiles and misty eyes. Our lost queen.

But you were no longer lost.

It was evident in the way the orcas sang with you as you glided through the waters, seemingly understanding you in a way no one else could. Namor’s soul was finally content after seeing you swim freely, laughing so hard your stomach hurt as a couple of toddlers crawled around on your tail. His people loved you. Just as he thought they would. And you fit right in just as you were meant to. With further exploration of your physiology, the two of you discovered that like Namor, you could survive both underwater and on the surface, donning a set of legs seamlessly upon contact with land. Your strength, speed, and agility matched up perfectly with his. For hours, he chased you through the ocean, the both of you weaving in and out between walls of coral and tall beds of seaweed with dexterity. You truly were made for him.

A week later, you were officially crowned their queen. You and Namor ended the celebration with an intimate wedding ceremony in the cavern. After years of going without each other, neither of you had the patience to wait for a union on a grander scale. You both were enough – you would always be enough. And as he laid your bare body across the bed he occupied by himself for half a millennium, he was confident in that conviction.

You felt dizzy as he pressed his hard bulge against your core. The most heavenly noise to grace your ears came out of your now husband when you raised your hips to grind against it. Your hands liberally roamed his chest, now stripped of his jewels, before slithering to his robust back. Your nails drew tiny half moons as they dug into his flesh when his lips made their way to the column of your neck. The decorum of countenance he upheld was nowhere to be found as he ravaged your breasts with his mouth, lightly tugging your erect nipple between his teeth before he began to suckle. You cried out pathetically. His lips twitched, umber orbs now staring up at you with lust.

“You are so noisy for me,” He purred. “I have not even touched the most sensitive parts of your body yet.”

“Please,” You breathed. “Please, I need you,”

Namor made his way down your body, leaving no part of you untouched by his lips. Deftly, he gripped your thighs and place both of your legs over his shoulders. Gently, he kissed your dripping core.

“You have me, my love. Always.” 

His mouth took you straight to heaven. He devoured you like a man starved, tongue flicking your nub of nerves tirelessly with precision. Your thighs were already trembling, but he had just gotten started. Your orgasm crept up on you, the strongest one you had ever experienced. It left you heaving with your back arched off of the bed, unable to do anything besides chant his name like a mantra. But your beloved’s ministrations did not cease. He continued working at your core, now swollen and glistening from your juices and his spit. The second orgasm built up slowly, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with each time he sucked your clit. The final straw was when you noticed his hips gyrating. He was pleasuring himself while pleasuring you. This time when you came on your lover’s tongue, no words or sounds were able to slip passed your mouth. You were quite literally speechless.

With a satisfied moan, he lapped up the rest of your arousal, cooing to you as you quivered and whimpered from hypersensitivity. His scorching body covered yours once more, his lips familiarizing themselves with yours. Namor held you tightly against him, whispering sweet nothings against your lips as you steadied your breathing. It wasn’t long before you felt the head of his cock prodding your entrance. Gripping your face firmly, he forced your eyes open. The frenzied look in his eyes as he languidly sunk into you alone could have made you come for the third time that night. But alas, the universe was on your side. Instead, you savored that moment – the feeling of him. Every inch, every vein, ingrained into your memories for as long as you shall live.

“You feel incredible.” Namor panted, now beginning to steadily thrust. “You truly were made for me.”

You could only respond with wanton cries, too consumed with desire. The king began to piston in and out of you until he was fully pounding you into your marital bed.

“Namor!”

He grunted into your ear, pulling out of you for a brief moment to flip you onto your stomach. He plunged back into you and picked up right where he left off. This time, however, he was brutal with the punctuality of his thrusts.

“Am I your enemy, wife?” He taunted. “Are you even worthy of any mercy I have to spare?”

At this point, you could not even recognize the sounds you were making. They were debauched. Depraved. Combined with rhythmic percussion of skin against skin and the squelch of your wet cunt each time Namor entered you, the song you two orchestrated was one only for the lecherous.

“K’uk’ulkan,” You barely managed to murmur. “I’m s-so close, you make me feel so good,”

He hummed satisfactorily, driving into you even faster.

“You are, aren’t you, my sweet? That’s it, sing for me. Take my seed. Carry my children.”

“Please!” You screamed as your walls convulsed around his cock. Please come in me,”

With a shout and one final thrust, he released in you. Rope after rope, he filled you with his cum with proclamations of everlasting love on the tip of his tongue. His cock remained nestled deep within you as you both descended from your highs, keeping his spent from spilling. He shuddered at the image of you round and radiant carrying his child and just like that, he was hardening inside you once more. As you lay there, thoroughly cock drunk, he began to pull out of you and slowly push back in. This time, he was tender and gentle, unhurriedly focused on taking you apart for one final time that night. The two of you had centuries left together. There was no need to rush. Then again, Namor could live another 500 years with you by his side and still feel like it was not enough. He needed you forever, and then some.

“I love you,” He whispered against the blade of your shoulder. “You are everything.”

The next morning you would wake to the sight of your husband painting a new mural. One of a beautiful woman with the upper body of a human, and the lower body of a fish. By her side, a man with ears that pointed to the skies and wings on his ankles, their eyes locked and hands intertwined.

The beginning of your story.

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt 1

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language, blood, brief mentions of violence and alcohol

Summary: Upon discovering the unconscious body of a woman floating in the water, you rush to provide aid. Little do you know her people are searching for her, bringing a mysterious man to your door.

A/N: Still very new to writing fanfic (this is literally post number two), but couldn’t get this drabble out of my brain for a week so here it is. Please be kind! 

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

It’s close to dusk when you make your way from town back to your home on the secluded shoreline. With food and supplies in a bag slung over your shoulder, it will be another two or three days before you head back to restock. Although a fair distance, you have come to cherish the 5-mile trek into town. Walking along less traveled paths, visiting with the locals, and admiring the breathtaking nature around you have become some of your favorite things about living on the island. 

As the sun steals its last glimpse over the horizon, the vibrant orange and purple hues stretching across the sky begin to dim. The outline of a small bungalow comes into view about a hundred meters down the way. The warm glow of lanterns you hung before you left shines from the front porch, welcoming your return. 

You stumbled across this place two years ago, abandoned and needing major repair. Maybe it was just your nature to see the beauty and potential in broken things, but as soon as you laid eyes on the residence, your heart was set on it. Wrapped around the front is a porch with stairs that lead down onto a stone path, eventually making its way to the sand. Through the front door, an open entryway and a small kitchen are situated to the left accompanied by a simple sitting area. To the right is a doorway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom. It's a humble home, but you've worked hard to make it comfortable.

As you walk the familiar pathway toward the bungalow, you look out at the ocean. You watch as the water dances its way up the beach with every push and pull of the tide, waves gently lapping their way up onto the sand to make a melodic rhythm. You breathe in the salty air and revel in the beauty the island so generously offers. 

The moment of serenity is interrupted when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice something just past the wave breaks. You squint as you try to focus your gaze to ensure the evening shadows aren't playing tricks on you. A shiver shoots down your spine. 

There's something floating in the water. Only, it's not something. It's someone.

"Oh my god," you say in disbelief, your eyes widening as you feel the air rush from your lungs. 

You react on pure instinct, immediately dropping your bag to the ground and sprinting into the water. Taking a deep breath, you plunge straight into the waves, pumping your arms and kicking your legs until they burn. You swim as hard as you can toward the body as it floats face down. 

When you reach it, you fear the worst. Quickly you turn it over to check for a pulse and discover it is a woman. Her frame is small, but she's solid and muscular. Body adorned with beautiful gold and jade trinkets, she appears to be wearing some sort of woven armor. You also notice her raven-black hair tied in a knot on top of her head, and a mesh-like apparatus covering her nose and mouth.

You carefully cradle the woman's head, lifting it out of the water.

"What the hell??" You mutter in shock. 

Right before your eyes, part of the woman’s face that is now exposed to the air turns a pale pigment of blue. She seems human enough, yet the way the blueness of her skin contrasts with its golden tones underneath the ocean surface makes you question what she might be instead.

All thoughts are pushed aside, however, the moment your attention is drawn to the sight of blood. Two gouges, a laceration across her shoulder, and a wound to her abdomen are seeping red into the salt water. She’s in poor condition and time is not on your side.

Doing your best to grapple her body, you kick your feet and pull the woman back to shore. The tide's added assistance gives you both the momentum needed to propel you toward the beach. As soon as you are able to stand, you turn and haul her body the rest of the way out of the ocean. 

Gently you lay her on a patch of dry sand as you take a moment to catch your breath. Your chest repeatedly rises and falls, your lungs straining for more oxygen. Staring at her now, you feel your heart nearly pounding out of your chest as the rest of her body turns the same shade of blue as her face. You shake your head as you fight back both your fear and curiosity. Whatever the woman's origins, tending to her wounds is your main priority. Help her now, and ask questions later.

Still unconscious, you reach up to remove the apparatus over her face, preparing to administer CPR. Suddenly, her arm shoots out and grasps your wrist, scaring the shit out of you. With unbelievable strength, she restrains any movement your hand could possibly make. Her eyes are wide and intense, pupils dilated.

"Okay, okay, I won't mess with it!" You promise. Her grip slackens as her eyes roll to the back of her head, losing consciousness again.

You rub your wrist, the bruise already forming. Deciding it would be best to move her from behind, you link yourself under her arms and pull her towards your home, unwittingly leaving a trail of sand and blood behind you. 

Making it to the bungalow, you manage to get the woman inside and onto your kitchen table. She's breathing, but it's shallow. Quickly, you grab all the first aid and sewing supplies you can scrounge out of the cabinets. You swipe a bottle of tequila from the shelf above the sink for good measure. Then you get to work to patch her up the best you can.

You clean the wound on her abdomen first, as that's where the bleeding is most prominent. Disinfecting it, applying pressure, then sewing it up, you focus meticulously on the needle in your hand, threading it back and forth through her skin. Once you finish, you fashion a bandage to soak up the excess blood.

The sky is dark as you move on to her shoulder to do the same. It feels like hours have gone by as you continue dressing the woman's wounds. It’s well into the night now, and the only light reflecting off the ocean for miles is from the moon and the lanterns of your home.

That's when he finds you.

A dark figure emerges from the water. He surveys the scene in front of him, eyes filling with rage as his focus dials in on the bloody trail leading up to your door. Spear in hand and body seething with anger, he marches towards your little house. 

Just as you clip the thread used to sew up the woman's shoulder and begin to apply another bandage, you're startled by a deafening CRASH!

Behind you, your front door gets obliterated. Through it, storms a man who quickly steps over the wooden debris that now litters the floor. His presence swallows the room as water drips off of his body. His eyes lock on to yours. 

"Holy shit!" You exclaim in terror. Before you know what is happening, he has made his way over to you, aggressively backing you up against the kitchen cabinets. 

Face-to-face with you now, he holds the tip of his spear to your throat, grazing your skin with it threateningly. He leans in so close you smell the salty ocean spray that covers his dark skin and can practically see your reflection in the cold piece of jade pierced through his septum. His breath is steady, but his glare is wild and ferocious. You raise your hands, attempting to show you mean no harm, only you don't account for the fact that your arms are covered in the woman's blood. His look becomes more menacing. 

"What have you done?" He growls, his voice low and dangerous. A fire is burning in his eyes as they widen with rage. 

"I'm helping her! I'm helping her!" is all you manage to say as you plead your case to the mysterious, hostile stranger. 

His stare remains intense as you feel the growing pressure of the cold metal spear against your throat. Everything inside you is screaming, telling you to close your eyes and that one way or another it will all be over soon. But you don't - you hold your ground and hold his gaze, searching his face for any shred of hope that he will spare your life.

The man's eyes flick over to the woman on the table, taking in more of the scene. As his head turns, you notice his pointed ears and beautifully hand-carved gauges made of jade. He turns his head slowly back to you, looking at you this time as if deliberating in his mind whether or not you are telling the truth. 

Again he leans in close, and you hold your breath as you await his final verdict. 

"You will speak of this to no one." It's not a question. It's a command.

You nod, willing to agree to anything at this point if it means not having your jugular sliced open.

"You will forget this night, and what you have seen."

Again you nod.

He keeps the spear pointed at your throat while carefully backing away toward the table. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as adrenaline pumps through your veins. You don't dare move a muscle.

The man retreats, withdrawing his spear and scooping up the woman who looks so petite in his arms. He carries her through the doorway but stops to look back at you. He says nothing, but his eyes are deadlocked on yours. You can’t describe or decipher the electric sensation that runs through your body at that moment, so you chalk it up to being in shock. 

Finally, he turns to leave, seemingly floating down to the shoreline with the woman securely in his arms. You watch as they disappear into the ocean and the night. 

Left alone, surrounded only by silence, the stinging memory of a blade against your neck, and a buzzing in your chest, you look around the empty kitchen. Blood and first aid supplies cover your table; debris that was once your front door now lays scattered across the floor, a draft gliding its way through your home. 

Your mind is still processing everything that has happened. Physically and emotionally, you are exhausted. 

"Screw it," you say out loud, grabbing the tequila still on the table and taking a swig straight from the bottle. "I'm going to bed."

--

You wake up the next morning as the sun is starting to rise and feel just as exhausted as when you had fallen asleep. Your mind is hazy. Your body is sore. You get up and pull on a fresh shirt and some shorts before making your way out of your bedroom. Groggily you shuffle through the entryway and into the kitchen to greet last night's mess. 

Only a few steps into the kitchen, however, you stop. Blinking a few times, you rub your eyes. On the table, where bloodied gauze, cloths, sewing needles, and the works had been scattered, now sits your bag next to a neat pile of the food and supplies you had gathered from yesterday's trip into town. You look down at your feet to discover a clean, debris-less floor. Moving in reverse, you pace a few steps back into the entryway and turn your head. Stunned, you see a new, beautifully carved wooden door in place of where your old one had been kicked down the night before.

You pinch your temples as you try to convince yourself you're not losing your mind. You move closer to inspect the door. Eyes full of wonder and amazement, you run your fingers down its wooden grooves. The surface is smooth as stone, yet the grain in it gives the material a richness that makes your jaw drop as you admire it. 

Before you can even ask yourself how it was possible, you open the door and your breath catches in your throat. The man from last night is sitting there on your front porch, legs hanging off the edge of it, looking out at the softly illuminated horizon. 

"I apologize about the door." He says, still facing the ocean. 

Fear takes over as you find yourself frozen in his presence. He senses your uneasiness and, still seated on the edge of the porch, turns toward you. He raises one hand to the air as a sign of his peaceful intention.

"I promise I am not here to bring harm to you... or your home," he adds, his eyes trailing toward the doorway. You say nothing, equally stunned and confused by his being there. 

"I am sorry for threatening you," he says, his voice turning somber. "I didn't know what you were doing to her."

"Is she okay?" You ask, finally finding your voice. "Your wife?"

He lets out a sharp chuckle. 

"Namora isn't my wife, she's one of my generals -- my best, in fact. And yes, she is okay, thanks to you."

A general. You avert your gaze, feeling foolish for assuming incorrectly. Suddenly the events of last night take on a different tone than what you had perceived.

"We had been searching for her for two days." The man continues to explain, "When I finally traced her whereabouts here and found her with you, I assumed the worst." He looks back out toward the ocean. "History has not typically been kind to my people in these types of situations."

You feel your chest tighten as the weight of his words sinks in. Your eyes wander from the ground up to the stranger. You watch as beads of salt water forge paths on his skin, rolling from his dark slick hair down the toned muscles of his back. 

"Who... are your people, exactly? Who are you?" You find the courage to ask.

He turns back to look at you, raising an eyebrow in your direction as he considers his answers.

"There are some who know me as K’uk’ulkan." He says thoughtfully. "But most know me as Namor." Pushing himself up to a stand, he continues, "As for my people, that is a discussion for another time." 

Namor walks up to you, and once again you find yourself face-to-face with him. Only this time his presence is not menacing, it's hypnotizing. 

"Thank you," he says softly, "for what you did. It will not be forgotten." 

There's a rich sincerity in his voice. Mesmerized by it, all you can muster in response is a nod of your head. A slight smile pulls at the corners of Namor's mouth as he closely studies your face. The light of the morning sun reflects in his eyes, and where you had only seen brooding darkness before, you now see shimmering flecks of gold. Everything about him is beautiful. 

"You are not what I expected." He says warmly, leaning in closer as if the two of you are sharing a secret. He lingers there a moment longer. Then, all too soon, he nods and turns to head down the stairs of your front porch. As he reaches the end of the stone walkway, he stops before stepping out onto the sand. 

"Remember," he says, repeating his instructions from your encounter last night, only gentler. "Speak of this to no one."  

"Will you be back?" You ask earnestly. You don't know what prompts your question, other than the thought of his departure suddenly pulling at your soul in a way you can't explain.

He turns back to look at you and smiles. You return it with a smile of your own. No words are needed for you to know that somehow, someday, you would see him again.

You watch from the porch as Namor strides out into the water and disappears below the surface. The sun glimmers brilliantly across the waves as they engulf him in their deep abyss. 

[wint3r-h3art]

Heart of the Ocean

Summary: Ku'ku'lkán musing thoughts after he returned from the surface.

Word count: 1.2K

Warning: Brief smut in the beginning. Mostly just Namor being a worryward. Romance undertone.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

A/N: just some writing exercise with the need to write soft Namor being a loving and protected partner. I enjoyed writing the little blurb, and I do hope you do too. If you enjoyed it, comment and reblog mean a lot. 

*** Do not copy, repost, or translate my works anywhere else !!

“In yakunaj, [my love]” he whispered into your ears as his powerful hips surged forward, bringing you with him as he was lodged deep inside you. 

Your nails dug into his powerful back, your eyes fluttered, and your lips trembled as your body moved with his. Your legs shook slightly. They were sore and ache from what felt like hours since your king returned from the surface. 

Your body warmed and flushed beneath him. Sticky, slick fluid leaked out where your body joined with his–a reminder of how many time he had already made you come, yet it was never enough. Every movement he made brought desirously aches and burns with him. You couldn’t ask for more.

You were his offering–a gift from an unconventional circumstance. He had made it clear from the beginning that he had no desire to force you to stay with him. Namora would have taken you under her wings if you wished, but what he didn’t know was that you volunteered to be his offering in the first place. 

Your people were dying, and the elder made a decision to gift  Ku'ku'lkán himself an offering to appease him, and perhaps offer mercy to your people. You volunteered of course. You expected the Feathered Serpent God to spirit you away to his realm–perhaps devoured you, but what you didn’t expect was to be whisked away by the handsome, bronze skin man, adorning in gold and jade, offering you his hand and taking you away instead.

He spoke in his native tongue again, but you were too cockdrunk to understand what he was saying as your rapture drew near. There was an urgency to his lovemaking. It was primal and hard–almost exhilarating by the way he left you breathless and sore.

Your wall began to flutter, and Ku'ku'lkán’s movement became erratic as he rutted into you hard and so forceful that if he wasn't holding onto your hips, you could have easily skitted across his massive bed. He grunted, pumping himself into you a couple of more times before your body shook and convulsed beneath him, even then, your king was still moving inside you, driving himself so hard that you felt like you were being split into.

Then a grunt left his lips as his movement stopped already. His nails dug into your skin as his muscles strained and corded. A rush of the familiar warmness coated your inside. And your king remained where he was. His perfect full lips pulled back in a strained expression, revealing his pearly white teeth while he pumped the last remnant of his release into your womb.

It felt like ages before he finally pulled himself back. Your body shook slightly when you felt his cum dripping down your thigh and onto his bed. He watched you still in a daze from his handy work. A smirk curved at the edge of his lips. 

“Ma'ach in túukulkech [I miss you]”, he said softly before placing the softest kiss on your lips, his thumb stroking your swollen stomach till you shivered. His voice was like a gentle tremor of the earth, each word rolled off his tongue, warming you like late summer air. There was something about the gentleness he often shows behind the closed door. Out there to his people, he was the living God–their fearless leader. To you, he’s your king, your paramour.

You laid there, exhausted, spent in the most perfect way. Every cell in your body buzzed and hummed as your body was enveloped in the warmness that is the afterglow. Your king molded his body into yours, pulling your body into his until his larger form covered yours.

The smell of sweat and his masculine scent lingered and permeated–a familiar of his presence. His breathing was soft and steady as you both laid there, his palm still laid on your stomach.

“Ma'alobech? [Are you well?]”

You nodded and you feel the king nuzzle into you, burying his face into the back of your neck. His breath tickled your skin. You could feel his anxiety practically seeping out of his skin as you both laid there. Even if this wasn’t your first pregnancy, Ku'ku'lkán had always been worried about your well-being. You weren’t built like his people and the risk of carrying a child was always far greater for a surface dweller. 

“Ma' a preocupes, in yakunaj. Ma'alo'ob aniken [ Do not worry, my love. I am fine.]”

But he couldn’t relax despite your soothing words. The worry had always been there, eating away at the back of his mind, gnawing at him constantly. He was so used to having solutions to everything, but for the second time, you managed to render him hopeless as the child inside your womb grows. 

His thought was quickly disrupted when you turned to face him. You reached out to touch him first, placing your palm over his chest, feeling the way his heart was beating. Ku'ku'lkán watched you. Devotion filled his gaze, soften those hard brown eyes and soften them like the first drop of rain touched upon the parched earth. Somehow he looked at you like you were the sky itself. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked in your native tongue, unaware of the kind of worry that was plaguing his mind. You were still learning his language, struggling to understand here and there, but your king has been kind and patient, slowly teaching you words and phrases so you can communicate with him better. Certain words were easier to learn than others, of course, especially the ones that were reserved for you and him in the privacy of his chamber.

“Like what, my love?”

“I do not know, but you look troubled. Tell me, Ku'ku'lkán, what’s trouble you?”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he stared ahead. His strong arms draped over your body. He allowed his hand to linger at the swell of your behind, tracing left to right as if it was to ease his anxious mind.

“Ma' le ba'al, in yakunaj. Ko'ox weenel [It’s nothing, my love. Let’s go to sleep]” 

You opened your mouth to ask him more, but your king leaned in and covered your mouth with his, swallowing all your worries into a toe-curling kiss. He said no more after that as he stroked your back and soothed you until you were asleep.

He of course was awake, staring up into nothing. Occasionally he would let his fingers trace your skin–physical proof that you were in fact alive and breathing. A smile quirked at the corner of his lips by the way you were softly snoring beside him. For that brief moment, he felt the warmth of joy spread in his heart, and whatever worry plagued his heart dissipated. 

For a creature so small, you were the heart of his ocean.

[cherienymphe]

By The Water’s Edge (Namor x Reader)

WARNINGS: yandere elements, siren song influence, alluded to dubious consent, loss of virginity, pregnancy (hinted at intentional), wakandan!reader 

➥ if my Yucatec Maya translation is wrong, please feel free to let me know

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​

summary: you never stood a chance once you caught the eye of the king of the sea

~

You waded through the tall grass, the nightly breeze cooling your skin as you repeatedly looked over your shoulder. This corner of Wakanda was always so quiet at night, but silence never guaranteed anything. It didn’t guarantee that you weren’t being followed.

And you absolutely had to be sure that you weren’t being followed.

You were relieved that you could only hear the slight ruffle of grass from the wind, the beads on the end of your braids hitting each other, the clanking of the bracelets on your wrist. You turned back around with confidence, trekking further and further away from everyone else…and closer to the water. It was always a safe place for you, a place to sort through your thoughts, a place to just be, but now it was a comfort for an entirely other reason.

He had come out of the water one night like something out of a dream.

Or nightmare.

Your body had stilled as you sat on the water’s edge, rooted in a mixture of awe and horror. He was adorned in jewelry that reminded you so much of the kind you and your sisters wore. The glow of the moon had lit both his path and him as he slowly rose above the surface, water clinging to his skin and dripping from his dark locks.

He was beautiful, and you hadn’t been able to look away.

However, a tinge of horror had started to creep into your chest as so many things hit you at once.

Who was this man? How did he get into Wakanda undetected? Where did he come from? You had so many questions as you watched him come closer, and you had stood in trepidation. There had been a soothing breeze that night too, ruffling the blades of grass behind you and your skirt with it. Despite how much your heart had been racing, you still hadn’t moved, hadn’t left to inform the queen somehow.

You didn’t know why.

You and the outsider had stared at one another for what felt like too long, drinking each other in for entirely different reasons. You wanted to know who he was and why he was here and what he was going to do. He, on the other hand, seemed to be studying you. He had tilted his head, dark eyes fixated on your face like you were the least threatening thing in the world to him.

You didn’t know how you felt about that.

“My mother told stories about a place like this…”

The deep baritone of his voice had struck you, making you blink. For the first time since he walked out of the water, he broke eye contact, looking around and roaming his eyes over the land around you.

“Pristine air…and the water,” he trailed off, a hint of a smile on his lips. “A protected land with people that would never have to leave.”

You hadn’t taken your eyes off of him, watching as he looked back to you, running his hand through his wet hair. You ran your gaze over him, taking in his skin and the bands of muscle that were his arms and torso. Even his legs looked powerful, and you didn’t stop yourself from taking a step back.

“…but of all the reasons to envy this place…I never expected it to manifest in the form of a woman.”

You had frowned at that, brows pulling together in confusion, and that was when you finally spoke.

“Who are you?”

He had chuckled to himself, perfect teeth winking at you as he placed a hand to his chest as if you had reminded him of the very important fact that you were strangers.

“My people call me Ahau K’uk’ulkaan,” he’d said. “My other name… That is for my enemies, and I hope that you will never have to refer to me as such.”

You hadn’t realized how relaxed you had become, shocked with yourself when you didn’t move when he placed his foot on the dirt before you, moving closer.

“You come here a lot…”

Your heart had skipped a beat at that, eyes widening slightly at his words. It was true. You did come here a lot. It was probably your favorite place in all of Wakanda, and you had wracked your brain as to how he knew that. As if he could hear your thoughts, he answered your silent question.

“I’ve watched you,” he told you, gesturing to the water behind him. “I’ve watched you sing and write and just relax by the water’s edge.”

His admission should’ve terrified you, and in a way, it did, but there was something more that kept you from running. There was something that held you in place to listen to him.

“I didn’t intend to at first, that’s not who I am, but…”

He was standing right before you now.

“I could not look away.”

You swallowed, and his dark eyes were drawn to the movement, gaze momentarily lingering on your throat.

“I kept coming back, hoping to catch glimpses of you, and the more I did…the harder it became to leave for good.”

“How…how did you get in here? Queen Mother-.”

“Doesn’t need to know about what isn’t a threat.”

Your face had heated up at both his interruption and the implications behind his words. It wasn’t up to him to decide if he was a threat or not, and your lips parted, but no words came out. Here was a man who had uninterrupted access to Wakanda, the queen none the wiser, and you couldn’t help but to linger on the immense guilt you’d feel if he did turn out to be a threat all the while you said nothing.

You glanced up at the sky, noting how late it was getting and sure that one of your sisters would come looking for you soon. The man, K’uk’ulkaan, followed your gaze before your eyes met again, and you took another step back. Then another…then another. You were surprised that he settled for merely watching you, making no attempts to stop you, and when you were far enough away, you turned your back on him and ran back home.

You should’ve gone to the queen that night, or at the very least, the next morning. Something like this was unheard of, and you were the only one who knew, so it was your responsibility to do what was right in the best interests of your people. And yet…

You had spent all of the next day distracted, mind miles away as it was plagued with thoughts of the man who came from the water. You had almost convinced yourself that it was a dream, but the scent of the water on his skin was burned into your brain, and so conflicted about what to do, you had almost forgotten his words.

The reason why he was even here.

Years after that night, you would finally admit the truth to yourself. You didn’t keep his existence a secret for Wakanda. You didn’t return to him again and again to learn more about him to tell the queen. You didn’t get close to him and succumb to him for the benefit of your nation, but instead to sate your curiosity. You went back to him every night because you were curious about the beautiful man who put his existence in jeopardy just to know the woman by the water’s edge.

You had found yourself sneaking through the grass the next night, almost disappointed to find yourself alone.

“You did not tell your queen.”

You had been startled by the sound of his voice, jumping and looking over. He stood by the water, the flow of the tide washing over his feet as he gazed at you. You had stared at him for a long time, mulling over your next words.

“I might have,” you argued.

The small smirk dancing along his lips made your stomach flip.

“You did not,” he called you out on your lie. “Why?”

You didn’t have the courage to tell him it was solely for your curiosity. You had spent more hours awake the previous night than you wanted to admit, thinking on the man before you and the predicament you found yourself in. Part of you hated him for putting you in this position, the position to betray your home and your people by not revealing his existence and access to Wakanda to the queen.

However, another part of you, a larger part, was drawn to him.

And that draw, that pull you felt towards him, was why you came back night after night. You would meet him by the water’s edge, sometimes barely speaking and sometimes talking about everything. He told you about his home, an entire civilization of people who made a home and a way of life beneath the water. You thought that it explained so much, his ability to breathe under the water long enough to travel through it to Wakanda, and even his access to Wakanda in general.

You were fascinated by him, entranced, and he knew it.

“Y/N,” you had told him one night, your name rolling off of his tongue like water as he repeated it to himself.

You liked the way he said it, unable to take your eyes off of him as he held your hand. His other traced an index finger along your palm, the action equally soothing and arousing. There was a point where you forgot all about the queen and the fact that this outsider had access to your nation. The thought of what he and his people could do was long gone, replaced by the desire to see him every night instead.

Blinded by that desire or not, it didn’t take you long to understand that he wasn’t out to hurt Wakanda.

He was here for you.

The way he’d look at you both excited and scared you, having never been on the receiving end of such a look before. It was intense in a way that was almost overwhelming, like he was hanging onto your every word and studying every movement you made. You had wondered if it were possible that he was just as entranced by you as you were by him. You wondered if you imagined that glint in his eye, that look like he wanted to keep you all to himself.

“Do you sing for your family? Friends?”

You had shyly shaken your head, and his smile had warmed your chest as he reached up to touch your face.

“Why not? You have a beautiful voice,” he’d told you. “Hypnotizing even. Almost like…a siren song.”

“I’ve always liked singing alone.”

You had shrugged, still somewhat embarrassed that he’d heard you on several occasions. That embarrassment lessened as time went on, as well as your timidity, and your days felt brighter with the anticipation of seeing him every night. It was noticeable, your cousin Okoye commenting on it one day, asking about what had you glowing. You had shrugged in response, a small smile on your face.

“Just happy, I guess.”

You came home sometimes with new jewelry, a necklace or earrings he’d made resting against your skin. The first time, you had held your breath, heart pounding as he stood behind you. His bare chest had grazed your back as he clasped it behind your neck, fingers brushing your skin and causing a shudder to travel down your spine. You had heard him deeply inhale, breathing you in, and when he turned you around, it only hit you just how close you were.

“It suits you,” he had complimented, a secretive smile on his lips. “Just like I knew it would.”

If your parents or any of your sisters noticed, they didn’t voice it. If they noticed the way you began to pull away, isolate yourself and preferring to stare off into space, they kept quiet about it. K’uk’ulkaan consumed both your waking thoughts and your dreams, waking up and falling asleep with him on your mind. There were times where you couldn’t even fall asleep, too wrapped up in thoughts about the king of Talokan. Your mother only said something when you started eating less and less, seemingly in a daze as you merely pushed your food around on your plate.

You remembered what K’uk’ulkaan had said about your voice, comparing it to a siren’s song, and you thought to yourself that’s how you felt whenever you were around him.

Ensnared by a siren’s song, mind consumed with nothing but him.

So, it came as no surprise when you kissed him back one night, eager to taste more of him. The grass hid you both from view, the moonlight shining down on you both, and your hands pressed against his arms. Your entire body lit up with a heat that you desperately wanted to chase, moaning into his mouth. His hands on you felt like heaven, and you never wanted to leave.

The dirt had been nonexistent against your back, the water hiding your lower half from view as he rested against you. Your dress was feet away, the only thing on your skin being the jewelry he gave you…and him. Your fingers dug into his skin, nails scraping along his back while he thrust into you. Your mewls were low, paranoid of being found out, and you could tell that he liked hearing you.

You clenched around him, clinging to him and fluttering around his cock. He surrounded you, trapping you beneath him as he stretched you out, lips dragging over your skin and tasting you. Your fingers threaded through his hair as you gazed up at the moon, the faint sting in your core registering in the back of your mind but too overcome with pleasure to dwell on it.

You felt like he wasn’t close enough, hips lifting to meet his with every thrust. Your chest arched up into his, legs bending and toes sliding up his own legs. You lost count of how many times you came around him, stumbling back to your house in the early hours of the morning in a daze. You had the faintest memories of one of your sisters pressing her hand to your forehead, concerned that you might be sick as you merely laid in bed.

You only left your room to return to him again, sinking down onto him as he held you in his lap, fingers pressed into your skin. He touched you and held you like he never wanted to let you go, and whatever alarm bells went off in your head at that were promptly silenced as he lifted his hips, pushing his cock up into you as you wrapped your arms around him. Your face was buried into the crook of his neck, your breathing labored and choppy as you sighed against his skin.

His hands had traveled up, resting on your face as he pushed your head back, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you love me?”

Wracked with pleasure and drunk on him, you had lazily nodded, mind passing over the way his dark eyes glinted under the moonlight. He leaned in, kissing down the column of your throat and pulling a moan from you as your head lolled back. Your lashes fluttered, and your gaze rested on the sky.

“How much?”

“More than I’ve loved anyone,” you had sighed, head falling forward against his shoulder again.

“Do you promise?”

Your reply was immediate, and he didn’t let you go until you were coming undone in his arms. That was how most of your nights were spent now, stealing moments with your lover from the water and driving yourself insane every time you had to walk away.

“Why do you call me that?”

K’uk’ulkaan was looping a braid through a small seashell, his lips pressed to your forehead as he did.

“My k’iino,” he had murmured when you reached him, practically tripping over yourself to be in his arms. “Mine.”

He hummed, pulling away to finish what he was doing, and you watched his face.

“It means sunshine…or sun,” he quietly replied. “…even though I only ever see you at night, to me, the moon pales in comparison.”

You had smiled at that, heart sinking a bit as he pointed out the limitations on your trysts. Deep down, you knew that, realistically, things couldn’t go on like this forever. Somehow, some way, something had to give, but you had never expected it to come in the form of an upset stomach one morning, spilling the contents of your stomach in the bathroom.

One of your sisters went to your mother in concern, and she believed your assurance that it was just something you ate, but in your heart, you knew.

“…but this is my home.”

You both stood at the water’s edge, your eyes wide at his suggestion to leave Wakanda. Of all the solutions to the dilemma you faced, you hadn’t expected that. You didn’t miss the way his features hardened slightly at your resistance, stepping closer and head lowering a tad.

“You said you loved me.”

“I do,” you told him, blinking in shock that he’d ever doubt that.

He took your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips.

“…and don’t you think you should prove that to me…?”

Your mind spun, and you looked away.

“Besides…there’s no guarantee our child will survive on land like you.”

You looked back to him, stricken at his very valid point. He had long explained how he came to be, how he was so different from the rest of the Talokanil. The chances that the baby inside of you would be more like them rather than him due to you and what you lacked were high. Your eye stung, feeling stuck in an impossible situation.

“I need…to think,” you slowly whispered, stepping back.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that his eyes had darkened at your words. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, and for the first time in almost a year, you left him while the moon was barely in the sky.

You didn’t sleep much, if at all, that night, staring up at your ceiling. You were wracked with a myriad of emotions, so many of them conflicting and confusing. K’uk’ulkaan had consumed every aspect of your life for months on end, and you felt like you couldn’t even physically live without him, but in the same breath… Wakanda was your home. Your entire life was here, and you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

Even the next night, you still hadn’t come to a decision. Night after night, you mulled over your predicament with a heavy heart, chest tight and eyes burning with tears. Your days were spent with your head in the toilet, and your nights were spent sitting outside of your house, wholly aware that you didn’t have all the time in the world.

And your time ran out one starless and moonless night, the most hypnotizing melody reaching your ears and imbedding itself into every crevice of your brain. It was addictive, filling your entire being with the desire to find it. You heard nothing and no one else as you seemed to glide across the land, steps sure as you waded through the grass. It filled your heart with a peace and security that you hadn’t felt in days, bringing a smile to your face.

Nothing registered. Not the disregard for your family and your nation, not the carelessness in the way you boldly walked through the tall grass, nor that you were traveling down a familiar path. Your body didn’t quite feel like your own, but you were too captivated to care. You only cared about following that sound.

And found it you did.

K’uk’ulkaan, Namor as he’d one day revealed to you what he also went by, stood in the water where you always met. His hand was outstretched to you, beckoning you closer with a welcoming smile. You happily returned it, your feet dipping into the water, dress clinging to your skin the deeper you waded. Your hand met his, bringing it to his lips with a soft kiss as he threaded his fingers through yours.

Without so much as a backwards glance, you followed him into the murky depths.

[tenochconamor]

A God-King and his Generals.

[sunshinescribes]

Continuum - 1

Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT

Summary: Despite the alliance between Wakanda and Talokan, The Feathered Serpent God isn’t truly welcomed in the Golden City. That doesn’t stop you from allowing him in your bed, nor him from wanting more

You call his name, but you don’t think he hears.

Don’t think Namor can sense anything beyond the taste of you on his tongue, sweet and smearing his chin—the way he always wants you, and you know your sheets will be a mess when he’s done. Know you’ll have to wash away the evidence of a liaison that should never be.

Alliance or not, he isn’t truly welcome on these shores, but you allow him anyway with the promise that this time will be the last.

Your resolve is questionable, as is your loyalty.

Your fingers thread through wet hair. You pull him closer to your soaking pussy, and he groans. The feel of it reverberates through you as you choke out his name.

Namor pulls away from your soaking slit with a sigh. His dark, half-lidded eyes trail up your body until they meet yours.

“You have missed me,” He whispers against your thigh, licking the wetness that’s made its way there.

He lets nothing go to waste.

“That wasn’t a question,” you note, feeling the ghost of a smile against your skin.

“No…” Namor’s hand traces the inside of your thighs. Thick fingers brush against the folds of your pussy, slowly reaching your clit, “It was not.”

He returns his mouth where you need it most, while his thick fingers work away at your throbbing clit. Your legs shake, your breath hitches as you’re drawn closer to another soul shattering orgasm. Even as Namor takes you apart, he does it will no real urgency. His movements are languid, as if he has all the time in the world.

Namor replaces his tongue with his fingers, stretching you as he pushes two fingers into you sopping cunt. You can hear the evidence of your desire—the slick, wet sounds as his fingers massage your fluttering walls. Your hips buck forward, wanting his fingers knuckle deep, and he laughs. A deep, throaty laugh that’s almost cruel.

“What would they say?” Namor lifts his face; his lips curl into an amused smile as he watches you. Watches the rise and fall of your breasts, the tremble of your lips as praise and encouragement falls from them, “Hm? If they all knew how desperate you are for me? How eager.”

“I…I don’t know,” you lie.

It’s easier than thinking about how you would be dishonored. The question of your loyalty would be immediate, and no answer you gave would satisfy your elders, nor your king.

Though an alliance stood between Wakanda and Talokan, it did not wash away Namor’s sins, nor earn him the favor of your people.

As far as anyone was concerned, he was a necessary evil—one that you could seemingly not say no to.

Namor tsks. The rhythm of his fingers slows as he considers you. He wants the truth you refuse to give.

“Do you think they will forgive you? Will you beg for it? Lie?” He pulls his fingers out of you, eyes following his digits glazed with your wetness, “Or will you have to turn to me?”

He looks at you as he lifts his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. He groans contentedly around his digits,  his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he is savoring just how fucking sweet you are—as if there is no fruit, nor drink in existence that can quite satisfy his hunger the way you do.

You blink up at him, dazed by his display and so painfully needy. Your cunt aches as it clenches around nothing. It’s enough to bring you to tears, but you’d bet that’s exactly what he wants. You, dumb and delirious and crying for him. Completely at his mercy.

“I would never turn to you,” you bite, and Namor’s eyes finally open. They seem endless as he stares up at you with an indecipherable expression.

His slick fingers skim the length of your leg, leaving a trail of his saliva that leads straight to your pulsing cunt.

“You already have.”

His fingers push back into you, and a curse rips from your throat. His languid manner is long gone, replaced by a feverish need to make you come around his fingers now. His pace is ruthless, his fingers reaching further into you until he’s knuckle-deep, just the way you need him—and then he fucking curls his fingers.

You tip over the edge without warning, your release violent and unexpected as it racks through you. Your walls flutter around his fingers, your legs convulse, and his name falls from your lips with so much devotion, you’d think perhaps he is the god his people claim him to be.

Your body goes limp as you come down from your high with a shaky sigh. You feel the heat of Namor’s mouth as he trails kisses up your body, a steady path upward until his lips hover over yours.

His fingers cradle your jaw, his hold firm as he keeps your gaze trained on him, and your heart aches.

Bast, he’s beautiful. It always stuns you no matter how many times you have the revelation—and this is when you promise yourself that this is the last time you allow him in your bed. You both never stopped to explain what this was, but you know feelings would only complicate things further…make the inevitable end that much harder to see through.

“What are you thinking right now?” Namor asks against your lips, teasing. He’s back to taking his time, dragging everything out for his own pleasure, while simultaneously driving you as mad as he possibly can. You have half the mind to close the gap between you two, and another to send his happy ass back to the sea.

You do neither.

“I think that you’re ruining me,” Namor grins. You nearly stumble over your words, “And I am disappointed in myself for enjoying it.”

He nods, leaning in as he closes the space between your lips. Namor kisses you like it’s the first time—all hunger and a need to consume you, but he does not rush. He tastes you, rolls his tongue along your bottom lip. Your lips part with a sigh, and he’s quick to make you taste yourself on his tongue—to know just how delicious you truly are, before he breaks away.

“I wish to do more than just ruin you…”

His hand reaches down, wrapping around his hard dick. He gives it a few quick strokes, groaning against your mouth before he rubs his dick between your folds, coating himself with your juices. You gasp, squirming beneath him as you feel your walls flutter painfully. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasms, but this will do little to deter Namor. He will have you until you’re boneless, voice gone from how hard you’ve used it to call out for him, to plead him to go deeper. Fuck you harder.

And Namor always ends it how he starts, between your legs and with your sweet arousal coating the back of his throat. The taste of you lingers, even when he returns to the depths of the ocean, back to Talokan. He tastes you while he paints hieroglyphs memorializing the legends he’s lived, and the ones he might.

Namor pushes into your entrance, feeling the warm slickness of your velvety walls as they hug his thick length, and he drives himself deeper. He curses in his mother tongue, adjusting to you as your sensitive walls throb around him. He won’t have to do much to set you off, and for a second he considers being charitable and putting you out of your lust-filled misery, but even that comes at a price.

He hadn’t wanted much in the beginning. Just you sprawled out for him in all your beauty. You had both been chasing a high, a need to have the other—and maybe it was the taboo surrounding the nature of your relationship that spurred it—the threat that lingered if one of you were found out, though Namor was not foolish enough to believe you did not have more to lose.

It hadn’t mattered before, but it mattered now. Here, with the taste of you on his tongue and your nails digging into the flesh of his back as he thrust into you shallowly—you fucking mattered, and he was no longer satisfied with late night hookups, and kisses behind closed doors. He resented having to wait weeks or even months to see you again, wondering all the while if you’d finally decide to turn him away when he returned.

He wanted more.

He wanted everything.

And what a creature craving could be.

Namor glanced down at you, mesmerized by your long lashes fluttering as your eyes closed—the furrow of your brow as pain and pleasure pulsed through your body. A plea fell from your lips, whispered so softly he nearly missed it.

Now was not the time to be charitable. Now was the time for negotiations.

“Say it.” Namor thrust harder, earning a whine from you, “Call my name.”

Your bottom lip quivered; the words nearly spoken before you caught yourself. You shook your head, and Namor let out a frustrated sigh.

He had told you to call him K’uk’ulkan. Whispered it against your lips like a plea months ago, but even now you deny him. The name was spoken with adoration by his people, and you learned he gave it to outsiders sparingly.

So, you couldn’t say it. You wouldn’t.

It’s the confession that you swallow, hidden away just like these meetings between you two. It’s the treacherous desire of wanting all of him at the cost of everything else.

And while you could be reckless enough to entertain desire driven nights with him, you could not conjure a fantasy where he was yours, and you were his. The cost was too great.

The rhythm of his hips slowed. Your eyes fluttered open as you glared up at him, biting back a curse in Xhosa.

“Are you so afraid of a name?”

He cocked his head to the side, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck, “Or afraid of what it might mean to call me by it?”

Your breath hitched as you blinked up at him, the heat of his gaze and weight of his question making your thoughts foggy. Despite it, you found your voice.

“I’m afraid that you’ve forgotten what this is.”

Namor was silent for a moment. His dark eyes searched yours, before his lips curled into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Then remind me.”

He pulled out of you fully, leaving you wanting before he thrust back in with a force that made you cry out. He buried himself deep inside of you, stretching your aching cunt and making you feel every glorious inch of his dick.

He grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing your legs closer to your chest and began to fuck you like a wild, depraved animal.

You clawed at his back, anchoring yourself to him as he continued to pound into you. He groaned into the nape of your neck, his fingers bruised the flesh of your thighs as he lost himself.

“Is this all that you are then? A hole to fill?”

The sound of the meeting of your flesh filled the shack, drowning out the peaceful hum of the wind outside. The rustling of the trees.

You cursed, feeling the deliciously painful pressure in your core building with each brutal thrust.

Your hand trailed up his neck, fingers digging into his damp curls, and you pulled his head closer, resting his forehead against your as his hips started to stutter—his rhythm quickly losing its coordination.

“Please…” your voice sounded pathetic, even to your own ears, “Namor…K’u—”

You choked on his name as pure hot euphoria ricocheted through you. Your toes curled, your back arched painfully as you cried up towards the ceiling. A tear rolled down your cheek as you came violently around his aching dick.

Namor hissed a string of Mayan against your lips, words spoken so quickly your mind couldn’t even catch them. Your name was the only thing you could make out before Namor went rigid. His teeth bit into the flesh of your shoulder as his seed poured into you. His dick twitched inside of you as he gave a final thrust, pushing the evidence of his desire further into your pussy. His mouth hung open as his chest rose and fell, and bliss cascaded through him.

Namor carefully draped himself over you, conscious of not crushing you under his weight despite how featherlight he felt. He kissed your temple, whispering his praise as he stayed buried inside of you, feeling the mix of your release and his own slowly seeping out of you.

He would take care of you soon. Wash away the evidence of your love making before he returned to Talokan where he was needed most. But for now, he would bask in the feel of you beneath him, and the possibility that lingered between you two.

PART 2 , PART 3

[thegreatestsandwich]

I just saw black panther and let me tell you that I fell in love with Namor and everytime he appeared on screen I was screaming internally, I was wondering if you could write something silly like the reader gives him a rock every time she sees him because on a trip to the surface she saw a couple giving each other gifts and hugging at the end and she thought a rock was the equivalent of that, please please please

I can’t speak, afraid to jinx it (Namor x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A tiny gift that almost drove him to madness.

Warning: Prepare yourself to be attacked with fluff

A/N: At this point, I think I'm really in love with Tenoch, you feel me?

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

Namor was beginning to noticing this strange thing about you, no matter where he was or what was he doing, if you passed him you would stop and give him a small rock with a huge smile on your face.

It had started the moment you first were put in charge with helping him recollect a few things from the sinking boat that was closer to his city. Namor was waiting for you at the borders, his hands on his back as his eyes were looking at the calmness of the waters when he heard you humming a soft tune as you approached. He turned around and watched you struggle with at least ten bags on your arms. When he told you that he needed you to bring a few bags to carry the stuff, he was imagining you would bring two, not ten. He couldn’t help but smile at your determination.

“K'eeban tumen k'uchul chúunk'iin!” Sorry for being late! You quickly swam to his side, his eyes watching curiously as you tried to suppress your labored breaths. “Utia'al u completamente honesto, k'uchen tu k'iinili' ba'ale' in distraje.” To be completely honest, I was on time but I got distracted. You cheekily smiled. “Ya'ab in wu'uyik K’uk’ulkan.” I’m really sorry.

“English.” He told you once again and had to bit his tongue to suppress his laughter when you huffed. “You asked me to teach you and I am doing that.”

“Stupid English.” You muttered under your breath. Your hands quickly adjusted the bags on your shoulder. “Can we just go?” Your hand motioned the waters. “I do not want to be there when is dark, sharks bite then.”

Namor held out his hand so you could give him a few bags but you held them closer to you. “Let me help you, and sharks do not bite if you do not annoy them.” He managed to take a few bags from you, adjusting them at his shoulder and began to swim.

You gasped at his words and at his actions. “Sharks do bite! One bit me a few days ago on my leg, I have a scar to prove it…you even saw it, you said it was amazing.”

“Those words have never left my mouth.” Namor was smiling at your tantrum but managed to hide it as his face never left the waters.

“Uh, yes they have.” You managed to caught up with him, swimming at his side. You noticed his smile. “What are we recollecting?”

“Whatever we find useful.” He stated as que stopped, you following suit. “I will check if there are threats, stay here.” Namor didn’t wait for your answer as he quickly swam away, leaving you there with all the bags once again.

You huffed but decided to listen to him, your eyes looking at everything that surrounded you, there were a few fishes out there, thankfully no sharks, the corals looked bright and the sand too inviting to lay just there. But then you saw it, it was shiny and a beautiful turquoise color, you quickly tried to find Namor but he was still away, you bit your lip in concentration and decided to just go for it.

Your hands quickly grabbed the tiny and shiny object, your thumb carefully swiping away any left-over sand, your eyes widening before quicky putting it inside of one of the bags and swam to where Namor was calling you.

As you would expected, the recollection of things from that boat was completely boring, your eyes often diverting towards Namor, you admitted that he looked quite good, completely concentrated in this activity. When he was completely secure that there wasn’t anything more to salvage, he nodded at you and both of you left.

Namor took the bags from you when he left you at your home, you bit your lip and without thinking you grabbed his arm. He looked at you in confusion.

“I have a gift.” You quietly said. Your hands fumbled with one of the bags that you refused to give him. Finally retrieving the tiny rock. “Found it there, I think you will love it.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes following your hands as they put the rock on his palm and close his fingers against it. You gave him a last smile before entering your home and leaving him there, watching at the door.

And so it began.

Every single time you saw him, you always gave him a rock, it didn’t matter the size, the color or the weight, you always gave him one. At first he was confused at why you were giving them to him but he began appreciate them after you failed to give him one after one day.

He was swimming with Attuma at his side, the later telling him about the improvements they were making with the protection of the barriers, Namor was glad that everything was going within the plan.

“Táan in planeando bisik u kantúulo'on ti' leti'ob utia'al inspeccionar u máquina u kajnáalilo'ob le superficie decidieron túuxtik tak ka'anal.” I am planning to take four of them to inspectionate the machine the surface-dwellers decided to send from above. Attuma stopped for a second, pointing to the ones he wanted to take. “Chéen k'áabet u t'aan aprobación bey ma' táanil.” Just need your word of approval before proceeding.

Namor was about to speak but he managed to see you approaching them, his fingers were tingling with anticipation, imagining what kind of rock you would give him today, the corner of his mouth was twitching upwards, a smile he wanted to suppress at the presence of Attuma. But he failed.

Attuma watched in amusement at how his king was acting, he would have laughed if you hadn’t approached them. You smiled at them before swimming away. That’s when he saw his face and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bejla'e' ma' jach juntúul roca, huh?” Not a rock today, huh? Attuma patted his back. “Ma' xaan ka' leti' a ts'áaik juntúul sáamal.” Perhaps she will give you one tomorrow.

“Bix a wojel?” How do you know? Namor asked him, his voice completely annoyed at the missing rock on his hand.

“Tu ya'alaj teen ka tu yilaj le kajnáalilo'obo' le superficie ts'a regalos, tu tukultaj u a gustaban le tunicho'ob ken aceptaste le primera.” She told me she saw the surface-dwellers give gifts, she thought you liked rocks when you accepted the first one. Attuma simply said, trying his hardest to not laugh again.

“Juntéen, wáaj bix supiste?” Again, how did you know?

“Leti' tu ya'alaj teen, ku pinchamos kaaye' globo sáastale'.” She told me, we usually poke pufferfish at dawn. He shrugged, swimming away.

What?

Namor was pacing through his cave, he was going absolutely mad, it now has been twelve days since you had given him a rock. He didn’t know what was happening, why did you stopped? Had the rocks you been seen weren’t up to your standard? He didn’t care, he wanted them.

He couldn’t help but sighed, his eyes turning to his small (HUGE) collection of rocks, he had been keeping them protected since you had given him them. But he wanted more, was he being selfish? Hell yeah, but this was something you had given the thought, you searched each one of them, you put your mind into looking for the perfect one before giving them to him.

So he went to look for you, he couldn’t find you anywhere in the city, a few of his people were looking at him strange as he began asking for you. But your mother was kind enough to point at your location.

Near the corals, she had said.

So he quickly swam there, and there you were, poking at pufferfish with Attuma. He needed to give you a reminder to not do that.

“Cha' k.” Leave us. Namor told Attuma, it was more like a order.

Attuma watched him and then you, before nodding. A huge smile on his face as he left.

“K’uk’ulkan?” You asked him confused, a stick on your hand. “Tu láakal ba'ax ma'alo'ob.?” Everuthing alright?

“English.” He told you, you noticed how tense he was, but still huffed and nodded. “Why did you stop?”

“Stop?” You tilted your head. “Stop what?”

“Rocks.”

You stared at him, you simple shrugged, not really knowing what to say.

“You have not given me any rock in twelve days, why?” He took a step closer to you. “Did something happened? Are they not in your standards? I do not mind what kind of rock you give me.”

“Oh.” You whispered, adverting your eyes. “Is not it.”

“Then what is it?” He grabbed your hands. “I do not care what you give me, but please do not stop.”

You sighed. “My mother say it is not nice to give rocks to someone…so I stopped.”

“Do not.” He whispered, “Please.”

You stared at his hands before looking upwards at his eyes. A tiny smile formed on your face. “Stick?” You gently raised the stick you were holding.

Namor couldn’t help but smile, taking the stick on his hands. “Thank you.” You smiled. “But now, why are you pocking pufferfish? Did you don’t know the dangerous things they could do to you?”

You sighed.

[syrma-sensei]

→ Love Underwater.

gif credit.

pairing: namor of talokan x queen!reader.

rating: fluff.

warning: spoilers for black panther: wakanda forever.

The King lets out a light grunt when you slip his large necklace off after you took his cape off of his shoulders, revealing the gills on the two crooks of his neck. He tilts his head, cracking the bones of his neck, and you giggle when his lips graze the knuckles of your fingers. Then, you click each of his arm bracelets open, removing and putting them on the adorned tray for the servants to pick up later when you're done.

You massage the muscles of his arms and shoulders, and he groans approvingly. Hands trailing down to his abdomen, unclasping his large belt from around his refined waist. You never let the servants undress the King when he retires to his chambers; a job you've taken it upon yourself since the day you married the King of Talokan; a sweet and intimate gesture of a wife to her husband. When you're done, Ku'kul'kan whisks you playfully to his lap while he's sitting on the large bed. He kisses your neck fondly, while you kiss the crown of his head, then you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“Namora came to me today, my love.” You say idly, “Again.”

“Oh,” He raises an eyebrow, “Did she?”

“Yes.” You answer, drawing your head back so you can look at his face, “She's expressed her worry about you, my King.”

The latter regards you with gentle eyes, “And you share the same sentiment as well?”

You cup his cheek, your palm pressing lightly on the three marks left by the three scars.

In the recent weeks, the King has spent most of his time drawing the murals at his memorabilia cave —his sacred shrine as you call it— where you're used to watch him flicking his brush nimbly against the wall, recoding history. The latest of his works is The Battle Between The Serpent God and the Black Panther, the first time your husband lost.

“Our King chose peace over slaughter.” You told Namora, when came to you sulking, in her rough way of speeech, about her king cousin, your husband. The seasoned warrioress still can't digest the defeat of Talokan — of her king... god. In all honesty, neither could you, but as the queen, it's your duty to calm your subjects' qualms down, even if you have some of your own.

You glance down at his wrapped ankle, the slightest frown on your face; you've never seen your husband wounded in such a grotesque way. Despite your displeasure, the King seems to wear it with pride. Your eyes flit back to his face again.

“I did.” You answer frankly, “But not anymore. My trust in your judgement never wavers, my King.”

Ku'kul'kan cradles your cheeks in his warm hands, pressing a smooth kiss on your forehead, “Sometimes, I wish they had a piece of your wisdom, my love.”

You hold his hands, pressing kisses to his palms. “You flatter me, my King.”

“I only speak the truth, my Queen.” He smiles, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

Even after hundred years of marriage, you can't prevent the blush from smearing your cheeks red, and your husband laughs, flicking your cheek with his fingers.

“But the Panther Princess ought to be true to her words.” You say stubbornly. “Should she break them, and I'll be the one to bring her head on a spike,”

Ku'kul'kan smiles. “I'm counting on that.”

[amhrosina]

The Artist and the Sea (Namor x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

Requests are open - slowing working my way through them!

Part 2

A/N: Hello Nonnie! Thank you for requesting! It inspired me, and I couldn’t not write it as soon as I saw it. Also, let's pretend we can't see the spears being pointed at Namor in this gif lol. (Again, if any of the Yucatec Maya to English translations are off, please let me know!)

Request: tbh it's my first time requesting something regarding the marvel fandom but can i request a namor x fem reader where they meet at the beach when the reader is painting the landscape of the ocean? if you don't understand or don't want to write this, it's okay <333

Summary: You meet a stranger on the beach who takes an interest in your paintings, which somehow puts you in the position of painting the King of Talokan’s portrait. 

(Warnings: not a lot?, the kisses gets a little steamy, Namor is a little touch starved, WING TOUCHING!!!!!, no smut (nonnie didn’t specify and I didn’t want to deliver hardcore smut to someone who didn’t want it lol), reader doesn’t speak Namor’s language but loves the nicknames anyways, I think that’s it???) 

Translations:  

ki'ichpam artista – beautiful artist 

pétalo – petal 

ch'ujuk ch'úupalo' – sweet girl 

princesa – princess

The light reflecting off the ocean was a blinding blue, and you had been trying to blend your paint together to mimic the color for 15 minutes already. You grunted with displeasure as your paintbrush stained three shades too dark. Today was a day for painting. The wind wasn’t blowing too hard, the weather was the perfect mix of cool, but not too cold, and the tides were relatively consistent. When you’d walked out onto your back porch earlier this morning and laid your eyes on the little slice of the beach you owned, it almost felt like an invitation.  

Now, you were regretting your decision to lug all of your paint supplies out of your tiny studio and down the beach. You rolled your eyes, tossing the palette down onto the old blanket you used to keep any stray paint from spilling onto the beach. You dipped a clean brush into the tan color you had mixed earlier and began working on creating the right texture for the sand.  

The beach was mostly empty today, but even during tourist season, there wasn’t much foot traffic this far down the beach. Your grandmother’s house was a small, but cozy cabin-like home, nestled in a small cove that only locals knew about. You had spent many summers here, tucked away in your little slice of heaven, painting anything and everything you saw. When your grandmother had passed away, the deed of the house was transferred to you, and suddenly you were a homeowner.  

You had transformed the inside after moving in, turning the office into an art studio, and transforming the bedroom into a library. Your bedroom, if you could call it that, was actually the living room with tapestries hung up as makeshift walls. You didn’t mind, and neither did anyone else. Or they wouldn’t, you thought, if anyone happened to come by.  

You sat back on your stool, looking between the sand around you and your canvas. The texture was coming along nicely, and you grinned at your work. Landscapes had never been your forte – most of your commissions were oil portraits – but you had been working on expanding your skills over the last few months.  

“You are an artist?”  

An unfamiliar voice startled you from your concentration, and you furrowed your brow at the intrusion. You weren’t one to hog the beach, but you’re clearly a busy woman that didn’t want to be bothered. You leaned around the canvas, intent on staying silent and ignoring the man, but did a double take when you made eye contact with the man.  

He was undoubtably beautiful, and definitely not a local. His body was adorned with beautifully carved artifacts draping across his chest and shoulders, and the only actual article of clothing he wore was a pair of green shorts. You glanced down at the light flutter at his ankles, which had small wings sprouting from the sides of them. You brought your eyes back up, not wanting him to catch you staring, but the stranger hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you’d acknowledged him.  

“I’m a...what?” You asked, blinking. You’d been so distracted by his sudden appearance that you’d forgotten the question he’d asked.  

“You are an,” he nodded to the canvas in front of you, “artist. Yes?”  

“Yes.” You nodded, standing from your stool. “But I am not very good at landscapes.”  

He walked around you, facing the canvas and looking over it with a prompt shake of his head.  

“This is beautiful. You are very good.”  

“Oh.” You mumbled, ringing your hands together. “Thanks.”  

You could feel your cheeks heating at his compliment, and you didn’t want to know why his compliments were getting such a rise out of you. This man was a complete stranger, and his opinions on your art should not have gotten that reaction out of you.  

“You are not reacting to me the way I thought you would.”  

You stared at your half-finished canvas harder, refusing to look in his eyes again, as you mulled over his statement. Yes, this was definitely the strangest encounter you’d ever experienced, but you lived in a universe where Avengers seemed to be popping up in every city, so the idea of a man from the sea appearing on your beach wasn’t as farfetched as it sounded. He was clearly a powerful being, but you weren’t afraid of him, or his power for that matter.  

“How did you think I would react?” You finally asked, peeking at him in your peripheral.  

“I am not sure. This is my first time approaching a surface dweller like this.”  

“Surface dweller?” You scoffed, finally meeting his gaze.  

He had a small smile on his face. “You dwell...amongst the surface. Do you not?”  

“I’m assuming you dwell amongst something else?” Your eyes flicked towards the sea and then back at him. 

“You assume correctly.” He dipped his head in a nod, adjusting his stance to face you. “I am Namor.”  

You tested the name on your tongue, repeating it under your breath. Your gaze ran across his broad chest, trying to gauge the colors of paint you would mix to paint the golden-brown hues of his skin. 

“Can I paint you, Namor?”  

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. He was just so pretty, and the artist in you couldn’t deny how beautiful the painting would turn out.  

“You want to paint me?” He furrowed his brows, but the grin on his face grew slightly.  

“Yes,” you responded quickly, nodding your head with vigor, “I would like to paint you.”  

He was silent for a few moments, before shrugging his shoulders in a very human motion. “Okay, ki'ichpam artista. You may paint me.”  

- 

Your portrait of Namor would take you a few weeks, maybe even a month to complete. You wanted to highlight his strength and the unbridled power he possessed, but you also wanted to emphasize his beauty. Namor would have to visit you many times for you to get every detail just right, and the thought of that sent an excited flurry of butterflies through your stomach. You thought about taking a photo of him, to speed the process along, but quickly decided against it. It’s not every day that a girl gets to sit with a God, let alone paint one. 

The first visit was mostly a sketch session, and you spent the vast majority of the time studying Namor’s features, sketching a few lines, and then erratically erasing different areas of the canvas. Namor sat patiently, watching you mumble under your breath as you captured the angles of his face. He wasn’t used to being studied so closely but being under your careful eye didn’t make him uncomfortable.  

“Why did you become an artist?” Namor asked as you looked between your canvas and his face.  

“Because I love art.” You murmured, squinting at the line you’d just drawn. 

Namor smiled, and you ignored the fluttery feeling in your chest.  

“I know that pétalo. I meant, why do you love art?” 

You glanced up at him, studying the way his lips curled when he smiled. You began sketching again before you answered him.  

“Art brings people together, you know? That’s super cliché, but I guess it’s true.” You shrugged. “Languages are complex. They cause confusion and barrier us from other cultures. But art is a form of communication that doesn’t have those boundaries. Everyone can look at a painting and understand it at its very core, even if they interpret it differently.”  

Namor nodded, leaning back on his hands in the sand. You had a sneaky feeling that not many people got to see Namor in this relaxed state and took a mental picture of it so you could sketch it later.  

“You have a very pretty way of saying things pétalo.”  

You blushed, focusing on the angle of his pointed ears on your canvas.  

- 

It wasn’t until your third session with Namor that he began opening up about his home in Talokan. He told you about his people, and how most of the world didn’t know of their existence due to his vigorous efforts to protect them. You had an overwhelming sense that Namor’s pride lay in the ruling of his people, and that he would do anything to protect them.  

While he described his homelands to you, you snuck another peek at his ankles. You’d have to ask him for a closer look eventually. The only way you could do them justice in your painting was by touching them, but you didn’t know how to ask. 

“You can...touch them, if you need to, pétalo.” 

You looked up, stiffening with guilt. You didn’t know what to say to that.  

“You cannot hurt me. I promise.” He nudged his foot out, urging you to touch them. 

You nodded slowly, softly setting your paintbrush down and standing from your seat. You kneeled down beside him, leaving a trail of featherlight touches along the inside of one of the wings. The texture was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and you couldn’t help the second stroke you left across the back of the wing.  

Namor inhaled sharply and you pulled your hand away, looking up at him with concern.  

“Did I hurt you?” you asked, squeezing your hands together. 

“No, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. They are very...sensitive.”  

“Oh. Oh.” You stood up, swiftly turning to walk back towards your canvas, when his hand lightly wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.  

“It’s okay, pétalo. No one has touched them in many years. It was a feeling I had forgotten, that’s all.” His eyes shone bright with ease, and the soft smile on his lips was comforting.  

You nodded, returning his smile. You noticed that he hadn’t let go of your wrist, even though it was clear you weren’t moving away from him anytime soon.  

“Were you born with them?” You asked, looking up at his tall frame.  

“Yes. And these, too.” He pointed at his ears, and you couldn’t help it when you reached forward, running a fingertip along their edge.  

“Beautiful.” You murmured under your breath, leaning in to get a closer look. Everything about him was beautiful, and you were finding it harder and harder to breathe when you were this close to him. 

Namor stumbled back, facing the ocean with such speed that you stumbled forward in his absence.  

“I must go. Something is not right at home. I am sorry to leave so quickly. It was just getting good. I will see you again, next week, pétalo.” 

You watched him walk back into the water, washing away with the tide, and just like that, he was gone.  

- 

The fourth session you were supposed to have with Namor was nearly ruined by a terrible storm brewing on the coast. You’d startled awake to the loud clap of thunder and watched through your window as the ocean violently responded. The rain came soon after, and just as you convinced yourself you wouldn’t be seeing Namor today, his powerful body trudged out of the water and onto the beach.  

You met him at your front door, ushering him inside as the storm raged above his head. He stood in your foyer/living room/bedroom and looked around. You froze with the realization that this was the first time he had entered your house. It was strange, you thought, seeing someone so ethereal surrounded by the familiar, but common, walls of your home. You hadn’t done the dishes the night before, and your bed was unmade, but his attention had been snagged by the light coming from your makeshift studio.  

“In here, then?” He pointed, gaze returning to you. 

“Yeah. I’ll be in there in a minute. I just have to get my sketches.”  

As soon as he rounded the corner, you bolted forward, straightening the covers on your messy bed and throwing dirty laundry into a pile in the corner. You ran your fingers through your hair, and finally joined him in the room a few moments later.  

He was hunched over, looking at the dozens of sketches you’d drawn of him. You face palmed and internally groaned as you realized that you hadn’t put them away before inviting him inside. This was an embarrassing secret, to say the least, but you couldn’t stop drawing him. Every time he sent you a new look or moved his body in a way that captured your attention, the urge to draw it in your sketchbook wouldn’t leave your mind until you finally gave in and sketched it out.  

“You are very talented, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'.” he said, standing to his full height. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled through your hands, trying to hide the fact that you were blushing, again. You shifted your focus to the painting, which was nearing its completion. “I’m almost done with the painting. I think after today I’ll just have to do minor touchups.” 

“That is...wonderful, pétalo.” He plopped into one of the chairs you had set up around the room. You moved toward him and reached your hands out, intending to turn his head the way you needed it to finish the painting, but you hesitated. Your arms were frozen, stretched out in front of you as you met his heated gaze.  

He shifted forward, keeping his gaze on you as he slowly leaned into your outstretched palms. Your hands curled into hair, and he shuttered, eyes closing as he forcefully pushed his head further into your hold. You tried to ignore the butterflies his slight movement had spurred in your stomach, but the soft groan he let out as you ran your fingers through his hair ruined any chance you had of controlling your blood pressure. 

“It has been...a very long time since I’ve been touched so gently, princesa.” 

You swallowed, unsure what to do next, but he was quick to hoist you into his lap. You traced his jaw and couldn’t help but glance at his lips as you met his gaze. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you closer to his body.  

“I did not mean to fall for you so entirely, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo', but you have not left my mind since I saw you painting on the beach.” 

His voice was soft, but his hands tightened around your waist as he spoke. He had to physically restrain himself from pulling your lips down to meet his. But he would wait, a lifetime if he had to, for a sign of consent from you before crushing his lips against yours.  

“I finished the painting last night.” You revealed, choking out a laugh. “I just wanted one more day with you before you left.”  

Namor let out a deep laugh, throwing his head back against the back of his chair. “What were you planning on doing all day, princesa?” 

You groaned, resting your forehead on his shoulder. “I was going to pretend to paint for a few hours before showing it to you.”  

“If you wanted to spend more time with me, princesa, you only had to ask.” Namor was grinning wide, running his fingers along the curve of your waist.  

“Don’t you have important kingly things to attend to?”  

“Yes, but nothing that can’t be rearranged, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. You are also important to me.” 

You smiled, cradling his face between your hands. His expression turned molten as you leaned into him, parting your lips in anticipation. He cupped the back of your head, pulling you the rest of the way down to meet his lips. The kiss was both sweet and lustful. His tongue dominated yours, begging for more as he ran his hands over your waist.  

He pulled away from you abruptly, squeezing your waist. You were about to crawl off of his lap and begin profusely apologizing to him, but his words stopped you.  

“You said you finished the painting. Can I see it?”  

“Of course.” You jumped off of his lap and ran to the closet you’d hidden it in, suddenly excited to reveal it to him. You’d been keeping it a secret until it was finished, and to say you were eager to hear his thoughts on it was an understatement.  

You set it on your canvas stand and stepped back, allowing him to fully see the painting. It had come out better than you’d hoped, and you’d known by the time you were halfway finished that it would be your best portrait yet.  

He leaned in, marking the tiny details you’d spent hours polishing, and smiled.  

“Ch'ujuk ch'úupalo', I have seen many paintings of me over the years, but none come close to this. You are so talented, princesa.”  

“Do you really like it?” You asked, clutching your hands into your chest.  

“I love it, my ki'ichpam artista. If I could take it with me and hang it for all my people to see, I would.” 

“Really?” You squeaked, trying not to tear up at his declaration.  

“Do you like it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“I think it’s my favorite painting I’ve ever done.” You breathed, glancing at it. 

“You should keep it, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. Hang it in your home as a reminder of me, for when I have to attend to those kingly duties.”  

You thought it over for a moment, and then smiled. “Okay.”  

Parting with that painting was something you’d been dreading since you’d started it, along with the idea of not seeing Namor on a regular basis, but he’d just relieved your doubts in one sentence. You got to keep the painting and you’d be seeing him again. 

“Okay.” He repeated, pulling at your waist until you were situated in front of him. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your lips, and you finally gave into those damned butterflies, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. 

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[jeromeswife]

namor x f!reader - sea shells and love

Masterlist

Word count: 592 words

summary: making a crown for your king

warnings: none! pure fluff

translations:

in yakunaj - my love

in reina - my queen

The ocean breeze and its saltiness filled your nose as you made your way along the beach, collecting sea shells. Namor had been away to discuss diplomatic matters with Shuri on how to better their alliance.

You knew how much stress he’d been since the battle of Wakanda and you wanted to do something nice for him. When you’d scroll through Pinterest, you always stumbled upon these beautiful photos of sea shell crowns and necklaces.

You’d have shown these photos to him in the past but he had never shown much of a reaction to it. Sometimes you couldn’t read Namor, but had very sweet and sentimental moments with him.

Your phone was on as you looked at what kind of sea shells would be on the beach of Wakanda. Studying them, you scoured the sand. You buried your hands in the sand as you tried to find some dry ones first. You’d found some puka shells, sea scallops, and a few sand dollars. The smile that was on your face slightly drooped. You weren’t too pleased with your founds.

The ocean then waved towards you, clearing a path full of beautiful shells. From sea stars and various shells you’d only ever seen in books and online. A bubbly feeling rose in your chest as you picked them all up. After, you nodded at the waves, thanking it and blowing a kiss towards it.

Namor’s relationship with you awakened the mind of the ocean to help you out whenever needed. You even remembered when you had trouble swimming and some orcas came up from the depths of the waters to help you out. It was one of the coolest days of your life. There was many benefits from dating the king of the sea.

You grabbed your shells and walked back towards the sand, sitting in its grainy yet soft texture. You grabbed a few pieces of dried kelp and used it to tie all the shell pieces together to make a crown. A smile crept upon your face as you proudly looked at your work. It was beautiful.

Before you knew it, Namor snaked his hands behind your waist and pulled you up from the sand. You would normally panic, but he always greeted you like this. It was his little way of saying that you should trust him.

“I’m happy to see you again, in yakunaj.”

You turned around and hid the crown behind your back, “Hi, my love! I have something for you.”

He smiled and let out a light laugh, gazing deep into your eyes. Namor wasn’t used to getting many things since he rained you in gifts everyday to show his love for you.

You were let out of his hold and took out the sea shell crown, showing it to him, “I made it for you, my King.”

His cheeks grew warm and he leaned down, kissing you on the cheek, grateful for you but also cause he thought it was so cute of you to do that for him. “Well, aren’t you gonna crown me, in reina?”

You nodded and as he bent his head down, you placed the shell crown atop his head. The whites, pinks, and oranges stood out on his head that was coated in short black hair. You giggled because he just looked so cute yet gorgeous.

“I love you, my king. You look absolutely beautiful.”

“I can say the same thing about you, my love.”

Namor leaned down and kissed you deeply. His love grew for you at that moment.

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt. 2

Part One: The Stranger

Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 8k (lol whoops)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, PLOT

Summary: Namor isn’t the only one who has been searching for his general. Thanks to you, Namora’s life was saved -- but when your connection to the two strangers brings you face to face with a hostile group of government agents, you find yourself in the crossfire of a much bigger conflict.

A/N: OMG first and foremost thank you for being here, thank your for coming back, and thank you for reading. This has taken me a bit longer to post because I’ve been pouring over it every day for a month, trying to get it just right. Comments, feedback and reblogs mean THE WORLD to me, so feel free to show some love and as always please be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

There is a growing unrest inside you.

Days have passed since your encounter with Namor after saving the life of his general, Namora. Two mysterious strangers who have left your mind reeling with questions, unrelenting and unquenchable as a flame that dares to spread like wildfire, consuming your thoughts entirely.

You repeatedly play the memory over in your head with no rational way to explain what you witnessed; her blue skin, his superhuman strength; the curious metal that outfitted both of their armor; how they disappeared into the vast open ocean.

"Something on your mind?" A fruit vendor asks, snapping you back to reality. You stand in the middle of the bustling village marketplace, doing your best to orient yourself quickly.

“Your head is — how you say…? — in the clouds, yes?” The vendor asks in her best English, smiling politely at you as she stands next to her cart, eager for you to buy something.

"Is it that obvious?" You joke with a tired laugh. "Two, please."

You scoop up a pair of fresh mangos and hand the woman some change from your pocket. She kindly accepts it with a nod of appreciation. Carefully sliding the fruit into your bag, you return a nod of your own.

You continue to walk through the market, the damp air carrying an aroma of local cuisine and sweat fills your lungs. Weaving your way in and out of aisles created by vendor carts, you feel a sense of calm as you watch the locals interacting with one another. There's beauty to be found in their sense of community.

Typically, you would gather your needed food and supplies and then be on your way back home, but today as your mind wanders, so do your feet.

Meandering down another aisle, your thoughts drift back to Namor, specifically the morning you found him on your front porch. You can practically feel the warmth of that sunrise as you imagine its light illuminating his dark eyes. You picture the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth when you asked him if he would come back, a moment you hold onto tightly. The memory gives you optimism that you will see him again someday and hopefully have the opportunity to ask him more questions.

Lost in thought, you hardly notice a small crate sticking out a few inches further than other accompanying carts in the aisle. Tripping your foot as you walk by, it nearly tumbles you to the ground. You manage to catch your balance and your breath before face-planting into the dirt. Immediately turning to apologize, you find an elderly man seated behind the crate, his back leaning against the wagon behind him and his eyes shut.

The man is slender and his head bald, save for a few wisps of hair above his ears. Most of his body is covered by a knitted green poncho, well-worn and fraying along the hem. To both your relief and surprise, he seems completely undisturbed by your clumsy collision with his crate of goods. Unsure if he’s even awake, you reach down to help reset any items on the crate you may have displaced.

Your jaw drops slightly as you see the contents on display. Spread out on a velvet brown tablecloth sits a small assortment of beautiful books, scrolls, and other documents. Admiring them, you reach out and push back one of the scrolls, revealing a gorgeous hand-sketched portrait of the island.

“Did you draw this?” You ask, impressed by the skill of it.

“Mmm,” He hums, shaking his head, "But I made very good trade with the man who did.”

You find his answer odd, though slightly amusing, considering he never opened his eyes to see which piece you were referring to. As you browse the rest of the items, a particular book stands out to you. It’s different from the rest of the collection — small and bound in leather, although the leather itself is worn and brittle-looking. You pick it up and inspect it closer. The binding is loose, the pages aged and tattered.

“Careful with that one. Very old.” The elderly man says, his eyes remaining shut. “Nearly 400 years. Got it in a trade with a visiting merchant from our southeastern sister islands."

How does he even do that? You wonder as you start delicately flipping through the pages of the book. You make it about midway through when you open to a particular page that makes you freeze, your heart nearly jumping out of your throat. Your eyes widen as you bring the page closer to your face.

It’s a crude drawing — basic, two-dimensional, and very old like the man said, but the likeness is undeniable. Depicted is the figure of a man. He dawns a grand snake-like headpiece and is grasping a spear. His body is adorned with jade and other metals. Sharp ears. Winged ankles.

"Excuse me!” you ask the elderly man with an exasperated breath, practically jumping over the crate as you lean forward and shout, “These!" You flip the book around to show him the open page, pointing excessively at the picture and the glyphs below it. "What do these say?!"

Your voice is eager and desperate, emotions you hardly try to hide.

The man's left eye slowly squints open.

“Only few are still legible.” He says, shrugging.

“Okay, yes, but the ones you can read, what do they say?!” You plead.

He sighs, opening his other eye and leaning forward slightly to get a better look. After a moment, he leans back against the wagon and closes his eyes again.

"King. Serpent. God. Monster."

You hang on to each word he tells you. Turning the book back around, you bring it back up to your face for another closer inspection.

"How much?" You ask, ready to make a deal.

The elderly man cracks one eye open to look at you for a moment as he considers his price, then wordlessly points to your arm with a feeble finger. You follow his gaze down to the small beaded bracelet around your wrist — the last reminder of your life before coming to the island. You hold your arm up to him, making sure you understand correctly. He nods politely, and without hesitation, you untie the bracelet and toss it to him.

"Nice doing business!" He says with a wide grin as he holds up the bracelet. You are already nose-deep in the book as you turn on your heels, quickening your pace as you head home where you can study more carefully.

Maneuvering your way out of the market to the outskirts of the village, you hardly need your eyes to guide your feet home. You take advantage of the remaining daylight to examine the pages as you walk, turning page after page and scanning for any information about Namor and his people. There’s little there, the book seeming to be a very old, mingled account of island history and lore. Seeing as you are not a historian and certainly not a linguist, it’s difficult to decipher. Still, you do your best to piece together what you can from the pictures.

King. Serpent. God. Monster.

The sky begins to dim. You can hear the faint roar of waves as you near the coastline. It’s too dark to see much detail on the pages now, so you carefully tuck the book into your bag as you step over the trunks of palm trees. The path beneath your feet gradually turns from brush to sand, and soon you find yourself walking along the familiar stretch of beach that leads you home. You stare out into the darkness, listening to the rhythmic pattern of ocean waves and breathing in the salty evening air. The moon hovers above the water, burning brightly as countless stars paint the sky behind it.

You continue walking in the darkness, but there’s an uneasiness building in your gut the further you go. You should be nearing home by now, but no lanterns have come into view. You always light lanterns before heading into town. They burn for hours in your absence so, by the time you return, you have light to guide you. All you see now are shadows and silhouettes that dance against the tree line, and every sound and indiscernible movement has you on edge.

It’s not until you are nearly a stone's throw away that the bungalow materializes in the night. Your stomach twists as the wind blows by you, rustling your hair and causing the snuffed-out lanterns hanging from your porch to creak as they swing back and forth. You hear shuffling, and small beams of light sporadically shine through the cracks of lumber that make up the walls of your home.

There is someone inside.

An alarm goes off in your head, screaming at you to get out. As quietly as possible, you begin backing away. Eyes fixed on the bungalow, you take one step back. Then another. Then another. Then — thud.

Your stomach flips and your throat tightens. While you pray you’ve miscalculated and miraculously made it to the tree line in three short steps instead of thirty, you feel the unmistakable presence of a body directly behind you.

“Going somewhere?” A deep voice growls menacingly. It belongs to a man, his tone gruff, although you can’t quite make out his accent. You do, however, feel the blood drain from your face as you slowly turn your head, finding what is quite possibly the largest human being you have ever seen. Dressed in black military-grade tactical gear and armed with enough ammo and firepower to take on a small army, you know there is no fucking way you are getting away from this guy.

The man grabs your arm and forcefully drags you toward the bungalow. Once up the stairs, he pushes you inside and releases his grasp. You rub your arm and look up to find another man standing in your kitchen, his back turned away from you as he stands hunched over your table. He’s dressed in similar tactical gear and has a walkie-talkie hooked to his belt. A lantern burns next to him as he seems to be pouring over some sort of map.

“Sir,” the man behind you bellows.

The man at the table straightens his posture and turns around to face you both. His hair is buzzed and his face is stubbly, with a thick prominent mustache that stretches across his upper lip. He seems a bit older, and by the ‘sir’ formality, you are fairly confident he is in charge.

“Ah, we were wondering when you would be back.” He says in a sly tone, his accent American.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” You respond in anger to the unwelcome visitor.

The man takes a sweeping look around the place, then his eyes come back to you.

“I think we can agree that “house” is a bit of a loose term.” He responds with sarcasm, a knowing look on his face. You continue to stare him down, unresponsive to his quip. The man loosens his shoulders and smiles at you. “Where are my manners? Agent Barrett.” He reaches his hand out, offering to shake yours.

You don’t move a muscle.

There is an awkward moment of silence, then Agent Barrett’s hand retreats. He turns, beginning to pace around your tiny kitchen. The room is in rougher shape than usual, clearly ransacked by whatever search was conducted before your arrival. The agent picks up a small roll of gauze from off the counter and holds it up.

“Tell me,” he says, inspecting the bandage material closely, “have you had any visitors recently?” His gaze quickly flicks over to you, an eyebrow raised.

Your pulse quickens as your blood turns to ice. Your mind immediately flashes to Namora floating wounded in the water; to Namor breaking down your door; to the two of them disappearing into the night. You put on your best poker face and shake your head.

“There’s no one around here for miles,” you explain, trying to be as convincing as possible. “You should try more inland towards the village. Most tourists, if any, stick closer to town or retreat to the far side of the island where—“

“Oh, she’s no tourist.” Agent Barrett chuckles, cutting you off. It feels insulting as if your suggestion were so preposterous it was borderline humorous.

She. He is looking for Namora.

Setting the gauze down next to the sink, Agent Barrett turns and walks over to you.

“You’re certain you haven’t seen anybody unusual around here in the past few days?”

He’s standing much closer now. Something about him makes your skin crawl. You eye the gun strapped to his hip and doubt it is for self-defense. Again, you shake your head.

Barrett sighs and gives you a disappointed smile.

“Okay.” He says softly while nodding his head. He backs away from you as the room lingers in silence. You allow yourself to take a breath, but the relief is short-lived. “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

On Barrett’s cue, the large man behind you grabs your shoulder and kicks the back of your legs, dropping you hard to your knees. With his free hand, he yanks the bag off your other shoulder and tosses it to another man who emerges from the doorway to your bedroom. He catches the bag and immediately starts rummaging through it.

“Hey—HEY!” You shout, “What the hell are you—“

“A woman!” Barrett yells. “Pale blue skin. Very skilled swimmer. Four days ago, she single-handedly took down three UN-sanctioned vessels in the middle of the goddamn Atlantic! Three! Now where I’m from,” he crouches down to your level, aggressively getting in your face as he drops his voice lower, “that’s what we call an act of terrorism.”

Adrenaline overtakes your body as you feel your heart beat so intensely it threatens to break right out of your chest. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Barrett’s henchman searches your bag. He pulls out the mangos and tosses them on the floor. Then, he grabs the old leather-bound book. Turning it over in his hand, he looks at it for a moment and tucks it into his belt.

“She was wounded,” Barrett continues, calling your attention back to him, “and our intelligence indicates she washed up somewhere along this shoreline. That's where her trail goes cold. And as you said, there's no one around here for miles. No one, except you."

His implication is obvious.

“This woman, where is she?” He makes a last-ditch effort to convey a friendly tone, but you can hear his patience dwindling. "And please don't make me ask again."

You stare at him coldly, lips sealed together. You’re not telling this man a damn thing.

"Mmmm," is all he grunts, his eyes dropping to the ground. He heaves a heavy sigh as he pushes against his knees to stand up. Once on his feet, Agent Barrett stares at you for another moment before nodding his head to the agent behind you. The next thing you know, you are suddenly being pulled up by your hair, the man’s grip tight against the back of your neck as he turns and pushes you out the door.

Your hands clamor to his as you struggle against him to relieve the painful tension pulling on your scalp, attempting to release his grip on you. But the man is too strong and drags you down the stairs of your porch with ease. You make it a few meters down the shore when he shoves you down to your knees. Your legs make divots in the sand as your hands catch the rest of your body’s momentum. Hunched over, your knees and palms sting from the sand's friction.  

You immediately tense up as you feel a gun press against your head, the cool metal barrel hungry to fire. Hearing footsteps approaching behind, you quickly swallow your fear to maintain composure. Agent Barrett walks past, turning to position himself directly in front of you again — only this time, he doesn’t crouch down to your level.

“Look at me.” He demands as he towers over you. His body language makes it clear who is in control. In the only act of defiance you have left in your arsenal, you keep your gaze laser-focused on the water straight ahead of you, refusing to give in to his instruction. Growing impatient, Barrett roughly grabs your chin. He clasps it tightly as he yanks your jaw upward, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“You’re going to tell me about your friend, and you’re going to tell me where she is, right now," he growls.

You stare at him, disdain in your eyes. You momentarily scan your surroundings and count nearly twenty other men on the beach now. It’s enough to make your gaze and your heart sink straight to the ground.

Even if you wanted to tell him, you don't have the answers Barrett is looking for. His face hardens as your lack of cooperation and unwillingness to talk becomes clearer and clearer. Loosening his grip and dropping your chin, Agent Barrett looks at the agent next to you.

“Do it,” he orders, leaving you without another word as he walks back up the beach toward the bungalow.

The gun presses even harder against your temple and you hear the irrefutable sound of it being cocked as a bullet rolls into the chamber. Your heart is heavy as your eyes begin to well with tears. You stare out at the ocean, the night swallowing the horizon save it for the piercing glow of the moon that cuts its way through the sky down to Earth. It’s a better view than most get in their final moments, you suppose. For that, you consider yourself lucky.

Time seems suspended as you feel the ocean breeze blow past you, pouring over your skin and filling your lungs as you deeply inhale these final moments. You savor the way the salty air envelops you like the comforting embrace of an old friend. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try fighting back the tears. Despite your best efforts, one single drop escapes, racing down your cheek as you accept your fate.

Zzzzziiinnng!

Where you expect to hear the split-second ring of a gun firing before getting your brain blasted out the side of your skull, you instead hear a high-pitched whistling through the air and the unmistakable slice of a blade penetrating flesh. The weight of the gun barrel against your head slides limply away, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground next to you.

Your eyes shoot open. You turn to see your executioner now lying dead on his back with a spear pelted through his chest. Your eyes widen in fear, then settle on the spear itself. A spear you recognize — because it’s the same one that was held to your throat only a few days earlier.

Namor.

He's here. Desperately your eyes search the ocean line, scouring the darkness for him.

"We're under attack!" Someone yells frantically from behind you. It is one of Barrett’s men.

"Open Fire! Open fire!" Another one shouts.

You immediately abandon your search for Namor, hitting the deck and covering your head as dueling bullets and spears fly over you. Hearing anguished cries from both sides, you peek out from over your arm and watch in horror as an agent a few meters away looks down at their dart-ridden chest. They drop to their knees, then fall forward onto their face.

Your head whirls around at the sound of another spear making contact with a body and dropping it to the ground. This agent is about ten meters away from you, and while your first instinct is to get the hell out of there — run as far as you can as fast as you can — you notice your little leather-bound book tucked into the belt of the lifeless body.

You tell yourself to leave it. You plead with yourself to leave it.

“Damn it,” you mutter in frustration to yourself. You are getting that book.

Before you can give it another thought, you are already army-crawling through the sand. The sound of gunfire rings in your ears as more weapons return their fire. You scramble to the body, staying low to the ground on your chest and abdomen. Once there, you reach out and grab the book, wrangling it free from the deceased man's belt. You shove it into your waistband when something behind you explodes, causing you to duck your head and shield yourself with your arms.

The battle is deafening and disorienting. The mix of adrenaline and shock threatens to override your entire system as you try to maintain your focus.

Keep moving, you tell yourself.

You lift your head, ready to run, but your breath catches and you freeze. Mere inches from your face, you find yourself staring at someone’s feet and feel the presence of their body hovering over you. You brush the stinging sand out of your eyes, pleading in your mind that this is not the end. Not now. As your vision sharpens, you feel a surge of hope. There in front of you are two winged ankles.

Your eyes shoot up. Standing above you, illuminated by the light of the moon and the rapid sparks of machine guns firing, is Namor.

He looks down at you, his stare intense as his nostrils flare and his chest rises and falls with each breath. Gripping the hilt of the spear, he effortlessly removes it from the body next to you with one pull, his eyes never leaving yours. The ongoing battle on the beach doesn’t deter his attention from you in the slightest. From behind him, a handful of armed warriors with pale blue skin come storming out of the ocean.

“Namora!” He calls, and one warrior immediately splits off from the group. While the others continue to push the team of agents to the far side of the beach, the general comes to Namor’s side and your eyes widen as you take her in. Almost unrecognizable from when you first met her, Namora is a sight to behold. Instead of weak and wounded, she now stands strong and commanding, fully outfitted in her armor of woven jade and metal. Dazzling lionfish spines adorn her head and neck, and she wears the same mesh apparatus over her nose and mouth as before. You are astounded when you squint and barely see a seam remaining where you had stitched her up.

“K'uk'ulkan.” She answers, standing at attention.

Namor’s eyes are still fixed on you. He hands the retrieved spear to Namora and then nods in your direction.

You become nervous, suddenly uncertain if the pair of them have come to you as friend or foe, watching as Namora tightens her grip around the weapon.

“Go.” Namor urges, and a wave of relief washes over you. Friend.

“Where are my goddamn reinforcements?!!” You hear someone shout into a walkie-talkie. You recognize the voice as Agent Barrett's.

“Go NOW,” Namor commands, his eyes flicking up in Barrett’s direction. The expression on his face becomes menacing as he strides past you, his muscles rigid and his pace purposeful. He pulls his own spear out of the larger agent who nearly executed you as he walks past the body, arming himself.

Without hesitation, Namora strides forward and links her arm under your shoulder, pulling you up to your feet and yanking you quickly toward the trees. Before you can reach them, however, more men dressed in black combat gear come pouring out of the thick foliage, ready to attack.

Three surround you as the others rush to provide relief further down the beach. Instead of guns, these agents come armed with batons and other blunt weapons. Namora whips you back behind her, placing herself between you and the approaching enemy. She walks toward the agents, rotating her spear in her hand. You’re surprised by how relaxed her posture is as she waits for the men, each one at least twice her size, to make the first move.

The agent to her right makes the first advance, lunging forward at Namora. She meets him with speed and ferocity, quickly sidestepping him only to grab hold of his shoulders. She uses them as an anchor to whirl herself around him, gracefully landing and her feet and then lodging her spear into his back. The man cries out in pain, but Namora quickly delivers the final blow as she twists the spear in deeper and shoves it upward toward his lungs.

No sooner does his body hit the ground when the two other men charge at her. Like a beautifully choreographed dance, Namora drops to her knees, sliding across the sand between them to duck under their attacks. As she does so, she nimbly summersaults back onto her feet and turns one hundred and eighty degrees. Back on the attack, she runs hard at them. You watch as Namora delivers a combination of charged punches to one agent, then springs back to avoid the swing of the baton from the other. To counter the move, she kicks the man above the kneecap with so much power it sends his whole leg backward and brings him to his knees. She grabs the sides of his head with both of her hands, thrusting it down hard against her knee. You feel the grisly sound of blunt broken bone deep in your core as his skull makes contact.

As the man’s head reels backward, blood pouring from his face, Namora seamlessly transitions between her two opponents, avoiding another attack from the third agent she had previously deflected with punches. Her attention back on him, she trades blows as they fight in more hand-to-hand combat. Between kicks, punches, and counter-punches, Namora strategically inches herself backward until she’s practically standing on top of the first body she dropped. Baiting her current opponent forward, she taunts him with the tilt of her head, exaggerated by her headpiece. It works like a charm. He charges at her, and swooping under him, she wraps around his chest and pulls him over the top of her, flipping him onto his back. In one calculated motion, she pulls her spear from the body of the first agent which is now easily within reaching distance, and drives it into the second.

It all plays out in front of you so quickly when the third agent with the broken nose — well, broken face, really — groans as he gets himself up, ready to have another go at Namora. She engages, but as she moves towards him you see a fourth man emerge from the trees, raising a gun to shoot.

“LOOK OUT!” You yell to warn her, but pure instinct has your feet sprinting forward to stop him.

You don’t process any thought or consider any tactic, you just hurl yourself at him. The two of you collide, crashing to the ground with all the power and momentum you can muster. You scramble for his gun and manage to knock it away, but he barrels you over him and slams your back against the ground. The impact forces the air out of your lungs, temporarily paralyzing you as you struggle for breath. The agent straddles your body, putting more pressure on your chest as he pulls a knife from his hip. With all your strength, you fight to hold his arm back. He breaks through your grasp and takes a swipe at you, but reflexively you deflect it away with your hand. The knife slices open your palm and you cry out as you try to continue pushing his arms back.

When he raises his blade again, a blur of orange lionfish spines come streaking across as Namora flies over the back of the agent and yanks him off of you. They tumble across the sand, but she quickly gains the upper hand by entangling him in a headlock. Clutching your injured hand and still struggling for oxygen, you look on as she tightens her grip around the man’s neck and then abruptly cracks it to the side.  

The sound makes you sick to your stomach, but you also feel a sense of relief. And gratitude. Your chest heaves as you finally start to catch your breath, your entire body buzzing. You turn to see the dead agents Namora has so quickly disposed of, their bodies dispersed across the sand. She unwraps herself from her most recent kill and makes her way to you with haste.

As she reaches you, you hear the chaos and fighting continue further down the beach. Then, the faint sound of a helicopter approaching. Barrett’s reinforcements.

“There are too many of them,” you say in distress as you witness more agents pour out onto the sand to fight Namor’s warriors. Even if each one had Namora’s four-to-one kill ratio, they are still outnumbered. As the chopper blades get louder, Namora looks at you intensely, reaching out her hand.

“Come,” she insists.

She’s gotten you this far. You grasp her hand without hesitation and she pulls you to your feet. You edge closer to the tree line where you hope safety and concealment await you, but as you reach the lush landscape something pricks your ears. It’s not gunfire. It’s not the chopper.

Namora tugs your arm as she tries to usher you into the trees, but your focus is elsewhere. A faint, melodic breeze moves past you like a ghost, causing your mind to become hazy. As the sound grows louder, an indescribable melody rings in your ears that is both euphoric and dreadful. You don’t even notice the tension of Namora’s grip on your hand increase as your feet redirect you toward the water, compelled by its call.

“No!” Namora yells at you as she yanks your arm. The force of it snaps your attention back for a moment, and you watch as the agents who line the beach suddenly cease fighting and instead walk undeterred paths straight into the water. Terror fills you as they wade further and further out, the water coming up to their knees, then their hips, then their chests, until they are completely submerged underneath.

You shoot a glance to Namora, petrified and confused. Whatever is happening, she seems unaffected. Your thoughts and vision begin to cloud again, and you feel like someone else is controlling your body as the ocean summons you along with the others. Every part of you feels entranced by the chorus of voices in the air as their notes overwhelm your senses and leave you disoriented. Namora grabs you, practically throwing you over her shoulder as she runs into the trees. You become hard to carry, so she pulls you both into the cove of a sheltered root system at the edge of the foliage. Huddling next to you, Namora tightly wraps her arms around your head to cover your ears with her hands.

Pupils dilated, you desperately try to hold onto any shred of active consciousness before giving in entirely to the song. Your mind becomes infiltrated by it and begins to process what you see in pieces; men in the water, drowning themselves; gunfire raining down from the night sky; Namor, spear in hand, leaping into the air, taking impossible strides toward a chopper; the chopper spinning out of control.

You feel the heat against your face as the chopper crashes to the ground, exploding on impact. The last thing you remember seeing is Namor in the distance, standing on the sand. Illuminated by the raging inferno that burns behind him from the destroyed chopper, he is fierce, incredible, and terrifying.

A god. A monster.

The haunting chorus melody continues to consume your mind. Even with Namora’s help, you feel your body shift as it involuntarily attempts to get up. Namora squeezes her palms over your ears with even more strength and restrains your movements.

"No." She whispers fiercely.

You squeeze your eyes shut, covering your hands over Namora's as tightly as possible. Blood pours from your hand down hers, trickling onto your shoulder. The noise is too much, and as you feel yourself begin to scream, everything goes black.

——

Your feet drag through the cool sand.

That’s the first thing you see when you finally become conscious again. Your head hangs low in front of you, pounding as it bobs up and down. It’s still dark out, but you find your home lit up by more lanterns as you approach the pathway to your porch.

You glance to your right and left,  discovering you are being assisted by two people on either side of you — Namora on your right and a much taller blue-skinned man on your left. His shoulders are wide and his head is outfitted with an armored hammerhead skull. Arms slung around both of their necks, your body is in a state of pure exhaustion as they get you up the stairs to the door.

As you start to step with your own feet, they are alerted by your recovered consciousness. Quickly, the man unhooks your arm from around him, steadying you against Namora. He retreats as you find yourself gaining feeling back in your body. Namora patiently waits for you to get your bearings, and when you do she opens the front door for you, ushering you to go inside. You follow her instruction, and there waiting for you in the bungalow is Namor.

Namor stands against your kitchen counter, the same place you stood when he first came crashing into your home. His arms are folded across his broad chest. Although his head is down, his eyes are flicked upward toward you, watching your every move. The flame of a lantern on the table glints off his irises, illuminating the dark stare that hovers just below his furrowed brow.

“Please, sit.” He says with a stern voice, his open palm gesturing toward a chair at the table.

As you sit down, you hear the front door close behind you.

Silence.

"Those men," he finally says, pushing himself away from the counter as he stands up straighter, “they were seeking information?"

You only nod, afraid to say too much.

“It’s safe to speak here. I’ve made sure of it.” He promises, sensing your reluctance to engage in conversation.

“They wanted to know about Namora." You answer cautiously.

Namor's expression grows even more serious. He subtly shifts his weight from side to side before settling back into the center of his powerful stance.

"And even with your life on the line, you said nothing."

You are unsure if he is making a statement or a question.

"Why?" He asks through a clenched jaw.

"Why?" You repeat back to him, caught off guard by the question. "Does it matter why?"

"Yes,” Namor says directly, raising his eyebrows. “Because I need to know if I put my spear through the right person.”

The seriousness of his statement hits you like a brick. Your mind flashes back to the beach, you on your knees with a gun to your head as Namor’s spear plows its way through the man next to you. How easily, you wonder, could he have changed his aim by just a few degrees if you had decided to open your mouth and spill what little information you did know to those men?

As you think about it, you also begin to ask yourself why. Why did you keep your mouth shut? Why did you help Namor and his people?

You take a deep breath as you consider your reasons, then lift your gaze to him.

“You barged into my home, broke down my door, and threatened my life. But even then, the motives behind your actions were clear — the love and concern for your people. These men,” your eyes trail away as you feel a wave of anger build up inside, "these men were driven by self-interest and self-preservation. It wasn’t hard to choose a side.”

His face is stoic as he listens to your answer.

“Plus,” you add, “I promised you I wouldn’t say anything. Twice.”

Namor looks at you the same way he did the night you met him. The look that tells you he is debating whether or not you are telling the truth. You are a witness testifying on the stand, and Namor is your judge and jury.

“Well, that is twice now you have saved my people. Again you have my gratitude." He says with a sigh, his expression softening.

You give a small smile, but it disappears when an unrelenting ache pounds inside your head, pulling you out of the moment. You reach up to rub your temple and suddenly feel a surge of pain coming from your hand, instantly reminding you of the injury you sustained from your face off against one of the agents on the beach.

“Shit,” You exclaim, pulling your cut, bloodied palm away from your face and looking at it.

"Here," Namor says, grabbing the roll of gauze off your kitchen counter as he moves in your direction. Pulling up a chair, he sits down directly in front of you so your knees are practically touching. He gestures for your hand. “May I?"

You consider his offer as you stare at the thick veins protruding from his forearm, binding themselves to his defined muscles like vines around a tree. Eyes darting back up to his, you cautiously nod your head to accept his help while simultaneously extending your arm to him.

Namor takes your injured hand gently in his own, cradling it as if it could shatter into a million pieces. Amazed by how his hand dwarfs yours, you feel a surge of energy in your chest when his thumb begins to rub along your wrist. He takes the roll of gauze and begins carefully wrapping it around your palm.

Calmly maneuvering each layer of the bandage, Namor's brow furrows ever so slightly as he slips deeper into a state of concentration. His grasp is firm but gentle, rotating your hand in tandem with the bandage and you take comfort in his touch.

Studying his face, you admire each feature and detail closely. You see the traces of salt against the rich tones of his skin, and soon your willpower gives way to a desire slowly being coaxed inside you as you allow your eyes to trail from his face to his broad shoulders, down his muscular biceps, and finally to his strong hands as they work to take care of you.

Namor begins humming softly as he continues wrapping your hand. There's a warm timbre in his voice that resonates in your ears, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

"That song..." your voice trails off as you grow more entranced by it, unable to find the words to describe its intoxicating melody. But a surge of fear runs through you as you recall another tune, the one from the beach, its haunting cadence prickling the back of your mind.

"My people have many songs," Namor says in a tone equally rich to his humming, calming you instantly. "Each one with a meaning and purpose."

"What is the purpose of that one?" You ask quietly.

Namor’s hands stop as his eyes wander up to yours.

"It's a lullaby, meant to bring the soul peace." His eyes flutter back down as he resumes wrapping the bandage around your hand. "My mother would sing it to me when I was a child."

"It's beautiful." You say reverently.

A smile spreads across Namor's face, but there's a hint of sadness in it. He leans down to your hand and you can feel your heart beat faster as his mouth hovers mere inches above your skin. The warmth of his breath rushes against your wrist, sending shivers through you. With great care, he tears the gauze with his teeth before tucking the loose end into a fold of the bandage.

"It is," he agrees, staring down at your hand which he now holds carefully between his own. "Especially in a world where peace is scarcely found."

His voice is gentle, but there is a bitterness brewing beneath the statement.

"I have spent my life ensuring peace for my people. Protecting it. Preserving it."

Namor looks back up at you, letting go of your hand as he sits up straighter in his chair. The room is quiet as his words sink in and you drop your gaze to think. As you do so, your good free hand migrates to the leather book still tucked in your waistband, your fingers fiddling with the binding.

“What is it?” Namor asks, snapping your eyes back up to his. You swallow nervously, unsure if you should share what is on your mind. Then again, you may not get another opportunity.

Slowly, you pull the book out from against your side, opening it to its marked page before pushing it across the table to him.

“You say you’ve spent your entire life protecting your people.” You preface, hesitating a moment before asking your question. “Is that... you?"

Namor stares at the book in front of him, tracing the outline of his likeness delicately on the open page with his fingertips.

"A version of me." He answers.

"How...." you rub your temple as you do the unnecessary math in your head, already knowing the hundreds of years difference between the book and the man in front of you doesn't add up. "How is that even possible? That book is centuries old, I mean," you are at a loss trying to wrap your head around it all, coming up short with any logical explanation, “who are you?"

Namor looks up at you, then his gaze descends back onto the open book. He gives a sad smirk.

“You are one of very few to ever ask who I am instead of what I am." He strokes his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. "The answer to neither of which will be found in your book." He says, shutting it and sliding it back toward you. You reach for it, only he doesn’t take his hand off the leather cover right away.

"You must always be weary of your authors.” He warns. “The preservation of one's opinion over time does not make it fact, no matter how long ago it was written."

He relinquishes his hold, you finish sliding the book back to your side of the table. Namor searches your face as his eyebrows pull closer together, a rare look of vulnerability in his eyes.

"I wear the mantle of king and am the protector of my people.” He begins. “They are my responsibility by birthright, a charge I’ve dedicated my entire life to upholding.”

Namor proceeds to tell you the story of his people — how they were driven from their home by Spanish conquistadors, and how their gods provided a remedy for a foreign disease that led them to seek sanctuary in the ocean itself. He explains that his mother was among them, pregnant with Namor at the time, and how the remedy herb altered his very being in the womb. Mutant is the word he uses, the reason for his strength and abilities, as well as his slow aging. He then describes the horrors he had seen upon returning his mother’s body to the surface world after her death, and the vow he took to keep outsiders away from his people and his beloved city he calls Talokan.

"So you see," he says leaning forward as he places his forearms on his knees, his face even closer to yours now, "I am no god. Nor am I a man. What I am is a leader who loves his people. If that makes me a monster, so be it. I will see the world burn before I subject my people to its sins and savagery.”

It’s a lot to take in. You study Namor’s expression as his stare now lingers away from you, his mind somewhere in the past. You can’t even begin to comprehend all that he has seen or experienced, but you do feel a clearer understanding of why he is the way he is. Filled with compassion for him, you cautiously reach up and cradle his face with your non-bandaged hand.

"You're not a monster." You reassure him gently.

This brings Namor’s attention back to you immediately, his dark eyes searching your face earnestly as he takes a deep breath through his nose. The bristles of his scruff are rough against your palm, creating a warm friction when he leans into your touch. Namor closes his eyes and lets out a sigh so deep it's as if he's releasing a weight from his shoulders, one that he has been carrying for far too long. His hand comes up to cover yours, pressing it deeper against his cheek.

“K’uk’ulkan,” a voice calls from behind you. You drop your hand back down to your lap as Namor glances over your shoulder. The man with the metal hammerhead skull stands at attention in the front doorway, his body so large it consumes the space entirely. Namor nods at him, then looks back at you.

"It's time," he says, pushing himself up to his feet. “More men will be coming. Namora is outside — collect what you need quickly, she will take you to a safe place.”

The realization sets in, and your heart sinks. Your home is no longer safe and you can’t stay here.

Namor offers you his hand, helping you out of your chair and onto your feet. In doing so, he pulls you into him and tucks his hand delicately under your chin. He’s impossibly close as he tilts your face upward toward his own.

"I am sorry." He whispers, a soft and apologetic tone in his voice. He gives you a remorseful look, but all you can think about is how little space currently exists between his lips and yours. Namor’s gaze flutters down from your eyes to your mouth, but the moment is fleeting as he drops his hand from your chin and takes a step back.

“Go.” He says, encouraging you to get your things. It’s his last word before walking past you and exiting out the front door.

Left alone in the empty bungalow, you make your way over to your bag still on the floor from earlier that evening. You take it and march into your room, grabbing some clothes, your toothbrush, and other small essentials. You don't have much in terms of possessions in the first place, so it doesn’t take long for you to collect what you need.

As you exit your bedroom, you get ready to leave when you look over at the small book on your table. Namor insisted it held no answers for you, but you go to retrieve it anyway, stuffing it in your bag along with the rest of your belongings.

You take one last look around your home, once an unfamiliar broken place that over time became your haven and sanctuary. It breaks your heart to leave, but you know you must.

“Thank you,” you quietly whisper to the room, hoping in some way its energy or spirit or anything can hear you. You make your final exit, walking out to the front porch just as the dawn is starting to break over the horizon. Warm hues cast shadows of orange and red across the island, and you breathe in the early morning air. As you look out across the beach, you are surprised by what little evidence remains of the night’s events. No bodies. No fires. Just large divots in the sand and some smoke along the tree line from a few singed palms.

Namora is standing at the edge of the pathway leading to your porch, waiting for you. Descending the stairs, nerves prompt you to tighten your grip on the shoulder strap of your bag as you brace yourself for the unknown.

“I’m ready,” you say when you reach her.

Namora looks at you seriously, then nods her head. Reaching up to her face, she carefully removes the apparatus from over her nose and mouth. It is the first time you have seen her whole face, unobstructed by the peculiar covering. She’s just as striking without it, and you notice a beautiful jade ring pierced through her septum, echoing Namor’s. She turns the mask in her hand and guides it onto your face, sealing it against your skin.

“Come,” she tells you, turning toward the ocean.

You take one last look back at your home, then fall into stride behind Namora as the two of you walk into the water.

-- -- -- 

Tag List (I think this is how you do it? Sorry if not, still figuring this whole Tumblr-thing out): @looneylikesbooks @omgsuperstarg @chixkencxrry @vainillasmil157 @demoiseller @sodonuthideout @shoutaaizawas @stany0url0calwh0res111 @hjjks @duckwithsunglasses

[wint3r-h3art]

Push & Pull | Namor

summary: He’s very good at pushing you, but you’re just as good at pulling him in and stringing him up. 

Word count: 4.3k (Sorry I really got carried away 🥲)

warnings: Established relationship, brain rotting smut. no plot at all. fingering, cunnilingus, face riding, vaginal sex & choking, sub!Namor

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

a\n: I’m very much hungover, but I pulled through and finished this. This is the No Power AU. Talokan is its own independent nation in this one. No beta as usual, so if I missed anything, I apologize. If you do like it, please please comment & reblog. It means a lot. Feedback just helps me create more works.

**** Do not repost and claim it as your own, or copy, or plagiarize my work in any sort of form. 

His eyes fixed on you from the moment you got out of the bathroom. Through the vanity mirror, you noticed the way those liquid ambers stared right through you. An underlying hunger simmered beneath the surface was almost palatable.

Heat slowly slithered up your neck and straight to your face. Your breath caught in your throat as your heartbeat surged. For that brief second, you knew what that look meant, yet you didn’t dare to acknowledge it, knowing full well that none of you would make it out of this hotel room tonight if you state the obvious.

You exhale for the first time as you slowly put on the pair of jade earrings he had gifted you on your birthday. It was obvious that your hands were trembling from the anticipation alone. Your gaze shifted to the mirror, watching him watch you as he brought his coffee cup to his lips. You just knew that kind of look. 

The thought excited you because right now it was all about the will–who would break first? It wouldn’t be long–it had never been long. Nine times out of ten were you. 

“Aren’t you going to dress?” you asked, turning slightly to give him a full view of your cleavage. 

The smooth silky dress left little to the imagination. Namor could see the way your nipples pressed against the thin fabric, and the sight made his cock twitch in his pants. His mouth watered at the thought of what it would feel like to have those small, perky buds in between his lips. 

You looked extra delectable tonight, and the thought of going out to the gala suddenly felt like a pain in the ass for him. He wanted nothing more than to have you begging and pleading for him instead of this diplomatic dinner that none of you wanted to be there. Surely his cousin, Namora can help him out of this little predicament.

“I don’t take long, in yakunaj,” he murmured almost too slowly that you could only pick out the word “in yakunaj”. “I prefer watching you getting ready instead.” 

The smirk almost gave it away. Oh yes, he loved to watch you dress alright. It was because there was something satisfying about the thought of fucking you out of it that made him giddier than a kid in the candy store.

“Do I want to know what you are thinking, Ku’ku’lkan?” Your hands were too busy trying to put on the pearl necklace, but of course to no avail.

He chuckled. You both knew the sort of game he was playing. He was trying to be coy with you, acting as if he wasn’t going to do anything about you. Oh, you definitely knew about his little game. A little push was all it takes before you completely surrender yourself to him–something about you willingly submitting to him just aroused him. 

You took his little chuckle as the answer to your question. He had no reason to hide his desire from you–why would he if you were more than willing to give in to him so easily?

“Here, let me help you,” he said softly–almost too calmly as he shifted underneath the comforter, trying to hide his raging hard-on from you. 

Your breath shuddered when you felt his warm fingertips brush against the nape of your neck. Suddenly it felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore as your back warmed by his presence. Every molecule in your body was aware of his proximity, and the need to be closer to him was stronger than ever. His magnetism was a danger on its own. 

And you loved every moment of it.

Your body stiffened at that instance as if you were trying to compose yourself, but that seemed to slowly fall apart the moment you felt his hand slip into the back of your gown and reached around to cup your breasts. Namor found your nipples and he tugged at them, twisting and stroking until the small nubs became erected. His large, calloused palms massaged and kneaded your soft mount slowly, taking his sweet time to relish the way they feel.

Your head fell back against his shoulder with a low, shaky moan.

“I always love the way they feel, do you know that?” he said almost lowly all you could feel was the reverberation that shot from your back. Your eyes fluttered as you watched him through the mirror. His desires finally reached a boiling point. You could feel his lust seeping through his very pore.  “I’m going to worship them, sucking on them until you come while my cock is buried deep inside you.”

Words failed you as his words slowly registered in your mind. You couldn’t help but whine in his arms, imagining the things he was going to do to you.

“You like that don’t you, the way your cunt gripped my cock so tightly that I could barely move?” He spoke as he rolled his hips. “Feel that. My cock gets really hard whenever I think about your pussy.”

“In rein….” you managed to utter out loud in between your gasps as you relished the way his clothed cock feels against the cleft of your ass cheeks. Hoping and wishing for more as your pussy clenched and unclenched at the emptiness. Your arousal practically leaked through the thin fabric of your pantie as he continued to ground his bulge on you. Your body felt like it was set ablaze as the image of him sinking deep within you was becoming more apparent.

Namor released you to tear the back of your gown open. A surprised gasp slipped past your lips at the way the cool air felt against your feverish skin.

“If you keep doing that, I won’t have anything else to wear,” you panted. 

The dress he just tore into shreds was one of your favorites, and he knew it too. Your tone betrayed you though. You loved this–you loved it when your lover was rough with you. Something about the way he let himself go and embraced his instinct. You wanted more. You needed more. You wouldn’t mind begging him either. He loved it. It fed his ego. Arching your back, your breasts pressed against the hard plane of his chest. A shaky breath slipped out of you and stared up to meet his gaze. 

His need outweighed his patience. He caught you, and his mouth captured yours with a rough and demanding kiss that made your head spin. Desperation filled his vein as he settled you down on the large California king bed. He practically tore at his pants as he stared down at you. You tried to swallow, but your throat was bone dry as your eyes landed on cock.

“I’ll buy you many more, in yakunaj.” He said before pulling your thin, flimsy panties off of you with his teeth. His eyes trained on you as he was doing so.  “Now spread your legs for me.”

Biting your lips, you slowly spread your thighs apart, bearing all of yourself to him. You watched the way his gaze darkened. Namor licked his lips as he joined you on the bed, pinning your hips down, his gaze now on your glistening cunt. You swore those minutes felt like ages as you struggled below him, wishing for him to do something with his mouth or with his cock.

His thumb pressed against your swollen bud, rubbing in a slow circle. He glanced down at you, his eyes were like liquid gold beneath the amber light. You could see the way Adam’s apple bobbled by the way he was trying to soothe the ache of his dry throat. There was nothing more magnificent than you are now, laying here, all spread out. Wet and ready for him.

Namor slowly stroked your pussy lips between his fingers, squeezing it slightly till your slippery juice leaked out between the folds to coat his digits. It was hard to not moan when he was toying with you like this.

“Darling…” you said again, your lids fluttering as you tried to look at him through the haze of this lust of yours.

“...Hmmm?” He asked, looking at your face as he dipped two fingers inside you. A groan rippled in his throat as he began to pump in and out of you. “This pussy of yours…I swear is going to be the death of me.”

Your body jolted at the welcoming intrusion. You slowly rocked yourself onto his fingers, and his lips pulled back into a grin as he slowly stroked himself with his other hand. 

You watched him through bleary eyes. Your mouth hung agape as you watched the way his large hand slowly glided along his hard shaft. Beads of his precum glistened underneath the dim light,  leaking out of the slit of the fat, bulbous head of his cock, and it made your mouth water.  

“Hmm, look at you getting off on my fingers…hmmm. It feels good, doesn’t it?” 

You nodded as you rocked faster onto him, wishing for more.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come for me.”

Your fingers slid down to your slicked cunt, circling and rubbing at your body until you moaned heatedly. It felt so good, but it wasn’t as good as having your husband touching you instead. You closed your eyes and imagined the way his rough fingertips worked you instead. You wanted to feel his mouth on your clit, sucking on it and licking at it as his cock was deep inside you.

Namor’s lips pulled back into a satisfying smile as he watched you slowly work yourself up. You were practically panted now as he continued to pump his fingers all the way to his knuckle, making the wet squelching sound even more apparent. Your slick was practically coating his hand the more he worked on you.

You on the other hand were slowly unraveling right before his very eyes as your fingers moved more firmly now on your clit. A moan worked its way from your dry throat as the warm desirous heat swelled within you. 

His name fell from your lips tremulously as he could feel your wall begin to flutter around his thick digits. You would have been shied and hid your face if it wasn’t for how eager you were for your release. The need that pulsed through your vein was scorching hot, and you wanted nothing more than to feel it burn your entire being. 

You came with a shout as your thighs clenched almost too hard around him. Namor could feel your release coating his hand as he slowed his movement. He watched as your body convulsed before him as you tried to ride out your orgasm.

Breathing hard, you stared up to meet his gaze. His lips were on yours again with a hot and demanding kiss that left you weak and breathless. His thick, masculine body lay between your legs as he kept all of his weight on his knees. His erection pressed against the center of your body. Every inch of you felt like it was being burned from the imprint of his touches alone, and he had barely done anything more than fucking you on his fingers. It was almost madness how much your body reacted to his touch alone.

Gone was the control by the way you wrapped your legs around his thick and muscular waist as you returned his kiss with a full force of your own. Your boldness surprised him, yet intrigue him, and his desire to have you take over this little dance was becoming apparent.

“I want to be on top,” you murmured as you struggled to pull back from his kiss. Your lover’s eyes seemed to glint underneath the dim light. You could see the small smirk that was etched at the corner of his perfect visage. You could feel his cock twitch in between your legs as well. Perhaps the prospect of you being on top turned him on, or perhaps it was your tone–so bold and so determined. It thrilled him and excited him.

Without a single word of protest, he rolled over, bringing you on top of him. Namor stared at you. His large palm grazed down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He could feel the way your heart beat almost frantically against your chest. Your nerve may be fraying, but he damn knew the kind of depravity awaited him.

You stared down at him with a smirk of your own before you leaned in and kissed him, tracing the outline of his perfect lips with your tongue. He didn’t have to ask because you were as eager as him. 

This week has been as stressful for him as it was for you. Everyone wants a piece of him one way or another. A diplomatic lunch to dinner to the fucking gala that you knew he didn’t want to attend. Even with you here with him, he barely spent time with you as his kingly duty demanded his attention more so than ever. His every move was being watched and criticized. Just like when Wakanda made itself known to the world, the nation of Talokan had been thriving in secret from foreign invasion for centuries. The nation had just recently made itself known for its existence to the world. Because of this, he had been asked to come here for a little talk–which you might have guessed was for the purpose of trading or sharing the resources. Knowing how unyielding your husband could be. The gala was merely a disguise in their attempt at negotiation.

He tasted so decadence–of chocolate and coffee as your tongue slid and grazed over him. Your hand gripped his hair, holding him to you as your mouth devoured him. It was all lips and tongue and a pure carnal desire that permeated your blood. Your response only urged him closer to kiss you deeper until both of you were panting and breathless.

His arms went around you. His blunt nails dug and scrapped along your back as you arched into him, pressing your sensitive nipples into his hard chest. You could feel his muscles corded and strained beneath your pussy by the way he tried to control himself from doing anything more. 

“Tell me what you want, in reina?” he asked as you pulled back to stare into his warm brown eyes. Devotion filled his gaze as he looked up to meet yours. This was him trying his best to give control to you.

“I think retribution is much needed–especially, after the stunt you pulled on my dress earlier.”

Namor bit his lips to hide his little smile as he tried to compose his expression.

“And what kind of retribution are you asking?”

“I think…you’re talking far too much, in yakunaj. It’s time for you to put that mouth of yours into good use, don’t you think so?”

A noise emitted from his throat as he knew what you meant. Namor helped you up until you were kneeling astride his head, giving quite a view of your drenching pussy. His hand immediately trailed down to his shaft as he slowly stroked it to ease the ache. 

“Not yet, darling,” you gripped his hand, halting from whatever of his movement. “Make me come first, and perhaps I’ll consider letting you use my mouth.”

He smirked and let go of his shaft altogether as his hands were now gripping your ass cheek. You could feel him trying his best to not knead at your supple flesh as he stared up to meet your gaze. An undeniable hunger simmered beneath those liquid ambers.

Without a word you slowly sank yourself down onto his mouth. A yelp left your lips at the way his tongue greeted your slicked heat, plunging into your drenching pussy with shallow penetration. His tongue rasped through the slit from bottom to top. The rough, coarse hair of his beard scratched and burned your sensitive skin in the most delicious burn. Your hand flew straight to his har, bunching in tightly in your hand while he was clasping your thighs and holding you there.

His moan reverberated right through your clit, making the small bud throb and ache. There was an intent in the way he was eating your cunt. He walked a fine line in the way he was worshiping you and using you to state his own desires at the same time. Every lick and every flicker of his tongue was meant to show his devotion to please you, yet at the same time, he was sating his own desires that felt endless.

Obscene sounds filled the room, yet none of you seemed to care or noticed. Your hips rolled, and every now and then the tip of his nose would brush against your clit, sending your nerve into a frenzy. Your husband was being a menace at the way he was slurping and moaning so loudly that you would have been mortified by the sound alone if you were sane. The thing was, you weren’t. You were as gone as he was.

Heat curled at the pit of your stomach as jolts of pleasure began to build until you felt like you couldn’t take anymore. The warmth of his mouth and the moist heat of his tongue were killing you slowly as your pleasure continued to build. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest as you were trying to keep up with your arousal. Your wall began to flutter around his tongue the more you ground yourself on his mouth, and eventually, like a tidal wave crashed against the rock, you came hard with a strangled noise as your body convulsed and strained above him. Your thighs clenched almost too tightly around him that it would have choked a normal man out, but not him–not your husband. 

Namor loved this sort of reaction, and he loved that he could give you such a mindblowing release with just his tongue. It was certainly something for his ego there. He only encouraged further as his grip locked down on you tight, pulling you until you covered him with nothing but your essence. His tongue continued to lap at your release, drinking you up until the last drop.

Your legs shook slightly as your body was still sensitive to his touches. Reluctantly you pulled back to sit on his chest and stared down at him. A visible, shit-eating grin was more than visible on his face. This was not a punishment to him–oh no, he was enjoying this a bit much, you thought.

“Do I want to know what you are thinking right now, in rein?”

“No. I just love the way you taste, darling,” he said as he wiped his mouth with his fingers before putting those same fingers into his mouth. The sight made you quiver. Your pussy barely recovered from the mind-blowing orgasm he had just pulled out of you. How in the world are you going to get this man to beg for you?

“Truly?” You asked as you lazily stroked his erection, watching him trying to stop whatever noise from leaving those lips of his. His precum leaked out of the slit and slowly rolled down the shaft and onto your hand. His eyes fluttered shut as his mouth parted, relishing the way the warm flood of pleasure worked through him.

No word came out of him as he struggled to maintain his sanity. His hand gripped the sheet beneath as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

“Tell me what you want, my darling,” you said softly as your hand continued to work his thick cock. He was so heavy, and warm in your palm. He was more than ready. “Beg me to ride you.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as his body arched off the bed briefly. You could feel him shudder beneath you, and you know he was at the breaking point. Just a little more push and he would break, you smirked.

“Don’t be stubborn now, my sweet husband. Surely, you want this as much as I do,” you tease as you slowly knelt astride his body. Slowly you sank down until you were hovering over his cock. You slowly moved up and down, coating his shaft with your moist, slicked heat, but you made no effort to put him inside you.

“Feel how wet I am for you, darling?” you teased as you leaned forward. Your hand was holding onto his broad chest as you rutted yourself on top of him.

And then you hear it, the low rumble of his voice reverberating from his chest. It was so low that you couldn’t make it out the first time around.

“What is it, in rein?”

Gritted his teeth, he spoke. “Please, fuck me.” His eyes glossed over. His hands grasp at the soft skin of your hips. Desperation filled his voice as he looked up to meet your gaze.

“Now that isn’t as bad is it?” you smirked as you grasped his length and lined the fat head of his cock against your entrance.

His breath hitched in his throat as you slowly sank onto his length, slowly inching down. You both moaned in unison at the way he stretched out your tight hole. Namor fought his breath for control. You were so tight and hot around his cock. Your muscles gripped him tightly in your warm, slicked heat. His mind scrambled for control of his own body, but it felt like his rationality was gone.

His large palm slid down your ass as you slid up and down his thick cock. You were so full and oh so stretched out. You could feel every ridge and every vein that ran underneath his shaft. Your brain filled with nothing except for the thought of being so stuffed up by his cock. His warmness and his hardness took your breath away whenever you sank all the way down until your ass hit his thighs.

“You feel so good, in reina,” he groaned, hands squeezing at your hips every time you sank down a little harder than before.

Your hand mindlessly roamed his broad chest, hand squeezing at his pectoral occasionally before it landed on his shoulder. 

“Wrap your hand around my neck…” he mumbles. 

“What?” You stopped your movement altogether as you stared down at your husband.

“Please put your hand around my neck and slowly squeeze it as you fuck me,” he spoke again as he slowly lifted your hips up and began to pound into you from below. 

Staring deep into his eyes, your hand slowly wrapped around his thick neck firmly, but not too tightly. You could feel him swallowing as he continued to piston his hip upward to meet your heat. You groaned as the pleasure clouded your mind once more. You did as he had asked, and you have never seen him lose himself this way before.

His mouth hung agape as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. His movement faltered as you took over to ride him hard, bouncing on his cock as if your life depended on it.

You have heard him moan before, but not like this. There was a raw edge to it that made your pussy throb and ached more than before. It didn’t take long of course as he came inside you, dumping his load until it started to leak out of you as you continued to fuck him.

He was practically heaving at this point as you slowed your movement. His eyes were bleary, dazed and so spent as he lay there. His soft curls were disheveled as he brought his hand to his lips, trying to bite the knuckle as he bathed in the afterglow of his release.

You were still on top of him, but you were no longer moving. You were as breathless as he was as you sat there with his now soft cock inside of you. The aftermath was messy, but you didn’t care. You knew it always ended with one of you covered in a mess.

And for once, you were thankful it was your husband.

“Remind me to choke you next time…” you said in between your heavy breathing. “I’ve never seen you this worked up before….”

Namor chuckled beneath you as heat flooded his face. “If my queen wants to be on top more often, who am I to protest such a request?”

You rolled your eyes as you tried to hide the smile. Oh, now he’s in a good mood. 

“Hmm, perhaps we can start by getting ready for that gala that is thrown in your honor?”

Your husband grumbled as he rolled to his side, bringing you with him as well. “Perhaps in a bit.”

“We are going to be late,” you protested, slapping his chest, but to no avail. Namor felt like he needed a nap, so he was going to get that nap of his.

“Tell them we operate on our time…the Talokanil time. They won’t know what that is.”

You could feel his shit-eating grin by the way he was mumbled in your chest. He was in that mood, and you just couldn’t do anything about it…even if you are his queen.

“If Namora decided to yell at you, I will not stop her…”

Your husband looked up from your chest. “15 minutes…that is all I ask.”

You sighed. “Fine. 15 minutes. I’m setting the timer now.”

Your husband let out a groan as he pulled you closer to him. “Fine.”

a/n: some translation from the fic.

in yakunaj: my love, my darling, my dearest

in rein: my king

in reina: my queen

[demigoddessqueens]

Hello dear author,

Would you be interested in writing a love story between one of Namor's generals (female) and him. She is second in comand after Namora, and is fiercely loyal to him, she would die for him. But she is only half talokan (one parent from land, one from talokan- maybe Namor found her and granted her passage and a place is his city). Anyway, she can hear his silent call for his soulmate (maybe he has a special name with which he telepathically calls her, tries to find her, but she keeps quite, thinking it might be a mistake). While on one of his visits to the outside world he stumbled upon a girl who bewitches him, and he is under her spell. Lots and LOTS of angst, but before they are married, on their wedding day reader calls him by his name (Real fact: his mother gave him a name that no one else knows. For his enemies he is Namor, for his people he is K'uk'ulkan, but only he remembers his birth name) and tells him her name that she knew for so long. That snaps the spell on him, they defeat the witch and marry.

Many thanks, can't wait to hear from you if you think you would like to give this story a go.

It’s been so long since I got a Namor request 😄 thanks nonnie!

Masterlist 11

You and Namor are inseparable. Everyone knows you two are the closest of confidants, maybe even friends, aside from Namora and Attuma

Despite your split parentage, Namor held that against you. The past pales in comparison to the present, and he’s always held you in the highest regards.

All of that changes when you least expect it.

He begins to hear her sirens song, curious as to who comes near his waters.

You see him less and less as days turn to weeks to months, and finally a full year. No sparring, or meetings or jests or inside matters as you did before.

The day you meet her is worse than any training or duress you’ve undergone. All of Namor’s attention focuses on her, the citizens begin to adore her, and you are but a mere afterthought.

Is your heartbreak from the jealousy? Or did you simply wish he was only for you, in any other capacity? That his happiness hinges on your “permission”?

You can barely register what you feel upon his prompt announcement of engagement and soon to be nuptials

As the ceremony goes on, you’re nowhere to be found. Hidden away, you can’t bear to t

A name cherished and given by his mother, who loved her surface home before retreating to the ocean.

Just at that moment, the haze clears from his eyes. The washing realization comes over Namor as he sees the panicked expression of the one who stole him away and the up

Once he finds you, you’re more shocked than ecstatic to see him here.

“Can you ever forgive me?”, “…maybe, but I would like to try again…”

An embrace feels more rewarding and healing than a kiss would in this moment.

[way-of-love]

Unfulfilled (PART 3)

(NO MINORS)(R-RATED-) (NAMOR X FEMREADER)

You, a mutant siren, made a deal with the god and king of Talokan. That in use of your body, to be a surrogate, to create an heir, you will be paid in what the world truly wants most. Vibranium. . But you set rules, limits to what was allowed and all those months lead to nothing. An empty womb. And a very angry surrogate. Namor has been nothing but patient but now was the time to exploit your ridiculous rules and claim what he's been fighting for.

He was a king.

And the king longed for you.

-Sorry for the wait!-

There was a reason for Namors new wardrobe change, a long sleeved shirt arms rolled to his elbows, bootcut jeans that hugged his legs very nicely and even shoes or rather boots you never knew the king of the sea owned. There was a lack of jewelry on his person as well, everything was gone except for the septum he had on his nose. You wouldn't dare call him normal looking because you knew what hid underneath. He was anything but a normal guy.

But he did hide his mutations very well. If someone from the outside got to see him they wouldn't think he was the infamous Ku'kul'kan that people throughout history feared and what people today thought was a myth. Honestly, what would people think? What would they say when they saw the myth they've told throughout history was in your home and every other night come to impregnate you because of the deal you both agreed upon. A baby for pure vibranium.

Speaking of the baby, he was here for that reason dressed up like this. He and his other two subordinates agreed that it was more than high time you saw a doctor for that baby. You were supposed to see one sooner than this but Attuma and even Namora assured you that if you were to see a normal doctor they'd pick up that it wasn't just an average baby. In short, what they meant to say was,' That baby you carry is nothing but a mutant. Bred between a powerful siren and an even more powerful god. No one will understand.'

While you thought the pregnancy was going to be normal in itself you found yourself being extra careful with what you ate, what you did and even how you sung. For a siren singing and stretching your vocal cords was a must. Even while pregnant, yes your mother did it, but this wasn't just a sirens baby it was a mutants baby. You didn't know how sensitive it was or even how vulnerable it would be to your songs. You weren't going to risk hurting it.

Or risk losing your income.

Namor helped you back into bed after cleaning you up. You felt like absolute shit. The pregnancy books didn't mention this one bit. God, if this was how you died then this was definitely the worst way to go. Before Namor showed up Namora was the one to tell you that this was just your body's way of trying to share its nutrients with the fetus inside you. And since you didn't get hit with this sooner, it hit you now with full force. Lovely.

"I hate this. I hate you," You mumbled burring yourself under the thick blanket Namor pulled up for you. Of course he didn't take your words to heart and simply sat down by your bedside and waited. Listening to you sniffle and watched you as you rubbed your bare tummy under the protection of the blanket. He never once hear nor had reports of you cursing down at the child that made you feel so sickly like this. And he certainly did not hear you swear your hate towards it. Everything that he saw, heard and noticed was that you took care to protect the very being you will never even see at birth because he will make sure you will never see it, as per the clause in your agreement.

This 'hate' you had for him, he knew was just a small burst of your emotions. That it too shall pass. As sickly as you were he didn't engage nor indulged in it. Namora warned him about moments like these, woman in general were emotional beings and even more so when with child. But a siren, a creature who allured men and lured them to their deaths, who protected woman, children, infants...you'd be more exploited to your emotions.

You were with child and already protective of it. He feared that one day you wouldn't walk away as per your agreement, that you'd show him your teeth and claws ready to fight for something you never wanted. Something deep, deep down inside him hoped you did something so then he'd take the both of you back to Talokan and hopefully the two of you or rather the three of you could live in peace. But the agreement weighed heavily in his chest.

You knew nothing of this inner turmoil raging inside him because you tried not to care for it. You had your own inner turmoil to deal with.

"Once you are better, we'll be going to see a friend who is able to help you through your pregnancy," Slowly he stood from the bed and removing the cap from his head and placing it on the small nightstand where you had a bottle of water and some untouched mangos on a plate.

"She is very skilled in her field and if the child is a mutant she will be better equipped for the birth." Whenever he thought about the new queen of Wakanda only bitter memories came along that remembrance. He had what he most desired, just hair length away from his goal but because he wasn't truly careful. Namor had to swallow his pride and wait for the day the queen called for him and his army. He knew it was going to be a very long wait until he was called to arms and destroy the surface. And until that time came he will have built his legacy. A son or daughter it didn't matter to him what came out of your womb as long as his blood was running through its veins then he will forever be immortal. No one will ever question his power or his standing, Namora nor his people will ever doubt him again.

Whatever he wanted, you didn't care if it was a local doctor who knew about his existence you just wanted to feel better.

You peeked over your blanket at the sea king who continued to remove pieces of his clothing one by one. His shirt was the next to go giving you a view of his torso again. Did he tan? There was absolutely no way he managed to get this golden under water hidden away. He must've sunk to the surface once in a wile when he was getting pale and laid in the sand for a few hours. The image of him coming to the surface to tan made you snicker.

He paused when removing his pants staring back at you. Your eyes beaming with amusement, beaming at him. It made something in his chest ache but he pushed it to the back of his mind and continued to undress.

"What's so funny?" He pushed the clothing to the side and stood tall in his green trunks.

"Do you tan?" You dared ask as he slowly came back to sit by your side, making the bed dip a bit.

"Tan? This is my skin color," Raising a hand he brought it closer to her peeking eyes. Why would she think his skin was amusing?

"I just...thought that maybe you came up once in a while to tan. You know? The sun doesn't reach the inner depths of the ocean Namor," In a sing-like tone you pushed the blanket down revealing just how funny it was to you. The smile you had on your face looked bright, big and your cheeks were damn near about to split. And Namor found himself holding back his own smile of amusement.

"So...do you come here to tan?"

"I'm just tan-"

You laughed. "I didn't ask that! I asked, listen, I asked you if you tanned here on the surface to be that golden."

You had to bite your inner cheek because Namor was giving you this dirty look you didn't think he was capable of giving while holding back his smile.

Why did you find this so amusing was beyond him but the expression you wore and the things you were saying was too much even for him.

"Do you just float on your back or do you come onto the sand lay out a beach towel and have Attuma fan you with a palm leaf?" The snicker that left the both of you and Namor was surprising but it was a truly welcoming open door. He hid his smile behind his other hand looking away to compose himself and the other you took and sat straighter upon your pillows.

Once the fit of snickers and giggles and jokes from you stopped you both looked at each other with an unearthed emotion that the both of you wished never surfaced. Longing.

A desire to have and to yearn for something or someone. It was a need for someone and that someone for you was Namor. It was strange because no man made you feel like you were fragile like he did. Even before you got knocked up he was as gentle as he could be when speaking or even embracing you, he treated you like a prized woman. Not some dancing and singing harlot he could pay and pretend to be a man for. Despite the circumstances you both put yourselves in there was evidence that the longing the two of you had for one another was steadily growing in the pit of your womb.

Unknown to him, he too longed for the deadly woman, you, who held his hand so innocently. As if you were unknown to the many lives that hand took or how many times he imagined caressing your body with that hand. It may have been one night but that night was a gateway you both opened and it will never close again.

But perhaps that night can happen again? Not now of course but when you were better, not sick like this. He'll convince you then. Because he now knew your body, truly knew it. And he would use that to have you again and again until the child that was promised was born. Then you would disappear. Before that happens he'll have his fill.

----------

That morning, after that moment you shared, he came into bed with you. Not for sex but to lay and comfort you. The sick mother of his child. A mother. Were you considered a mother? After all you were pregnant. It still counts, right? Your hand traveled down your naked torso and stopped at the tiny hard bump in your lower abdomen. It was barely there but it was making its presence known. It was... a good feeling. Namor was laying on his side already asleep, or so you thought with the way his shoulders were steadily rising and falling. He did say he was just there to watch over you and help you if you felt sick again.

You didn't really need his help but just to have someone other than an unresponsive belly to talk to was comforting enough. Talking to your belly, was that normal? You never really had to carry another being inside you before nor did anyone prepare you for it. Running a hand over that tiny bump again you stilled over it. Was it normal to feel this longing for a small thing to come out? Or to long for its dad?

You dared rest your forehead against the middle of his broad back looking down at your belly beneath the blanket. A small thing like this will soon grow bigger and bigger until one day it'll be out and about crying out and leaving her for good. Like you both agreed to, this child will never see you nor acknowledge you as its mother. It'll never know you.

You'd be lying if you said it left you feelin a bit empty inside. Never to see the product of you and Namor again; never seeing Namor again. He was one of the only men who sought after your very body but for an entirely different reason. And even after he successfully took your body he remained by your side. An interesting man.

An interesting man who you shouldn't be with. He was dangerous.

Your face fell into a frown at the thought. No man has ever shared your bed this way. No man was ever allowed to touch you in the way a woman was meant to be touched, in a deeper, more permanent way that was something other than sexual. You were a siren, free of the rules of men and even the love of men. Unable to settle or nest because you were taught never to do it. Your wants and dreams were what mattered.

You were loved by one person and that was your mother. And even before she passed she made you swear never to get caught up with a baby or a man but here you were with both. She'd be turning in her grave.

Now you didn't know what to do as Namor slept by your side. You felt lost, and without the knowledge on how to get back to the right path. Was this a good idea?

If you were honest with yourself, you knew you didn't want him to ever go. But as always, you had to remain unattached. Or at the very least try.

The smell of him filled your nose as the sight of him filled your eyes, just a his body filled your own. He was taking in soft breaths filling the room with his breathing. Just as his child was inside your body filling and growing more each day. How was he filling up every area of your life? How were you able to rebel against him so much? To be selfish was better.

You reached for his tanned broad back refusing to acknowledge that your naked body was slowly molding against his back. To be selfish meant a life without ties, without a deal you both agreed upon, and it was so much better than what you'd seen others go through in their pursuits for love, affection, and a family life. Even Namor, the deadly sea king, Ku'kul'kan the feathered serpent god, an unstoppable man, had not been safe from the feelings of love and obligation. An obligation to strengthen his people and reassure that he would be forever. His reign even if he perishes will be forever. Yet, how culd a woman like you, remained unavailable to emotions that even a man such as Namor had allowed for himself?

To be selfish had to be better than to love. To stay unattached, had to be less troubling than to be tied down. By anyone. Words from a mother who loathed her daughter. And you stood by them.

When you were close you pressed your face into his back, felt his skin on yours, breathed in his scent and experienced the vibrations deep inside his body from the soft sounds he made as he slept. It was still early in the morning so the both of you were no doubt were tired. You from vomiting and heaving all night and early morning. Him from planning, negotiating and somewhat pleading for his child and its mother.

And for once you didn't rebel against your own thoughts with actions. Even when the soft snoring stopped, you didn't move away.

It was better to be selfish.

Namors eyes slowly opened and his body remained still. Your touch eased him out of sleep, a sleep he'd been a little surprised he'd fallen into after comforting you. Starring at the barely risen sun through the glass sliding doors, he accepted the reality that you were up against his back, almost as if you were a kitten who wanted to be petted. It was such a strange act coming from you, that it was hard to pull away.

"Y/N," he said your name softly still laced with sleep and deep.

You wanted to lift your arm, and pull him close. You wanted to adjust the sheets so your legs were flushed against each other and you wanted to feel his body naked against your own. But you didn't do it, because you...couldn't. You pride yourself with how you lived and how you stuck to your rules like glue. You prided yourself for the trait. But at what cost?

Remaining still and feeling the tiny bump of your belly against his back, Namor asked," What are you doing?"

Right now, you didn't know nor could you give him answer because it your emotions guiding your limbs. You were stuck in a strange place, that place that you dared not step foot in. A place where you questioned, and wondered about other things that were different from what you were taught.

"Do you ever wish that...for one night, even just one hour, that you could be someone else? Someone different?"

His mind raced, trying to decipher what you meant. But your mind had always been somewhat difficult to pinpoint because you were so unique. And now, you were completely different from your day to day self, even with him it was hard to figure out. "What do you mean?"

You bit your lip and thought it over. "I...don't know. Everything is different to what I am. Even when seeing people who aren't the same as me, having a child, a man, a functioning family, I can't understand it...I don't know how to change. I don't think I can alter."

The sea king drew his brows together and wondered if this was the same woman who he choose to impregnate. " Change is not always granted to us because we simply want it. At most, change is thrust upon us when we are not ready for it."

"Change is impossible." You muttered. You were a woman who changed everything constantly. But the one thing you could never change was yourself.

Namor didn't know where to begin with all of this you were spewing at him. He took the necessary steps to be here. Even with the war with Wakanda, taking the previous monarchs life, he will not regret it because it lead him to his siren, his surrogate. But if he could alter a few things he would. If it were ever possible to become a different person even if it was for one messily hour then he would not be a man of vengeance. He would make it go away.

For one hour, one night or da, he would make it all go away.

You pulled away from him the, turning to your other side and giving him your back as he'd done with you. Your hair felt poufy against the pillow, so wavy and uncombed from her time holding it up from vomiting and from tossing all night. But it was the least of your worries. The bigger thing to worry about was that Namor had turned over as well, your positions now reversed.

And you still couldn't shake yourself out of this weird funk that had pulled you in deep.

"Who do you want to be Y/N?"

Your little home was homey, clean now after you found out you were pregnant. Usually it was so unkept with clothes tossed about the floor, shoes, bras, dancing outfits, it was always a mess. But now it looked clean. But you found that it wasn't enough. You starred at the closed bathroom door," I was taught to stay free. Never to be caught up with affairs of a normal life because a normal life wasn't meant for someone like me. I stayed free, running all these years. I never once stopped,"

Something dark came upon Namor at the mention of her mother. Everything you were told and taught was from a woman who's husband left her to be with a normal human woman. What he took from your stories of your childhood and the lessons of your mother was that she loathed you, she hated that you had inherited her power and she could no longer keep your father entranced to stay with her. If you were a man, there would have been no issue.

These lessons were that from a jealous woman.

"What does your mother say that would hinder you? Trap you?"

You didn't hesitate to answer him because it was one of the lessons that she bore into you since the moment you could walk." Love. Love is...only meant for certain people, and shouldn't be taken lightly, or given away freely. Because then your freedom would be taken away," You hesitate a bit before continuing. "Sometimes certain people you can love are so few. So, one person is enough...they have to be. They won't tie you down or trap you." Did you sound silly? If you did, you didn't care. You were in this void, so you would use it to talk about things you'd never talk about with another person before.

"I can't...I can't connect to anyone. There's no room, no time, no effort."

Namor looked at your hair, cascading in waves against the pillow. Your skin looked darker against your baby blue sheets," Do you wish to be someone to connect to others?"

"No. But sometimes I wonder what it's like." Whether it was the truth or a lie you immediately responded.

He lifted a hand, ran it over the exposed skin of you shoulder and down the length of your arm pushing the blanket down with it." That is a feeling that can kill someone. Perhaps it's better that you don't know what it feels like."

You stayed still while he felt down your side, exposing your naked body. What was he trying do? This wasn't what you both agreed upon. You were already pregnant so there was nothing to gain from being intimate again.

"What are you doing?" Now it was your turn to ask him.

Namor said nothing as he continued to slide his hand further down past your hip and to your thigh. While you were feeling better already, you felt a fire start to ignite in the pit of your stomach. His hand went back up to your hip and stayed there, then he decided to scoot closer to your back moving the blanket back over the both of you so your bodies were meshed together. Meaning, what you so desperately wanted to do earlier when pressed against his back he did to you.

He slid one of his legs in-between the two of yours and spooned you. If it was just for one night, one day, or even one hour he will pretend. Pretend that the both of you deserved to feel that you both belonged, you both were accepted that the feelings between the two of you were answered. It was the least he could do.

As much as you wanted to say this was an expected outcome, it wasn't. This conversation shouldn't have happened, but it did. He shouldn't have stayed to comfort you after watching you throw up the contents of yesterdays dinner, but he did. You both shouldn't be laying in bed like two couples making up for lost time, but you were. And now you realized that this, his touch, his warm embrace were the things you missed. You craved it.

That powerful hand slid over the bump of your hip and to the tiny baby bump that held not just his child, but yours. This was what he wanted. An heir to rule his kingdom by his side, with the power of both a god and a powerful siren, unstoppable. But he did want the woman that carried that powerful being, you. He wanted what he knew he could not have and that's what made this transaction between the two of you that much more covetous. You belonged to your rules and he was willing to rip you away from them.

"Let's pretend, for an hour. That you are all that you wish to be and I am all that I wish to be," His lips were on your should in an instant kissing it. "You will be a woman who wants to give love and understand others. I will be the man who receives your love and will help you to understand."

This was a ridiculous way to ask you to sleep with him but it was one that you somewhat understood. Talking was cheap, actions was what got you somewhere. "You want...us to pretend we're...together?"

"No. That's not what I said. Pretend you are a woman who is a woman and I will be a man who is a man. Like that night? I know you remember it as vividly as I do," He spoke lowly trailing his lips up to your ear that was hidden under the tresses of your hair," Pretend. And I'll touch you however you want to be touched Y/N."

There was temptation here and pleasure but there was also another rule breaking. You got the job done so...why again? It wasn't like him to give you yet another opportunity to give in to your wants and needs. Did he miss being intimate with you?

"W-we had one night. A few moments," Words were coming out but it was as if you were on autopilot. The mouth could move all it wanted, a thousand words spoken, but the desires of the body could overpower it all. Like it had previously.

During this time, you nor him realized that you both were resonating with one another. Calling one another from the darkest depths of the sea and now the great serpent answered the sirens call, a life in return for pleasure. And maybe he will take a little more before he was consumed.

Slowly his hand went up, fingertips brushing against your naval, tickling and touching the sirens skin before reaching one of the breasts that his unborn child will never suckle from. You took in a hiss of a breath when he encased it with his hand, thumb brushing against the sensitive little nub. "I'm already pregnant, I don't need this Namor,"

"Say my name." His lips were still whispering by your ear. Somehow he managed to slip his other arm under the pillow you rested your head on and put you in a lazy headlock. His veiny forearm lightly pressed against your neck , the sea king wanted you, and he wanted to take you so you knew just how well he could 'pretend'.

His name wasn't Namor but Ku'kul'kan. And he wanted you to say his true name like that night, you said it over and over again until it sounded like gibberish falling from your lips. Namor found great pleasure when he heard his name sung from your lips like a hymn, a hymn that was meant just for him.

Releasing a soft breath you shook your head. No, this wouldn't be like the last time because the last time you were blinded by lust, greed and overall was just sexually frustrated. You weren't this time. The lust, the hunger was always there and still was but that other feeling you never wanted to feel was nagging at the back of your mind. Longing.

Longing for what could be and what will be. To pretend the bot of you felt the same at least for an hour...an hour should be enough.

"Ku'kul'kan," You whispered softly closing your eyes. You fell back into the headspace of what could be while chanting his name in your sing song voice that lured men to their deaths but for him it just sounded beautiful. It was only for a bit, pretend for a bit.

"Let me touch you mujer fatal,"

"Touch me then, touch me here," You took his hand that played with your breast back down to your pelvis, past the trimmed curls," Here. Touch here."

Without missing a beat he slid his thick fingers through those soft curls at her pelvis and was welcomed by a pooling wet heat. So you were excited. He was gentle in his exploration, caressing, rubbing, tapping and flicking of your clit. Thankfully his leg was keeping your parted because there were a few instances that you wanted to close your legs and mewl out in ecstacy. Namors second exploration of your body lead him a few conclusions, you enjoyed being handled like this barely having any say in how you were positioned. Secondly, this thing the two of you had between the two of you excited you. The pretending wasn't what excited you, it was the relationship you had brewing. Forget the agreement, forget the rules, outside of that you liked that you carried his child and you liked the attention you were receiving from him. He knew deep down in that cold heart of yours that this was what you wanted.

Your soft breaths were what kept him going touching every inch of your cunt before deciding that it was enough, he slipped in two of his digits making you arch. It's been forever since you were touched like this and over a month since he laid hands on you so intimately like this. His hand took your chin and forced your head to tilt to look up at him, and through hazy eyes you saw his bright chocolate eyes that smiled down at you. That feeling came up again like bile at the back of your throat. Longing.

That longing to be normal and have normal feelings for another person, that longing to be one with another and love another. But that feeling, longing, was a feeling you were forbidden to feel. After all, there was no room for it. No room for the effort you had to put in in order to achieve what you most desired and it was to be taken and loved on...but still be free.

You released a quick moan when his fingers found that certain spot that made your toes curling in pleasure. When he heard the moan his chocolate eyes grew sharp when he found the perfect spot to bring you to your end. Faster his fingers went, curling and uncurling inside you flicking that one spot over and over again. Now, you were gripping his wrists for dear life never breaking eye contact even when you breathlessly begged him.

"Don't stop, please don't stop," You whispered craving for more of his touch, accepting it.

Namor grinned, chocolate eyes full of victory. "Did you know Y/N," He began deeply, pressing his mouth to your ear," that when a woman tell as man not to stop, it means he has found the exact rhythm she uses when she pleasures herself?"

He pressed harder, rubbed faster and you all but purr." Don't...stop." You moaned again.

Everything you were doing and saying was maddening. Namor looked down at your mouth again, focused on it and craved it. He eased on the motions of his hand, and knew he needed to take from you now.

Namor leaned in without any hesitation, and kissed her.

There was absolutely nothing soft about it, as their kiss had lacked gentleness as well. The act was only to use, only to take and only to taste. Instantly, your mouths opened against one another, instantly your tongues met. Namor could taste the sweet sin that lured men to you, could taste the desire, and he almost felt the need to pull away. Almost. But your mouth was giving even as you demanded more of him, you sucked his lips before accepting his tongue again.

His hand no longer forced you to keep your head tilted, he eased that hand down to your breast and gave it another squeeze, he couldn't get enough. "It's so good," you whispered between kissing him, your mouth open against his as your tongues met and licked each other," Why is it so good?"

Namor pulled away from your mouth, and your enticing voice, moved to your neck and sucked you there with all the desperate drive of a man with a time limit. His fingers helped you soar to new heights as they maneuvered between your wet folds, his thumb surprised you and rubbed your swollen bud with precise flicks. You hummed deeply while exposing your neck more to feel those lips of his taste your flesh and mark it. It wasn't enough for Namor, he wanted more of you.

Pulling back he gave your neck a lick before finally whispering back," No man will have you like this Y/N, you carry my seed, I will fill you up as many times as I have to, to make you understand."

You were already on the brink, his forefinger and thumb played with your sensitive nipples," It feels 'so good' because you want it to feel good Y/N." Your voice went higher and your body began to tremble. Before you knew it you were crying out with your true voice, the call of the deep, the call of a siren being pleased by the very man who impregnated her.

There was no better feeling to Namor than watching your red lips spill his true name in a song. Your juices spilled from you drenching his hand, as you settled from your high you found the strength to keep your gaze locked on his. While you were panting desperately trying to catch your breath he went on to make you lose it some more when he pulled his soaked fingers from your center and did the one thing you didn't know would turn you on.

He slid those fingers that were soaked in your nectar across his tongue, tasting you. The taste of a fully willing woman tasted explosive on his tongue, it was your taste, the woman who devoured men was being tasted by the man who planned on being devoured by the alluring siren.

Namore continued to taste you off his fingers with an unwavering look that told you to watch him, and to witness just how delicious you were to him if he devoured you. He wondered just how a woman who was normally tough and blithe could look as innocent as you did, an expression that had nothing to do with the words you said during sex or your own actions.

Your face...your face was capable of giving him all he could ask for.

But would he be able to ask from you more than what you've already given? The dreamy look on your face could convince him that you'd say yes to anything he'd ask but he knew better than to push you.

As you basked in the afterglow of a much needed orgasm you couldn't help but caress his forearms, his hands that smoothed over your thighs and belly. Did pretending always feel this nice? Were they truly pretending, right now?

Longing could do a lot to a person. Fix them up to be great and do better.

Or it could break an already fragile relationship into pieces, that could never be put together again.

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TAG LIST

@theatreslave @niyahwhoreworld @mdnghtfae @sithapprentice @mariaxxxxx @forevermoremagcon @artaxerxesthegreat @diabaroxa @astronautelilanded @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @a--1--1--3 @swimmingrascalbatdragon @mrsstanbarnes @prentissjr

[sunshinescribes]

Pretend That You Love Me - 2

Part 2 of Continuum

Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT

The gods are angry today.

It’s the only thing you can think of as you make your way through the sprawling halls of the royal palace, nestled in the heart of Birnin Zana—the Golden City. You take tentative steps, counting down the seconds until your appearance is considered overdue.

You had been sprawled out in bed, scrolling through reports shared with you by a trusted American agent—Everett Ross, as your kimoyo beads buzzed. You tapped the blinking bead instinctively, and an image of your king flashed before you.

You sat up in bed, bashfully muttering your apologies.

If M’Baku was insulted, he made no point of letting you know. His expression was wary as he regarded you.

“I request your appearance at the royal palace.”

You nodded, lifting from your bed. “Did the meeting with the Talokanil go well?”

You shifted through your room in search of an appropriate outfit to wear, attempting to distract yourself from the thought of Namor and his temporary presence in the Golden City.

It had been a month since you had last seen him. A blessing, even if your heart opposed the fact. The more time you two spent apart the better. It helped you to remember your place—of your duty to your country and the throne. Namor didn’t fit in that equation, no matter how much you silently wished that he could.

“Our guests are still here.”

You stopped short, turning towards the holographic image of your king with furrowed brows.

“I don’t understand.”

M’Baku sighed, his fingers threading through his thick beard. He looked tired, and sounded even more so. “Your knowledge of the CIA situation is needed.”

You blinked down at M’Baku, before nodding your understanding. He tipped his head in a silent farewell before the hologram faded with a sigh.

You cursed your misfortune. You had stopped appearing at the meetings months ago, assuring your king that council from the elders was enough, and that your skills would be better served keeping tabs on the CIA and their newest exploits. M’Baku had been reluctant to agree, but ultimately allowed you to do as you pleased so long as you appeared when he called.

The diplomatic meetings had become harder to sit through with the presence of a certain Talokanil king who often sat across from you. Namor’s eyes occasionally found yours, and his lips would curl in a knowing smile. Images of you breathless beneath him flashed through your mind, drowning out the vital information that was spoken between both rulers.

He was too much of a distraction, so you had done the necessary thing…to little avail.

You pulled at the sleeve of your fitted dress, trying so desperately to ground yourself as you pushed through the royal palace. It would be quick—hell, you wouldn’t even look at Namor. You would present your findings quickly, answer any questions that arose, and excuse yourself. Simple.

You continued down the hall, nearly to the throne room when you felt someone at your side. You turned, earning a nervous smile from the man beside you. T’Kawe.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized.

You smiled back at him.

“You didn’t.”

T’Kawe had become somewhat of a replacement for you in these meetings. He took notes of the proceedings, transcribing each discussion with the use of his kimoyo beads, and sent them to you. You were eternally grateful to him for it. You were surprised when he also expressed interest in the work you were doing with Agent Ross, offering to obtain information from Wakandan agents scattered throughout the states, though a friend had assured you it was his excuse to get closer to you.

“Running late?” you asked, and he nodded with an apologetic look. “It’s alright. I am too I suppose.”

His worry seemed to fade slightly at your confession, and he followed close behind you as the doors to throne room pushed open.

You felt Namor’s eyes on you before you even walked into the room, as if he were so attuned to you that he could sense your very presence. The thought made your heart race, but you kept your eyes forward and your chin high as you reached the center of the room where you king sat. You dipped your head respectfully.

You didn’t even dare look in Namor’s direction, nor at the Talokanil generals that shadowed him.

“The American…what has he told you?”

You could always count on M’Baku to get straight the point. He was rarely one for small talk or pleasantries.

“Although Agent Ross is no longer with the CIA, he has given us an extensive list of members within the agency that could pose a threat to Wakanda and Talokan.”

You pressed your kimoyo beads, and images of several American CIA agents and directors appeared before you. A flurry of information on each of them scrolled beside their picture, though you still had much to learn about these individuals.

You tapped the image of the woman Ross had specifically pointed out to you during one of your calls. Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. The new director of the CIA.

“He expressed a particular interest in Fontaine,” you added.

M’Baku scowled at the image.

“Why?”

The golden question. You had asked Ross the same thing, but he didn’t have anything concrete besides an eerie confession she had made to him. She wanted vibranium, and he wasn’t sure what lengths she would go to get it.

“Ross believes she has an interest in vibranium, and potential means to try and obtain it.” You glanced at T’Kawe as he came to your side.

“We’re keeping eyes on her,” he added.

You pressed your glowing kimoyo bead, and the holograms vanished.

M’Baku turned his attention to Namor, whose eyes you could feel burning into your back. You tried focusing on the intricate details of the throne to distract yourself from the fact.

“Does that answer your concerns?” M’Baku asked the Talokanil leader.

His answer was a dissatisfied grunt, and you couldn’t help but glance back at him from over your shoulder. Namor sat with his legs spread in a way that looked absolutely obscene—it didn’t help that you felt the sudden urge to sink to your knees before him and show him just how much you hadn’t missedhim.

He tilted his head back, his dark eyes searching your face before he shifted his gaze to the impatient king at your side.

“Truthfully, this concerns me further.” Namor waved his hand towards you noncommittally. “I would know what she knows.”

You stared at him, taken aback by his request. This had been this plan all along, hadn’t it? You were not foolish enough to think Namor did not already know all of this, if not more. You had heard the stories whispered throughout the palace of the American scientists who had ventured to the Atlantic in search of vibranium. He had proven their decision to be a grave one.

You were certain there was no potential threat towards Talokan that he was not fully aware of.

“I can send what I have to—”

“No,” he interrupted quickly. There was a certain finality to his refusal—an unspoken demand, “You will go over it will me. If it is not a problem with your king.”

You glanced back at M’Baku who considered Namor with a skeptical look, as if he were trying to work out the possible ulterior motive hidden beneath his actions. You prayed he didn’t find out.

“Perhaps I can be of use instead? I’ve worked closely on this as well.” T’Kawe stepped closer to your side, placing a comforting hand on your arm, as if compelled by the uncertainty in your expression.

You could make out the subtle twitch of Namor’s jaw. The way his fingers curled around the arm of his chair. His expression was apathetic, but his body language was telling. Through the eyes of others, it would appear as simple irritation if anything, but you knew him better than most.

M’Baku cleared his throat, and your attention was his once more. He looked at you for a long moment, before sighing.

“You decide,” he stated simply.

You didn’t know whether to be grateful or exasperated.

This was a ploy of course—a way for Namor to have you in some capacity outside of the comfort of your home. He was treading a very thin line, leaving too much to those who could possibly see through this façade. That, or guilt was beginning to make you paranoid—though evidently not enough to make you see sense.

“I will help in any way I can,” you finally answered.

M’Baku clapped his hands with mock excitement, making you jump. “It is settled then.”

He leaned back in his seat, letting out an exaggerated sigh before calling out to other subjects.

You felt T’Kawe’s eyes on you as you watched Namor lift from his seat. He turned to his generals, speaking to them in Mayan. They regarded him respectfully, before making their way out of the throne room.

“Are you sure about this?” T’Kawe asked.

You nodded, thanking him for his concern, before you made your way to Namor. You could feel your heart begin to race, as if it were calling out to him, attempting to scream; there you are.

You dipped your head slightly, avoiding his dark eyes.

“Follow me.”

You stepped out of the throne room, making your way down magnificent hallways and around sharp corners of the palace until you reached the balcony. It was secluded enough to grant you both a private conversation, yet open enough to suppress any temptation to do anything…depraved.

You stared out towards the Golden City, rendered breathless by the view. It didn’t matter how many times you saw it—it always felt like the first time.

Namor was silent at your side. Though your gaze was fixed on the dazzling skyscrapers and distant mountains, you felt Namor’s eyes on you.

“Did you know?” you asked, finally turning your attention to him. “About everything I said in there?”

He nodded, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“You knew that already,” Namor stated easily. “You agreed to be alone with me, despite knowing that I knew.”

“I had a hunch,” you corrected.

Namor’s eyes seemed to gleam as he stared down at you. “You wanted to be alone with me just as badly as I wanted to be alone with you.”

His eyes wandered to your shoulder—right where T’kawe’s hand had been moments before.

“Despite the protest of your…acquaintance.”

 Namor spoke the word acquaintance as if it were a curse.

“Are you upset at him for thinking of my safety?”

Namor frowned, as if offended by the idea that your safety would ever be in question around him.

“I am upset that he is able to touch you so freely and I…” He glances towards the entrance of the balcony, before placing his hand on your waist and pulling you to the side, back into a corner hidden away from any potential prying eyes. “I am reduced to this.”

Your breath hitches as Namor leans over you, his eyes falling to your parted lips, before lifting back up to your face.

“I have missed you,” he confessed, slowly sinking to knees before you. “Missed the taste of you.”

The sight alone made a delicious spark shoot straight through you. You could feel his warm hands skim across the exposed flesh of your legs, slowly riding up until they hooked beneath your dress.

“Namor…” you warned—whispered, though there was little commitment in your voice.

His touch alone was setting you alight, making your pussy wet with the anticipation of his mouth where you needed it most.

Bast, he would be the fucking death of you. All your rationale and resolve vanished when he was near, and you wondered if it was the same for him—if he felt as hopeless as you did.

His hands reached beneath your dress, pulling your wet underwear down with a soft chuckle.

“And you have missed me,” he said, noting the evidence of your arousal. “But you always do, don’t you?”

You didn’t respond, and you were certain he didn’t need you to. Not with you before him, dazed and prepared to be eaten out in such a public place—within earshot of anyone who mattered. This was all the evidence he needed.

He wouldn’t make you regret it.

Namor’s kissed up the length of your leg slowly and will clear intent, as if it were worship—as if your skin was as necessary to him as the sea.

You jolted as your felt Namor’s tongue lapped at the wetness of your needy cunt. You brought your hand up to your mouth, attempting to muffle your cries as his tongue pushed deeper into you. He brought hand to the back of your thigh, lifting it ever so slightly as to drape across his shoulder, while his other hand brushed your clit with a touch that felt featherlight.

Your head feel back, your mind reeling as your felt the pressure in your core building with each flick of his ravenous tongue, and teasing fingers—and the danger of being found like this—legs spread while Namor, a man regarded as a fucking god kneeled before you, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy so effortlessly. The reality of your circumstances made your pussy clench from just how bad it all was.

Your king could find you like this. T’Kawe could find you like this.

You cried into the palm of your hand. The sound was barely muffled, and you could feel the heat of Namor’s breath as he laughed against your aching pussy.

Namor loved this—he absolutely reveled in just how much he was able to tear you apart in a way nobody else could.

“Namor,” you whined against your hand, pleading.

Usually slow to give in, you suspected your current whereabouts warranted him to be altruistic. Just this once.

His mouth latched onto your tender nub, and you were gone—free falling into your release as your fingers raked through his hair, and your hips bucked upward. You bit back your moan, trying so desperately to keep quiet as your overwhelming release rushed through you—a release that Namor took like an offering, swallowing your sweetness with enough enthusiasm to make your pussy spasm.

Namor pulled away from you when there was nothing more to take. His breathing was shaky, his pupils dilated as he looked up at you. He licked his lips, before pulling your stained panties back up your legs.

Your fingers were still in his hair, lightly brushing back thick strands, and you finally noticed the added length. He’d grown it out since you last saw him, the ends curling slightly and sweeping against his forehead.

“You’re beautiful,” you said without thinking.

He blinked up at you, taken aback by your soft-spoken compliment. It didn’t take long for him to recover, as his lips pulled into a full smile that made your heart stutter.

“That’s my line.”

He lifted himself to his feet, wasting no time in feeling your lips against his. His kiss was all hunger—a month’s worth of moments you two should have had. You sighed contentedly against his mouth, feeling the weight of everything leave you in a single moment.  

He pulled away reluctantly, as if debating if he truly wanted to stop kissing you.

His brown eyes searched yours, and for the first time since you two had started fooling around, you saw… uncertainty in his eyes, as if he were contemplating something.

“Do you remember the last time we met?” he asked carefully.

You nodded, unsure of where this was going.

You could see him going over his next question, and he seemed to try and soothe you as much as himself as he rubbed circles along your waist.

“You asked me if I had forgotten what this was.”

Ah, that. The memory was fresh in your mind, despite the passage of time—as if time could make you forget moments spent with him.

But you knew exactly what he was referring to. The statement he had made while chasing his pleasure. The statement solidified a belief that you both were seeming to forget—this is just sex.

“You reminded me that I’m only a hole,” you answered, keeping your voice nonchalant despite the disappointment that settled in your chest.

The irony of the situation was not lost on you. Last time you had been the one trying to keep his feelings—or supposed feelings—in check. Now it was his turn.

“No. I asked if that was all that you are,” he hesitated, searching your eyes. “All that you wished to be to me.”

Your stilled, swallowing the protest that dared to burst from your lips—the desire to tell him how you wished to be so much more.

Wished to be at his side, and not just during moments stolen away in the night or risqué ventures on balconies, but all day—every single day. You wanted to be the person who knew him like nobody else, as necessary to him as the sea…but those were fantasies. Beautiful impossibilities that only served to make your heart ache with want.

“What else can I be?” you asked, turning away from his powerful gaze.

Namor cupped your cheek, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. He tipped your head back in his direction, forcing you to look at him.

“Mine,” he whispered. “My queen. My heart…”

He repeated the word in Mayan as he leaned his forehead against yours—his confession for you only.

“The mother of my heir.”

Your heart seized, your mind racing as you realized he desired so much more from you than sex. He wanted you by his side—the only person to whom he would ever kneel. Ache for.

You came back to reality quickly as you looked over his shoulder—the Golden City stared back at you, as if reminding you of your station.

“My duty is to my country. My home.”

Namor’s furrowed as he stared down at you. “Do you think I would take you away from it?”

“It wouldn’t be your choice.”

Nor would it be yours. It would be impossible for you to accept Namor’s offer—to be his, and not have everything ripped from under you. Wakanda would reject you, and Talokan would not accept you.

Namor pulled away, taking the warmth of his body with him. You almost reached out for him but restrained yourself.

 “You have a choice to make then,” Namor said with his back turned to you, instead turning his attention to the home that you cherished so deeply. “I will not return again. Not to you.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as his words hit you. Frustration tugged at your heart, helping you find your voice.

“Why?”

Because you were both getting in too deep. Because he wanted something from you that he was uncertain you could give.

Even if you knew the answer, you wanted to hear it from him.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, and you could see the sorrow in his eyes.

“I want you. All of you,” he confessed, “But what is it you want?”

You were silent as he held your gaze.

“If you decide it is me, come to the shore and I will know.”

You prayed there was little emotion on your face as you regarded him—prayed he couldn’t see the turmoil his confession and ultimatum were causing you.

“And if I don’t?” you asked.

Silence was the only answer he gave, but it was if he had spoken the words you never wanted to hear; Then you will be free of me.

There was no farewell as Namor lifted from the ground, the wings on his feet beating feverishly as he took off towards the sky. You watched, feeling parts of yourself fade along with him.

You had dreaded the sneaking around—the hidden moments and guilt that festered as you continued to be with Namor, but now he was giving you an out. A chance to finally rid yourself of him and play your part as royal advisor once more, untainted—or you could have him entirely.

He was forcing you to come to terms with a truth you had been tiptoeing around. You cannot have both.

You sighed, pulling away from the balcony wall. You wanted to be back in your bed, hidden beneath a sea of covers while sleep whisked you far away to impossible worlds where your reality was much different—where such decisions didn’t exist, and you could just be.

You turned, nearly stepping back into the palace before you stopped short. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared up at the imposing figure that stood near the entrance.

You swallowed thickly as your king regarded you sternly, and you could see the disappointment that flashed in his eyes. The dread that had rooted its way into your heart spread, nearly choking you.

Yes. The gods are angry indeed.

Part 3

[thegreatestsandwich]

Namor telling the reader he loves them for the first time! I think it would be really cute and meaningful

I find everything I thought I lost before (Namor x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 838 words

Summary: The avengers managed to bring everyone back after defeating Thanos, Namor had been saving his feelings for quite some time

Warning: Nothing really, well I really don’t think there is a warning, just fluff or my idea of fluff

A/N: Hey! I just want to say that I am really grateful that everyone is still keeping the love for Namor and Tenoch alive, plus I'm enjoying all the fluffy requests you guys gave me, so thank you so much!

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received!  

Namor stared at his hands, completely frozen, not knowing what to do. He stood up and turned around, his eyes opening in fear, trying to find you anywhere across his cave. His hands were trembling but he force down the need to throw up as he began calling desperately at you.

“(Y/N)!” He screamed, moving inside his cave, throwing things out of his way. “(Y/N)!” He tried again.

Namora was the one who found him sitting on the floor, his gaze completely lost, she kneeled in front of him when she gave him the news. It wasn’t only you, it was most of his people.

It took him one year to be able to step inside of his home, it took him two years to be able to sleep on his bed, it took him almost four years to be able to sleep without nightmares.

The first years without them (without you) were the hardest for everyone as for him. The others were lost and even if Namor wasn’t in the right mind to continue helping them, he force himself to just suck it up and keep a strong façade.

At first, the others waited outside of their homes for the returning of the lost ones but it never happened. So they began putting altars in honor of the dead.

Namor almost broke down when he saw your name in one of those.

He became a bit secluded (even more than before), only going out to patrol the borders of the city or to help when his people asked him to. He began recollecting his food and bringing it to his home, not wanting to another one rob the job of you.

Then it happened, five years into your disappearance, he felt the waters go stiff, a part of himself growing in anger at the prospect that the surface-dwellers occasioned another fight that could affect the life of his people. He took his spear and without mentioning anything to the others he swam up with anger.

As his head manage to break the water surface, his eyes could see how some of them began appearing out of air. He frowned before that tiny voice inside of his head urged him to go back home, quickly.

He didn’t even had time to speak as Namora and Attuma announced the re-appearance of the lost ones.

Everything was so overwhealming that he needed some time, he asked for help, told them to help the others, that he needed some time and they accepted without any question. Namor swam to his cave, tired and confused at what was happening when he saw you there, sitting on the floor completely confused at your surroundings.

“K’uk’ulkan?” Your sweet voice brought him back but he couldn’t move. Namor stared at you as if you were a dream and couldn’t help himself but to slap his cheek with force. “K’uk’ulkan!” You quickly stood up, stopping your hand. You were real, you were here.

“Pa’atik.” Wait. Namor gently spoke, making you halt your movements and look at him in confusion. “Justo... pa'atik.” Just wait.

“Ma'alobech? Ba'ax úuch. Ma' a wilik Jach ma'alob k'uj 'túun K’uk’ulkan, wáaj a yaax yaantal wenel ma'alob.” Are you alright? What happened? You do not look so good, K’uk’ulkan, have you been sleeping well?

He laughed at your observation. “Jach a culpa in wilo'obe' beyo'.” It is your fault I look like this.

“Bixi?” How so?  Your eyes couldn’t help but widened at the accusation. “Ba'ax ts'o'ok in meentik jump'éel ba'al?” Have I done anything?

Namor shook his head, “Tin tukultaj ts'o'ok u sa'atal.” I thought I lost you.

His hand gently touched your cheek, you could feel the anguish of them, it hit you so deeply that it brought tears on your eyes. Before you could say anything, he hugged you tightly against his body, you doubt for a moment before placing your hands gently on his back. “In yaakunech.” I love you.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Wáaj ba'ax?” What? You whispered.

“In yaakunech.” I love you. He repeated as his hands trailed upwards your body and held your face in them. “Táan jach cegado u, ba'ale' desapareciste tin k'abo'ob, in yaakunech, ma' je'el in K'astal a ka'a.” I was so blinded to see, but you disappeared in my hands, I love you, I cannot lose you again. Namor leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and holding you against him.

You just stood there, watching him, holding him as his words echoed inside of you. He loved you, Namor loved you. His words made you cray in a way you thought never had cried before. You wanted to hate him for making you cry but you knew the truth and you didn’t have the nerve to deny it.

“I-In yaakunech xan.” I-I love you too. You whispered so quietly that Namor thought he imagined you say it. He couldn’t help but laugh, a huge smile forming on his face, softly dragging your face so he could kiss you.