#namor fics

[buzzkillers]

Fables and Parables 2/5

Pairing: Namor x Black!Reader

Chapter Summary: you begin to feel the affects of the curse.

Warning: NON-CON, religious themes, non-consensual voyeurism, magical sex pollen, dream-walking, mentions of abortion, attempted forced pregnancy.

PART ONE

It rained the next day. 

It's so bad that you're forced to braid your hair. The gel wasn't working and the frays of your edges curled underneath the humidity.

Lucky you, but that's not where your bad day ended, of course not. 

The storm had forced you all inside, the rain battering against the very thin walls of the hostel. All plans for exploration were delayed. Quickly, your discomfort turned into irritation and then your period started. Of course it did. Thankfully, there was no blood yet but it was the beginning of it. You could feel it in the twist of your gut, the odd ache in your pelvis. It's so subtle that it could’ve passed a stomach ache

But you've never felt your stomach twist like this before. Like there was a needle in your guts that pulled and twisted.

 So yeah, you were on your period and the weather was shit and you were starving. But you didn’t mind, you really didn't. Until then it rained the next day and the day after that and you never bled. 

“It’s global warming,” your roommate whispered, her face still shoved into her book. 'Art and Society of Mayan culture ' it read, the bind of it worn and dirty. 

You relaxed in your own bed. Your leg splayed off the edge.“-just think about it,”

“I'm thinking about it,” You lied. Because you’ve actually been reading the same  ‘Wikipedia’ page for the last five minutes and you were afraid that if you moved a muscle, something just might burst. 

The other didn’t know this though. How could she? So she rolled her eyes, lips pinched. “Im serious,” 

“I mean it's May—May," she turned a page, "We're supposed to be touring temples but instead we're-" she looked over at you and then winced. "-I actually don't know what you're doing," 

"Waiting for this bootleg ibuprofen to kick in," you muttered, your phone now fallen asleep. You took a strangled breath. 

"I don't think it's working," 

“Are you sure you don't want tea?” she asked cause she was nice and didn’t know that every word she spoke made you want to bite bricks. You shoved your head into the pillow and tried to suffocate yourself. “Nah, rather vomit,” Last night, you only had one cup and instantly spat it out. You’d rather stick to sink water. 

“I think I'm just gonna die here,” you groaned, ‘cause it would just be your luck really. Then you curled into a ball, your arms wrapped around your knees. The position only made it worse.  Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes. 

The woman sucked her teeth, “Right, die in a run down hostel, in the middle of nowhere, that's not inconsiderate,”

“Kindly fuck off,”

“To get tea? Yeah I'm suddenly in the mood,” you shot the woman a glare, and suddenly it's her that's ignoring you. The look on her face smug as she jumped into some trousers and walked out the door. 

You took the moment to look out the window. It faced the front streets, above all the pop shops and grocery bags. Below you, people ran to get away from the onslaught. No one wanted to drive today, clearly. People bustled in the streets, business men went home and school children ran with their bags over their heads. Anything to get out of the rain. 

Except one, a lone figure at the edge of the sidewalk, who stood straight, unaffected. He did not wear an umbrella or a raincoat for that matter. Instead, his shelter was the leaves of the sidewalk trees. It flicked and fettered over him, it also did a shit poor job of actually keeping him dry. He looked at your Hostel. Unmoving. In your delusion, he was also blue, he looked very very blue.

Your face pinched and then the needle in your stomach twisted and your intestines curled and you forgot all about it. At least some people didn’t mind the rain. 

—-

It never stopped raining. Not truly. It might've drizzled, or splashed or allowed a pause within the bulging of clouds and the clap of thunder but it never actually stopped. Not for more than a few minutes anyway. 

Time only existed within the ratatat typing of rain. Between the moment where it splashed and melded into the streets. 

You didn't know what was more irritating, the cramps or that sound. After a few moments, your roommate picked the sound and that was all you needed to hear before you popped another ibuprofen and migrated to the play rooms of the hostel. 

Play room was stretching it though. It was simply a small living room with an ancient boxed tv and folding chairs. It's crowded when the two of you get down there. An odd mix of your classmates and other residents and they’re all watching the news on the weather. 

‘Unexpected’ they said, ‘unlikely to stop anytime soon,'  which in other words meant your earlier sentiment was right. 

You were never leaving this hostel and you were all feeling it. You've never felt so bored, so hungry. And the daily work assignments and sandwiches in the fridge weren't cutting it. You guys were going to have to leave the hostel for food eventually. Maybe that's why you were feeling the way? 

 It was a good hypothesis as the pangs in your belly tightened. You've never felt a hunger like this before. Strong and potent. 

So, a few hours later you're outside now. A few blocks away from the hostel and filled with enough ibuprofen that it might not be the storms that’ll kill you. There's only one grocery store on your street. It's an artificial beacon of fluorescent lights, the door rung when you opened it.  

With wobbly knees, you walked inside and the weather followed. A man with a mop looked up and glared at you. You ducked into one of the aisles.  

You needed something sweet, something heavy. Bread? No. Ice cream? You ran through each aisle. And then you walked and then your just sort of sludged your way around. Each movement made the world curl into itself, your floor tilted beneath your feet. 

By the time you actually got to the front again nothing looked appealing. Tortilla bread suddenly looked too heavy and chorizo looked too much. You looked at your basket, lips downturned. 

Maybe you should just get a drink instead. But even that made you want to curl into yourself. Soda was too much. A lemonade too sweet. What about water? At that your stomach twisted and turned, cold than hot. The cashier looked at you plainly. 

“¿Eso es todo, señora?" you blinked.

He was an older man, with sunken eyes and gray hair that was long but tied into a tight ponytail. He gave off a scent of artificial pine tree, his fingers battered with callouses. He had a gold tooth and his shirt, although clean, was translucent due to the rain that battered through the window every time a customer came in. 

You licked your lips, warmth in your belly overflowed. You wondered if he’d let you get on your knees. If all it would take was a look and sweet words before you led yourself behind the counter-

“señora?” the man's voice boomed you out of your thoughts, you flinched back. “Sorry, I-” you shook your head, “¿Tienes uh agua?” 

His eye twitched. “pasillo 10,”

Your mouth went dry. You looked to the back aisle, at the long tiled floors that seemed to drag on forever. On a back shelf the water sat pretty.  You licked your lips again. Something in you bloomed. It was exactly what you needed. Water.

With a fevered glance back, you battered your fingers against the counter. One gallon would be just as much as the food. It looked more appetizing too, like it would belly over the thirst that ran in your tummy. 

Like a great way to wash the taste of the man off your tongue.  

You shook your head, “Actually-” 

“-¿Te importaría conseguirlo para mí?” the man just looked at you, their mouth downturned. He looked ready to stay no. 

The aisle wasn’t that far away. And anyone with working legs would be able to make it to the back. But something in your face made the man's face relaxed, the corner of his lips pinched. “fine,” then with a glance, “Pero no vomites en mi suelo,” 

Unlikely. In fact vomiting was a very real possibility. You felt it in your throat, in the overtone and queasiness that slobbed in your tummy. 

You looked at him as he left. Watched the skin on his back, the sweat that twinkled down his spine. Your stomach flipped and turned. Suddenly, your hands were clammy and your lips dry. What kind of hunger was this?  

What kind, made you want this? Claws in your back, and kisses on your chest. You wanted it bad, like a bird wanted murder and a plant water, it was a need, a cancer that furloughed in your deepest cavities and bloomed. Ricocheting like a bullet before you fell to your knees and vomited it all out. 

—

You don't go out much after that. 

[3typical3]

Tip for non Hispanic ppl writing Spanglish

*I initially wrote this at 1 am so like, keep that in mind as you decipher this lol

*context is key when speaking Spanglish, if your character is in a professional setting they probably won’t speak Spanglish unless it’s to a fellow co worker who also speaks Spanglish. It’s more of a casual way a speaking yk?

Also parents, I avoid Spanglish with my parents unless we’re switching from just speaking Spanish to just speaking English. But that’s depends from family to family.

It’s typically like switching sentences and not dropping in random words.

Example “ es Que fui a la tienda, and they were out of milk”

Example “ te ves cansada, did you sleep last night?”

“La neta” is and extremely common Mexican slang term, typically means, honestly. It can also be used to mean ‘really?’

Honestly example:

“La neta, Im tired”

Or “La neta, estoy cansada. Im going to bed”

In the case it means “really?”:

ex.) “Neta?! They said that?!”

I personally say “ de que” which is basically saying “like”, it’s a filled term, before saying a sentence in either English or Spanish

example “ de que idk it won’t work”

I’m Mexican so I use “ósea” a lot in both languages. Another substitute for words like:

“I mean,” “it'd be,” ”like,” “so,” “that is,” “therefore,” and “or.”

Ex. “ ósea, it looks weird idk”

The famous “ pero like” I personally don’t use a lot but an example of how it’s used in Spanglish is “ pero like, how did it happen?”

Sometimes I Just say “ fuck” but like in my Mexican accent or in a sentence.

“ fuck, perdí mi pulsera”

When I get startled I cuss in both English and Spanish but a Spanglish example would be

*insert random startling noise

“ ala verga! That scared me” or “ hijo de tu puta madre!” when something REALLY scared the shit out of me lol

“Chingada madre, where did that come from”

Rlly insert any cuss word in there and it probably works in Spanglish.

Edit bc I thought of this the morning after

In Mexican Spanish for whatever reason the word “madre” can be used like kinda like a cuss word lol.

Example “ Me vale madres”

Which in English would translate to “I don’t value mothers” but in practice means “I don’t give a shit” or “I don’t care”.

Another Mexican deep cut is the word “pedo” which yes, means fart but we’ve really given the word so many alternative meanings like

“ no es mi pedo “ = “not my problem”

“Estoy bien pedo” = “in rlly drunk”

“Vas a la peda?” = “ are you going to the party/kickback”

There’s more but that’s like the basics lol.

Also another Mexican term is “Aguas”… which literally translates to “waters” but it’s used as a warning.

“Aguas, there’s car coming”

The most famous of Mexican slang has to be “wey” or “guey” depends on how you spell it. But it just means dude. Another term that goes in hand is, “no mames” which basically means “are you kidding me”.

*men for whatever reason hate when the girl they’re dating or are into calls them wey. I think it’s because it’s seen as either improper or as like friend zoning.

“Wey, you’re not gonna believe this”

“No mames wey, look at this”

Another term is “equis” which basically means whatever

“How was the party?”

“Estuvo equis”

Another example

“ now was she dressed?”

“Equis, nothing crazy nothing wow”

*I recommend for Mexican characters looking into the words, or you can just ask me I just don’t wanna make this longer than I already have lol, “mamar”/“mamo”/“mamon”, each you would think is the same but no, no they are not and using one in the wrong context could be catastrophic lol. They are vital words to our vocab

If you’re writing to a character from a specific country, take the time to learn some slang. Sometimes slang crosses over, sometimes even we use slang we learn from each others dialects. Personally I love “joder”/“no jodas” because of the shows from Spain.

But take the time because if you write a Colombian character using most of the slang I’ve used above, you’d get a lot of hate from Colombians lol.

Some bad Spanglish examples would be

“ why didnt you eat your comida?”

Like no. Just no. Inserting a random Spanish word doesn’t equate to Spanglish, at least not in most Latin peoples lives

“ you look cansada” also just no.

*Edit I saw someone post abt this and I felt like adding it in

If you do insert a random Spanish word or vice versa it’s because you forgot the word but that involves a lot of blanking and being annoyed you can’t dig the simplest word out of you sub conscience lol

Example: “ you look, FUCK what’s the word! You know when you’re cansada…TIRED. You look tired”

Another commenter addition I’ll be adding is using “eh” as a filler instead of “um”. I use both but even in English I default to using “eh” or “ehmmmm”

The worst is when you don’t remember the word, only to have it appear in your subconscious hours later lol

Another fav filler word is “deste” which equates to another more Central American term “vaina” but a less refined way of saying it. Essentially they mean “thing” but that thing can be anything. It’s kinda a word when you’re to lazy to say the actual word.

“Pásame el deste”

*passes them x ítem

“No I meant the remote”

*trying not to kill the person because they could’ve said remote the whole time but chose not to

Sometimes we use bad Spanglish on purpose just to be funny

“Que sad” “Que cute”

* i personally love inserting the word cute into my vocab in Spanish just cuz so to each their own

Something I do is like say something in English and immediately say the exact same thing in Spanish. Or like I’ll say an exclamation in one language then end in the other.

“ GO GO GO, VÁMONOS APÚRATE”

“Que asco, gross”

“WOW, que bueno”

Also if you’re writing like couples tbh nicknames in Spanish would be reserved for when you’re speaking in Spanish and same for English, but each couple is different so if you rlly want to leave a nickname in Spanish in go for it. If you rlly want the endearment to be “ mi amor” please remember that after like the first or second time the Spanish speaker would probably just refer to their S/O as “ amor” or switch between the two.

Which brings me to the terms “mami/mamita” and “papi/papito”. Now, while they Can and are by some used in a sexual manner, they can also be used as general terms of endearment. My mom will sometimes call me mamita or my brother papito.

Amongst couples though it’s just kinda said, I saw someone describe it was you just give motherly energy so “mami” is said lol which I get oddly enough.

Once a couple is well established or just comfortable the woman can refer to her S/O as “ viejo” which is old man lol, but it’s like cute. On the flip side idk it’s typically seen as offensive when a man calls his S/O “vieja” but that depends on culture to culture.

Again mami and papi don’t have to be sexual but can be.

Another simple thing you can do is look up nicknames for certain names.

Examples:

“Mike” pronounced “Mique” for Miguel. Some people like to use “Mickey”, that gained popularity from an old Mexican singer lol.

“Ponchó” For Alfonso

“Ale” Can be used for Alejandro/Alexandra/Alejandra

Another thing I thought of is amongst siblings when referring to our parents we will say like

“Haz visto a mi mam��”

Which means have you seen “my mom” even though she’s both our mom… idk it’s weird but a nice little touch you could add to your writing lol

I get rlly annoyed reading bad Spanglish, sometimes it’s just painfully cringe and just obvious a non Spanish speaker wrote it, and I realize it’s bc most of y’all didnt grow up with it so like this is just what is typical Spanglish most Hispanic ppl grow up speaking, obviously not everyone speaks like this but figured I’d give tips from someone who actually speaks English and Spanish and switches between.

If I missed anything feel free to add on or if you disagree add examples

[funnyexel]

delusional water king

“They’ll see you as my goddess.” Shaking your head, you back away from the man. 

“I’m not a goddess. I’m an experiment.” You show him the number on your lower back, accompanied by scars along the skin you displayed to him. Staring at your figure, he noticed the scars were pink in your dark skin, most likely scabbed up and picked away by the strong currents. Shoving your shirt down, you cross your arms over your stomach, looking down and away from him. 

“I am grateful that you saved me, I am but...I don’t want to destroy the beautiful city you helped build.” His eyes bore into you, even as you’re not looking, the chance of intimidation being too great. 

“I can’t control it, Namor.” The way his name moved off your tongue and into the air made him tispy, it echoed in the cave, bouncing off the walls. 

“You saw what I did. I killed so many people.” Glossy eyes stared up at the feathered serpent god. He squinted at you with a smirk playing at his lips, was he finally seeing the real, troubled you? Turning to the hole in the ground that leads to the endless body of water, you fully intend on leaving. 

“I’m sorry, if this is disrespectful to you. Please understand that everywhere I go destruction tends to follow.” 

“Go ahead.” He responds after listening to you, biting your lip and moving a hair from your face, you sigh. 

“I will disregard the disrespect. Only because it is coming from you, in reina.” Giving him a shy smile, you nod not quite understanding the last bits of what he said.

Standing off the edge where rock meets water, you step onto the liquid, turning to him and giving him a small wave. Submerging into the water, a small bubble tracing around your body that keeps air flowing while the water propels you through the small tunnels and out of Talokan. The feeling of guilt tugs at you for leaving your savior but the guilt of killing hundreds of people where you were held captive ate you alive. Reaching the surface, the bubble of air slowly deteriorates as you walk up to the sandy shore. Moments to dawn, you catch your breath as you walk away from the beach, taking one hesitant look back before disappearing into the dense forest. You needed time. Time to figure out your powers, time to find yourself and forgive yourself. It didn’t take long for you to forgive yourself for the unfortunate events at the hell hole, in the matter of days you thought and realized that losing your temper had to have been the best case scenario. 

You spent time in an abondoned hut alongside the oceanside. It was peaceful, the waves were a natural lullaby and helped with the unease of sleeping. Being self-efficent gave you the chance to fool around with your powers, learn what you can do without causing a catastrophe. Sitting elevated above the waves, you meditated and wondered if he would try to find you. 

“In reina.” You whispered opening your eyes, looking across the blue mirrors that connected with each wave, you could’ve sworn you heard someone say it before you.

Refraining from saying ‘hello’ or any of the sort. You’d rather not know if someone is here with you. Moving closer to the edge of the small cliff, you sway your hand in a circular motion, the waters pushing itself into a dance. Watching closely as the water formed a small cone shaped tornado that sunk to the bottom of the shallow floor. In this it showed, the particles of sand and small plants being swept into the current. Putting your hand in your lap, the mini tornado, slowed to a stop and transitioned back to the usual current of the ocean. Looking around your surroundings once more, you get up, dusting yourself off and go back to your hut.

If you could say something different to Namor, what would you say? Ask him what ‘in reina’ means or what he meant by ‘my goddess’. You were so shocked by what you’ve done prior that it didn’t register how handsome the man was, his tan skin, fit physique, raven hair and darkness that hides in his brown irises. A clear portrait of the man was painted onto the walls of your mind, and you were repeatedly looking at the painting, thinking of him after days of being alone. Laying down, you get comfortable on the floor bound cot, closing your eyes, your body relaxes on the soft surface.

“Y/n, in reina.” The voice deep, meaningful and close. Opening your eyes, your rest felt like it only lasted a split second. Looking around, you were surrounded by turquoise looming lights. The scenery definitely unfamiliar. Standing to your feet,

“Nib óolal, waal mía,” you turn to the sound of feet shuffling behind you and catch a glimpse of a blue skinned person leaving. Dark messy hair enters your view as you shake your head. Convinced that you’re hallucinating about this man, this dangerously attractive and hot man.

“What are you doing here?” You say in complete disbelief. A slight furrow in his brows as he gives you a small smile and honestly you could’ve dropped your panties for him right there. Wait what?

“I have changed my mind.” He reaches behind his neck, taking off one of his necklaces.

“Changed your mind?” You relay back to him in confusion, at this he smiles and nods.

“Can’t someone have a change of mind?” Your mind is fogged with confusion and its clearly displayed on your face.

“Yes, but I’m not following. I don’t understand what you're saying.” The small sounds his jewelry made as he rests them down on the nearest surface, echoes in the little pauses of silence.

“Am I not speaking english?” He asks as if you literally couldn’t understand. You realize he’s joking and chuckle.

“You are. I mean- ….What did you change your mind on?” You lose your train of thought mid sentence, his muscles suddenly having more definition now that its no longer covered by the many necklaces he wore.

His masculine stature compliments his collar bone and defined jaw thats hidden under a well kept beard. You need to get a hold of yourself, zoning out while observing his body and objectifying him when given the slightest chance. What would he do if he found out? Something bad you hope. Blinking yourself out the trance, bare chest is in your eyeshot. Looking up through your eyelashes, he’s already looking down.

“You.” Watching as his palm rests along your cheek, steadily tracing down your jaw and stopping by your chin.

All the while your breathing hitches, his thumb rubs along your lower lip. Most alarms are ringing in your head for you to stop but whats a simple kiss? Your hand slides up his waist, toned stomach and rests on his shoulder. His gaze shifting for a moment to your hand and back to you, by then you were already pushing yourself up. His lips pull you into a hypnosis of only wanting him, only wanting to kiss him, wanting to climb in his skin. His lips stray from yours to your cheek and neck in a rushed manner. His arm capturing you in an embrace to keep you from stumbling backward.

Your chest heaves excessively as you realize what you’re going to do. Failing to release you from his embrace, he guides you to a soft patch of the cave. It was odd, grassy and soft as he laid you down. The space made you wonder about the deep sea of unknown even more, if there’s possibility of healthy gardens thriving underwater, what other possibilities are there? Your hands glide over the greenery, feeling the cushiony plants and enjoying the pleasant sound it made as your hands moved through. All your senses were being satisfied, especially your eyes. The sight of him kneeling in front of you can make any women weak. He observes you and your fascination with the scene. His hands compliment your skin, when they stroke your thighs, goosebumps rising on your skin. Despite your body growing hotter and hotter with each passing moment. Leaning down, he kisses up to your core. Kisses alternating from right thigh to left thigh, your hips accidentally jerk once he’s two kisses away. His gaze shifts to you once more and he smiles. His dimples peaking through.

Your excitement is getting the best of you as he pulls your pants off, his finger tips gracing your lower stomach. Lowering his head to your core, you close your eyes and he kisses you. One long slow swipe of his tongue from your hole to your clit. His tongue teasingly licking at your clit, small and kitten like. You hum a moan, your hand hovering over your lips in upmost disbelief. Sucking on your folds like a starved man, he hooks his arms under your thighs and his hands grip at your thighs. Sweat beads down your forehead, mixing with a tear of pleasure. Finally opening your eyes, he is totally indulged in your pussy. Your shiny wetness on his cheeks, his head moving from side to side to make sure nothing is left untended to. A broken gasp leaves your chest when he nips at your clit sharply. Fanning yourself, you take in deep breaths at the realization that your body is overheating. You attempt to plead his name but his tongue slips in your hole at the right moment and touches your g-spot. Making you shriek.

“namor…” You mutter, breathing heavily. Your pussy squeezing his tongue and legs clenching on his head, demanding more. Shaking your head, your moans leave your throat in a struggle.

Cumming all over his cheeks and chin, he laps up the mess and unhooks his hands from your thighs. Your eyes follow his stature as he sits up. Your chest heaving up and down, he holds you in a compelling trance.

“What are you doing,” His voice dips in a jagged tone, warning you and stopping you in your tracks. You were scooting away from him.

“take me home, please.” You trembled as he shifted close.

You cross your ankles and shield yourself from him, “we can’t, namor please, listen to me.” He shakes his head, his playful manner gone.

“I hear you, but I won’t listen.” His hands uncross your ankles, opening your legs to him once more, “I’ll fuck you until you beg to stay with me.” You gasp, his hard-on rubbing against you as he raps your legs around his waist.

The waistband of his shorts gone and your eyes dart everywhere. This is what you want, it is, but this is one of those journeys that you can’t turn back from once you’ve begun.

“Look.” He commands your body with a word, this brings a soft smile to his lips.

“I deserve you. I knew I did when I first saw you,” he moans softly when he uses his fingers to part your soaked lips.

“I waited this long, can’t you give me something I deserve, hm?” His attention was on you, his tip moving between your lips and squishing around your come. You moan as nod to the man, cursing yourself at your wordless affirmations.

a/n: don't mind the title I'm just having fun at this point...and here's the translations cause I know some of y'all lazy asf

in reina - my queen

Nib óolal, waal mía - thank you, my child

more of my writing

[rojasnn]

My bf found my Wattpad and TikTok dedicated to my new ship and it has left a deep dent in our relationship. He has accused me of being weird and finds it bizarre that I read Omega-verse “porn”. I’m aware that the people I write and read about are not real, unlike you, Mr. Onlyfans.

I’m very glad I lost the password to my old acc. I wrote many fanfics whose ships I don’t even remember anymore (I was 15) but stopped when I started working. Sometimes I stalk my old page and I’m glad I was able to finish every single fic and I see people still comment and like. Now that I came back (5 months ago) I have come across some amazing adaptations and I’m glad people find my page and take inspiration from there. Is like my 16yo self is still there, guiding people, motivating them.

[creamecafe]

People sexualizing Miles, Earth 42!Miles, Pavitr, and Gwen are mad weird. Like their teenagers???? You guys have Jessica, Hobie (Hobie is 19/20, Director confirmed), Drew, Liv Octavious, Peter, and Miguel ain't that enough for you? Making smut of teenagers is not ok. Aged Up! I don't care, but when their actual canon age should be something on a list

[mahoganydoodles]

Thala + Sharpening this Spear by @bardocksheadband-fanfics, author’s copy.

While in Talokan, Shuri conceived Namor’s daughter and after everything that happened, she decided to keep her a secret. Unfortunately for her, Namor has been using the ocean to communicate with the child since she was born. When Thala follows the voice that has been talking to her and she finally meets her baba, she gets more than she bargained for. Her father is not only slightly unhinged, but has been pining for her mother for over a decade. 

45,093 words | 213 pages

Thala is SUCH a sweet story, both the fic (seriously, so sweet!!!) and how this bind came to be! This was actually a bind requested by some of the Nashuri community as a gift for the author. After reading Thala, I was totally charmed + of course agreed to bind a physical copy for the author, working through the details with the wonderful @malakki142 and @elegantfirepoetry to coordinate FOUR different artists’ work for the fic + more. 

Since Thala features a child of both Talokan and Wakanda, I leaned into themes of blue, green, and palm fronds for the cover material, endpapers, and other decoration. These colors also match the inside, which features a hand-drawn border of Thala’s necklace and tidal wave chapter titles. Both Thala and Namor control water in this fic, so of course the ATLA water tribe symbol was an easy choice to break up the sections. 

This was my first time using foil to gild edges, which I think turned out pretty okay for the first time! Its lovely shiny color matches the half beads used for the headbands and the foil used in the cover cutouts, also representing Thala’s necklace. Since a child OC is the driving force of the fic, I wanted to create something vibrant, childlike, but still clean, and I’m so happy with how it turned out!

Thala is a OC kid!fic that weaves a story of how time and family can help overcome the hurt of Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. Read it on AO3, + thank you bardocksheadband for writing it and to the INCREDIBLE incredible artists (Pomelo on Twitter,  @darkkittyart, @midnight-oily, and @anonymousmink) for their wonderful art contributions which made this bind extra special!

[usagii-bun]

𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 ( NAMOR X READER ) PT.4

in which you find a child floating in the water and you save them only for your acts of kindness to get misinterpreted by the father who is also the king of an underwater civilization.

PLEASE READ THIS FIRST : this is a story i am writing on wattpad but my wattpad version is more in detail, slightly different and has an oc ( alora ). It has 6 chapters thus far and still work in progress if you want you can check it out with the link below or use the linktree link in my bio to access wattpad but if you feel more comfortable with x reader I'll try and get all the chapters I have currently published over here in a few days

hiraeth ( namor ) wattpad | oc version!

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4

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IT WAS NOW EVENING, the sun dipping below the horizon kissing the ocean goodbye, the sky a purplish-orange color adorn with a few grey clouds as Huracan and you were still outside enjoying the last bits of the day before it was time to go back in.

You had came to term with the fact that Huracan staying with you was only going to be momentarily. You grew attached to the child due to the loneliness that you felt from staying by herself for months in isolation, away from others due to your health issues.

You wondered if Huracan was also lonely and just wanted some company but your mind now questioning if Huracan has a family, what if they are waiting for him? Worried about him and in search of him, thinking of the worst things that could have happened to him. This left you to ruminate over

your thoughts as your gaze fall on the sky, that is becoming darker and darker.

There was thunder clouds looming above you due to the hot weather you experienced today, the clouds were forming and becoming aggravated with each second that passed by— this alarming you as you walk back to the tidal pool to retrieve Huracan and putting a stop to your fleeting thoughts.

"C'mon, Hura. We need to get back in." You say, watching as the boy breaks through the surface of the water— eyes sparkling with life as he listens to you instantly, emerging from the pool only to latch onto your arm, his skin turning back into a shade of blue as you both walk home.

The rain came down. It suddenly came down heavy causing you to gasp in shock when the harsh rain pelted down onto you, you turn towards Huracan to notice that he had his eyes closed— enjoying the rain water that got soaked into his skin while you on the other hand felt a shiver tingling down your spine even though the air was warm.

Knowing that if you had to stay in the rain for way too long— you would definitely get sick but watching the boy enjoy the fresh water that falls onto him , you decided to wait a few minutes because seeing his face brighten up from just the simple feeling of rain water against his skin made you realize that the simple things in life is what makes living much better, it made you feel at ease with yourself.

A bright flash of purple and then a loud crackling noise followed by a hiss came from above you and Huracan shocks you at the loud noise and the thunderstorm that has finally brewed up, the rain became even heavier causing your heart to beat faster.

"Let's get back inside, we don't want to become fried fish today." You say, laughing at your lame excuse of a joke which Huracan didn't understand fully but he did understand that you wanted to go back inside from the way your body had stiffened slightly.

He was about to agree but then the sight of a shiny, shell that was a bit closer to the ocean water grabs his attention— he wanted to get that shell so that he could give it to you, forgetting that you wanted to go back in as he leaves your side, alarming you as he runs down the bank to go and retrieve the shell.

"Huracan!" You shout out alarmed, the rain pelting down heavily, the sky above you becoming dark— the only source of light now coming from the lighting that viciously flashed from above and the few outside lights from your house.

You slide down the steep slope to get to the boy only for your flip-flop to get stuck into something and in turn crashing into the youngster causing him to also fall and let out a small yelp.

"oh gosh, Hura! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" You cried out, you moved to his side to see that you had slightly bruised his knee cap, crimson escaping from the bruise as guilt consumes you from being so unconscious and not watching where you walked.

Huracan didn't feel much pain from the small bruise, he was about to tell you it's okay but you tore a small part of your shirt to help stop the bleeding. A small amount of blood covered your finger tips when you wrapped the small piece of cloth around his tiny knee cap, tightening the cloth around it.

A throbbing feeling around your ankle became prominent as you gazes down at your leg, to find that you had slightly twisted your ankle due to your flip-flop getting stuck onto something— that being the whole reason you slipped.

A small cry leaves from your parted lips, the thunderstorm viciously going on above them as the rain fell down. Your body was drenched in rain water, making you shiver adding more to the pain you felt in your ankle.

"Y-Y/N!" the young child cried out grasping onto your shoulders, he gazed at you to find that tears were also trailing down your cheeks with the rain water, your hands covered in wet sea sand and dabs of blood.

This made tears to form in Huracan's eyes, he was now scared and worried about you, the person that took care of him like he was their own child— he didn't know what to do to help you, making him feel even more worried and scared as the thunder flashed and rumbled.

Your body that trembled suddenly went stiff, your blood running cold— you felt like you and Huracan were being watched.

You were right.

The sound of something fluttering, similar to the sound of a rattle snake mingled with the harsh noises of the rain, lightning and the waves that crashed close by.

The fluttering sound stops , it suddenly goes eeirely quite, Huracan's whimpers go silent and before you could comprehend whether you was just feeling paranoid —something grasped the collar of the shirt you wore and pulled you harshly away from Huracan, throwing you to the other side away from him.

You heard Huracan scream your name out, your body feeling extremly numb, the world around you spinning while terror sunk into every firbe of your being.

Your neck twists to the side to see what had thrown you so viciously away from Huracan, fear laminating in your eyes, your gaze being met with the tip of a sharp spear, your body flinching away from it in terror but it was now pressed against the side of your neck in a threatening manner to slice your head off clean.

The lightning struck again, giving you a better vision of what was being hostile towards you , your eyes widening when your gaze falls on a man— his entire being radiate regality from the way his body oozed confidence to the jewelry that was adorn upon him. His chest covered in some sort of metal that was beautiful crafted, the same type of metal also adorning his biceps and wrists.

She also noticed that he had pointed ears, adorn with jewels just like the rest of him.

You shakily raise your hands, to say you was no threat or harm but this act seemed to make the man even more infuriated when he spotted dabs of blood smeared on your finger tips and then seeing blood around the area where Huracan was.

"How dare you take my son away and harm him?"

Shit. Was the first thought that came to your mind, you was right, Huracan did have someone to go back to— your thoughts being cut short when the cold tip of the spear pressed even closer to your neck that you could feel the pressure tearing slightly into your skin.

Your words were stuck in your throat from fear, you couldn't formulate a response except for a shaky breath to escape past your lips, your body trembling from pain and fear.

Due to your lack of response that made the King even more agitated, his spear was about to press into the side of your neck but tiny hands wrapped around his arm, holding it in place before he could slash at you.

"Father, please don't!" the young child cried out in his own language, this alerting the king who turns towards his son— the furious look that had adorn his face moments ago was replaced by one that was filled with worry.

"Huracan, my child. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?" his voice venomous when he says the word it , you didn't understand what they were saying but from the side glare the man had passed to you, you knew he had said something about you.

"No! Do not bring harm to y/n, she had saved me! Please do not harm her, she didn't do anything wrong. If you want to punish someone, father— it should be me, I should have never left Talokan." The boy sobs out, hearing Huracan's broken voice made your chest hurt— your eyes squeezing shut to prevent any tears from escaping as everything around you started to spin, the world around you becoming blurry as all the pain you felt physically and emotionally became blunt.

Your vision being filled with black dots that became larger until your eyes closed completely, body slumping into the sand— the fear you felt along with the pain made you fall unconscious this grabbing Huracan's attention, the boy letting go of his father's arm to rush towards you.

A cry leaves past his parted lips, his hands reached out to hug your cold body against his.

"Look what you have done, father. You killed her!" The boy says inbetween sobs, you was far from dead but to Huracan seeing your still body, no warm smile on your face and your eyes that twinkled with care and affection was no longer there— you looked dead to him.

K'uk'ulkan looked down at you. His son held onto you so gently, the rain easing down — the thunderstorm slowly clearing up.

"Hura.. she's not dead." The king says while his inner voice says  'well not yet'. He didn't trust you, this human but the way his son held onto you like his own life depended on you— he could not just kill you after he found out you had saved his son.

"You have to help her then or else I'll hate you forever." Huracan suddenly spat out— eyes shining bright with anger and saddness, his words stung K'uk'ulkan , his heart aching at the words his son spewed at him. An expression of hurt forms on K'uk'ulkan's face, a soft sigh leaving past his lips.

He glances down at your unconscious form that laid on the sand, his son's words floating around in his mind. He bends down towards you, taking in your features— noticing your skin has gotten paler and your ankle was swelling.

He was not keen on helping you, a surface dweller, he had hate for these disparage creatures but seeing how his son has become attached to you, clinging. He couldn't just kill you.

With one last glance towards your unconscious body, he looks back towards the raging ocean as he signals for Namora to come to him. He turns away and looks down at his son, his heart softening when he sees the tears on his cheeks as he sighs lightly.

'I'm only doing this for you my child.'

PART 5

[buckets-and-trees]

Companion

Characters/Pairings: Namor x female!Reader Word Count: 3.3k Summary: A month after the king of Talokan takes you as his betrothed, you question your position and the future as your expectations have been disappointed.

Content Warnings: angst to some relationship resolution; explicit smut: oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering; strong language

Additional Notes: This is a direct sequel to Consort - and while there's probably enough context to read this on its own, it will mean far less without reading the first part - the first part that could really be blamed by @nellycanwrite and being a TALENTED ARTIST AND MENACE. We would not be here if not for a particular piece she shared an unfinished sneak peak of last December.

You are restless, agitated, feeling completely unmoored.

Sleep is not going to come to you soon. It hadn’t the past few nights, but tonight you are not going to give yourself over to endless tossing and turning or trying to read yourself to distraction. You are exhausted, but too strung out to find any respite in your room. You quietly slip out of your chambers and begin to wander.

When you eventually find yourself in the throne room, you laugh bitterly to yourself. Naturally this is where your subconscious would take you. This is where your life completely altered course a month ago, betrayed and traded at your father’s hand for peace amongst kingdoms, the tectonic plates of your life not only shifted but shattered.

Only to be picked up by him moments later.

You look out over the expanse of the drop off from the perimeter of the throne room. The view out over Talokan is stunning in the simulated vibranium moonlight, but you resent the view. It’s one more painful piece of your new reality – as beautiful as this kingdom is, it’s still not the picturesque view of Fourchon and your former life in the kingdom of your upbringing.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a few moments, trying to control the anger and sadness.

When the traitorous trade had been made, you thought your father had sealed your fate as a token consultant at best or prisoner at worst, but K’uk’ulkan had spun a different narrative, one where the potential that would have been wasted in your former kingdom was something he saw and wanted at his side as his queen consort. His words had been a balm to your soul, and you had believed him when he said he’d wanted you – to take into counsel, to serve the kingdom, to influence. It was a lifeline offered, and you’d grasped that tether, letting him pull you in. He’d started to put you back together with promises and sealed it with a moment of intimate bliss beyond anything you could have imagined.

Then it was almost as if you’d been banished from his presence. At first you had accepted the explanations of business that needed his attention in other parts of the kingdom and other realms or that his schedule had demanded unanticipated changes, rarely getting to take meals with him, culminating no contact at all for the last two weeks.

You didn’t know it was going to be that way in the beginning though, so you’d spent your month acclimatizing and throwing yourself into life in Talokan. He’d said you were built to rule, driven to do good, why not with him, and since you’d thought he was telling you the truth, you had made the effort to get to know the people, know their culture, know their lives, their struggles, hopes, and dreams. It was intimidating at first – they were a fierce people brought up to be ready for war – but they also created and forged happiness, and you wanted to prove yourself. Before long, you forgot the nerves and tucked away the feeling of being an imposter, because you created relationships, took up projects, and started to create a new routine in your life that meant something to you.

You think the life you are building in this new kingdom is good except for the one perhaps most important thing.  

Tomorrow you are supposed to wed the ruler of this kingdom, and you felt that was now a hollow artifice. The final fitting for your wedding clothes today had felt frivolous and futile. How could you be expected to marry K’ul’kulkan with the distance, the disinterest?

You roll your shoulders back and lift your head up, refocusing your gaze out over this new place.

You will wed Namor with the same resolve that had held you together in the initial moments your life had been traded for an alliance – you would always be duty and honor bound. A foolish glimmer of a passionate partnership was more than you had expected growing up, it had been dangled in front of you for a moment but had quickly dwindled and ultimately disappeared. A political arrangement, and if the past few weeks were indicative of the future, then the only consolation was it seemed Namor would at least let you make your own choices and wouldn’t interfere with the projects you pursued, things you knew you could leverage for good with your position of power in his kingdom.

You only wish you hadn’t been given a glimmer of what might have been. It would have been much easier to manage without the taste of more.

“When you were not in your chambers, I thought I might find you here.”

You turn slowly, forcing your face to give away nothing of your shock or your resentment to the king.

“I was looking for you,” he says, crossing the large expanse of the space.

“Really, your highness?”

“Certainly. Tomorrow you are to become my bride.” He stops an arm’s length away from you.

You can’t help the hardening of your features you feel at this proclamation. “I’m amazed you remembered.”

He tilts his head. “Do not be petulant, Princess.”

“The picture you painted a month ago has not been the reality.”

“What complaint can you possibly have to give?”

“You lied to me,” you let your anger finally spill out in your tone. “With my life shattered to pieces in this very room, you started to put me back together by saying you said you wanted me as your queen consort, not just a wife to adorn your arm and give you an heir, a companion.” You take half a step closer to him. “But where have you been these weeks, especially this fortnight? You left the broken pieces of me on a shelf, discarded and forgotten.”

“Make no mistake,” Namor says and grips your chin, pulling you closer, “you are not forgotten.”

Your eyes are locked on each other now, and it seems you are each trying to delve into the soul of the other. He presses his thumb to your bottom lip, opening your mouth. The action is not rough in any way, but it serves to communicate his strength, your vulnerability, and that he could subject you to anything. “You are mine, Princess.”

Then suddenly he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side before swimming swiftly into the jaws of his throne. He sets you aright and the two of you stand face to face.

“I sought you out tonight to remind you of what we spoke of that day on this very spot. Clearly you did not need a reminder, but perhaps insight into my choices. At present you think me rash and negligent or easily distracted to become betrothed to a stranger in a matter of moments and then seemingly abandon you.

“My offer of marriage was swift but not rash. I told you that day the things I had already learned about you, and the time we spent together showed even more clearly who you were. I have lived and ruled for hundreds of years, I know well how to read a person’s character, and the interaction we shared in those brief moments confirmed you had a fierce and noble spirit with both a compassion to sacrifice for your people and passion to match my own.”

Part of your chest starts to swell, but you dampen it down. He built you up with his words once before, and you are cautious not to get carried away so easily.

“That does not explain why you distanced yourself from me.” You needed more than flattery for your character.

“I am not easily surprised, but I confess I did not expect to be presented with the offer your father made. If you were to become the companion I wanted to see at my side, I knew I could not be the one to put you back together. I wanted the future queen that only you could forge by getting to know my kingdom, my people, our way of life, and integrating yourself into Talokan in your own right. Building your own reputation amongst them these past weeks, they see you are not merely a foreign princess acquired for an alliance, they will accept you as their queen because they know you. You have conquered them with your heart, your goodness, your passion, your sharp mind.”

He pauses to search your face. His words have both softened and strengthened you.

“I did not want to influence or distract in any of that.”

You nod, considering every word, not ready to respond yet.

“Now I did have certain things to attend to, some of which you will know very soon, but I confess I did limit and ultimately withhold the time we could have spent together.”

You open your mouth to argue this point, but he chuckles and shushes you.

“The more time I spent with you – scant as it was – and the more reports that came in from my advisors, my people, even your guards and the servants that attend you – yes, I spoke with them regularly – the more I did not want to share you with anyone else. Since I did not want to rob you of the unique and limited time to integrate into Talokan during our engagement, I cut myself off altogether.”

Your mouth hangs open at this rationalization, your brow furrowing further and further as he had explained his absence. But you do gather your wits, and challenge, “You avoided spending time together because you wanted to spend time with me?”

His smirk is nearly a smolder. “Once we are wed, I’m not sharing your time with anyone until I have to, and we will only spend our days apart as is strictly necessary when we resume royal duties after the honeymoon.”

Oh, he is good with that tongue, you think.

“Tomorrow, I will have you in every way, but for now I want to worship at the altar of what will be mine.”

He seizes your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. The heat is searing, and your lips demand equally of each other. He nips and you whimper, allowing him to plunge his tongue into your mouth. He is hungry for you, and you can’t deny him now.

With one hand still holding your neck and the other now at your shoulder, he moves so the back of your knees meet the edge of the throne, and he slowly pushes you down to sit, stepping between your legs. You look up at him, and you move a hand to his hip.

“Not tonight, my princess,” he says, his eyes dark with lust. “I can wait. I have an atonement and assurance to make of the sincerity of my intentions.”

You’re entranced as he kneels before you. The hand that was on your neck moves down over one of your breasts, along your ribs, and then grabs your hip, pulling you to the edge of the seat. You clutch the stone arms of the throne as his other hand goes beneath your nightdress, finding your knee, and pushes the fabric out of the way as he moves his hand diligently up your soft thigh. When that hand finishes its journey, he tears your underwear away, making you yelp and grasp at the hand he still has on your hip. You know he has preternatural strength, but to experience it, know it’s there in his veins at every moment, and that he must meticulously measure it out is terrifying yet intoxicating.

Much like he is in every sense.

He draws one of your legs over his shoulder and turns his head to press his warm lips to your tender flesh. Slow kisses. Deliberate. Your heart races. You’re desperate with anticipation but the exquisite torture is its own bliss. “Namor,” you plead.

He bites in punishment, and you cry out.

“That is not the name I told you to use,” he says, his voice even but stern. “I will not have you speak the name relegated to my enemies when you have me like this.”

No. Because this is the two of you, intimate. You needed to let him back in. You want to let him back in. “K’uk’ulkan,” you let it fall from your lips.

It draws a small genuine smile that softens this powerful man and warms you even more. He soothes the bite with another kiss, but then the next place his lips land is directly over your core. Your head falls back, and you utter his name again, unbidden as bliss shoots through your body. He is in no hurry as he begins mouthing at your most intimate parts. He warms you up with slow, methodical licks of his broad tongue. He gently draws your nether lips into his mouth, sucking and savoring. Your leg curls around his back as your body surrenders to him. He adjusts the hand over your hip to entwine his fingers with yours, anchoring you to each other while he continues to draw out your pleasure. He pulls back with a long suck, then he dives back in, leading with his nose, following it with another lick behind. When he reaches your clit, he circles it with the tip of his nose, gives a quick flick with his tongue, and then he puckers his lips to suck just the little bead with precision and concentrated force.

Little whimpers, whines, and longer moans fall from your mouth with abandon, and the thought that someone could hear you, could perhaps see this, is a fleeting fear and thrill before he resumes sucking and gliding along your folds, and you discard any worry because you can’t concentrate on anything but his exquisite actions. The king of Talokan is on his knees, continuing to plunder you on his throne. Your free hand threads into his dark hair, gloriously soft in your fingers, and you press him even closer. He hums against your cunt, pausing, and you can feel his lips curling in a smirk, but you don’t care. You need more, and so you tug his locks, and he happily yields to your insistence.

Oh, he is even better at this with his tongue, you think.

He zig-zags his tongue across your slit, then pushes it in your hole. In and out, and again, and again. He begins to speed up, and you’re trembling around him.

Then nothing at your core, and you cry out, your eyes shooting open to look down at him.

He chuckles. You narrow your gaze at him, “You–“

He surges up to put a stop to your words with a kiss, persistent until he feels you soften, then draws away and brushes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re meant for more than instant gratification, my pearl.”

Those words send a shiver down your spine, and you would be irked by the smile that’s still too close to a smirk on his face, but you both know he’s now earned this moment with you. What’s more, there’s a depth in the eyes of the look he’s giving you, proof that it’s not cockiness, but satisfaction tinged with yearning that strikes you to your core. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want, Princess. I will give you everything,” he swears, and you know he means it indefinitely.

“Make me come, my king.”

He nods, eyes remaining fixed on you as his hand moves to your cunt. He inserts one finger, pressing in and then drawing back out, and you hum in approval. He doesn’t hesitate to add a second finger, and you push your hips forward even more. The heat and concentration of his gaze on you is tremendous, and it continues stoking its own fire in your soul, but it’s more than you can handle in this moment, so you close your eyes and draw him back in for another searing kiss, plunging your tongue into his mouth, doing your best to undo him in at least some small way.

He seems to sense this is your intention, as you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, and he curls his fingers up and finds the spot on the wall of your pelvis that will be your undoing. You keen when he finds it, your head falling back. He presses just one open-mouthed kiss to the column of your neck, offered up vulnerably to him, and then he swiftly descends to bury his head back between your thighs. He immediately sucks your clit, his fingers continuing to plunder your tight channel, and you wrap your legs around his neck, crossing your ankles against his muscular back. The pleasure builds, coiling in your stomach, your limbs tightening. He curls those fingers again, expertly, and hurtles you over the edge, cries of ecstasy escaping your chest.

His mouth releases your clit, but his fingers carefully stroke you through your orgasm, drawing out the rippling sensations. He solemnly kisses up and down your leg, and you’re still riding the bliss, but you can feel his eyes trained up on you once more.

Just as you think he will withdraw, his fingers pick up speed up again, but he plunges them in deeper. His lips return to torment you with pleasure, and you grasp at his head, though the action is futile as you are no match for his immense strength. His free hand is now planted at the base of your spine, not allowing you to squirm even one inch away from his ministrations. He is in earnest, and so your second orgasm breaks over you quickly, and you collapse forward, the desperate whimpers of release swallowed up by him a moment later as he straightens up and his lips seek yours. You sink into the kiss, and he pulls you from the throne and into his embrace. He moves easily to reclaim his throne, much as he has reclaimed you. His lips continue to kiss you, but they drift away from your lips and back – moving over your cheeks, your jaw, along your neck, softly over your eyes, over your forehead, your shoulders, the spot beneath your ear, the juncture at your collarbone, ghosting over your temples, every bit of skin that’s exposed to him. He wants all of you. You’re powerless to do anything but accept his ministrations, and you have no desire to refuse this exploration, blissed out as you are.

When his kisses slow, you bring your delicate fingers up to caress his face. He rests his forehead against yours, and his arms around your torso tighten, pressing you closer.

“Do not doubt that you are the companion that I want,” he murmurs. “After so long as the solitary ruler of my people, I have no need to settle for anything less than exactly who I want as my queen consort. Tomorrow you will be crowned.”

“Tomorrow.” You smile. “And I do think I’ll finally be able to sleep.”

“Oh, is that why you were wandering in the first place?”

You laugh. “Well, it was the mind that was agitated, but now…”

“Now we understand each other?”

“We do.”

“Then I hope you understand I’m not done with you yet, Princess.”

You gasp as his hand returns to your quim.

“I want one more, to seal this with three.”

You will be boneless by the time the king of Talokan deigns to surrender you to your bed, but every touch, as lost in pleasure as you are now, only tethers you more strongly to him.

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[acciopietro]

doctor pt. 3

pairing: namor x fem! reader

summary: you take an opportunity despite the repercussions. namor’s determination to protect his people blinds him.

part one part two part four

word count: 6,939

tw: lots and lots of death. forced suicide (because of the talokanil sirens). the typically stuff. lots of angsty and sadness

a/n: i was listening to happiness is a butterfly while writing so this took a turn for sure... it took a hot minute but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! i’m nervous ab this so pls let me know your honest opinions...it kind of took a turn 

part one part two

IT REALLY ONLY TOOK ONE email to make your heart drop. It was a phone call and a series of texts, too, but it was the email that did it for you. Arial, Size 12 font, formal greeting, body paragraph, half-hearted thank you, polite goodbye. Signed Doctor Reynolds, Ph.D., with the name of your team and company. Message subject: Wakanda.

You read it with vigilant eyes, still hands resting on the metal of your laptop, blue light from the screen casting a cool glow onto your tired skin. The music in your earbuds continued to play, but the sound of The Weeknd wasn’t helping calm the way your heart’s steady beat began to pick up. The words on the email flashed out at you as if they were bolded: Wakanda, harvesting, vibranium, testing, trip. Trip?

“Hi, Doctor Reynolds,” you spoke casually into your telephone, despite your palms sweating around the handle of it. Twisting the coiled cord of it with your index finger, you said, “Yeah, I just got the email. I just had some questions...”

Long story short, a team of marine scientists had ventured into the pacific, delving into the deep seas in search of the vibranium you had found a little over a year ago. You had abandoned that research per Namor’s (tacit) request (more like demand), however, you had known that it was bound to be looked at at some point. The issue was that ships were now apparently being hijacked, their tracking machines being destroyed under water as well as large groups of scientists somehow falling off ship and into the waters to their tragic death. No one knew why.

Reynolds believed Wakanda had something to do with it. He believed that since they were well known for being the sole producers and protectors of all the Earth’s vibranium, he was under the impression that they were trying to stop the United States scientists from harvesting it. Which, you had thought to yourself, would be plausible considering the United States was notorious for taking things that weren’t necessarily theirs.

“Why are we getting involved?” you asked Reynold, gripping your scalp anxiously as you listened to Reynolds explain the situation. “It’s not like if we take a boat out there, we, somehow, will miraculously end up okay. If boats are being hijacked, then... oh, I don’t know...”

Reynold went on and on.

“Wait... you mean to tell me that you already booked it?” you shrilled. “Please excuse me if I’m stepping out of line here, but it’s very likely that our boat will just get hijacked, too. And besides, why do we care so much about vibranium, again? It doesn’t harm any marine life or ecosystems...”

Reynolds spewed a bunch of nonsensical answers, beating around the bush and never quite landing on the reason you know was true: getting money and getting power. Often the root of many of Reynolds’s aspirations.

“You’re more than welcome to deny the job,” Reynold says. “But I’ve decided that I want you on that boat. You’re a useful member of this team. Whether you like it or not, this could be very big.”

You clenched your jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve got a week.”

You had only been home from Yucatán for one month. You had a wonderful four months of being with your sister and her family in the days and sneaking off with your man from the sea at night. You couldn’t have gotten closer to Namor; well, unless he took off his shorts and... well, you wouldn’t let him do it, anyways. He had asked. A few times. More than a few times. But for some reason, you just couldn’t do it. For starters, you weren’t on the pill and you were sure there wasn’t contraception under the sea (you asked if he had a condom one time, and he asked you what language that word was in. For someone who is immortal, he sure didn’t know a lot). 

You felt like sleeping with him for real for real would make things realer. It made him more of a commitment, gave him more power. And you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen unless you were absolutely sure that he deserved it. It was really hard to say no sometimes, though. He sure knew how to persuade you.

Accepting the job and getting on the damn boat would for sure cause an issue if Namor found out. You didn’t want to search for vibranium, especially knowing the damage it would do to Wakanda if the United States got access to such a resource, and to Talokan if the States got knowledge of their existence. But... Reynolds personally invited you, and it could do wonders for your career if it went well. 

“I don’t see why not,” your sister said when you told her of your predicament the next day. “I mean, I understand the hesitation, especially if boats are being hijacked. But who knows, maybe they’ll get an Avenger and put them on board with you to keep you safe. Hopefully it’s Captain America.”

“As much as I’d love to have Sam Wilson on a boat with me for two weeks, I’m still not sure,” you groaned, plopping down onto your couch and opening up your laptop, the blue light hitting your face as you held your phone against your ear with your shoulder. Scrolling through the news, you said, “It just feels like a thing just for money. And, like, yeah, it is, but I... wait a second...”

You stopped scrolling, eyes casting across the headline of the latest CNN article, your lips falling apart. Wakanda’s King T’Challah dead at 41.

“Oh my gosh,” you breathed. Your sister asked you what it was on the other side of the phone, and you hastily forwarded the article to hear. She cursed, and both of you fell silent as you read. “Jesus Christ. I can’t go on that boat.”

---

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU won’t get on the boat?” asked Reynolds the followed week when you went into office. You shook your head, clenching your jaw.

“King T’Challah just died,” you told him matter-of-factly. “And if there really is more vibranium out there, and the States gets access to it, that’ll do a lot of damage to Wakanda.”

“We are not giving the States access to it,” Reynolds furrowed his brow, the hair of his grey mustache fluttering as he spoke. “We’re just figuring out how much of its in the water. It’s not our job to start harvesting it, that’s up to Archeology.”

“It doesn’t matter who does what,” you said feverishly. “We’re still helping do something that will eventually lead to bad things for Wakanda. And I don’t feel comfortable doing that, especially after their king just passed away.”

Reynolds narrowed his eyes at you, and said nothing before circling around to his desk and clicking the mouse of his computer. You blinked, watching him search around for something with a stern face. You waited a minute for him to speak, and when he didn’t, you cleared your throat.

“Sir..?”

“Look, L/N,” Reynolds looked at you from over his bifocals. “I understand where you stand on these more... well, political aspects of the job. But this is a big opportunity I’m offering you. If you decline, fine, but I’ll know that you’re not up to the task. I’ll give the job to Quade.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling something bubble in your stomach. Ugh, you thought. Quade. He was the worst. You knew it was wrong to take this job. Morally, it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Okay,” you sighed defeatedly. “I’ll... I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Reynolds gave you a nod and stopped typing. He pressed the delete button and held it down. “I can get rid of this email to Quade then. We leave Friday. Back your bags and tell your family you love ‘em.”

---

UNDER THE THRASHING WAVES OF the Gulf of Mexico sat a king on his throne, his forearms resting on his strong, tensed thighs as he read a piece of torn paper. He had to put the paper under pieces of surface-dweller plastic so the pages didn’t fall apart under the water, but even still, the ink had smeared a bit. Nonetheless, Namor sat, his jaw clenched, and he read.

Namor, the letter read. 

Hopefully this letter got to you all right-- my niece isn’t always too reliable. I’m writing to you in an attempt to explain myself so you don’t find out from other sources. Some people from my team will be sailing out into the Gulf with another team that’s mining for vibranium. I wanted to deny the job, but I need to take whatever opportunities they throw my way if I want to keep my head above water. I’m going to do my best to protect you and your people, but there’s only so much I can do. I’m sorry. Really, I am. If there’s anything I can do that you can think of (without totally tarnishing my reputation and/or getting fired), find a way to let me know, and I’ll do it. Again, I’m really sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.

Sincerely Apologetically Love

From, Y/N

Namor gripped the paper tight between his calloused, jewelry covered hands. Lifting his head, he glanced up at his people, the civilization they had built together, the vibranium everyone wore. He glanced at the chest plate he wore, the cuffs around his arms, at the vibranium he wore. It was everything.

He clenched his jaw, bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. He laid the paper down on his lap, squeezing his eyes shut to think. 

“Namora!” he called out hastily, and after a little over a minute, the woman emerged into the space and walked up to him, standing before his throne. She knelt, opening up her palms to him in a greeting before standing up. “K'abéet in actualizaciones yóok'ol le láak' rastreador. Yaan in biin ta wéetel (I need updates on the next tracker. I’ll be going with you).”

---

THE DRIVE TO THE PORT was peaceful, palm trees swaying in the breeze and reminding you that, although it wasn’t Mexico, you were appreciative for the beauty and pleasantries of the place you lived in. Florida, with all of its ups and downs-- and you meant all of them-- was nice. The giant boat was astonishing once your Uber pulled up. People were hustling and bustling about the port, and you simply stared up at the giant ship, clutching the strap of your bag and admiring its beauty.

“Ah, Doctor L/N, good to see you. All packed?” asked Doctor Mishra, one of the men of the group who you actually liked to be around. You were thankful he was on the trip. “Boat’s giant, no?”

“Oh, yeah,” you whistled. “Y’know, I’ve never been on a boat like this.”

“I’ve been on a couple of cruises,” Doctor Mishra told you. “Wonderful vacations. However, we will not be waited on on this boat.”

“Fine with me,” you shrugged. “Do we just... go inside, or what?”

“Not sure,” he said. Smiling, he heaved his duffel bag over his shoulder and said, “Let’s find out!

Everything went smoothly for the first week and three days. All the men had to share rooms with at least one other person, and you were lucky enough that everyone agreed that you should have the single room. Your research seemed to be going fairly, however, you never caught a glimpse of the research of the others aside from Doctor Mishra, who you were doing a lot of your work with these days.

One evening, after a nice warm shower, you ventured out onto the deck of the ship, letting the ocean breeze cool your warm cheeks. You caught a glimpse, however, of Dr. Reynolds and Bernstein exchanging words on the deck, standing quite close and speaking under their breaths. You crept closer around the corner, trying to eavesdrop. 

“We found it around thirty-five miles from the west tip of Cuba, so we’re thinking if we move closer towards Cancún and Yucatán and all that, we’ll find more,” Bernstein said quietly but firmly. Reynolds nodded his head in understanding.

“But what of the machines?” he asked. “The last one was destroyed, you said, signal lost?”

“Something’s hungry down there,” Bernstein shrugged. “Or however far down the vibranium is, it’s too deep for our computers. We need higher tech to harvest it.”

Your stomach turned. The team wasn’t supposed to be thinking about harvesting vibranium. Reynolds had told you that was up to Archaeology. You gulped and kept listening, fighting the urge to jump out and ask a million questions.

"I’m in contact with some people up north who’ve got new stuff that could work,” Reynolds scratched his white beard pensively. “They’ve had limited success too, but it could be helpful.”

“Us getting this vibranium could change the game,” Bernstein said emphatically. “I mean, can you imagine if the government realized we had this stuff? They’d pay us a lot of money to take it off our hands.”

“This is more than just money, Bernstein,” Reynolds said lowly. “If Wakanda found out that the States got hold of the one thing they’ve got on us? We’re back on top.”

“Holy shit,” Bernstein ran a hand through his oily blonde hair and grinned. “I went into the right profession, that’s for damn sure!”

“Yes, well, let’s just see what the other men have gathered in the past week and compare,” Reynolds told him. “Maybe there’s something right under our noses that we haven’t noticed.”

You clenched your jaw and stepped out from behind the corner. You squeezed a fist in one hand to prevent yourself from lashing out, and it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that the two men noticed you.

“Oh, L/N!” Reynolds gave a gasp of surprise and then a chuckle. “Wasn’t expecting you to be out so late. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I don’t have a bedtime, sir, I’m a grown woman,” you said firmly. “But you’ve got about twenty years on me, so I’m confused as to why you’re not in bed either.”

Bernstein and Reynolds shared a glance.

“I’m also confused about all this I’m hearing about harvesting vibranium,” you said, not saying anything for a heartbeat to give them room to defend themselves. “I didn’t think that was what we were doing here. I also thought that as a team we were supposed to be, I don’t know, working together?”

“Look, L/N, you’ve got your own research, and so do we. We chose not to include you because you, for some reason, seemed very against delving deeper into this vibranium business,” Reynolds explained in a slow and calm voice as if he were speaking to a child. “This could be very lucrative for us and helpful for American forces.”

“You’re hiding shit from everyone,” you spat.

“No, I’m not,” Reynolds sneered. “Just from you.”

As if someone had pressed a button, all of a sudden Reynolds and Bernstein stood upright, their faces blank, eyes fogged over. You furrowed your brow and snapped in front of the former's face. A song began to echo the ship, as if someone was playing it on the loudspeakers, and you glanced around as if to see if someone else noticed it. 

You glanced up to the top deck, where a man stood next to a large scope. He was walking very uniformly, his face blank as well, and you watched as he continued to walk and walk and walk until--

You screamed bloody murder. The man walked until he reached the railing, where he hopped over it and simply threw himself off the ledge and into the depths of the ocean below. Breathing heavily, you whipped yourself around and watched as Reynolds, mesmerized by the song, began to walk towards the railing, Bernstein at his heels.

“No!” you cried, grabbing ahold of Reynolds’s arm to hold him back; he thrashed himself out of your grasp and climbed over the railing. You grappled at the back of his shirt, trying to tug him back, but he too, like a rag doll, plummeted into the crashing waves below. Bernstein was looming closer to the railing, and you wrapped your arms around his torso to hold him back.

You kept seeing men out of the corner of your eyes walk over the edge and throw themselves into the sea. You hadn’t realized it, but tears were pricking out of the corners of your eyes as you mustered up all your strength to try and hold Bernstein back from the edge.

“Snap-- out-- of-- it!” you cried, and brought one of your hands to slap him clean across the face. To no avail. Balling up a fist, you let go of him and stood between him and the railing; you wound up your arm and socked him clean across the face, to which he toppled onto his back. Blood was now seeping from his nose, but at least he wasn’t walking to his death. 

You squinted out into the sea, to try and figure out the source of the sound, but all you saw was the water and the midnight blue horizon. A groan from behind you alerted your attention; you dropped to your knees, shaking Bernstein awake.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cried. He wiped his nose, the blood staining the sleeve of his white shirt.

“You fuckin’ punched me!” Bernstein muffled, sitting upright and punching you straight across the face, hard enough for you to topple back onto the deck. He got to his feet, and as if nothing had happened, his face became blank again. You groaned, sitting upright and clutching your bleeding nose as he walked towards the railing again. 

“No, no-- stop!” you called out, getting to your feet, but it was too late; Bernstein climbed over the railing and fell face first into the ocean. You saw the tail of a dolphin in the distance as his body disappeared, and you squeezed your eyes shut, covering your face with your hands, blood from your nose seeping through your fingers. “Jesus christ, what the fuck? What the actual fuck? What the fuck is happening?”

SPLASH! You drew your hands away from your face, and to your horror, saw the fins of sharks circling around the boat, the occasional tale of a dolphin, or the splashes of other marine life you couldn’t identify from so far away. The beating of your heart was so fast that at this rate you were sure you could die of a heart attack. Unable to take your eyes away from the sea of troubles below you, you were terrified to see the body of a whale rise close enough to the surface for you to see, and what shocked you the most was the outline of a person riding on its back. Your jaw dropped.

Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the hatch that led to the inside of the ship. You ran at top speed across the creaky wooden floor until you reached your room, grabbing your bag that held your journal, your phone, your laptop, and your camera. A knock at your door made you jump and almost yelp.

“It’s just me,” it was Doctor Mishra, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild. He had on a large pair of earmuffs. “Are you okay? Your nose is bleeding!”

“No!” you practically screeched. “I just fucking watched the entire crew kill themselves!”

“Everyone?”

“Well, I don’t know about everyone,” you stammered, shoving anything and everything important to you into your bag. You grabbed the printed map of the gulf, with annotations and drawings and other kinds of markings, and rolled it quickly before shoving it into your bag. Picking up your taser, you blinked at it before shoving it into your bag, too. “Bernstein and Reynolds are gone, same with the rest of the crew on the deck, and the man from the mast, and the--”

“Slow down,” Mishra said to you, squatting down next to you and handing you his handkerchief for your nose. “There’s almost no signal, and the only ways we can send out an S.O.S. are either from the red flare device on the mast, or by the radio in the control room.”

“Okay,” you breathed, putting the straps of your bag over your shoulders and tightening it so it wouldn’t fall off, wiping your nose despite it continuing to bleed. “But... what if we get all weird too and try and walk off?”

“Here,” Mishra fumbled with something in his pocket: wired earbuds. “Plug them into your phone and blast some music. Should do the trick. My earmuffs worked pretty well.”

You grabbed the earbuds from him, untangling them before plugging them into your ears. Grabbing your phone, you shuffled a playlist and turned up the volume. Mishra beckoned you to follow him out the door, to which you complied, Tyler, the Creator’s “ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?” blaring from the earbuds. Not the time, you thought, but you couldn’t afford to stand there a pick a good song for the occasion.

“I’ll head up to the mast,” you offered. “The control room is safer for you since it’s pretty contained.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “The mast is insanely high, you could get hurt.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s fine. I’ll send out the flares. Good luck, okay?”

“Take care of yourself,” Mishra told you firmly. “Meet back on the deck in ten minutes or so.”

You nodded and turned, sprinting back up onto the deck and opening the hatch. There were people on the deck, with beautiful feathered headdresses and jaded armor. You stared at them for a moment, but before they could see you, you ran behind one of the poles, trying to focus on getting up to the mast. The ladder was on the other side of the deck, leading you to inch your way around the center portion until you could find the ladder with your eyes.

There were tons of the soldiers across the deck, running around, whispering to one another. They all held massive, sharp spears, the jade and gold glinting under the pale moonlight. It reminded you of Namor, you thought, until you realized it was possible they were his people. As much as you trusted him, you didn’t trust the spears; you weren’t about to risk your life, and even Doctor Mishra’s life, just to reunite with the man from the sea. 

You bolted towards the ladder, grabbing the bars and climbing up it with no hesitation. Someone from below shouted something. You didn’t look down, moving at a speed you were sure you had never moved at before, until you reached the top level where the light machine and the red flare device were located. You practically threw yourself onto the bright red button, pressing it over and over again so tens of red flares shot up into the night sky.

Your earbuds were playing Childish Gambino, now, and despite it being one of your favorite songs of all time, you couldn’t find it in you to enjoy it. You kept pressing the button, red flare after red flare firing into the sky. People were shouting from below you, in a language you couldn’t decipher, especially with “Me and Your Mama” blasting into your ears.

You took a brief moment to glance at the deck, peering over the railing. Someone was climbing up the mast, the gold of their armor glinting under the light of the mast. You panicked, unzipped your bag and grabbed your taser. You ran to the other side of the table-like desk in the center of the platform and crouched behind it.

Feet adorned in golden-plated sandals planted onto the platform. You swallowed your breath, holding out your taser for when they rounded the desk. You cursed your earbuds; you were sure they could hear the Childish Gambino blasting from them. When they rounded the corner, you shot up and stuck out the taster onto their stomach, to which they convulsed and stumbled backwards. You pressed the red button a handful more times, but before you could act again, you felt a hand grab you by the neck and heard the cling of a blade being unsheathed.

“Suelta a arma (Drop your weapon),” the person holding you said firmly, to which you shakily dropped your taster. It clattered onto the wooden platform. The soldier let you go, your back towards the ladder, and with the shear pointed right at you, commanded, “Péeksik (Move).”

You couldn’t understand them, but you had enough context clues to understand what the soldier wanted. You caught a long enough glimpse at them to see a strange mask over their mouth and nose, water splashing around inside of it. You wanted to look for longer, but they nudged you with the butt of their spear, so without protest, you climbed down the ladder.

By the time you reached the floor of the deck, you barely had a moment of freedom before the soldier grabbed you again, holding you by the shoulders with their spear at your neck. They spoke to another soldier, the blade of the spear dangerously close to your skin. 

One of the soldiers wore a tall, orange-feathered headdress, with the same feathers donned around the necklace she wore that looked like it was made out of something woven. The soldier holding you shoved you forward, hard enough that you stumbled over your feet and almost fell flat on your face. As soon as you were released, the other soldiers circled you, spears pointed.

“Vacíe u póoj (Empty your bag),” she commanded. You blinked, not understand. At your silence, one of the soldiers poked your bag with their spear, nudging it off. You reluctantly shook it off of your shoulders, letting it fall onto the deck. “Je'e le! (Open it!)”

Another soldier poked it with your spear before another nudged you forwards. Lowering to your knees, you grabbed the back and opened the zipper pocket so the contents of your bag was visible. One of the soldiers snatched it from you, turning it upside down and shaking it so everything fell out; your map tumbled to the ground, along with your computer, camera, and journal. Cringing at the sound of your computer and camera dropping onto the deck, you made a move to stand, but the feeling of a spear pressed against the back of your neck kept you down.

The woman in the headdress, who you assumed was in charge, bent down and picked up the map, unrolling it. She ran her finger where you had outlined the hypoxic zone in red pen, the notes near the southern border of the United States, as well as the circle around your sister’s town in Yucatán.

“Talokan ma' u dibujado (Talokan is not drawn),” she said. In broken English, she read the notes and pronounced. “Hi-gh con-cen-tra-ti-on.”

You gulped, watching them interact with one another. The one behind you holding the spear to your neck said, “Ba'ax le kíins wa ma'? (Do we kill her, or not?)”

“Le ajawo' tu ya'alaj ma' u testigos (The king said no witnesses),” another soldier proclaimed. “Kíisa (Kill her).”

“Pa'atik! (Wait!)” one exclaimed, leaning down and grabbing your wrist. “Ilawil u x-oron (Look at her wrist).”

“Lelo' u Talokan (That is from Talokan),” another said, to which gasps and murmurs spun around the circle of soldiers. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment; the word Talokan was circling your brain. Namor. These were his people. Where was he? Why were they on your ship, killing your team? About to kill you?

“K'aaba' ti' le ajawo' (Call the king),” the woman said, to which one of the soldiers held up a large conch shell. After a beat of silence, the soldier brought it up to their lips and blew through it, a loud clarion call resounding through the air. After the call ended, the woman announced to the soldiers, “Leti' jach le ts'ook viva (She is the last alive).”

“Le ajawo' yéetel complacido (The king will be pleased),” a soldier said. 

“Y/N!” came someone's voice from above. Your heart lurched when you saw Doctor Mishra from atop one of the platforms where the radio room was. You internally cursed him for revealing his presence to the soldiers. The soldiers shouted something, and one moved to go after Mishra, but before he could, a figure shot through the air towards where the doctor was.

The figure landed on the platform next to Mishra, who, before he could run away, was struck in the head with the butt of a spear; Mishra fell to the floor, alive, but unconscious. The figure flew up into the air, circled the mast, before soaring towards where you and the soldiers were, landing with a hand on the deck.

The soldiers knelt, joining their hands at the wrists and opening their palms to him. The figure moved, the wings at his angles fluttering as he stood up. Your breath caught in your throat when he set eyes on you, breaking through the circle of soldiers to stand before your kneeling figure.

“You,” was all you could breathe when Namor stared down at you, his spear gripped in his hand. His hair was slicked back with the water of the ocean, his eyes narrowed in one of the deadliest glares you had ever witnessed. A chill went up your spine.

“I gave you that because I trusted you,” Namor poked the bracelet on your wrist with the tip of his spear. Your hands were shaking now, tears pearling at the corners of your eyes. “And here you are... harvesting vibranium. Just as you promised me you would not do.”

“I... you didn’t read my letter?” you stammered out. He was scaring you. There were drops of saltwater on his eyelashes, those ebony eyes of his making you simultaneously melt with adoration and freeze with fear. “I thought... they... they lied to me, they said we were just finding the concentration, I didn’t know they were harvesting it here--”

“You lied to me,” Namor said slowly with composure. His jaw clenched. Something in his eyes changed. “You tricked me.”

“I didn’t,” you were crying now. “I didn’t. I promise, K’uk’ulkan--”

“You do not deserve to call me that,” he gave a dry scoff. He gulped. He wasn’t just angry, you saw; he was upset. Devastated. “You are now an enemy.”

“Look at the map!” you urged him, scrambling to find it. “Look at my notes! I didn’t-- it’s not even near Yucatán, it’s-- it’s just where the concentration was higher, I swear--”

“High Concentration,” the woman from before said, handing the map to Namor. He took it, unrolling it and eyeing the area you had outlined.

“What is this?” Namor asked you, not meeting your eyes. You sniffed, swallowing the frog in your throat.

“It’s-- it’s just where I found the high concentration of vibranium in the first place. I thought we were just supposed to go back to that area, in the northern Gulf, to test the concentration, and that’s what I thought we were researching! That’s what my-- that’s my project. My work.”

“Your project,” Namor repeated. 

“Remember?” you practically begged. “Remember how I spent all that time working and you stopped me from getting data? That’s what I was researching! That’s what I’m doing here! I didn’t know that fucking Bernstein and Reynolds were trying to harvest vibranium! I had no idea!”

“How am I supposed to believe you?”

You could barely catch your breath. “I-- I don’t know. My map, my computer, my journal, my goddamn phone, everything’s in there. Take it all, I don’t care. Read everything I’ve ever written, you’ll see!”

Namor bent down and picked up your journal, flipping open to the first page and starting to read. Your knees were starting to hurt from how long you’ve been sitting on them. The silence was deafening, watching him flip through the journal. He read every single word, and you tried to calm your breathing as you watched his face change as he continued to flip.

When he reached the last page, he closed the journal and held it by his side. His glare was gone; he was frowning now, refusing to look at your face. Glancing up at the soldiers, he lifted a hand, to which they lowered their spears away from you and backed up. Namor extended a hand to you as if to help you to your feet. You eyed it hesitantly, but seeing the grimace on his face, you took it and stood.

He didn’t say anything. It was like he couldn’t. He avoided your eyes, and without a word, he turned around towards the railing, resting his forearms on it with a sigh. You were still shaking, but as your fear subsided, you felt the anger bubbling up in your stomach. A drop of blood fell from your nose, touching your top lip.

“You killed everyone,” you muttered, wiping the blood off of your lip. He turned his head and said nothing. “Your people almost killed me.”

“I will do anything for my people,” he told you carefully. His voice was wavering. “If they are threatened, I do not care what it takes. I will protect them.”

You weren’t sure what to say. You walked up beside him, resting your arms on the railing, too. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his chest rising and falling with a quick cadence, and despite not being able to hear his fast breathing, you could see he was becoming flustered.

“I pray you can find it in you to understand my motives,” he continued. You, again, said nothing. You could barely form words, your mouth dry. There was something warm on the back of your neck; you brought your hand up to touch it, only to find fresh blood on the pads of your fingers. The spears had cut you. Namor glanced over at your bloodied hand, brows twitching. He reached towards you, “Allow me to--”

You flinched back. You couldn’t look at him. He dropped his hands and bowed his head, staring at the waters below. They were calm, now, the sharks and dolphins no longer splashing about. That whale you had seen had gone, too. You willed your rapid beating heart to cease, wishing your chest would stop twisting and turning.

“I get it,” you murmured, using the collar of your shirt to wipe the last bit of blood from your nose. Namor’s head twitched up, eyes on you in less than a second. “Gotta protect your people, just like you were when you wouldn’t let me take those samples. But this... this is... what I saw...”

“If I had known you weren’t apart of it, I would never have let--”

“I wish you had trusted me,” you sniffled, finally looking at him. His ebony eyes were wider than you had ever seen them, brown brows tilted upwards in a form of desperation you would have never picture them having. He was beautiful. “My letter, I thought... I thought I explained it.”

“You did,” Now that Namor had caught your eyes, he didn’t dare look away in fear of losing them again. “You did, I... jumped to conclusions.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you repeated, breaking the eye contact. You clenched your jaw. “So you killed my entire team.”

Namor’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a second, unable to find proper words. “You have to understand where I’m coming from, here. These ships harvesting our vibranium-- Talokan’s vibranium-- would put us at risk. It could lead to the end of my people.”

“I know,” you sighed, closing your eyes and putting your head on your hands where they rested against the railing. The ocean’s breeze struck at your forehead, cooling your skin and blowing your hair off your face. Namor didn’t say anything, but you could feel him looming closer. You hid your face from him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him over the breeze. “Please look at me.”

After a prolonged second, you lifted your head from your arms, the breeze chilling the tears that had rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear it.

“Take me home,” you said quietly. He blinked. “Please.”

“To... to Yucatán?” he inquired, a layer of hope underneath his words.

“No,” something was twisting in your chest. “To Miami.”

“...right now?”

“Yes.”

Namor didn’t move, just staring at you with those puppy dog eyes that made you want to wrap your arms around him and pull him into you. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Please, Y/N, we have to--”

“Yes, I am sure,” you said pointedly, despite the wobbling of your voice. “It’s not like there’s anything for me to do here, anyways. Everyone’s dead.”

Namor raised an arm, and the female Talokanil soldier from earlier came to his side. He muttered something to her in his native language; you hadn’t bothered to listen, for one because you didn’t speak a word, but for two because for some reason, hearing his voice was making it difficult to hold your ground.

“Come,” he said to you, holding his hand out. You glanced over at him; he began to rise from the ground, wings on his ankles keeping him suspended in the air. You glanced at his hand. “Do you trust me?”

You felt your lower lip tremble. 

“I don’t know,” you said, grabbing his hand anyways. He frowned, his eyes more glassy than ever. You wondered if he would cry. He pulled you up, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you tight on his side, his other arm holding his spear.

In a flash, you were soaring towards the horizon, the cold, salty air whipping you in the face as he flew. His skin was cold against yours, and despite your anger, you pushed yourself against him, wondering when the next time you’d feel him would be.

The gold of his jewelry pressed against your skin, and you stared at the way in glinted under the pale moonlight. You stared at him, the jade in his septum, the point of his ears, the bronze of his skin. There were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, prevented from rolling down his face and simply flying away from the force of the wind.

You hadn’t realized how quickly you were flying. The shore was near, you could see the lights of the city as you approached it. You slowed, your hair relaxing from the absence of the harsh wind. Scrunching your nose to get some feeling back in it, your feet skimmed the top layer of the ocean as he brought you to the sand and let you go.

You dusted your self off, fixing your head and allowing yourself to adjust to being back on the ground. You had gotten dizzy from the flight, but came to it in less than a minute. You glanced at where his hand still held his spear. When he saw you look at it, he lowered it without hesitation. You finally laid eyes on Namor. The tears from earlier had fallen onto his cheek. 

“Do you fear me?” he asked.

“I fear what you’re capable of,” you muttered. “Because I don’t think you’ll ever trust me.”

“I trust you,” he breathed. You frowned. “I trust you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he insisted, falling to his knees in front of you. His ebony hair was partially covering his eyes, but the wind suddenly pushed it back so you could see his face. Your eyes widened, gaze lowering to where he sat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I trust you. Fully.”

You could barely believe the sight before you; Namor, on his knees. You were cruel, you thought. You were still crying. 

“I just need some time,” you said, feeling your heart change at the sight of him. His eyes kept flickered around your face, to one eye, to your nose, to your lips, to the other eye, back to your lips. “Okay?”

“Time?” he repeated, nodding, knees digging into the sand, wings on his ankles fluttering a bit. “Yes, that’s-- as much time as you want.”

“Okay,” you sighed. Namor slowly rose to his feet, reminding you of the way he towered over you. He didn’t let his eyes leave yours, as if he were trying to tell you something tacitly. He looked at your lips. 

He lifted his hands towards your face, and when you didn’t flinch away, he cupped both of your cheeks with his palms. You closed your eyes, heart thumping. 

“Whenever you are ready,” he began, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. “I’ll be here. All right?”

“Mm-hm,” you said, letting yourself look at him. He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Good-bye,” he said. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline so tenderly you thought you might start sobbing right then and there. Before you could say anything more, he soared up into the air, flying away and disappearing into the midnight sky. You wiped at your cheeks, ridding the tears, and with a sigh, you turned around and made for your apartment.

---

taglist:

@childishnewt @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777 @mcximvffs @kaqua @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty @aliyahsomerhalder @lovenewfandoms @justkay2 @only-his3  @deadlydahlias @nellycanwrite @vlamley @seraphimcollections @kingtwhiddleston @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @doimakeyounervous @blue-chup @myotakureprieve @lulu-83 @seraphimcollections @kingtwhiddleston @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @atabeyguabancex @doimakeyounervous @chaoticevilbakugo @theamericanjewitch @tian-monique @kentucky-criedfricken​ @takeyour-pants-off

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[legends-of-apex]

Atecocolli | K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Reader

Rating: General (fluff, confessions, general cuteness)

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: After the King of Talokan confesses his love to you, he leaves you with a gift. Reader isn’t gendered, no use of y/n

A/N: this is a birthday present for my absolutely wonderful friend Mika!! Hope you’ve had the happiest of birthdays 🥳

What a strange thing it was to have a god-king look at you with eyes so vulnerable.

"I understand if you do not want to answer me right now. So I will give you this and leave you in peace,” He presented you with a shell, an Atecocolli. It's coiling spine was covered in intricate, raised patterns that your fingers couldn't help but admire. You traced the shell’s spout as he traced your knuckles.

After a long breath filled with salt-dusted sea air, you gathered the courage to look at him again. It felt like staring at the sun. You had no idea what to say to him but thankfully he seemed to understand that.

“Should you ever need me, my love, speak my name into it as you would a whisper in my ear. When you place it in the water, I will be with you as soon as I can."

"How?"

"Your voice will call me to you." He replied, and he looked forward to hearing it.

The king’s body dipped as he brought your knuckle to his lips. His eyes poured into yours as he did it.

He'd never felt more vulnerable than when he confessed his love for you a few moments ago. He tore a cavity in his chest and bore his soul to you, his heart. He asked only that you respond to his confession when you feel ready. So one day, when courage possessed you, you did just that. You raised the shell to your lips, let the fresh sea air fill your lungs, and whispered his name softly, as you would a prayer.

"K'uk'ulkan…” and then let the shell sink into the sand to be taken by the sea.

You could barely hear your own voice over the wind yet it drifted through the ocean - through currents and reefs, past lightning-fast fish and rippling jellyfish tendrils - until it reached the pointed ears of the man you wanted to hear it. He heard it from his place on his throne, seated within a megalodon's jagged jaws. Your voice floated across his sensitive ears like a ghost of a kiss and he sighed in relief and ecstacy at the sound. He adored how you tasted his name on your tongue.

He emerged from the waves and stood before you not long after with the Atecocolli clutched in one hand and his spear in the other. It was then that you were reminded that the man who told you that he loved you was indeed a god. He was built like one, with his broad back, chest and shoulders. His face longed to be immortalised in stone for how strong his jaw was, how beautiful his nose. Seawater stuck silken hair to his forehead, the droplets rolling down his body drawing branches into his skin like veins in marble.

His entire being ought to have been carved from marble but the stone surely wouldn’t do him justice, you thought. A sculpture could never capture the gentle starlight in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” He asked, checking you weren’t calling him for aid. You nodded and he took a breath of short-lived relief. “You have thought about what I said…"

"I have." You confirmed.

"Then I beg you to put my misery to rest,” He pleaded, throat bobbing. No matter what your answer was, he had to hear it.

He handed you back the Atecolli, the shell so large you had to cradle it with both hands. It was an extension of reassurance that even if you didn’t love him back he’d still come to your aid, he’d still keep you safe and visit if you asked.

You hesitated, let the air hang a moment longer and the wind whip through your clothes. He thought that was that - a rejection. He prepared himself to change the subject and bid your farewell so he might wallow in his longing alone. He didn't realise you were simply gathering courage to do something you'd been wanting to for longer than he could possibly imagine a mortal waiting for anything with lifespans so short.

“Do I frighten you?” He asked with eyes so soft they put the sand beneath your feet to shame.

The question confused you. “No,” you answered quietly. “Not at all.”

“Why then do you tremble?”

He was right, you were trembling. Whether it was from anticipation or something else, he couldn’t tell. But he couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that maybe he had scared you and that was why your body shook.

He had never before cared what another being thought about him. He’d never had to. He ruled with dignity and respect for his people and they returned that sentiment. His enemies? He couldn’t have cared less. But you? He cared that the sun shone bright enough for you, that the grass you walked upon stayed green. He cared so deeply about how you perceived him that it scared him at first. But then he realised that he, the King of Talokan, was in love with you. That’s why he cared. As the realisation dawned on him, he’d never felt more vulnerable and so sickeningly human.

"In yaakunech,” your voice broke him out of his spiralling thoughts. I love you.

He stilled and grew quiet for a moment and you worried you'd misspoken or that he was perhaps offended by you speaking his mother tongue. Then his eyelids fluttered closed, guarding the beautiful brown from your gaze. When his eyes re-opened, they watered and his mouth bore a smile so wide it must have hurt.

"Thank you. Thank you." His quivering hand cupped your cheek and leaned his forehead against yours and you stood there just enjoying the ease of which you could be with one another. The warmth radiated off him, cutting through the cool ocean breeze. "You have no idea how I have yearned to hear that from you. Thank you, in yakunaj.”

My love. He called you his love and he meant it with his whole heart. Those words were a promise.

He was half a millennia in age and all around him his loved ones perished with the slow yet inevitable crawl of time. One day he would lose you too as he did all things eventually. So your time together would be short but precious. He was grateful that his longing could end and that you could be together, even if for a little while.

[corawithfanfiction]

- Reminiscences I Winter Soldier -

Ask for permission before quoting or translating!

•  REMINISCENCES • Recall or “remembering ” refers to the mental process of retrieving information from the past. It is one of the three basic processes of memory, along with encoding and storage. There are three main types of recall: free recall, cued recall and serial recall. Psychologists test recall as a way to study memory processes in humans and animals.

It Would’ve Been Better To Forget Lots Of Things (Prologue)

And In Those Slepless,Tormenting Times (Characters)

I Am Afraid I Have No Purpose Here (Episode 1)

Somewhere, I Have a Watercolor You Did (Episode 2)

TAG LIST:

[buzzkillers]

Fables and Parables 1|?

Pairing: Namor x Black!Reader

Summary: During a study abroad trip, you accidentally trigger a long-time tradition through a simple word: amen.

Warning: NON-CON, religious themes, non-consensual voyeurism, magical sex pollen, dream-walking, mentions of abortion, attempted forced pregnancy.

PART TWO

There's only so many words in the English language to describe heat, so you'll keep it simple: Oraxco, Mexico was hell on Earth, survival unlikely.

It was a sun-drenched mugginess.

Something heavy and thick that melted the sunscreen right off your skin and had your phone turning off in self preservation. And the worst part? This was before you left the airport; before you even left the damn terminal.

You didn't know what you expected. Oraxco wasn't particularly known for having Iceland type temperatures but no one said it was like this. Like you were kissing the sun. Like the heat had a mind of it's own.

And by the time you found your classmates, your clothes were drenched in sweat and your bags had gone slick in your palms. Thankfully, you weren't the only one.

Underneath what could only be a sunflare, there were only a handful of you, but your tongue went dry as you tried to greet them all. And you know, maybe you weren't in a city.

Maybe the airplane accidentally dropped you off in a Giants oven. Maybe you were being grilled alive. It was the only explanation really. For Christ sake, you've never felt your skin cook before.

And when your professor finally arrived, with suspiciously dry skin and an easy smile the conversations died easily. You couldn't pretend to be upset. You just let her talk and talk and talk.

Her tone, peppier and upbeat as she postponed going straight to the hotel.

Instead, she wanted to risk heat stroke to visit a nearby holy site. A hidden attraction that not many tourists visit. "It's only a few miles east, you'll thank me later," she insisted, the moment she saw the deadly looks etched onto all our faces. "It'll be fun, I promise"

A bold faced lie you thought as by the time you got there, you couldn't help but think it looked less holy and more—abandoned.

Through the heat exhaustion you took in what could only be described as a tall engraved pillar in a sea of dead grass.

It was made of smooth stone and touched by age and thick green vines that wrapped snugly up the pillars pits and grooves. The arms of the vines climbing up and up until it disappeared atop the statue's crest. Shit, it was so far up, you had to crank your head up to see it.

It was beautiful, daunting and as your professor promised: hidden well. The pillar far enough away from the main road that if you weren't looking for it, it would be easily missed.

Clearly, the stone was old. It had to be the fifteenth century, pre-colonialism maybe? The craftsman ship was intricate as well. Each mark and dig woven into rocks that made a story. No, that wasn’t it. Not a story but instead the never ending tail of a serpent that slithered its way to the top of the pillar.

With artful expertise, the tail formed into a man with a heart in one hand and what could only be an infant in the other. Smaller figures surrounded the serpent, their role vague until your professor spoke.

"—a popular myth dating back to the Mayan period. It's said that if you pray at the feet of his statue, the sea serpent will rise from his throne to come up to pick a concubine,"

"The concubine would go through a heat of sort that would urge her to stay in the land of the serpent god till next full moon, where she'll come back to her homeland gifted with pregnancy and rewards for the town,"

Around you everyone nodded in thinly veiled disinterest.

“You only have to pray, give him a request and the fullment will be your exchange for the child.”

You grimaced, “I pray that this sun would disappear, amen”

You’re met with grunts of agreement. The professor dutifully chose to ignore you; instead her mouth just continued to go on and on and on. By the time it was over, you no longer heard the sounds of cars racing by, the trees had become unnaturally still and you were pretty sure that half of your class was sprawled dead on the grass floor.

She did not have to convince anyone to get back onto the bus. You’re in fact the first in your seat, legs splayed out and your head leaning against the heated window. There was an unnatural silence settled onto the bus. No one wanted to speak and you couldn’t blame them.

Your eyes instead stayed stuck on the trees; on the grass that danced beneath the soft wind. The moon had begun to hang high. Its light washed across the city and leaked through the leaves.

Your thighs shifted in your seat, your hand pressed into your cheek. And then you felt it, something hot and sharp like honey that spiked in your belly. A warm sensation that made you droop in your seat before you blinked and looked at the tree line as the engine roared.

The statue peeked back at you in glances and ripples of the leaves that withered over it. You blinked and for a moment, the leaves flicked away completely; your professor said something, the bus began to move at a snail's pace, but you couldn’t listen, you were transfixed.

Utterly hypnotized at the sight of the serpent tail, concrete and covered in rock as it tightened around the pillar. Before the leaves bristled back into place and the bus left the place behind.

You blinked. The warmth in your belly bloomed. Then with a roll of your shoulders, you pretend you saw nothing at all.

__

A few hours later, or maybe a few minutes, a few days? It didn't matter. But it was at that moment, deep down below, beneath sea currents and molten rock; on a throne covered in bones and melted gold, that a God pricked his ears towards the surface and sighed.

[sunshinescribes]

Only Love Can Hurt Like This - 4

Part 4 of Continuum (FINALE)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT

Warnings: Blowjob, Makeup Sex, Breeding Kink (if ya squint), Fluff

There is a saying your elders often whispered to the curious and naive youth in your village: Love is a despot who spares no one.

The same words had been spoken to you when you were just a child on the cusp of adolescence, with curious, lingering eyes as you beheld the boys in your village who had once been tiny and awkward, now tall and thickset, with unrecognizably deep voices.

You hadn’t understood what it meant back then, but you certainly understood it now, as the sea separated you from the one person you desired most.

You had believed that your heartache would mend and that your decision—the right decision—to put the needs of your country over your own desires would bring you relief. You hadn’t expected it to be immediate, but you had expected it—that same ease and warmth that you had felt when you confessed your love for Namor to your king.

Anguish was your only companion, and try as you might, you could not be free of it.

When you lay in bed at night, your mind would wander back to nights spent with Namor, breathless and drunk on the feel of him—his tongue, his fingers, so attuned to your pleasure in a way you had not known before him. He would whisper filth and encouragements in your ear—against your warm skin—as he brought you to the height of your ecstasy.

The memories made the ache in your chest metastasize, making your bed feel cold and empty. You could lie to yourself and say you only missed the mind-shattering sex, but it was more than that. You missed the moments after, the comfortable silence as he held you close—your inquiries about the parts of Talokan you hadn’t seen. The things he missed most when he was away—and in turn, he would ask similar questions, holding onto every word you spoke until time slipped away from you both and the morning sun peaked over the horizon.

You could not stand to reminisce, contemplating what you had lost. You had taken to sleeping on your couch—a simple remedy—but then came the dreams dripping in honey.

You, decorated in jade and sheer fabric that pooled at your feet. Your hand absentmindedly stroked your stomach as you stared at the ornately dressed god-king before you. His fingers moved expertly with a brush as he added a quick stroke of blue paint to another one of his murals. You hissed as you felt the lightning-quick twist in your stomach—a familiar feeling these past couple of months. Namor turned, quickly setting his brush aside before coming to your side. His voice was low and comforting as he placed a warm hand over your stomach.

"You should be resting," he whispered, concern swimming in those dark eyes of his as they flitted over your features, searching for a hint of any lingering discomfort. Finding none, he rested his pointed ear against your abdomen.

You smiled at him, threading your fingers through his dark tresses. He hummed appreciatively, his eyes fluttering closed as you continued.

"I am fine," you insisted, before turning your gaze to the mural Namor had been working on. "Besides, how can I rest when you finally allow me to watch you paint?"

"I have not denied you the pleasure."

"No," you sighed, "but you always work on them when I’m asleep."

Namor turned his head, his dark eyes opening to gaze up at you. They were impossibly soft, as if to him you held the moon, and how uncharacteristic it was of the man you had once known—the arrogant god-king you had despised a year ago.

"Rest, and I will continue when you wake." He placed a kiss on your clothed stomach before whispering a string of words in his native tongue that your ears could not pick up. "You need your strength, my love, as does our child."

You woke from your dream with a start, blinking away tears as you slowly took in the darkness of your home. The dream had seemed so real that you could feel the lingering warmth of Namor’s hand—the scent of salt and agave.

Your heart wept for that dream—for the future you would now never have—and you prayed to Bast as sunlight filtered through your window.

I did the right thing. Let my heart heal. Do not allow me to suffer.

If Bast had heard your plea, she failed to take pity on you.

The days came and went, and you were plagued with honeyed fantasies that left you wanting. No, your heartache had not subsided; it festered and spread into every part of you, deep to the marrow.

If Namor haunted your dreams, then you would evade sleep as best you could. Late nights and caffeine became your new norm, and how bleary you grew running on a couple hours of sleep—how juvenile and nonsensical your mistakes tended to be when you worked on reports for your king, or how heavy your eyes would feel during council meetings— You were ashamed to know that on occasion you fell asleep with your cheek resting against your palm, and after a moment of sweet silence, you would abruptly be awoken by your shifting elbow or the soft tap on your shoulder—usually T’Kawe, but sometimes your king.

Such was the occurrence today.

You whispered your apologies, but you could see the unease in M’Baku’s face as his dark eyes inspected you.

If you looked half as tired as you felt, you could only imagine what a sight you must have been.

The meeting concluded soon after with little issue. As tribe leaders lifted from their seats and filtered out of the throne room, M’Baku took to your side with deftness that surprised you.

"Are you unwell?" M’Baku questioned, his eyes sweeping over your face one more time as if to confirm his suspicions.

"No." A lie, but you were certain your king’s concern did not extend to the matters of the heart.

"You have been tired lately. Unequipped…" M’Baku lifted his fingers to thread through his peppered beard. His eyes fell to the ground as he contemplated. "Take a few days to yourself."

You opened your mouth to protest, but M’Baku held up his hand before the words could escape your lips.

"We will not debate this. I need you well, and clearly you are not."

You bit the inside of your cheek, frustration and grief eating away at you. If only your king knew that being alone with your thoughts was the last thing you needed—that the respite he wished for you would not bring the relief he expected.

Instead of returning home as M’Baku had encouraged, you made your way through the busy markets of Birnin Zana. You slipped past colorful stalls and smiled at familiar merchants that flashed their wares enticingly—necklaces made of bone and brass, golden cuffs that glinted and gleamed, intricate beaded chokers. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was a jeweler in Wakanda who worked with jade. 

Shaking the thought away, you made your way towards the heavenly scent of sizzling meat and cinnamon. Braised lamb stew was a favorite of yours; the fatty meat was always so moist and tender. The rich broth was like a balm to your tortured soul, taking you back to your younger days in your village, free of worry, full of love, and strong enough to choke.

You spent your first day of rest like this, holding on to the familiarity of your homeland while also feeling as if you were wading through water, lost.

The second day wasn’t nearly as eventful as the first. You called T’Kawe through your kimoyo beads, hoping he wasn’t aware of your mandated rest. Your hope shattered when he didn’t pick up, and you didn’t even waste time trying to get in contact with Agent Ross. If T’Kawe hadn’t gotten to him first about your current situation, M’Baku certainly had.

The rest of your day was a blur. You wandered through your home with the simple task of keeping yourself as busy as you possibly could. You cleaned and rearranged your furniture until your living room became unrecognizable, and you contemplated painting your bedroom walls.

Sleep had come to you easily that night, but your dreams were still haunted by beautiful fantasies.

The third day, you sat on your couch, legs tucked close to your body, as you tried to drown out your thoughts and the world around you as you flipped through several Wakandan stations on your television. You had thought about returning to the markets, but the sudden onslaught of heavy raindrops and strong wind deterred you.

You would return to the palace tomorrow, whether M’Baku liked it or not, his good intentions be damned. If he wanted to know what ailed you, then you would tell him plainly. Your heart was broken, shattered into a million tiny pieces that you couldn’t possibly hope to put back together. Where would you even start?

You were homesick, but for a person instead of a place. There was no remedy for that.

A sudden knock ripped you from your reverie. You glanced at your door curiously before lifting from your couch. It couldn’t be M’Baku, far too busy with his duties to venture this far from the Golden City, and he wouldn’t need to. You were always a call away. T’Kawe seemed optimal, but you hadn’t heard from him since the day M’Baku declared your repose.

It could be your friends, but the weather was less than ideal for excursions, and they had lives as busy as yours—perhaps even more so.

You pulled your door open, still wondering who stood on the other side.

You froze the second your eyes caught a glimpse of brown skin and umber eyes. You blinked, stunned, as you took in the image of Namor standing before you, raindrops catching in his thick lashes, trickling down the curve of his jaw, and trailing a path down the expanse of his exposed chest.

"Why?" Your voice shook, your eyes already burning with tears as you pushed past Namor, your attention now turned towards the gray sky. "Why are you torturing me?"

The Xhosa you spoke was quick—desperate even—as you squinted skyward, glaring at dark clouds as if your rage would compel Bast to finally look upon you.

"Is this my punishment? To be haunted in dreams and while awake?"

Your only answer was the howling wind. It was so loud, you nearly missed the call of your name.

You turned, the rain long forgotten, as you glanced at Namor. His dark brows were drawn close, and you could see the concern swimming in his eyes. It took you back to that fateful day on the balcony of the royal palace, where he had opened his heart to you and asked you to share it with him.

"You aren’t here," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

You had seen your own pain reflected in his eyes the night you chose your duty over your heart. You knew he was a man of his word, and he had been painfully clear when he offered his ultimatum.

I will not return again. Not to you.

You started to walk past this illusion of Namor before you felt calloused fingers catch your wrist. His hold was light enough that you could easily pull away, and yet the warmth of his touch anchored you.

"I am no trick of your gods." His brown eyes held you unwaveringly. "I am here."

You blinked up at him dumbly. The uncertainty you felt must have shown in your expression, because Namor lifted your hand to his mouth. His plush lips brush against the tips of your fingers.

You felt a lump form in your throat as you watched him. Wet strands clung to his forehead, making him look younger, as rain continued to trickle down his handsome face and catch in his lashes and Balbo beard.

Wordlessly, you lead him back to your home, retreating from the growing tempest.

Your mind was racing with questions, and while joy bloomed in your heart at the sight of Namor, anxiety also lingered as you thought of your king.

You leaned against your couch, your fingers absentmindedly running across the velvety fabric as if trying to rid them of the lingering heat of Namor’s lips. Your eyes flitted from him to the couch as you tried to school your emotions as best you could.

"You said you wouldn’t come back."

Namor nodded.   "Yes."

"And yet here you are. Why?" You meant for the question to sound more accusatory than curious, but you couldn’t help it. You needed to know what could possibly compel him to go back on his word.

"Because you linger. In Talokan. In my heart. There is no place I can go where I am free of you."

Namor stepped towards you, and although you knew keeping your distance would make it easier to turn him away, you desperately wanted him close. You wanted the warmth of his lips and powerful hands, the only remedy for your affliction. Even if it was only for a moment, it would be enough.

"Still, I would have endured it. You had made your choice."

You lifted your eyes to meet his gaze. Your breath caught as your heart hammered in your chest.

"What changed your mind?"

"Your king."

You noticed the subtle curl of his lips as your brows furrowed. Your mind raced as you struggled to figure out when. There had been no scheduled diplomatic meetings, and you knew Namor was not one to be summoned abruptly.

"He came to Talokan." You hardly believed the words as they passed your lips.

"He did. I will admit, I was angry." His mouth twisted into a frown as he recounted the events that unfolded. "You were not by my side, and I blamed him for it... but then your king spoke of you. Of how miserable you seemed, and how he felt responsible for it."

You were rendered speechless, imagining M’Baku standing before Namor for your sake. You hadn’t thought you had been so obvious—thought M’Baku had truly believed you were simply sick. You had underestimated his perceptiveness.

What more had your king said? What had both given?

"And?"

"We came to an agreement," he whispered.

Namor lifted his hand to cup your cheek, thumbing your bottom lip as his own pulled into a soft smile that nearly forced the air from your lungs.

"A stronger alliance through the union of Wakanda’s ambassador and Talokan’s king"

Your mind was reeling. Wakanda had no ambassador. There had never truly been a need for one when your homeland was safe and hidden from the outside world, seen as nothing more than a third-world country that few cast their sights on. Wakanda had no ambassador after the truth had been revealed to the world, and your homeland found that there were no allies deserving or needed.

But so much had changed since then—since Namor and his people had come from the depths of the ocean.

"If it is what you want," Namor added with a hint of hope in his voice.

"It seems an unfair trade," you contended.

Political alliances through marriage were common, but you couldn’t think of one such as this. It would surely raise a few 

Namor tsked, his lips pulling into a playful frown as he tipped your face closer to his.

"Anyone who disagrees would have to reason with both me and your king."

"An impossible task," you joked.

Namor laughed. That deep, hearty laugh that made your heart sing You couldn’t help but smile—Bast, it felt so good to smile. You felt like the sun had made its home in your chest, filling you with an all-soothing warmth.

It was only undone by his soft and languid lips, as if to remember the taste of you—the way you both fit so well. Your hand trailed up his neck, digging into the dark, damp curls at the nape of his neck as you pulled Namor closer.

He may have felt inclined to take it slow, his patience a marvel at times to you, but you could hardly think of anything besides showing him how much you had missed him—desperately, to the point of madness.

You slowly sank to your knees, eyes fixed on Namor’s face, as your hands caught on the green shorts that did very little to hide the erection pressing against the fitted fabric.

His eyes seemed to get impossibly dark as he blinked down at you, and his voice was rough as he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Apologizing."

You pulled his shorts down the length of his thick legs, giving him a coy look before turning your attention to his impressive length as it bobbed before you, so painfully needy. You wondered if he had tortured himself with memories of you, begrudgingly fisting himself to lust-filled memories with the belief that he could not replace you or have you again.

Namor hissed as you glided your tongue across the head of his dick, slow, and shy, teasing. You repeated the action a few times before he cursed in his mother tongue.

"This does not feel like an apology."

If you weren’t so drunk on the thought of making him unravel before you, you might have rolled your eyes.

So much for patience.

You took his hard length into your mouth, slowly acclimating as drool dribbled down his shaft. You curled your fingers around the base of his pretty dick, tugging his flesh with enough force to make Namor groan as if in pain. You dipped your head, hollowing your cheeks as you continued to take him deeper and pull back up, a sinful rhythm of too much and not enough.

Namor hissed your name, his eyes fluttering shut and his hips rocking despite himself, chasing the heat and slick of your mouth.

"Just like that..." His eyes opened, finding yours. His lips curled into a gorgeous smile as he watched you take him. "So beautiful."

Bast, you could feel the wetness between your thighs, intoxicated by the sight of Namor before you, breaking apart in a way that only you could command. As necessary to him as the sea.

You took Namor as far as you could in your mouth, nearly gagging as you held him there. You cupped his balls, massaging them softly before you grasped them firmly.

Namor choked on your name, and you could feel his dick throbbing in your mouth, ready to release. You moaned around him, wanting his release almost as much as he did, but your desires were whisked from under you as he pulled you off his hard length.

What the hell?

His breaths were labored, and his eyes were still closed before he regained his composure and opened them.

You leaned forward, ready to take him in your mouth again, but Namor cradled your jaw, holding you in place as he tsked lowly.

"If you do that again, I am going to come in your pretty mouth."

You shot him a questioning look that must have looked borderline murderous from the way his lips twitched.

"I have somewhere else in mind." His eyes dipped to your pelvis. Your pussy throbbed, your arousal smearing your thighs as you pulled them close.

It wasn’t fair that he could elicit such reactions with little more than words and hungry glances.

Your legs trembled as you rose to your feet. You were thankful to Namor as he guided you towards your couch with quick kisses and determined fingers. Your shirt was gone by the time he settled against it; your bra was forgotten as he pulled you on top of him. Your shorts and underwear were discarded just as swiftly and nearly ripped off you as Namor’s possessive fingers traveled across your flesh.

"You said you were apologizing." His hand caressed your ass, kneading your flesh, while his other hand skimmed across your stomach. If he just lowered his fingers a little, he could feel the wetness between your thighs—feel where you needed him most. "I want to see how sorry you really are."

You had almost forgotten how cheeky he was and how deliciously wicked he could be when he wanted to make you come undone.

You let out a shaky breath as you lined his wet dick to your entrance, feeling the pulse of your neglected pussy with each passing second.

A curse fell from your lips as you lowered yourself on Namor’s hard length, feeling the familiar stretch as you continued to sink on his dick until he was buried inside of you.

"Missed you," you whined as you began to roll your hips. "So much. So so much."

You would never get tired of how full you always felt with him concealed inside of you. Loved the way your walls hugged him, keeping him where he belonged.

"Missed you so much... I thought I was going fucking crazy."

You draped your arms over his shoulder as you continued to bounce on his dick, your rhythm growing as desperate as you felt.

Namor groaned, gazing up at you with so much desire in his dark eyes.

"Tell me," he insisted.

"I dreamed about you. About us." Your mind flashed back to the dreams that had left you feeling hollow and broken—now possibilities that made your heart dance. Your god-king at your side, loving and tender in ways unknown to outsiders. You, decorated in jade and nurturing new life "About a child I was carrying."

Namor stilled, blinking up at you. You could see the awe dancing in his umber eyes and the ghost of a smile as he regarded you.

"You dreamed... of a child?"

You nodded, remembering how real the dream had felt—the scent of salt and agave, the glittering gold and jade, the warmth of his hand against your swollen stomach.

You could feel him twitch inside of you, and you nearly cried out as his thick fingers brushed against your clit.

"One day." Namor promised, playing with your sensitive "First, I will make you queen."

His other hand dug into the flesh of your ass as a quick string of Mayan spilled from his lips—promises that couldn’t be translated in your dazed mind as Namor lifted his hips, thrusting up into your wet hole with sudden urgency. You tried to meet his powerful thrust, but his pace quickened with each stroke.

"It will be like this. Every day until you are with child."

You rested your forehead against his, mouth agape, as he continued to fuck up into your slick heat. The sound of your flesh meeting, the wetness of your hungry pussy and his dick as it drowned in your juices, was enough to send you over the edge. His words only brought you closer—every filthy promise and sweet encouragement.

"You will be dripping." He hissed, rubbing your nub desperately as your walls clenched him harder—close, so devastatingly close.

"K-K’uk’ulkan…"

"Show me how you will take it. Show me, my queen."

Namor pinched your clit and you were gone, surging over the edge as your pleasure cascaded through you. Your legs shook, your breath caught, and you could have sworn you saw fucking stars as you cried out his name. Namor continued to fuck you through it, incapable of taking his eyes off you as your pretty pussy clenched around his throbbing dick, demanding his release.

He gave one final thrust, burying himself to the hilt as he came with curses spilling from his lips. You held him close as he shuddered through his release, gasping for air as if it had been ripped from his lungs.

Your fingers threaded through the dark tresses of his hair, pushing back the strands that stuck to his forehead as he came down from his high.

He sighed contentedly before leaning back to stare up at you.

"Your king will be expecting us soon."

You hummed, capturing his lips before rolling your lips lazily.

Namor cursed against your lips, and you couldn’t help the laugh that tore from your throat. Your lips tugged into a sensuous smirk as you blinked down at your god-king with mock innocence.

"I’m not done showing you how sorry I am."

A/N: WHEW, this was a long chapter but aye, it’s done! Holy shit, it feels good to finish a series (a first for me)! Thank you all for your comments and words of encouragement. They meant a lot and gave me the push I needed to complete this series! I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

TAGLIST: @artaxerxesthegreat @tb-bunnii @daddyslittlevillain

[midnight-oily]

Droplets of water decorate her skin like diamonds. He speaks to her ear in a sensual whisper, a longing in his voice, “The water shouldn’t be the only thing that gets to feel your body..." - @bardocksheadband-fanfics 's Thala

[mariaxxxxx]

Chapter 5 - The pleasure and pain you offer me ( +18)

Summary: To save your nation You are given as a bride to a sea god.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, virgin!reader, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, somnophille, slight degradation, duvious consent, pregnancy, arranged marriage, inexperienced reader, abortion commented, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

A/N: Reader is heavily implied to be Mexican but i tried to keep it as free to the imagination as possible

A/N: Hi people! I hope you haven't abandoned me. I apologize for taking so long to post the new chapter. I underwent a medical procedure and am still in the recovery process.

Work count: 2.958

Serie materialist

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

You were taken to the hut where you first saw K'uk'ulkan. The man left her on the ground and walked away with impressive speed. You were still out of orbit when your maids surrounded you and began to take off your dress, jewelry and ornaments. Her hairstyle was undone leaving her hair loose. Her magnificent wedding dress was replaced by one in a light, semi-transparent fabric. With the work completed, your maids left with mischievous smiles on their lips, leaving you alone in the room.

You needed all your strength. Not physically, at least at that moment. But you had to gather all your courage and self-control during that time when you were alone in the cabin. After all, when K'uk'ulkan entered that environment, her current husband, would enjoy what was rightfully his; You. Your mother and priestesses had prepared you for this moment. They instructed him that the marriage bed could be good for both of them; You must please and be pleased too.

However, even with the instructions received, you still felt nervous, you had never even kissed a man and now you had to consummate the marriage. You knew that you would be naked in front of each other, you knew that it would touch you that he should enter You to plant his seed, and you still knew, from listening to one of the priestesses, that during the first time pain might arise. One of them told him, just before the procession, that a woman's first time hurt as much as burning her skin on a hot metal plate. Her mother scolded the priestess for uttering such foolish words, turned to You and said: “It is just a nuisance, my daughter, it will pass. How to thread a ball of yarn through the eye of a needle. It's a question of space.”

Your mother's words echoed through your mind making things even more confusing and frightening for You. To try to distract yourself, You observed for the first time, truly, the private environment that was your husband's and now hers. There were richly designed paintings on the walls, some still incomplete. You ran your fingertips between the images, admiring the lines and details. You found it in your own mind to ask what those drawings meant to the culture you now belonged to.

You were startled when you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned around, watching your husband near the entrance. She was not as well dressed as before; his serpent-shaped ornament was taken off, as were his golden shoulder pads and bracelets and his cape. All that remained on her body were green shorts with white details.

“I apologize for this, my queen. Talokan may have harsh traditions for foreigners.”

"Everything is fine." You said as you clasped your hands in front of your body. “I don't know exactly what happened so I haven't had time to form any opinions about what it was all about.”

He found your answer funny and was ready to laugh, a lot.

“In Talokan, after the wedding, the bride and groom are undressed and taken to the wedding bed by their guests.”

“Oh!” the sound escaped his mouth. “Remind me to thank the man who brought me here safely. I wouldn’t feel comfortable being undressed in front of everyone.”

“I’ll thank him myself for not allowing anyone to undress her.”

“So...” You said, trying not to show your nervousness. “What do these paintings mean?”

“I made them myself.” He said looking at them with great pride. “They tell the story of my birth. It’s not complete yet.”

“I didn’t know my husband was such a talented artist.”

He let out a cute giggle and seemed to blush at his words. You thought his reaction to such a flippant compliment was funny.

“I appreciate the compliment.”

“I hope our children have your talent.” You blurted out.

“I hope they are as beautiful as their mother.” He is approaching You, like a serpent about to pounce on its prey, a hungry serpent before the most succulent bird. “You, my queen, are the most beautiful woman there is.”

“My husband didn’t pay close attention to the other women.” You said as you flinched slightly at his touch on your cheek.

“I never argue with myself, I know what I’m saying, I say that my wife is the most beautiful woman there is.” He whispered with the rest close to his, eliciting a smile from You.

“I appreciate the compliment, my husband.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.” He replied. “It's an observation” He starts a trail of kisses down your neck. “Come with me, my queen.”

K'uk'ulkan guided you to a part of the hut where there was a circular reed large enough to take up the entire space. You were surprised that the piece of furniture fit in a seemingly tight space. You could, one day, ask him how the architectural system of that place worked, but his thoughts were more interested in what he would do with You on the padded furniture.

"What should I do now?" You asked looking at him. His eyebrows arched into an expression of disbelief. You felt like an idiot in that moment for asking something so stupid.

“Anything my wife wants.” He said as he approached You. “Tell me what your heart desires.” He brought his face close to his, their lips almost touching.

You didn't know what your heart wanted, but your body demanded that man, needed him. You advanced on him, truly kissing him for the first time, it was awkward and awkward at first, but your husband was willing to guide you. When You finally got the hang of it, the kiss became pure desire and passion, much more than You could have expected.

K'uk'ulkan took you in his arms, without stopping to kiss you for a single moment on the way to the reeds, he put you on your feet and took off, or rather, tore off your dress, leaving you completely naked for the delight of his eyes. .

"So beautiful." He whispered as he ran his black eyes over her uncovered body.

His chin was pulled forward and your lips crashed against his once again. You returned the kiss in a few seconds. His tongue pushed her lips and they parted welcoming him very willingly. The hand that held his jaw snaked towards his and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss making your mind spin and your heart flutter. His hand grabbed his chest, searching for something to hold on to while the other was around his neck.

You gently pushed him away, panting; your eyes met his which sent goosebumps across your skin. His chest heaved, his eyelids trembled and his legs were as soft as leaves. K'uk'ulkan held You by the waist, preventing You from moving away from him. His lips didn't stay away from yours for long, they brushed against yours once again, causing waves of electricity to course through your body.

"Sweet." He murmured against your lips, opening his eyes. K'uk'ulkan seemed very happy to see his current state. He hovered over You with a beautiful smile pulled on his lips while yours could barely be felt. He slid his hand down her shoulders, his fingers caressing the soft skin.

You let out a startled cry as you fell backwards into the reeds with your husband hovering over you. He seemed happy with your reaction as the beaming smile never left him. Her husband bent down and ran his fingers over the space between her breasts, leaving a hot trail wherever he went.

“I will take good care of you, my love.” He spoke while leaning on his shins, placing himself between her legs. He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he held her foot with one hand and brushed his fingers against her belly. He was slow in his actions wanting You to feel all the pleasure he could provide. When K'uk'ulkan's fingers brushed against your intimacy You let out a sigh and a loud moan.

"My husband." You whispered, as your heart pounded in your chest. He laughed at the situation, he seemed to enjoy the way you looked miserable under his touches. He began to plant delicate kisses on your inner thigh, You shivered, and dug his fingers into the sheets beneath You.

“K’uk’ulkan… oh Gods!” You screamed when you felt tongue and lips on your pussy. You struggled as you felt the mix of strange but pleasurable reactions. K'uk'ulkan opened her legs even further and began to devour her pussy. You could feel the cool jade of his nose ornament brushing against your sensitive, wet flesh. In one quick movement he used his tongue to play with your entrance, the sudden action made your hips contract and you moved away. But before You could get anywhere he pulled You closer by your legs.

“Don’t walk away from me.” He said with a slight hint of irritation in his voice as he held your hips firmly.

“I’m sorry…” You spoke in a pathetic whisper. “I’m not going to walk away.”

“You are being sweet to me, my love. I appreciate that." He purred, his eyes fixed on yours. He dragged his lips along her skin and dove back into her pussy, which was getting wetter and wetter. You moaned and writhed at the explosion of pleasure that filled every cell in your body.

With his fingers digging into her hips, her husband dragged his tongue over and around her wet flesh. He ate You, caressing your sensitive pussy with his tongue tasting your sweetness. His hands slid into his black hair and his knees knocked against his body. A strange feeling slowly filled his body; first on the toes and went up with each stimulus.

“K'uk'ulkan...” You said urgently as the strange feeling seemed to grow more and more. “I...I...I think...” He ignored you and held your pussy even closer to his face. Licking, sucking with more desire.

One of his hands left her hips and pressed one of her breasts, squeezing and playing with the erect nipples. His tongue snaked around your pussy making you see stars. Her nails raked his scalp and her thighs squeezed her husband's broad shoulders. While his legs trembled, his heart jumped, his toes twitched and his fingers tightened on the sheets, K'uk'ulkan pulled with his lips a specific spot on her pussy, causing a violent result.

A scream of pleasure escaped your throat, heat coursed through your body trapping You in a world of wonder, your toes curled unable to hold steady and a wave of pure satisfaction filled every inch of your body. When the feeling went away, you were nothing more than a messy little thing staring at the cave ceiling. You were stuck in a trance of pleasure that you didn't feel your husband pulling out of your pussy. With the back of his hand he wiped the traces of pleasure from your mouth and beard, but he didn't do a good job: You got so wet that the remnants of your excitement remained in your beard.

With his eyes focused on her face, he ran his hand down her waist and across her ribs. The calloused palms felt his breasts and then the hands wandered to his neck. He held her jaw and gazed into her eyes, still clouded with pleasure.

“Ah my queen. My sweet and beautiful queen.” He said teasingly, a wicked smile stretched across her lips. You blushed at the words said and wondered how that man had so much power over you.

K'uk'ulkan stood back on his heels and removed the shorts he was wearing. You blushed violently and looked away when his waiting member became hard and rigid. He pushed his body until he was on top of you with his arms placed on either side of your head. He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours once more. He forced your lips apart and his tongue met his. He kissed you gently but intensely, teasing every corner of your lips until he kissed you more deeply.

His hips pressed against his as he began to rub his cock against her sensitive pussy. You sighed, separating your lips from his as his dick was pushed against his pussy. You moaned, your legs opening to have more of that contact, when you felt the head of his dick brush against a sensitive spot. Electricity shot up her spine at that action, but her mind was distracted by yet another voracious kiss from her husband. He bit your jaw, licked your chin with his tongue. You shivered in his arms from the excess stimulation on his body. You moaned his name more than once as he ground his hips into yours repeatedly.

You squirmed against his body, until your cheek was pressed against his, feeling his beard. He pressed his mouth once again against his as his hand roamed his body in gentle touches. He gently squeezed her breasts, passed her belly and guided it to the small space between her hips. Grasping the base of his cock, her husband ran the head up and down, and back again, up and down her pussy. His body shuddered against his and a huge gasp escaped You as he began to press against You.

His legs twitched trying to close before the intrusion. Sue's husband kept his knees open as he slowly entered You. When he was halfway in, You began to let out pained moans and whimpers at the opening his penis forced into his body. K'uk'ulkan muffled her sounds with gentle kisses to her lips.

“It’s okay, my love.” He murmured to You, gently. But You were convinced that he was too big for You. Your heart clenched in your chest and your belly twisted in pain when he was finally inside You. You felt his hips pressed against his. You can feel his member inside him, your breath caught in your throat. He risked a slow movement. You let out a loud moan, struggled, closing your eyes tightly and digging your nails into your husband's back. He let out a moan when he felt all of her heat envelop him.

“It hurts.” You said, trying to get rid of him on you and inside you.

“It will pass soon.” He warned as he gave another slow thrust. Even with all the lubrication present, the pain was unbearable; he was big and thick.

“Please...” You exclaimed, struggling beneath him. “It hurts.”

Without you noticing, a stubborn tear came out of your pupil and slid down your cheek. The discomfort was too much. The pain was too much. You had never felt such a sensation in your entire life. K'uk'ulkan guided his left hand over his face and wiped away the stubborn tear.

“I’ll stay put until you get used to it.” He whispered between moans and sighs.

You could feel your husband's hard cock inside you, still. It was a mixture of pressure and laceration. His lower abdomen burned with heat and heat. You looked at him bent over You, with his face pressed against your right shoulder letting out low moans. The pain didn't go away, it was as if the sensation was going to tear him in half. Her eyes closed, her fingers rubbed her nails hard across the entire length of his back.

His attention was diverted when he felt a hot liquid drip from his entrance. The curse had broken, as a trickle of blood ran down his thigh and dripped onto the sheets, a moan left his lips and echoed around you. It made you dizzy as the pain was replaced by a small tickle of something more welcoming that blossomed in your core as he remained in your torn canal.

“K'uk'ulkan...” He fixed his gaze with a sullen expression. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

His grimace was replaced by a wide smile. He brought his chest closer and removed his dick from her pussy. His lips exhaled a loud moan at the movement. A strange sensation surrounded his body that oscillated between pain, pleasure and fear.

He lowered his head and kissed you once again. He guided his cock into her pussy again, this time with one powerful thrust. He dragged his cock against her tight walls, pulling back only a fraction before repeating the thrusting motion. His face contorted with each thrust. His dick made sure you were full, feeling him touch your most sensitive spots. His eyes began to roll back, his eyelashes fluttering, as his legs began to shake with each hard thrust.

Her nails scratched his muscular back as a violent explosion of pleasure made it impossible to control her body hissing. You tightened your thighs around him as your walls clenched and rippled in that feeling of pleasure. K'uk'ulkan continued his thrusts, this time, chasing his own release.

Pleasure clouded your feelings as You felt the heat of your husband's seed being spilled deep inside You. His throat closed and You choked on the violent waves of electricity that coursed through his body. He left You filled with his hot seed, with eyes closed and limbs numb. At that moment it was as if the sun rose in the west and set in the east, the seas dried up and the mountains were blown by the wind like leaves.

[lunathebee]

Pairing: Namor x mermaid princess!reader

Warning: none

A/n: I finally finish this! Thank you for sending in a rq @shadowynutsuit, and no hate to the Namor fandom, but are you guys okay? This is the fourth fic I've written that has dialogue #9

Dialogue prompts:

5. "You will be safe here, with me...I'm devoting my heart to you".

9. "Open your eyes, my love, my moon. I'm begging you...please. The war is over; we won... but without you, it doesn't matter to me anymore."

"You're sad again" Namor said when he saw Y/n's face, his hand cupping her soft cheeks, slowly turning her face so that their eyes met. "Have you been crying?" The phrase that left his lips almost sounded like a whisper.

Although Namor is glad Y/n has trusted him more, it hurts him to see that when she comes to him, it's when she's seeking comfort. The world has always been so cruel to the princess; it's not fair at all.

"I just...I hate it here! Not having beauty is like the death sentence for a mermaid. Do you understand Namor? DO YOU?!" Y/n screams at the man in front of her; she doesn't care anymore; he will leave her sooner or later. That's what people do to her; they come and go, and some never come back.

The question was always "when will they leave" and never "how long will they stay" for Y/n. The mermaid princess has long understood how cold and empty the ocean could get until Namor showed her his kingdom and the sun he has there.

"You can hit me all you want; you can scream at me all you want; just let me be with you." The king said this, taking Y/n's hand and placing it on his chest. "Can you feel my heartbeat? It beats for you."

The woman is too stunned to speak; never in a million years would she think that the king of Talokan is wrapped around her finger willingly. Y/n tries to open her mouth to protest, but no words come out,the king then wastes no time in continuing to express his love.

"Y/n...My pearl... Do you know why I called you that? Because pearls are imperfect, yet they stand out on their own and shine brightly." Namor knows he has captured the heart of the mermaid princess right after saying that. People can say he is flirty all they want, but for Y/n, only the truth

"I- ... Please let me have some time to think about it." Y/n's answer makes Namor's heart skip a beat; he doubts she wouldn't feel it; her hand isn't on his chest anymore. More importantly, their hands aren't intertwined, and there is nothing Namor can do but watch the mermaid swim away, waiting for her answer.

===𓆝 𓆟 𓆞===

How little did the king know that the war was one step ahead of him, taking Y/n away.

"HEAL HER" Namor's voice can be heard even from a thousand miles; there is even a hint of despair in his voice. "DO SOMETHING"

"My king, we are trying to do everything" A group of Talokanil speaks up; they're knealing on the floor, trying to keep the blood from flowing out of Y/n's injured wounds. "It's too risky; she is a mermaid, and we don't know if the technology we have is suitable!"

A long moment of silence felt like enternity for Namor; he knows what they're saying is right; he was foolish. In a moment of distress, seeing Y/n in pain, he brought her to Talokan and not her kingdom. It's too late to ever bring her there now; even with his superspeed, every movement would result in Y/n crying out of pain.

Namor demands all the Talokanil leave for a suitable potion; let him be here with Y/N. But it's only half the truth; he doesn't want to let them see how weak he could get.

"Open your eyes, my love, my moon. I'm begging you...please. The war is over; we won... but without you, it doesn't matter to me anymore."

Namor waited for an answer; he waited, and he vowed to forever wait for one.