#namor imagines

[intothemultifandom]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐊𝐄𝐘: angst - 🗡️ || fluff - 💞 || romance - 💋 || multi - 🫂 || family - 🍀

💥 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐠 (𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬)

The End is Near - The gift of foresight had served you well, until it doesn’t. Rescuing you from an unpleasant vision, your love knows exactly what to do to bring you back to the present. // 💋 + 💞

💥 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫 (𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫: 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫)

Le Toloa - If you were only ever created to serve Arishem, it did not feel like it. Not when you’d grown to cherish your people in the South Pacific and the entirety of Earth as reverently as you did and not when your heart, artificial or not, belonged to a man from beneath the sea. // 💋

💥 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐚 (𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫: 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫)

Servititude - In the aftermath of The Blip, you and Attuma–warriors turned interim leaders–bond over loss, grief and the weight of two different worlds. When the second blip occurs, those who’ve returned decide to wage war. Unaware of the relationship you’ve forged in their absence. // 💋 + 🗡️ 

[multific]

 Eternal Currents

Namor x Reader

Summary: Namor offers you a place in Talokan, but to be with him, you must leave your world behind.

The first time Namor appeared before you, it was like a dream, strange, surreal, and fleeting. 

He emerged from the water as though the ocean itself had crafted him, eyes gleaming and muscles shining in the moonlight.

You should have run.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stood frozen on the rocky shore, watching as the king of the depths observed you with quiet intensity. 

You had heard of him in whispers, a ghost story among sailors and scholars, a myth used to explain things that had no logical answer. 

And yet, here he was. 

Real. Breathtaking. Dangerous.

“You do not belong here,” he said, his voice low, deep, like the current beneath the waves.

You swallowed, pulse quickening. “Neither do you.”

His lips quirked in something resembling amusement. “The ocean belongs to me. I go where I please.”

That first meeting set everything into motion.

---

Namor was not a man who courted mortals. 

You learned this quickly. 

He did not waste words, nor did he shower you with soft promises. What he did was offer you pieces of himself in quiet, cautious moments.

He would bring you coral trinkets, vibrant and unearthly in their beauty. He would guide you through underwater caverns, showing you Talokan’s wonders with a rare softness in his gaze. 

He would listen when you spoke of the world above, even when he disagreed with its ways, and he would share glimpses of his people’s history in return.

Little by little, he became something more than a myth. More than a king. More than a god whispered in fear.

He became yours.

And against every bit of logic you had, you became his.

---

But love was never meant to be simple. 

Not with Namor.

The night he made his offer, the wind howled against the shore.

“Come with me,” he said, watching you closely. “Live in Talokan. Be one of us.”

Your breath caught. 

The words were simple. The meaning was anything but.

You had imagined this moment before, hadn’t you? Some part of you had known it would come. 

But now that it was here, a war raged within your heart.

You wanted him. 

Gods, you wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything. 

But Talokan was a world unknown, a world beneath, and leaving your life behind meant severing everything.

Your family, your home, the sky above your head.

Namor stepped closer, his fingers ghosting over your cheek. “I see it in your eyes, the hesitation.” His voice was softer now, reverent almost. “I will not force you, but know this-I am very serious about you.”

You swallowed, heart hammering. “Namor… I don’t know if I can.”

A flicker of something crossed his features. “Because you fear my world?”

“Because I fear losing mine.”

He nodded as if he understood, but his grip on you tightened, firm but not forceful. “You would not be alone.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Because he was right. You wouldn’t be alone. 

But you would be separated from everything you had ever known, from the sunlit world above, from the life you had spent years building.

You took a shaky breath. “Give me time, please.”

He did not like the answer. 

You saw it in the way his jaw tensed, the way the muscle there twitched. But he did not argue.

Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours in the quietest act of devotion. “I will wait.”

----

The following days were torment.

You tried to convince yourself that staying was the right choice. 

You could go on as before, meeting Namor in stolen moments, loving him in the half-light between your world and his. 

But the idea of watching him disappear beneath the waves, of knowing that there would always be a barrier between you, became unbearable.

One evening, as you stood by the shore where it all began, you closed your eyes and whispered the truth to yourself.

You could not stay.

You turned at the sound of water breaking and found him there, watching, waiting. 

His eyes held a question he did not voice.

Slowly, with purpose, you stepped into the tide.

Namor reached for you, quickly holding you close to him.

You didn't see but you could imagine the smile on his face. 

With a kiss to your temple, he guided you towards the depth, into the unknown.

Into home.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[frankcastleautism]

anyways i’m thinking about namor and how sharp his canines are when he smiles. and sometimes , i like to think he has pointy shark teeth. it makes me happy. to think of shark toothed namor. multiple rows of terrifyingly sharp teeth. you punch him in the face? nice try, buddy, now you have razor sharp fangs in your knuckles and he still has like four sets of teeth waiting to grow in. and also it hurts a little. like an ache in his jaw all the time because he has a human jaw not made to do such things. part of the reason why he snaps at people…constant jaw pain. :p what do we think , namor nation.

[mariaxxxxx]

Dragon fruit ( Namor x fem!reader)

Summary: You beg K'uk'ulkan to give you a baby (+18)

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

PART 2

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

You settled into your nightly beauty ritual to prepare for a night alone. Sitting on a small bench, You sighed in sadness as you looked at your untouchable marital bed. You felt like an idiot because you saw your husband throughout the day, but something inside you was feeling a little more needy than usual. Lacking the touches and kisses of the man with whom he shared his life for half a decade.

It was an agreement sealed without words, just with indecent gestures and touches; You were his good queen during the day and at night he devoured you like a thirsty beast. It was a perfect marriage, You would say; a passionate husband who gave her pleasure in and out of bed. But the idea that something was missing started to grow in your mind, you tried to know what was missing until, during a walk through the market, you discovered it. Your eyes lit up when you saw a young mother swimming with her baby tied to things and thought how she would like to have a baby of her own. After witnessing that simple scene, the idea of having a child timidly appeared in his mind and grew quickly, consuming all his neurons.

It started with a shy voice, deep in his head. A baby, the voice whispered in his mind. Have his babies, the voice hissed in his mind often. As a wife and queen You were expected to conceive a child one day, but such a conversation was never had between You and your husband. He never demanded a baby from her, but he never said he didn't want them.

You were moved by each completion of a lunar cycle where women went to the temple of Ixchel to thank for their blessings. You, as queen, were always present to thank the Goddess for your femininity and ask for good fruits in your marriage. Every time a young mother from Talokan swam to the feet of Ixchel with her baby in her arms and asked the Goddess for protection for her child, You imagined yourself with your own child on your lap thanking the Goddess for its life.

You haven't talked about this with your husband. God, no, you didn't want to stress him out even more. Her husband was so adamant after the peace agreement sealed between Talokan and Wakanda. The flame of war still burned in your pupils, so, following your role as wife and queen, You refused to bore him with your silly matters and decided to keep the thought and attempts to generate a life just for yourself.

However, the idea of keeping it a secret was increasingly becoming difficult to hide. You drooled every time you saw a gentle gesture between a mother and her son, you made love to your husband frequently demanding that he spill his semen inside You, you caressed your untouched stomach in front of the mirror imagining it swollen with K's seed. K'uk'ulkan, visited the temple of Ixchel placing baskets full of dragon fruit on its altar, took herbal infusion with dragon fruit seed to open her uterus and cried every time her menstruation arrived. Her husband was so busy that he didn't notice her lamentations about not having a baby in her womb.

K'uk'ulkan slides through the curtain with tired shoulders hunched, with generous drops of water sliding off him, he brushes his hair out of his eyes as he looks at You. For Ixchel he was so beautiful and irresistible that You had to press your fingers against his bench he was sitting on so as not to jump on it.

“You’re still awake, it’s late. You should sleep.”

You stand up with a smile. Your short nightgown, which barely covered your thighs, sways as you walk towards him.

“I'm fine, my love. I like waiting for my husband.” You say stopping in front of him.

“I have such a good wife.” He says cheekily as he presses a kiss to your blushing cheek.

He offers His armored wrists to You in a silent cry for help. You begin to remove each of your gold-plated vibranium accessories. You masterfully undid hooks and bonds, as you have done many times during your years at his side. When he was free of his ornaments he sealed her lips with his in a kiss of tenderness and passion.

“Come, lie down with me.” You tried to pull him onto the bed, but his firm hands kept you in place. “My love, is something wrong?”

"No." He said simply. “I’m just enjoying my queen’s beauty.”

Suddenly feeling shy, you looked away as your cheeks turned red.

“You shower me with praise, K'uk'ulkan.”

He nods and pulls you by your hips until you are pressed against his wet chest. He reaches out, cups her face and pulls her into a voracious kiss. A moan escapes his throat as he tastes her on his tongue. You bite his lips and pull the way he likes, your husband lets out a sound through his mouth and kisses you again like a thirsty man, savoring your mouth as if it were the tastiest candy.

You place your hands on his solid chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken at your touch. Gods, You will never tire of the effect you have on him. This made You greedy and malicious, but possessing power over a God-king provided You with absurd pleasure. He breaks the kiss leaving You a mess with your heavy breathing and swollen lips.

“I intend to shower you with more than praise, my queen.” He murmurs as he pushes her a little towards the bed. You fall sitting on the soft reeds covered in soft sheets and pillows. “Lie down and spread your legs for your husband.”

You obeyed, as you always did, laying your head on the soft pillows and spreading your legs. Your breath catches and you bite your lip when your king positions himself between your legs and observes your naked sex.

“What a good girl I have in my bed.” He says in a sigh as he watched your exposed pussy. "So beautiful..."

He hums as he positions his face in front of her pussy with every intention of devouring her. Hot breath penetrates through your thin skin, sending pleasurable spikes. You feel him place small kisses on your pelvis, making your legs tremble as your core vibrates in anticipation. His wet hands explore her body covered in the thin nightgown.

“K'uk'ulkan...” You whimper as he pinches your left nipple,

He ignores it as he tugs at your nightgown with an impatient growl. He rips it line by line until your body is completely exposed to him.

He moves off your pelvis and begins to place soft kisses on your exposed belly, making the wet spot between your legs grow absurdly. You knew he couldn't see his excitement, but his nose could smell the sweet smell that your pussy gave off. Your husband moves away from you, supporting himself on his elbows and looks directly into his face.

“My beautiful, beautiful queen.” He says while feeling one of her breasts with his hands. “They would look beautiful swollen with milk…” his hand leaves her breast and goes to her belly. “...You would be even more beautiful with my seed growing inside You.”

His words take you by surprise, taking you out of your little world of pleasure. Her breath hitches when her husband's smile becomes wider than normal.

“I... I...” You stammered and babbled like an idiot without knowing how to respond.

“I know the woman I love, my queen.” He began to caress her stomach as if something was growing there. “You think I didn’t understand your anguish and desire for a child. I know that it goes back to the time of Ixchel and offers dragon fruit and prayers so that she fills her womb with a child.”

"I am really sorry." You finally say. “I didn’t want to upset him. You're so stressed after the battle with Wakanda, I didn't want to fill your head with my empty desires.”

Her husband exclaimed a sound through his mouth and looked at you with disappointment.

“You wanting a child doesn’t upset me, my love.” He kissed her lips, walked away and spoke again: “What upsets me is my queen turning to another God to conceive a child.

"My love..."

He interrupts her with a simple look and speaks again.

“Pray that K'uk'ulkan will give you a baby.”

He returns to his starting position, with his head between your legs, he takes a single breath against your exposed pussy, his hair glistening with wetness, before diving in and latching onto your throbbing clit. Lewd sighs and moans escaped his lips as you ran your hands through his wet hair to pull him closer to your pussy. With impressive skill he sucks, licks and pinches his wetness.

The tension in your body increases as You fight to keep yourself sane, your arousal constantly dripping down and staining the sheets. He puts his hands on her thighs to keep them apart and devour her pussy. He ate You like a hungry man; licking her entrance, sucking her clit with his lips and brushing his beard against her skin. You cry out in surprise as you feel him bury his nose over your clit, the jade piercing brushing against your stimulated folds. He actively rubbed his face against your pussy, causing a large wave of excitement that made you shudder as you moved your hips seeking more contact.

Just as you were about to reach orgasm, he pulls away from your pussy, forming a stream of saliva from your mouth to your pussy. You open your mouth and let out an anguished gasp.

"No! Please." You whimper, your legs tremble as that peak of pleasure escapes you for a long time.

You tighten your fingers in his hair in frustration, demanding that he give you the release you desire, but he pulls away. He stands there with a cheeky look as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, spreading his lubrication across his cheek.

“You will orgasm on my cock, my love.” He sighs, his voice hoarse with desire, his pupils darkening and his cock hard. "Let's go! Cry for K'uk'ulkan to give you a baby.”

You spread your legs to welcome him, your wet pussy brushing against the fabric covering his hardening cock. You search for more contact and rub your soaked entrance against his green shorts until he pulls them down. You sigh as you come across such a glorious sight.

“K’uk’ulkan.” You whisper at the sight of his hard compliance eager to accomplish his goal. He rests his dark red head, which was leaking and twitching involuntarily, on her swollen and sensitive clit. You squinted your eyes, enjoying the friction caused by the movements of his hips.

“Come on, wife! Pray that K'uk'ulkan will give you a baby.”

“K’uk’ulkan...” You begin as he positions his member at your entrance. “I beg you to give me a son.” He pushes his fulfillment against the curve of your center, answering your prayer. A loud moan escapes your dry throat when, in a single thrust, he penetrates you.

"Continues." He orders as he pushes his length, sliding it in easily thanks to his touches and how demanding your pussy was to receive him.

You throw your head back as you feel him fully inside You. Your mind goes black as all You can feel is him thrusting hard inside You, pounding until You can feel his heavy balls rubbing against your pussy. You could only moan obscenely as you closed your eyes.

"Let's go! Ask... Ask K'uk'ulkan to give you a baby. Beg him to fill your empty womb with his seed.” He gasps as he felt You squirm beneath him.

“K'uk'ulkan, I offer you everything; fruits, devotion, wine. I only ask that you fill my womb with your seed.” You hiss as you pull him closer, your walls bulging around him. “I give you my heart, my spirit and my love.”

“Offer more.” Demands her husband while thrusting mercilessly.

“I will fill your altar with dragon fruit and I will kneel...” You let out a loud moan when his dick hits that ideal spot inside You. “...Give me a baby.”

"Yes." He says as he chatters his teeth upon hearing your delightful prayer. He kisses her fiercely, a mixture of teeth and lips, her husband pulls away with his addictive lips.

“Your cry has been heard.” He places one hand on her belly to keep her steady while he penetrates her pussy. “K'uk'ulkan will give you a baby.”

Your nails dig painfully into your husband's back and you scream when you feel his dick rub every sensitive spot inside you, causing absurd waves of pleasure that spread through every cell in your body. Your husband growls, aligns his hips up, and digs his member as deep as he can, speeding up his movements.

He thrusts into you with precision, kissing your lips to swallow your screams of pleasure that escape your throat. Excitement fills her thoughts as You allow her husband, this God, to lift her to heaven with his cock. He sets a brutal pace, slamming his cock into her sensitive pussy. His breasts bounce painfully with each thrust of his hips.

"Take it." He growls the word, opening his teeth like an animal. “Take my seed, wife. Carry my children.”

He holds your hips with his fingers and squeezes them until his finger marks remain. You don't care, the pleasure he gave you left you oblivious to anything. He ejaculates inside You, shuddering as your walls accompany him in a sublime climax. With each generous jet of cum into his womb, you whimper with relief as you finally feel satisfied and full. He places soft kisses on your cheeks and lips.

You feel him soften in your pussy, he finally pulls out, releasing his fluids onto the sheets. He immediately shoves two fingers into her sensitive entrance pushing his cum back inside.

“Don’t waste anything.” He says, admiring the results of the desire between his fingers.

“Let me get up.” You say as you sit up in bed, or try to, your legs are shaking and your lungs are panting. “I must place a basket of dragon fruit on K'uk'ulkan's altar and kneel at his feet.”

“No need to bother, my love.” He says with his fingers still inside You. “He has his tasty dragon fruit right here. Ready to be devoured again and again and again.” He sticks a third finger inside You while using his other hand to touch your sensitive and aching clit. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re pregnant.”

You scream his name in a prayer of pleasure as his fingers begin to stimulate your clit and his fingers inside you stimulate the spongy flesh in your pussy.

[fandomnerd9602]

May I please request a Wakanda forever Namora x male aquaman reader (she doesn’t get enough recognition)

for @morbiusmarauder

Namora swims around with Y/N...

Namora: so you are of land and sea?

Y/N: yeah. it's awesome.

Namora: perhaps our two worlds can co-exist

Y/N: is that your excuse for wanting to see me again?

Namora: maybe

[heliads]

Not sure if you write for Namor from MCU, but could you write Namor x Y/N Enemies to Lovers where Y/N is a Greek demigod who helps Namor after washing up injured and Namor pays them back by helping them deal with a monster? They’re enemies bc he still distrusts humans. Could Y/N also be a child of Hecate please?

had not seen wakanda forever but this request is so good that i specifically sought it out for you, anon. a+ job

masterlist

At this point, the man washing up on the shores of the sea isn’t even the strangest thing you’ve seen all day. Nor is he your chief concern. Normally, the boundary spells up around your city would keep out any intruders, unconscious men who might be soldiers be damned, but the boundary spells haven’t been working well as of late. That’s kind of why you’re here. 

You consider him for a while, his unmoving form, the weapons at his sides still softly clinking as the rolling surf pulls them together, then decide that this is so not your problem and leave. Men destroy themselves all the time. This one, although stranger than most, will either be able to sort himself out when he wakes or be far beyond the reach of your help.

This sort of sentiment would strike many as unkind, but to you, it is nothing uncommon. This is survival. It has never been pretty. It works as well as you let it, and one moment of mercy can spell your death in a second. Right now, you’re not just responsible for yourself, but your entire civilization as well. 

If you ask most scholars and historical enthusiasts, they’ll tell you that the lost city of Atlantis is a myth. Nothing real, just a bunch of old stories all tied together into one perplexing knot. The world loves disasters. The idea of a highly advanced Ancient Greek society sinking beneath the waves, all that knowledge and power gone forever, is highly corruptive. Some people spend their entire lives hunting down rabbit holes and paper trails to see if they could be the one to track it down, but in the end, no one actually wants to find Atlantis. The allure is in the impossibility.

You suppose that’s why they never managed it. Atlantis is somewhere out there, ripe for discovery, just as so many thrillseekers have envisioned. The only problem is that its inhabitants have absolutely no desire to be found, so no one has found it. You would know, you live there. In fact, you have lived there for a very long time. Not as long as the oldest; some of you have died by now, others have left, and many have been forgotten, but the stories of what it was like before you cut yourselves off from the world have been passed down for centuries, and you’ve heard and told most all of them.

The Atlantaens were in danger, that’s why you left the ancient world in the first place. Many scoff at the idea of the Ancient Greek pantheon today; so many gods and heroes and monsters, none of them kind, all of them doomed. We love to laugh at that which we do not understand, but the gods laugh at us for not believing, and then they damn us with curses and agents of destruction. The gods are real, all of them, and they do not take kindly to insults.

Over the course of time, while the Aegean Sea was settled and fought over, a certain kind of people tended to drift towards Atlantis. At first, the progression of its society was slow, but as rumors grew of its inhabitants, those who found they had more in common with the Atlantaens than their own people left their homes to find a true one. 

To put it plainly, Atlantis was home to the demigods, the ones chosen by the Fates for a higher purpose. Many Greeks went their whole lives without being called upon the gods. Others couldn’t have a good night’s sleep without being plagued by visions of future quests in their dreams. So much immortal attention attracted the ire of the Athenians, the Spartans, everyone. Out of fear for their lives and a desire for more, those of you touched by the Olympians went to Atlantis, and once there, you never wanted to leave.

For a while, this progression was fine. No one bothered you on Atlantis because they weren’t stupid enough to try and attack an island full of half-gods and heroes. During difficult times, though, when harvests weren’t bountiful and water supplies grew dry, it was easier for outsiders to blame the island of outcasts than their own city-states. Thieves started sneaking onto Atlantis, burning your crops before vanishing under the cover of night. Prized possessions went missing. Families were hurt.

Without a definable cause, infighting erupted between demigods. Old angers between godly parents renewed themselves among their children. Poseidon’s children swore destruction on Athena’s chosen scholars. Ares’ soldiers spit at the feet of any tinkerer of Hephaestus who crossed their path.

Eventually, it became clear to the island leaders that drastic changes had to be made before the island tore itself apart. The demigods never attacked each other before things started turning sour, so the enemy was obviously the outsiders. To solve the crisis, the strongest of the demigods turned to the gods for help, and for once, they answered. Atlantis was cast away from the rest of the city-states, veiled from mortal eyes and dragged further into the Mediterranean Sea. You still had all the resources you needed from your island, you just weren’t hurt by the mortals.

Thus life carried on for centuries. Your art and achievements continued to expand at a breakneck pace. You lived longer, accomplished more. The gods smiled upon you. Your island was huge, your society could flourish without being impeded by the limits of your land. It became clear that the bad times had ended.

Or, they had, and then the first monster showed up. Without constant invaders, the art of fighting had somewhat fallen out of fashion. Ares’ descendants would never allow it to die completely, but it had become almost archaic. The monster was eventually slain, but it sparked fear into the hearts of the Atlantaens, and made everyone realize that they weren’t invulnerable.

The people of Atlantis responded in two separate ways. Some flung themselves before their temples, praying to the gods to deliver them again. They waited in their homes for an inevitable second attack, shaking and scared. Others, like you, realized that the only ones who would save you would be yourselves. The gods respond to insult; they removed Atlantis from the mortals because their offerings were constantly raided. One monster on an island of many is not worth their concern. It is up to you to protect your people.

You have two ways of saving your island. One is through the sword. The other is with your spells. Your mother, Hecate, often visits her children in dreams to instruct them in the magical arts. You’ve learned many spells and incantations, and they’ve come in handy as more and more monsters appear. You can only hope that they will be enough to continue the defense of the island. It seems as if the attacks will never end.

And, chillingly, perhaps they never will. You and your fellow demigods, the ones that decided to fight back instead of waiting for a salvation that will never come, have made a plan to save yourselves. Part of that involves regular patrols and expeditions to the outermost reaches of the island to kill any monster that crosses your path. You have enchanted swords at the ready, plus half a dozen defensive spells burning under your fingertips. This is not the time at which you die. 

You have enjoyed many patrols over the past few years, but today, your veins are thrumming with adrenaline even more than at the start. You know something is out there. A couple of farmers turned up with bloody livestock, scared of something poaching their animals. Scales and talons have been found. If you’re right— and let’s be honest, you really don’t want to be— you’ve got a Hydra on your hands. 

That’s bad news. The monsters were small at the start; a lesser scourge here and there, a malevolent spirit, and then they got bigger. A harpy. A medium sized giant. If you’re getting hydras— well, maybe you’ll have to make some good offerings to the gods in addition to your regular training. Some divine protection couldn’t hurt at a time like this. 

That’s why you can’t afford to worry about a man passed out on your shores, not yet. Yes, he is a problem, a definitive sign that the godly interference that should be protecting Atlantis has started to slacken, but you can deal with him after you kill the hydra that’s after both of you. Always the monster you know, right? Or the monster you know is lurking in the undergrowth, ready to slaughter you and your entire island. 

You had planned on coming back for the guy, sure, but maybe his unconscious body doesn’t believe that, because you’ve hardly taken ten steps past his fallen form when he suddenly jerks to life. It’s like reanimating a corpse, how he moves; from nothing to everything all at once. His eyes go wide, and he gasps desperately for air, one hand reaching to his throat. Strangely enough, he doesn’t choke out water, but blood, a few scarlet mouthfuls before he lies on his back once more, twitching into stillness. 

You peer back over at him. Not dead yet, his chest still rises and falls with desperate breaths. It would be smart to carry on your path and only check in with this man when you’re sure a monster won’t lunge at you out of the surrounding trees the second you turn your back, but he’s spotted you already. One hand reaches out towards you, trembling, from where he lies in the surf.

He starts to open his mouth, and you silently prepare yourself for some sort of desperate plea, a call for aid. Instead, you’re surprised when all the man says is, “Were you really going to leave me to die here?”

You blink at him. “I thought you were already dead.”

He has the audacity to frown at you. “I would have died if I needed help and you didn’t provide it.”

You can’t believe he’s washed up on your island– you know, the unfindable one– and has the nerve to question your hospitality. “Same difference.”

“Not to me,” he harrumphes, and starts to sit up. So he really isn’t dead. If he isn’t dying, though, that means it actually is your duty to help him. You’re more of a soldier than a nurse, so he’d better not have any broken limbs. Seeing as you really have no choice, you bite back a bitter groan and help him at last. He eyes you distrustfully, but lets you drag him farther from the tide. You had intended to prop him up against a tree or something, but he protests when he gets too far from the water, so you settle for a smooth boulder close enough to the surf that the waves still crash over his feet.

Strangely enough, the water seems to be helping him heal. You can see the ghosts of scars criss crossing his chest, but they don’t appear to be old wounds. Instead, they might be recent. 

You squint at him. “Do you have enhanced healing?”

“And strength,” he adds. “I wouldn’t recommend trying to kill me. You would die before you got the chance.”

If this is how strangers act when you try to help them, you’re not surprised that the ancient Atlantaens asked the gods to cordon off their island. “I could tell you the same thing. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

He regards you for a second. “Why should I do what you tell me? I don’t bow to strangers.”

“Neither do I,” you force out through gritted teeth, “and right now, you’re on my land, so I suggest you learn to scrape at least a little bit.”

He narrows his eyes. The salty sea air blows his dark hair against his face, revealing more of the ornate jewelry around his neck. It looks ancient, perhaps even as old as your society. Although you’d like nothing more than for him to hurry off of Atlantis, you can’t help your curiosity and open your mouth to ask about it.

You’re cut off before you get the chance. The man doubles over all of a sudden, hands flying to his throat once more. Now that you’ve moved him farther away from the ocean, you have a better look at his wounds, and although they’re healing quickly, they look severe. Severe enough to kill him even with advanced health.

Swearing, you raise your hands and begin chanting. Healing spells have become increasingly useful as of late; Hecate’s children learn at least one before they're even knee height, and you’ve had plenty of chances to practice these sorts of incantations thanks to the sudden surge of monster attacks.

Tendrils of magic fly from your hands and wrap around the man. The spells target the injuries across his chest, his heart, his throat, and strangely enough, a few fly down to one of his ankles, repairing a set of wings above his feet. You chant until your throat goes hoarse, until he stops choking, until his breathing settles. Only then do you lower your hands, and wait there in terrible transience, waiting for him to say something.

At last, slowly, incredulously, he does. “What did you do?”

“I saved your life,” you say.

He nods. “I know. With magic?”

You incline your head. He ponders this for a moment longer, then extends a hand towards you. “My name is Namor.”

You stare at his outstretched palm, then take it. “I’m Y/N. Welcome to Atlantis.”

He doesn’t believe you at first. It appears that the rumors of Atlantis’ disappearance are more widespread than you thought if they’ve managed to reach an underwater Mesoamerican city across the world. Namor believes you soon enough, though, especially when he’s gathered his strength enough for you to lead him up a rocky cliff so he can see the majesty of your island sprawling out before him. 

The sight stuns even you, with your years of remembering it, so you’re pleased to see that Namor looks appropriately stupefied. Atlantis is a marvel; crisscrossing colonnades, magnificent gardens, marble roofs shining in the sun, temples to so many gods and goddesses that even you can’t remember them all. Children run laughing in the streets, and their parents chastise them or smile at the fun they’re having. A flock of university students chatter on their way to class. Soldiers practice in an open training yard, and the clash of bronze echoes such that you can hear it even here, on the very outskirts of the island.

“This is your home?” He asks.

You smile. “It is.”

“Why were you all the way out here, then?” Namor queries, “If not looking for dying men to ignore?”

You roll your eyes. “I saved you eventually, didn’t I?”

He laughs. “Only when I asked you to. Some would call that heartless.”

You arch a brow. “Would you?”

He takes a step closer to you. “No,” he says at last, “I don’t think I would.”

You breathe out evenly and then, to hide the sudden pressure between your ribs, change the subject. “How did you come here, Namor? Our island is under enchantment to hide us from the rest of the world. You never should have been able to come here, especially not since it’s so far from where you were.”

Namor sighs. “I don’t know. I was returning home with my people after a truce with the Wakandans. We were attacked on the way by something, some sort of monster. I don’t know what it was. We managed to kill it, but while I was leading it away from our home, it struck me through the chest. I must have lost consciousness after I struck the killing blow, and then I woke up here.”

This makes worry tie up your stomach in tight knots. “A monster?”

You look back towards your shining city. Everyone seems to be happy and carefree right now, but if your monsters are cropping up in other parts of the world– if you cannot protect yourselves, not even if you had to run from Atlantis– there is no telling how long any of you could survive, especially not if the monsters keep getting bigger.

Namor lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Is everything alright, Y/N?”

“No,” you say firmly, “It’s not. Our peace has been shattered as of late. More and more monsters show up on our borders. I was out here to find another one that’s been spotted recently, a hydra. Even if I kill this one, though, it’ll be replaced by two more the next day. They never stop coming.”

The look in Namor’s eyes is soft, understanding. He knows what it’s like to feel as if you cannot keep your own people safe. “I will seek out this hydra with you. I have to go back to Talokan soon, but you have my word to return whenever you need help.”

You regard him questioningly. “Why would you make such a promise? We only just met.”

He lifts a shoulder. “You saved my life, I owe you a debt. Besides, we only have so many places free of humans left in the world. We should protect each other when we can.”

You smile, then decide to tease him a little more. “You know I’m half human, right?”

He feigns disgust. “I will only help half of your city, then.”

You laugh. “And kill half the hydra? That’s ridiculous.”

“No more than someone only being half immortal,” he points out. “How does that even work?”

You grin. “I try not to think about it.”

He matches your pleased expression. “Then I won’t, either.”

And so your daily patrol is joined by a feathered serpent god. The two of you stalk silently through the forests on the outskirts of Atlantis, marking signs of heavy travel. Intent on your prey, you manage to locate it with a combination of your spells and his experience. Killing the hydra is difficult, obviously; Tartarus does not make its monsters without wanting them to be impervious to most attacks, but when the dust settles, both of you are still alive and without too much damage. The same cannot be said for the dead monster, so a win’s a win.

The two of you stand there for a moment longer, weapons in hand, and then Namor slowly, remorsefully lifts his gaze from the dead hydra to look at you. “It’s time for me to go,” he says softly, “Talokan will be expecting me. They will wonder why I have not returned. I cannot afford for them to attack Wakanda again out of some nonexistent threat to their leader.”

“I understand,” you reply. You don’t like it, though. Not nearly as much as you would have liked it when you first found him on your shores.

“I should go,” he repeats, but his weapons are gone from his hands and he’s striding towards you, closing the distance in a breath, kissing you.

“You should go,” you tell him, but his hands are on your hips and you don’t want him to let go, not now, and certainly not to a city across the sea.

“I should–” Namor begins, but you interrupt him to kiss him again. His fingers curl against your sides, and you know for certain that he wants to leave just about as you want him to.

He does force himself away eventually. Both of you understand that there is and will always be something greater than the two of you at stake. Neither of you are just a person, just a god; the fate of your homes is far more pressing than any personal want. Still, when you walk back with him to the ocean and watch him disappear beneath the glimmering blue of the waves, you know that you’ll regret every lost moment.

Still, there is hope that you might see him again. He told you how to find Talokan, and Namor is familiar with Atlantis now. You could find each other again, frame it as a need for your countries to have diplomatic relations. You could be happy again. It might take time, but it could happen. You, for one, will be counting down the days until then.

marvel tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[milkfromcats]

No one:

Like, literally no one:

Me:

My Impulsive Thoughts: The AU Namor x Fem!Reader ... modern day... Reader has been Namor's secretary for some time now. She's single and after another horrendous blind date, she decides to download a sexting app that allows you to be "anonymous" but have virtual sexy times with fellow singles in whatever mile radius you set it to. That way, if you ever decide to take things beyond "anonymous", it's convenient to meet up. Why the hell not? And while one particular user has her panties soaked with just texts, she's fine keeping things anonymous. But it turns out the man on the other end of their steamy conversations is none other than Namor, and he's figured out it's her. Now he's sitting at his desk trying his best to hide a raging hard on while she bends over in those fitted slacks to file paperwork. If he doesn't get her on his desk—naked, wet and panting—soon, he might lose his damned mind.

#me judging eps 50-56 ale smh

[demigoddessqueens]

Please excuse my rambling!! I talk too much 😅😅😅 I hope this is okay!💜

Hii! Can I please request a Namor x fem!nurse!reader where she’s a traveling nurse, and travels all around the world for her job. She happens to be on the beach that is right above where Talokan is. She wanders around the beach and happens to accidentally wander into Namor’s cave at the same time that Nakia stabbed the Talokanil guard before escaping. Y/n finds the girl and one, is shook because she has never seen Talokanil people, Y/n is only human, but she quickly works on getting the girl stable and saves her life. Namor finds her saving the guard’s life and is surprised at a surface dweller having compassion for his people, so he shows her compassion back. He shows her the wonders of his Kingdom, and for the first time, finds himself having feelings for a surface dweller. He asks her to stay with him, saying that he could make it to where she can breathe underwater, live as long as he does, and that she would be his Queen and he’d spoil her and show her so much love: She says yes. 🥰 The two fall deeper and deeper in love as time goes on🥰

Okay a) this is adorable as heck?!! 🥹💕😭💞

b) this reminds me of Dracula and Lisa from Castlevania so much

C) he’s waiting for you to call on the shell-phone

i think i might like you

A/N: also posted here on ao3, words ~1.2k

EDIT - A/N: a very loonnng overdue fic

Tagging @namorwife @deliciousfestsalad @omgsuperstarg @beautifulsoulsublime @historygeekqueen @rosestoophelia @urlocallsimp

There were those close to you who had been with you since the start of this mobile clinic. And in this moment, you wished you could be back in the mainland with them right now.

The figure that stood before you kept his steely-eyes gaze on you, just waiting for any movement from you.

Damn your good-natured heart and inquisitive nature that compelled you to explore. It made you superb in your abilities to heal others, but there was always the catch in the most dire situations. The young woman before you needed aid and fast.

“Who are you, to trespass here?!”

“I was just passing by—please, she needs help—I can heal her.”

A quavering response from you would only suffice for now.

“I have had enough of the surface world and your lies—!”

“No! I swear! I’m not lying. Please! Just let me help and then you can decide what to do with me.

You waited for him to speak. The one who stood in front with the elongated spear waited for Namor’s command before he nodded. As soon as the spear lowered, you set off to tend to the wounded individual.

A spare IV bag and catheter luckily were on your person. Spare bandages were given to stop the bleeding. You did not think much of it, but you spoke out what steps you were taking to heal this woman, a chant of sorts to show that you meant no ill will and to ease your nerves.

Within a few minutes, the young woman regained her breath and gulped down as much air as she could. You let out the sigh of relief that you dodn't reealie you had been holding in. Feeling a tug at the edge of your clothes, you felt yourself plummet backwards against the cool stone of the floor. The one who you assumed was the

"If you leave this instant, I would not be so generous as to those who entered my kingdom last! Leave while you still have your life intact!"

In a few hurried breaths of "I'm leaving, I'm sorry", you scrambled to your feet and left faster than when you arrived. You never looked back for a split second until you were back aboard your mobile home.

Sleep did not come easy to you that night and when morning came, you saw the same man from before.

He looked at you with a matter-of-fact expression as he had rummaged through the medical supplies you had kept, noting said lack of defenses.

”You carry no weapons with you.”

“N-no, my line of work doesn’t require it.., and I’m not a fan of it as a nurse…”

Looking you up and down, the man circled around to observe you with an inquisitive nature. Every clink of the ornate spear in his hand made you flinch, but you hid the effect it was having on your nerves.

”…it means I’m a healer, I help people along this coast who need assistance…”

Stopping in front of you, the proximity of his intense gaze made you feel like a deer in the headlights.

“I am familiar with healers, though I still find your placement and occupation quite odd. But I do extend my gratitude for you upon reviving one of my guardsmen.

”Yes, you’re welcome—I mean thank you…?”

“You may call me Namor. And I will return tomorrow. I wish to speak with you more on matters.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Namor dove beneath the waves. And before you had a chance to respond, you caught the faintest ripples underneath as he swam away.

Though the conversation you had with Namor had been short, you looked forward to seeing him soon.

After that day, you waited with bated breath to see if he would hold true to his promise. Your mind was racing with a thousand thoughts on what to do next. Do you need to defend yourself? Should you relent and just radio everyone else in the mainland? Can you--?

A ripple away from you signaled that he may have honored his part of the deal. You could see the few tufts of curls rising from the water’s stillness before Namor rose from the water. You let out the sigh of relief that you didn't realize was being held in suspense for long.

"It would be shameful conduct to not uphold my end of an agreement, and for that I apologize."

You greeted his response with a small smile, and against your better judgment, invited this mysterious man aboard your barge.

From that day forward, the one called Namor continued to visit at the end of each week. Then it was every other day, until everyday of the week for a while. And each time, you noticed a small wound or scrape that this king had for you to tend to.

A sparring session gone wrong. An unfortunate event with a wandering sea creature. A close call in battle against the Wakandan army that left him greatly incapacitated

You don't know why, but for some reason you were grateful that Namor had survived the ordeal and still came to see you.

There were other days were you two just talked about anything, even the most boring mundane things you never paid much attention to until he brought it up. Though there were choice words about the songs you didn’t realize you were humming that made you blush.

Endless nights that mentioned your people that you had found through this line of work, his family and those of the people he cared for. You knew what he meant upon hearing the noted softness in his tone.

"I....lost some people close to me. For a short while a few years back, and I was alone for a while--. I know why you do what you do for your people, and I understand why you’re so protective of everyone.

He noted the softness laced in your tone of voice. Gently placing a hand atop yours, you were taken aback by the concerned expression across his face.

“I protect that and those which I find most dear in my world. And in this one.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you pieced together the implications of his words. Thigh you both wanted to kiss each other, settling for a touch instead was enough for now.

It was only the beginning for you two after that night. Namor couldn’t imagine a day gone by that didn’t involve at least seeing you once, nor could you imagine the same. You looked forward to just any time together.

There was the kiss you shared with each other under the stars. The first time you stayed together for the night. And it all led to this moment that you welcomed inevitably.

The day Namor offered you the bit of herb that led to the creation of his people. You accepted without hesitation, and dove beneath the waves with him as it burned through your body. Sealed with a kiss as the current carried you both away, Namor held his love and new Queen of Talokan in his arms as one does for priceless treasure.

[stuckybarton]

Heads Under Water XV

Summary: Things come to a head for everyone to see. Character: K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Atlantean Descendant! Filipino! Female Reader. Word Count: 1,317 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Alcohol Consumption. K'uk'ulkan is groveling! A/N: Not yet back, just thought I could post this just for the hell of it. Just gave birth and me and the baby are back home so there is that little reason for me still not being able to be back.

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Join the Library (no longer do taglist you can just turn on notif here)

Part XV

Somehow, the worse decision you have made was drinking. Catching up with your cousins meant sharing a good few beers and array of other alcohol that they could get in a short notice. You’ve consumed a beer too many from the likes of it and after everyone was asleep, you were sitting by the sand, watching the moon.

One hand held onto the remaining can of beer and the other held onto the conch shell K'uk'ulkan had given you before you left Wakanda. It still made you wonder how such an ordinary shell could communicate with the bastard. You had done your best to tinker with the damn shell without damaging it but all leads to the fact that it was an ordinary shell. The bastard must be fucking with you one last time.

“Fuck it.” You muttered downing the remaining beer before taking a deep breath and holding the shell against your lips.

It was midnight and you were certain that no one would be awake at this time so you did was you do best in times of drunken stupor, you cursed in your mother language right at the shell, over and over again, you called the man every choice words in your book for the shit he has placed on you. Making you like him, trusting him, and making you feel the very thing you tried your best to avoid all your life—love.

 “I fucking hate you for making me feel like this. For making feel like I deserve even a sprinkle of love then you all crush it down to hurt me.” You spat before you threw the shell onto the water with a resounding plop.

Wobbling back up, you tried to regain your balance in your drunken state and somehow you felt a little bit lighter for what you’ve done. Taking a deep lungful breath of the cold air, you exhaled and made your way back home. Praying you wouldn’t have to deal with the hangover that was always accompanies your drinking.

Stumbling your way back home, the familiar sensation of someone watching you was ignored as you shut the door behind you and went to bed, the dream of the man with dangerous brown eyes was there to keep you company for the next morning.

It was the fluttering warmth of the morning sun that brought you back to consciousness the following day. Making your way down to the kitchen, you caught sight of your parents in the dinner table. A hearty breakfast and strong coffee freshly brewed was there to welcome you for the morning.

“Morning,” You greeted plopping down besides your father, head resting on his shoulder while you tried to recover from the antics of last night.

“Unang gabi mo sa bahay alak agad inatupag mo kasama mga pinsan mo. (It’s your first night back and the first thing you do is drink with your cousin).” Your father playfully scolded. Hand already going right at work with rubbing your aching forehead. “Uminom ka ng kape para mahimasmasan ka. (Drink your coffee so you could recover).” He continued on.

You did just that. Drinking the kapeng barako with gusto, never minding the scorching heat from it and it did help with the headache a little but it would take you the entire day to recover the rest of it out of your system.

“Ano mga gagawin mo habang nandito ka sa bahay? (What are you planning to do while you’re in the house?)” Your mother inquired, handing you a plate of fried rice, dried fish, and spam.

“Papahinga lang muna ako ngayon siguro. (Maybe I’ll just recover for today).” You pointed out.

“Oo nga pala, Anak. Dumaan pala yung isa mo pang kaibigan. Sinabi ko nagpapahinga ka. (That reminds me, Baby. Another one of your friends stopped by. I told them you were still sleeping).”

The hairs at the back of your head stood at your mother’s words. Looking at her she seemed unfazed by whoever stopped by, but after what had happened from last night—the recollection of your drunken spree, you somehow feared for the worst.

“Sino? (Who?)”

“Namora ata yung pangalan niya? Hindi ko rin matandaan. Basta babae sya na kulay blue. Okay lang bang sabihin ko yun? (I think Namora was her name? I don’t really remember. But she was a blue-colored girl. Is that okay for me to say?)”

They have actually found you.

~ ‘I fucking hate you for making me feel like this. For making feel like I deserve even a sprinkle of love then you all crush it down to hurt me.’

When he had first received your message, he was happy that you eventually did want to talk to him. But what followed was a shrilling scream that almost woke the entire Talokanil population. Then it was an array of foreign words that he didn’t know the full context but caught glimpses here and there that he was for certain were curse words directed at him.

The next thing he had picked up was the slight slur in your words that had worried him for a moment fearing you to be in danger but only realized you were drunk by the hiccups that followed. Then it had ended with a confession that he would have never thought would ever come out of your lips.

Over and over those words had haunted him. It had been a week now since you’ve left, a week of him trying to handle the damage caused by the people of Atlantis, the cleanup had been a nightmare and the worry of his people was something he constantly needed to reassure. He genuinely had his hands tied behind his back and he could not choose to go to you as he is needed by his people first and foremost.

He needed to figure out where the enemy resides before anything else. Before he could truly pursue you in a mission to gain your forgiveness and trust back.

“K'uk'ulkan,”

He didn’t need to look behind him to know who it was. Since that fateful day in his chambers, Namora had tried her best to keep him at arms-length, focusing more on helping with the search, as well as assisting with whatever the people of Talokan would need while they recover. It was the first time in days since they had even spoke to each other.

“Namora,” He turned to acknowledge her, the frown that was now constantly evident in her features shook him still. It was because of him that she felt like so.

Without another word, the familiar shell he had given you a week ago was thrown towards him. The frown that reach his face could not fully express the utter confusion of why Namora had it in her possession. It was supposed to be with you.

“Leti' u ma'alo'ob u u ts'ook le ken estuvo waye'. (She is doing better than the last time she was here).” Namora explained his confusion. “Bey u náachkunta'al Wakanda yéetel Talokan ti' betaji' ba'al ma'alob. (It seems getting away from Wakanda and Talokan had done her some good.).”

He found himself visibly flinch at her words. But he was still, at fault for what had happened to you even throughout the days that you were in his chambers. Try as he might to deny it there was the underlying truth of your captivity in his chambers and the effect it had on your psyche as a result.

“Yaan in meentik le ba'alo'ob ma'alob. K'abéet in meetej ma'alob. (I will make things right. I need to make things right).”

In this moment in time, he was uncertain who he was making such a promise to. If it was to Namora, to you, or to himself. But one way or another, he needed to keep his word even if it means compromising everything else just to make it so.

[lunathebee]

Ooo hiii! I’m sorry for all the rambling!!

Can I please request a Newlyweds!Namor x fem!human!reader oneshot where he’s helping her adjust after taking the vibranium-infused herb? Teaching her how to swim, trying to teach her how to defend herself in case of emergency, also teaching her Mayan + him being really soft with her, lots of kisses, hugs, and cuddles (Namor puts on a tough front but I just KNOW he’d be a complete softie for his wife), also he’d be sooo worried about Y/n because while she can now breathe underwater and will age as slow as he does, she’s still more vulnerable because she’s only human, not a mutant + Namor spoiling the heck out of Y/n🥺🥺

Pairing: Newlyweds!Namor x fem!human!reader

Warning: none just fluff

A/n: This is such a cute scenario, we live for soft!Namor ^^

Summary: Namor thinks you need to learn Mayan more; you prove him wrong by saying one word only.

"Easy, slow and steady, my pearl." Namor smiled while holding Y/n's hand and guiding her to the cold water. "Are you sure you're ready? We can wait as long as you want."

"I think I'm ready." Y/n said while biting her lips, feeling how the water slowly rose up as she walked forward. This is the first time Namor has allowed her to be near the ocean ever since she took the vibranium-infused herb, which is such a long time ago.

While Y/n thinks Namor is overreacting, he assures her that it's for her own safety (and his too; Namor can't bring himself to see any water incident).

"Can we see Talokan now?" Y/n smiled while tilting her head, she can't wait to just dive down and see how marvelous the kingdom is, now that Y/n can breethe under water, what can possibily stop her?

"What? Not yet, Y/n; you need to learn all kinds of things first! Like defending yourself, or learning Mayan, or even swimming—do you know how to swim yet?" The king chuckled; he is sure the only reason his sweet little pearl can still talk his ears off is because he is holding her waist. Namor's finger digs harder into Y/n's skin, like a reminder she still needs to depend on him.

"I- I mean we can learn them, you can teach me everything, we have all the time in the world"

A smart answer from Y/n to ignored Namor's direct question. The cold water now submerged her chest, but somehow it still can't stop the heat rushing onto her face. Life with Namor still seems new and unfamiliar to Y/n, but it is oh so exciting and lovely.

"K'ilkabech? (Are you hot?)" Namor asks, his voice full of teasing hints. The king just wants to kiss his beautiful queen's face, but she keeps hiding it!

"Namor, you know I didn't understand when you said anything in Mayan." Y/N scolded before spalshing water at her husband playfully. The action made Namor let go of Y/n instantly due to surprise. The woman wasted no time taking the opportunity and diving down to the blue ocean, letting it control her body.

Namor follows right behind Y/n; he knows she is able to breathe under water now thanks to the herb. Something that sounds dangerous to humans now turns into a game of cat and mouse.

"Gotcha, not so quick now, little pearl." Namor thought and quickly catching up, hugging Y/n from behind, peppering kisses all over her face before swimming upward so that she couldn't escape another time.

"Don't think this is over; you still need to learn Mayan, my dear."

Y/n puffs up her cheek cutely like a pufferfish after Namor's comment. "I know how to speak Mayan"

"Say something to me then?"

"In k'áatech (I love you)" ♡ ♡ 

[mrs-lockley]

WIP Polls

Rules: Pick a bunch of your WIPs and summarize them as badly as possible, then ask your followers to vote on which one they'd be most likely to read. Multiple/all/none options are completely optional.

Tagged by the lovely @soft-girl-musings! This one actually looks fun, I hope I do this right.

I want to know if you can all figure out which WIP is which 😈

Hint: they're all Marvel characters

@venting402 @writefightandflightclub @v4mpires0ap @musing-magpie @marc-spectorr

[funnyexel]

Phantom

Namor Imagine

He comes in the night, a cold breeze over your body. Beading your sensitive nipples with the quick brushes of his finger pads. Often you hear soft mutters from his lips. Assuming he’s a he. He has undoubtedly brought you immense amounts of pleasure in the night. Licking the inside of your thighs to feel the subtle tremors your body makes. When his palms sneak their way up the sides of your hips and love-handles, you can hear the ocean sway peacefully. Verses when he’s violently pounding you from behind, your ass shaking against every hit of his pelvic bone against you. The ocean would knock vigorously against the shore rocks.

Discretely as it was every night, he would unlatch the locks of your window. Slowly pushing up the mechanism and letting himself in, closing the window behind him. Creeping towards you in forced silence to keep you from stirring. 

And you, would wait patiently. Pretending to be asleep, to imagine this grown man sneaking into your room when you hear his calculated steps. Yet, you’d lay in bed without panties and the easiest piece of clothing to rip off your body. When he rests himself onto your bed, he could tell even before he lifted the sheets off your body. Even in the darkness, you could see the silhouette of his body, his biceps and forearms greatly defined when they turn you on your back. And lift your legs to sit on his shoulders. 

Shifting forwards, he folds your body into a devilish stretch. Grabbing your cheeks in his palm to turn your tilted head to him.  A moan slipping from your lips when he kisses you, his semi-hard cock rubbing right against your ache. Your finger tips dust against his collar bone, trailing lightly up to his defined jaw. Your fingertips enjoying the feeling of the soft hairs of his beard. Opening your mouth up for him to hold you in a lip lock. Allowing his tongue to dance with yours in a desperate display of attraction.

He doesn’t know what he does to you, how he affects you so greatly with something as little as a kiss. Your mind being ceased into an hypnotic state of only wanting him, only wanting to kiss him, wanting to climb into his skin. As his lips stray from yours, he carves a path from your cheek to your neck and down your exposed chest. Your shirt ripped open unbeknownst to you until now. 

Teasingly moaning with every kiss that goes lower, you can’t help but giggle softly when he kisses right above your waist line. The stretch in your back loosening when he moves to your inner thighs. Licking and kissing against the soft and icy skin. He purposely rubs his palms up and down your thighs, providing friction and heat to the cold patch of skin. Actively distracting you from his kisses inching closer to your core and the electric filled kiss he places on your clit. Squeaking out a whine as your legs jolt in surprise. He licks one long stripe from your tight hole to your clit.

Your eyes fall shut as your head is throw back in stinging pinches to your pussy. His tongue intensely licking at your clit, small but with meaning and purpose behind the actions. Moans falling from your lips like music as he sucks and plays with your folds. He’s proving to you he’s a starved man and his meal is between your legs. Sweet nectar from your pussy, he will continuously abuse until he gets his fill. 

Hooking his arms under your thighs to keep your waist at bay, his palms grab a handful of your thighs. Sweat beading down your forehead at the sudden entrapment of your lower half. Now having no choice but to lay and let him have his way with you. Shouting when his teeth nudges at your clit, your eyes shoot open and at the same moment, you both held the most devious eye contact. His piercing gaze shamelessly looking into your eyes while poking his tongue into your puckered hole. Your mouth permanently open as moans flow out. Moving his head from side to side, he breaks eye contact to focus on your soon to come orgasm. 

A broken gasp leaves your chest when he nips at your clit sharply. Feeling his lips detach from your clit, you desperately whine and utter broken english that’s supposed to be his name. His index and middle fingers slipping into your hole at the most sensitive moment of your climax, curling up and digging into your g-spot. 

Your back arching as your pussy clamps down on his fingers, soaking them in your juices all the while your legs holds his head in place as he sucks harshly at your clit. Stimulating your puffy cunt.

“namor…” 

You mutter clearly for the first time, your breathing erratic and your pussy still high from your orgasm. With your chest heaving up and down, you sit up to get more air into your lungs but he watches your movements with a threatening glint. Pulling your waist towards him as your readjusting made you move away from him, his hands dip down to your wet pussy. Shoving two fingers into you and harshly assaulting your sensitive cunt. 

Your body trembles under him as your hips roll into his fingers, wanting more of the friction to your gummy walls. Your head thrown back in a desperate call of ecstasy, needing more of him all at once. For everything you expected from him, your body couldn’t handle it, the constant orgasms and slapping of his balls against your ass. Your legs shaking wildly and still you wanted more, you needed more. But by the morning he was gone and you waiting again patiently for the next night he would inevitably return.

kinktober list

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[multific]

Perfect Match

K'uk'ulkan x Reader

Requested by @namorkawaiiwife​​

Warnings: smut, slight size kink, PinV sex

Often you didn't understand what he was saying. You knew they were words of love and affection, judging by the way his eyes shined when he said them.

You couldn't understand, yet it always made you weak.

K'uk'ulkan was a very handsome and muscular man.

He always made you feel tiny against him. And he absolutely loved to hold your smaller figure with his.

One would call it size-kink. 

K'uk'ulkan would call it adorable. 

You were his small little surface dweller. No, you were his small little love.

He would whisper sweet things into your ears, in the beginning, you didn't ask, but lately, it had been bothering you.

So, as his gorgeous lips ran down your neck, his voice reaching your ears, you finally had the courage to ask.

"What does that mean?"

He wanted to laugh at you, at how absolutely gorgeous you were.

"My Queen." he replied and you swore if he wasn't holding you, you would have fallen.

He held you in waist-deep water.

You were enjoying the calm weather when he decided to go and find you. He emerged from the water like the God he is, taking your breath away, making you run into his arms as he began to kiss you.

"You always call me such sweet things, I can tell but I never understand them, Mi Amor." he smiled as you felt his hands run up your back, pulling you closer, your hands met with his chest piece as he smirked.

"You are my sweetest little gem. Back in my home, I have painted you on my wall, the gorgeous woman that you are."

Now, you were really impressed, any other man these days would just ask for a nude, but he freacking painted it!

"You always look at me with such beautiful eyes. Taking my breath away each time, My Queen."

"Mi Amor..." he once again moved to your neck, leaving his marks behind. "Please make love to me." you begged and soon you felt him remove your clothing.

Soon, you found yourself leaning against a rock as his mouth played with your nipple.

Your fingers were in his glorious hair as you pulled on the strands. You were thankful that no one was around you two. You moaned so loud, you were almost embarrassed about it. 

Then his lips began to move further down.

You often forgot how strong he was, but you were soon reminded when he easily put your legs around his shoulders as he wasted no time drinking up your juices. You almost screamed when his tongue met your dripping pussy.

K'uk'ulkan was always a giver, but you had enough of his teasing.

"Mi Amor, please. I need you inside of me." you begged when he pulled away. Grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him up to meet your lips. You tasted yourself on him and it drove you wild.

"My Beautiful Goddess, who am I to say no to such a request?" and as he put his arms next to you, once again he was reminded about your smaller frame, something that immediately sent him into a darker mindset.

You guided his cock inside you as he began to sink in. Both of you let out a moan at the feeling. 

You felt him reach your deepest point as you felt his balls hit against your skin. It was truly a magnificent feeling.

Knowing that you are able to take him all, feeling every inch he can give. 

You slightly moved your hips, making him begin his thrusts. 

K'uk'ulkan was a giver, that you knew already, and what an absolutely amazing man he was.

He had a way of moving his hips, thrusting just a little upward, making you see stars as you dipped your head back and arched your back, making your nipples meet with his.

You felt him smile into your neck as he began to kiss your skin, not ready to let go of it unless he is assured tomorrow every single mark can be seen.

"My Love," he would whisper into your ear, making you look at him, your eyes looking into his gorgeous ones as his movements continue. He would never stop, never slow down or speed up. He was a man of sheer fucking will. And he knew just how to make you cum.

As he continued to fuck into you, his eyes staring into your soul, you reached up to pull him in for a breathtaking kiss.

"Faster, please." you begged. You swore you could almost hear him purr into your ear as he began to move faster, deeper. 

It would always start off soft and slow and as you would begin to lose your mind, he would end up possibly nailing you into any surface.

And you were more than okay with that. You wanted him, you needed him, deeper, faster, and more.

And he would always give it to you. 

K'uk'ulkan would be careful always, making sure his strength doesn't hurt you, while still fulfilling both of your wishes.

He would often look down, seeing himself disappearing into your tight wetness, it would be another reason for him to keep going.

He would hold your waist, not letting you move as he would begin his deeper and rougher thrusts. 

At that point, you would lose your mind as you could hear yourself be incredibly wet. 

"My Queen, will you come for me?" he asked and all you could do was nod. "Look at you, being fucked so good, you can't even talk." he would smirk but never stop. He would never deny you pleasure.

"K'uk'ulkan." you moan as you would start to feel your end near. "Please don't stop, I'm so close." you knew he wouldn't but you also knew he liked to hear you beg. 

He would groan into your neck as his hands would grab the back of your knees, moving himself up just a little as he would pound you. Deeper, harder and faster than before.

He would feel your smaller body slightly shake against his as you would come. Taking him with you to your high, he would come deep inside you, you would feel him filling you up. He would bite down on your shoulder, the pain and pleasure mixing as you would slowly come down from your high.

Letting out deep breaths, trying to come back to reality.

He would move back, never pulling out of you as he would pull you with him, deeper into the water.

He would place soft kisses on your skin.

"My Love, my beautiful little Queen." he would whisper before he would switch back to his native tongue. 

Yes, you were his Gorgeous Little Queen and he was your Handsome God.

It was a perfect match.

Namor Taglist: @lunamoonbby​

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

[cncowitcher]

puta que pariu enzo vogrincic 😳😳😳😳😳😳😖😖😞😫😫😫🫦🫦🫦🫦 PUTA QUE PARIU ENZO VOGRINCIC 😨😰😭😭😭😭😭

[ebster777]

It's funny how some movies and shows introduce an interesting concept or character and don't expound upon it.

But the Tumblr girlies do.

😎