#namor x y/n

[buzzkillers]

FABLES & PARABLES 3|?

Summary: You try to find relief from the curse. The relief follows you home.

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

PART ONE PART TWO

“Where are you going?” You asked.

The beach-” Your roommate answered, almost soundlessly. Before she took a glance at the pile of blankets and dissertation papers you've become. “I would invite you but you seem too comfy bedrotting to join."

You looked at the mess you’ve become. At the smell you were for sure letting off. But you didn’t want to move. Moving meant having to look at people and trying not to jump them. Moving meant, your guts being twisted and heart aching and the inability to focus on anything but the dryness of her tongue coming back tenfold.

But your roommate was looking at you like that. Like you were a lost cause, and suddenly you remembered where you were. In a new country that you probably couldn't afford to visit again. And you were what? Sitting on your ass? You probably came off like a loser. She probably regretted even bunking with you. So you ignored the twist in your gut, and you smiled. Like a gun was to your head. “Nah, i wanna go.”

“Oh really?” she cocked her head, eyes squinted.

“Yeah, maybe it’ll be good to get some damn fresh air.”

—-

It was not good for you.

You underestimated just how much being inside actually alleviated the cramps that twisted in your gut. The moment you stepped on hot sand, you could just about fall to your knees. But you put up a good front. Instead, you sat at the bon fire that flicked and licked at the sky. A quick wick and you laughed until you felt bile reach up your throat and your eyes linger on everyones body a little bit longer than usual. There's skin showing everywhere and you’re not hiding it. Your eyes lap on exposed skin, crinkled locs, cushioned breasts and the over affectionate throwing of hands put on you.

You were all bundled around a fire.

Combined with your internal heat, you could just about say that you were in hell as your tummies settled with the alcohol and weed gummies. Ok maybe you were being dramatic. This actually was kind of nice. Even if you were currently running hot enough to boil the Atlantic sea. Before around you, murmuring and loud conversations took over the sound of the fire.

“I swear to fucking god,” said one of your classmates with their arms stretched out in the dirt. It was a dude with sallow brown eyes, his hair a wave of braids and sea beads and dark skin that glimmered so much under the moonlight that he kind of looked like a mermaid. Or maybe you were just too crossfaded. He grumbled at the fire. “Im getting a fucking refund, we haven't done shit.”

You all hummed in agreement. Or well you tried to, you hummed and it was more of a strangled gasp. Painful and lacking relief. You felt like shit, looked it too, with sweat beading down your face, as your entire body went slick with perspiration. The fire made it worse. It was taunting you. Each lick and flame forcing even your swimsuit to go damp and damn maybe you were too high.

Whatever.

The merman was right. This was a waste of a trip and none of you actually went to the landmarks you needed. Well, one tried but she simply got stuck in the rain. And then it took her an entire two hours to get back, that was a good enough warning for the lot of you.

“Teotihuacan will be better.” You somehow managed to say cause it had to be, it just had to. This was simply a fluke and this sickness was a fluke and it didn’t take long for everyone to agree and continue muttering more of their grievances before they decided to do something else.

A midnight swim, they said as you guys dipped into the waters. The smell of salty sea and the sunscreen you hazardly sprayed on before you got here invading your nose. Of course, this was probably a stupid idea. You expect that after you put a foot in, somehow the sensation of being high and drunk and then hot and now wet would successfully force you into an early coma.

You pushed forward anyway.

Slowly, you dipped in feet first, the water kissing your knees, till it's wrapped around your neck and you waited, and waited but the consequences never came.

Instead, it's a relief.

A jaw numbing, deep inhaling, blood curdling relief. It's a fist unclenching, and your body going lax as you dipped into the water and felt it cradle you like a babe with its waves in your hair and the rushing of currents at your calves.

In the water you quaked and you swallowed. Then there's a hand on your shoulder. Warm and insistent. As the water breezed over you, washing over your face until the currents embrace felt like fingers that brushed against your thigh. Until it felt like multiple wet, slimy hands were at your hips. Caressing your skin, then digging and pulling and, what happened next was kind of foggy but you remembered one thing. The sight of opal skin, talons at your breast and oh yes–

You started screaming.

.

.

And everyone stared.

–

Somehow afterwards, when the staring turned to worried concern and then uncomfortable silence; you had got up and stumbled to the hotel.

Unbeknownst to you, a shadow followed in your footsteps, a storm covered in golds and jade as the trees protested and the wind whistled in warning, in urgency. It was a malleant effort, but you continued to stumble on the path to the hostel and the shadow continued to watch, to stalk, in faint curiosity and then finally poorly veiled anger. Everything after that was sort of a dream really. A very terrible dream.

____

The hostel was a nightmare of jagged shadows and a creaking AC unit. A place where you didn’t remember taking the elevator nor did you remember stumbling to your room, keycard in hand as the floor slipped beneath your feet. Through the floorboards a song washed through you, a smooth melody, hypnotic and moving you to action but not to speak.

If you were asked to speak, it would not be possible. If you did anything it'd be as if you were stumbling through molasses as the door closed behind you-maybe?- and heat uncurled itself in your lungs and dug its way through your ribs. You felt drunk, high on a drug that you didn’t remember consuming. And if your frontal lobe wasn’t lagging at 2 bits per second, you might’ve been plagued with the question of why and then maybe, with a whisper, help. Please help.

Help with the fire that was beginning to curl in your belly and help with the numbness in the back of your mind and help with the incessant belief that something was fundamentally and irreversibly wrong.

Instead, you crumbled to your knees. Your vision nothing but a ragged cut of film that's been glued together and sewn haphazardly into something that might’ve been memories before you’re back on your feet.

Below, the murmurings and whispers of the tenants bled through the walls, a buzzing t.v, singing children and running baths. “Water.” you think you said, or maybe you just thought it. It was water that made the pain go away wasn’t it? Ocean water but what was the difference between that and what came from the tap? A few minerals and chemicals?

A hum wracked through the room, deep and spellbinding. It could only have come from you.

Then you blinked and you’re in the bathroom. You shifted and your swimsuit shedded off. Outside, wind whistled through an open window.

Another shiver licked up your spine, the skin of your bones rattling. The front door was open again. You should close it. But your bones had turned soft and the floor continued to lean forward, then backwards, the light overhead blinding you. You didn’t close the door.

The music only got closer.

And your hands are pressed into the sink, you're too scared to look in the mirror. It's been like that alot recently, ever since the illness started. Too afraid to look at the black screen on your phone, too afraid to see your reflection in puddles, too afraid to confirm a gnawing sensation. A question that you didn't want an answer to. Behind you, the bath ran hot. The steam clouded your lungs. So you kept your head down, focused instead on the rush of water from the tub you didn't turn on and on the clothes you didn't remember taking off and you took a deep breath.

In response, the bathroom door thumped with a slow, nauseating knock.

You would only have to turn your head.

It would be like the turn of a knob. It would be nothing, it was probably your roommate or your teacher checking on you but you could not look up. Fear kept your focus down as your hair raised and your body shivered.

The tub was still running.

You blinked and you were in the bathroom, in the tub. Everything was ice cold, a turbulent tundra against your veins. And then, the sun stood in your bathroom. A star encompassed in what could only be golden clothes and jewels that twinkled under the fluorescent light.

The sun sighed. "Mortals…..difficult" he turned off the tub. Your feet tangled with muscled calves, a head laid in the crook of your neck.

"I." was all you could say between chattering teeth. It broke through a cotton fog. Something thick and dense that curled at the edge of your skull, buried against bone.

More gold filled your vision. Golden skin, golden jewelry, golden heat that pressed against your skin and made the water overflow from the weight of him.

"Shhh," they whispered, like a melody, like a death sentence before calloused hands pressed into your cheek.

“You’re whining like a hatchling left behind by their mother.” Then a finger brushed at your braids.

“Did you want me to hear you?” He asked.

His voice low in a way that reminded you of ocean currents, of the washing of sand across a beach floor. And in the back of your mind, there's something like a warning. A flashing red light that pounded against your head till the song came back tenfold, and you all but collapsed in the man's arms.

“Who-” Your tongue went heavy in your mouth. What were your trying to say?

A chuckle followed, dry and humorless.

“You pray for me at my altar. You lay yourself bare in the water. You run from me. And yet you ask me who I am?” "

Above you, the stranger shifted. "I should kill you."

Then your legs were being pried apart. Your cunt suddenly split by thick fingers with a thumb on your clit. And just like that, the last remnants of the heat that seemed to plague you for the past couple of weeks washed away, all of that pain and overexertion collapsed into everything but a distant memory. And suddenly you felt silly. The store owner couldn’t have done this, your fingers couldn’t have done this and the familiar need to not be alone, to be surrounded by those that you knew for safety, for relief couldn’t have done this either.

How much time did you waste looking for relief that seemed to only be brought on at this moment.

Above you, the stranger grumbled. “Just know that I am a gracious God.” As the water slipped into your eyes and your lips gasped for breath as if for the first time. "That I am the keeper of promises." Above you the bathroom lights twinkled like stars and the tiled walls gleamed, filling you with glimpses of white, white, white; till your back arched and the orgasm crashed into you like the water, like the stranger whose fingers digged into your ribs.

“There you are.”

And then he was between your legs, something bigger replacing his fingers. “There you are.”

[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.

[imthataliensuperstar]

It puts a smile on my face seeing both of my Talokan men turned into himbos. Loving and supporting their Wakandan women

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt. 2

Part One: The Stranger

Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 8k (lol whoops)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, PLOT

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

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

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

There is a growing unrest inside you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man's left eye slowly squints open.

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

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

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

"King. Serpent. God. Monster."

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

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

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

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

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

King. Serpent. God. Monster.

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

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

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

There is someone inside.

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

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

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

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

“Sir,” the man behind you bellows.

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t move a muscle.

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

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

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

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

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

She. He is looking for Namora.

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

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

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

Barrett sighs and gives you a disappointed smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His implication is obvious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zzzzziiinnng!

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

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

Namor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep moving, you tell yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come,” she insists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A god. A monster.

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

"No." She whispers fiercely.

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

——

Your feet drag through the cool sand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

You only nod, afraid to say too much.

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" He asks through a clenched jaw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His face is stoic as he listens to your answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's beautiful." You say reverently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A version of me." He answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- -- -- 

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

[wint3r-h3art]

Push & Pull | Namor

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

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

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

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you loved every moment of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what kind of retribution are you asking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel how wet I am for you, darling?” you teased as you leaned forward. Your hand was holding onto his broad chest as you rutted yourself on top of him.

And then you hear it, the low rumble of his voice reverberating from his chest. It was so low that you couldn’t make it out the first time around.

“What is it, in rein?”

Gritted his teeth, he spoke. “Please, fuck me.” His eyes glossed over. His hands grasp at the soft skin of your hips. Desperation filled his voice as he looked up to meet your gaze.

“Now that isn’t as bad is it?” you smirked as you grasped his length and lined the fat head of his cock against your entrance.

His breath hitched in his throat as you slowly sank onto his length, slowly inching down. You both moaned in unison at the way he stretched out your tight hole. Namor fought his breath for control. You were so tight and hot around his cock. Your muscles gripped him tightly in your warm, slicked heat. His mind scrambled for control of his own body, but it felt like his rationality was gone.

His large palm slid down your ass as you slid up and down his thick cock. You were so full and oh so stretched out. You could feel every ridge and every vein that ran underneath his shaft. Your brain filled with nothing except for the thought of being so stuffed up by his cock. His warmness and his hardness took your breath away whenever you sank all the way down until your ass hit his thighs.

“You feel so good, in reina,” he groaned, hands squeezing at your hips every time you sank down a little harder than before.

Your hand mindlessly roamed his broad chest, hand squeezing at his pectoral occasionally before it landed on his shoulder. 

“Wrap your hand around my neck…” he mumbles. 

“What?” You stopped your movement altogether as you stared down at your husband.

“Please put your hand around my neck and slowly squeeze it as you fuck me,” he spoke again as he slowly lifted your hips up and began to pound into you from below. 

Staring deep into his eyes, your hand slowly wrapped around his thick neck firmly, but not too tightly. You could feel him swallowing as he continued to piston his hip upward to meet your heat. You groaned as the pleasure clouded your mind once more. You did as he had asked, and you have never seen him lose himself this way before.

His mouth hung agape as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. His movement faltered as you took over to ride him hard, bouncing on his cock as if your life depended on it.

You have heard him moan before, but not like this. There was a raw edge to it that made your pussy throb and ached more than before. It didn’t take long of course as he came inside you, dumping his load until it started to leak out of you as you continued to fuck him.

He was practically heaving at this point as you slowed your movement. His eyes were bleary, dazed and so spent as he lay there. His soft curls were disheveled as he brought his hand to his lips, trying to bite the knuckle as he bathed in the afterglow of his release.

You were still on top of him, but you were no longer moving. You were as breathless as he was as you sat there with his now soft cock inside of you. The aftermath was messy, but you didn’t care. You knew it always ended with one of you covered in a mess.

And for once, you were thankful it was your husband.

“Remind me to choke you next time…” you said in between your heavy breathing. “I’ve never seen you this worked up before….”

Namor chuckled beneath you as heat flooded his face. “If my queen wants to be on top more often, who am I to protest such a request?”

You rolled your eyes as you tried to hide the smile. Oh, now he’s in a good mood. 

“Hmm, perhaps we can start by getting ready for that gala that is thrown in your honor?”

Your husband grumbled as he rolled to his side, bringing you with him as well. “Perhaps in a bit.”

“We are going to be late,” you protested, slapping his chest, but to no avail. Namor felt like he needed a nap, so he was going to get that nap of his.

“Tell them we operate on our time…the Talokanil time. They won’t know what that is.”

You could feel his shit-eating grin by the way he was mumbled in your chest. He was in that mood, and you just couldn’t do anything about it…even if you are his queen.

“If Namora decided to yell at you, I will not stop her…”

Your husband looked up from your chest. “15 minutes…that is all I ask.”

You sighed. “Fine. 15 minutes. I’m setting the timer now.”

Your husband let out a groan as he pulled you closer to him. “Fine.”

a/n: some translation from the fic.

in yakunaj: my love, my darling, my dearest

in rein: my king

in reina: my queen

[demigoddessqueens]

Hello dear author,

Would you be interested in writing a love story between one of Namor's generals (female) and him. She is second in comand after Namora, and is fiercely loyal to him, she would die for him. But she is only half talokan (one parent from land, one from talokan- maybe Namor found her and granted her passage and a place is his city). Anyway, she can hear his silent call for his soulmate (maybe he has a special name with which he telepathically calls her, tries to find her, but she keeps quite, thinking it might be a mistake). While on one of his visits to the outside world he stumbled upon a girl who bewitches him, and he is under her spell. Lots and LOTS of angst, but before they are married, on their wedding day reader calls him by his name (Real fact: his mother gave him a name that no one else knows. For his enemies he is Namor, for his people he is K'uk'ulkan, but only he remembers his birth name) and tells him her name that she knew for so long. That snaps the spell on him, they defeat the witch and marry.

Many thanks, can't wait to hear from you if you think you would like to give this story a go.

It’s been so long since I got a Namor request 😄 thanks nonnie!

Masterlist 11

You and Namor are inseparable. Everyone knows you two are the closest of confidants, maybe even friends, aside from Namora and Attuma

Despite your split parentage, Namor held that against you. The past pales in comparison to the present, and he’s always held you in the highest regards.

All of that changes when you least expect it.

He begins to hear her sirens song, curious as to who comes near his waters.

You see him less and less as days turn to weeks to months, and finally a full year. No sparring, or meetings or jests or inside matters as you did before.

The day you meet her is worse than any training or duress you’ve undergone. All of Namor’s attention focuses on her, the citizens begin to adore her, and you are but a mere afterthought.

Is your heartbreak from the jealousy? Or did you simply wish he was only for you, in any other capacity? That his happiness hinges on your “permission”?

You can barely register what you feel upon his prompt announcement of engagement and soon to be nuptials

As the ceremony goes on, you’re nowhere to be found. Hidden away, you can’t bear to t

A name cherished and given by his mother, who loved her surface home before retreating to the ocean.

Just at that moment, the haze clears from his eyes. The washing realization comes over Namor as he sees the panicked expression of the one who stole him away and the up

Once he finds you, you’re more shocked than ecstatic to see him here.

“Can you ever forgive me?”, “…maybe, but I would like to try again…”

An embrace feels more rewarding and healing than a kiss would in this moment.

[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​

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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

[way-of-love]

Unfulfilled (PART 3)

(NO MINORS)(R-RATED-) (NAMOR X FEMREADER)

You, a mutant siren, made a deal with the god and king of Talokan. That in use of your body, to be a surrogate, to create an heir, you will be paid in what the world truly wants most. Vibranium. . But you set rules, limits to what was allowed and all those months lead to nothing. An empty womb. And a very angry surrogate. Namor has been nothing but patient but now was the time to exploit your ridiculous rules and claim what he's been fighting for.

He was a king.

And the king longed for you.

-Sorry for the wait!-

There was a reason for Namors new wardrobe change, a long sleeved shirt arms rolled to his elbows, bootcut jeans that hugged his legs very nicely and even shoes or rather boots you never knew the king of the sea owned. There was a lack of jewelry on his person as well, everything was gone except for the septum he had on his nose. You wouldn't dare call him normal looking because you knew what hid underneath. He was anything but a normal guy.

But he did hide his mutations very well. If someone from the outside got to see him they wouldn't think he was the infamous Ku'kul'kan that people throughout history feared and what people today thought was a myth. Honestly, what would people think? What would they say when they saw the myth they've told throughout history was in your home and every other night come to impregnate you because of the deal you both agreed upon. A baby for pure vibranium.

Speaking of the baby, he was here for that reason dressed up like this. He and his other two subordinates agreed that it was more than high time you saw a doctor for that baby. You were supposed to see one sooner than this but Attuma and even Namora assured you that if you were to see a normal doctor they'd pick up that it wasn't just an average baby. In short, what they meant to say was,' That baby you carry is nothing but a mutant. Bred between a powerful siren and an even more powerful god. No one will understand.'

While you thought the pregnancy was going to be normal in itself you found yourself being extra careful with what you ate, what you did and even how you sung. For a siren singing and stretching your vocal cords was a must. Even while pregnant, yes your mother did it, but this wasn't just a sirens baby it was a mutants baby. You didn't know how sensitive it was or even how vulnerable it would be to your songs. You weren't going to risk hurting it.

Or risk losing your income.

Namor helped you back into bed after cleaning you up. You felt like absolute shit. The pregnancy books didn't mention this one bit. God, if this was how you died then this was definitely the worst way to go. Before Namor showed up Namora was the one to tell you that this was just your body's way of trying to share its nutrients with the fetus inside you. And since you didn't get hit with this sooner, it hit you now with full force. Lovely.

"I hate this. I hate you," You mumbled burring yourself under the thick blanket Namor pulled up for you. Of course he didn't take your words to heart and simply sat down by your bedside and waited. Listening to you sniffle and watched you as you rubbed your bare tummy under the protection of the blanket. He never once hear nor had reports of you cursing down at the child that made you feel so sickly like this. And he certainly did not hear you swear your hate towards it. Everything that he saw, heard and noticed was that you took care to protect the very being you will never even see at birth because he will make sure you will never see it, as per the clause in your agreement.

This 'hate' you had for him, he knew was just a small burst of your emotions. That it too shall pass. As sickly as you were he didn't engage nor indulged in it. Namora warned him about moments like these, woman in general were emotional beings and even more so when with child. But a siren, a creature who allured men and lured them to their deaths, who protected woman, children, infants...you'd be more exploited to your emotions.

You were with child and already protective of it. He feared that one day you wouldn't walk away as per your agreement, that you'd show him your teeth and claws ready to fight for something you never wanted. Something deep, deep down inside him hoped you did something so then he'd take the both of you back to Talokan and hopefully the two of you or rather the three of you could live in peace. But the agreement weighed heavily in his chest.

You knew nothing of this inner turmoil raging inside him because you tried not to care for it. You had your own inner turmoil to deal with.

"Once you are better, we'll be going to see a friend who is able to help you through your pregnancy," Slowly he stood from the bed and removing the cap from his head and placing it on the small nightstand where you had a bottle of water and some untouched mangos on a plate.

"She is very skilled in her field and if the child is a mutant she will be better equipped for the birth." Whenever he thought about the new queen of Wakanda only bitter memories came along that remembrance. He had what he most desired, just hair length away from his goal but because he wasn't truly careful. Namor had to swallow his pride and wait for the day the queen called for him and his army. He knew it was going to be a very long wait until he was called to arms and destroy the surface. And until that time came he will have built his legacy. A son or daughter it didn't matter to him what came out of your womb as long as his blood was running through its veins then he will forever be immortal. No one will ever question his power or his standing, Namora nor his people will ever doubt him again.

Whatever he wanted, you didn't care if it was a local doctor who knew about his existence you just wanted to feel better.

You peeked over your blanket at the sea king who continued to remove pieces of his clothing one by one. His shirt was the next to go giving you a view of his torso again. Did he tan? There was absolutely no way he managed to get this golden under water hidden away. He must've sunk to the surface once in a wile when he was getting pale and laid in the sand for a few hours. The image of him coming to the surface to tan made you snicker.

He paused when removing his pants staring back at you. Your eyes beaming with amusement, beaming at him. It made something in his chest ache but he pushed it to the back of his mind and continued to undress.

"What's so funny?" He pushed the clothing to the side and stood tall in his green trunks.

"Do you tan?" You dared ask as he slowly came back to sit by your side, making the bed dip a bit.

"Tan? This is my skin color," Raising a hand he brought it closer to her peeking eyes. Why would she think his skin was amusing?

"I just...thought that maybe you came up once in a while to tan. You know? The sun doesn't reach the inner depths of the ocean Namor," In a sing-like tone you pushed the blanket down revealing just how funny it was to you. The smile you had on your face looked bright, big and your cheeks were damn near about to split. And Namor found himself holding back his own smile of amusement.

"So...do you come here to tan?"

"I'm just tan-"

You laughed. "I didn't ask that! I asked, listen, I asked you if you tanned here on the surface to be that golden."

You had to bite your inner cheek because Namor was giving you this dirty look you didn't think he was capable of giving while holding back his smile.

Why did you find this so amusing was beyond him but the expression you wore and the things you were saying was too much even for him.

"Do you just float on your back or do you come onto the sand lay out a beach towel and have Attuma fan you with a palm leaf?" The snicker that left the both of you and Namor was surprising but it was a truly welcoming open door. He hid his smile behind his other hand looking away to compose himself and the other you took and sat straighter upon your pillows.

Once the fit of snickers and giggles and jokes from you stopped you both looked at each other with an unearthed emotion that the both of you wished never surfaced. Longing.

A desire to have and to yearn for something or someone. It was a need for someone and that someone for you was Namor. It was strange because no man made you feel like you were fragile like he did. Even before you got knocked up he was as gentle as he could be when speaking or even embracing you, he treated you like a prized woman. Not some dancing and singing harlot he could pay and pretend to be a man for. Despite the circumstances you both put yourselves in there was evidence that the longing the two of you had for one another was steadily growing in the pit of your womb.

Unknown to him, he too longed for the deadly woman, you, who held his hand so innocently. As if you were unknown to the many lives that hand took or how many times he imagined caressing your body with that hand. It may have been one night but that night was a gateway you both opened and it will never close again.

But perhaps that night can happen again? Not now of course but when you were better, not sick like this. He'll convince you then. Because he now knew your body, truly knew it. And he would use that to have you again and again until the child that was promised was born. Then you would disappear. Before that happens he'll have his fill.

----------

That morning, after that moment you shared, he came into bed with you. Not for sex but to lay and comfort you. The sick mother of his child. A mother. Were you considered a mother? After all you were pregnant. It still counts, right? Your hand traveled down your naked torso and stopped at the tiny hard bump in your lower abdomen. It was barely there but it was making its presence known. It was... a good feeling. Namor was laying on his side already asleep, or so you thought with the way his shoulders were steadily rising and falling. He did say he was just there to watch over you and help you if you felt sick again.

You didn't really need his help but just to have someone other than an unresponsive belly to talk to was comforting enough. Talking to your belly, was that normal? You never really had to carry another being inside you before nor did anyone prepare you for it. Running a hand over that tiny bump again you stilled over it. Was it normal to feel this longing for a small thing to come out? Or to long for its dad?

You dared rest your forehead against the middle of his broad back looking down at your belly beneath the blanket. A small thing like this will soon grow bigger and bigger until one day it'll be out and about crying out and leaving her for good. Like you both agreed to, this child will never see you nor acknowledge you as its mother. It'll never know you.

You'd be lying if you said it left you feelin a bit empty inside. Never to see the product of you and Namor again; never seeing Namor again. He was one of the only men who sought after your very body but for an entirely different reason. And even after he successfully took your body he remained by your side. An interesting man.

An interesting man who you shouldn't be with. He was dangerous.

Your face fell into a frown at the thought. No man has ever shared your bed this way. No man was ever allowed to touch you in the way a woman was meant to be touched, in a deeper, more permanent way that was something other than sexual. You were a siren, free of the rules of men and even the love of men. Unable to settle or nest because you were taught never to do it. Your wants and dreams were what mattered.

You were loved by one person and that was your mother. And even before she passed she made you swear never to get caught up with a baby or a man but here you were with both. She'd be turning in her grave.

Now you didn't know what to do as Namor slept by your side. You felt lost, and without the knowledge on how to get back to the right path. Was this a good idea?

If you were honest with yourself, you knew you didn't want him to ever go. But as always, you had to remain unattached. Or at the very least try.

The smell of him filled your nose as the sight of him filled your eyes, just a his body filled your own. He was taking in soft breaths filling the room with his breathing. Just as his child was inside your body filling and growing more each day. How was he filling up every area of your life? How were you able to rebel against him so much? To be selfish was better.

You reached for his tanned broad back refusing to acknowledge that your naked body was slowly molding against his back. To be selfish meant a life without ties, without a deal you both agreed upon, and it was so much better than what you'd seen others go through in their pursuits for love, affection, and a family life. Even Namor, the deadly sea king, Ku'kul'kan the feathered serpent god, an unstoppable man, had not been safe from the feelings of love and obligation. An obligation to strengthen his people and reassure that he would be forever. His reign even if he perishes will be forever. Yet, how culd a woman like you, remained unavailable to emotions that even a man such as Namor had allowed for himself?

To be selfish had to be better than to love. To stay unattached, had to be less troubling than to be tied down. By anyone. Words from a mother who loathed her daughter. And you stood by them.

When you were close you pressed your face into his back, felt his skin on yours, breathed in his scent and experienced the vibrations deep inside his body from the soft sounds he made as he slept. It was still early in the morning so the both of you were no doubt were tired. You from vomiting and heaving all night and early morning. Him from planning, negotiating and somewhat pleading for his child and its mother.

And for once you didn't rebel against your own thoughts with actions. Even when the soft snoring stopped, you didn't move away.

It was better to be selfish.

Namors eyes slowly opened and his body remained still. Your touch eased him out of sleep, a sleep he'd been a little surprised he'd fallen into after comforting you. Starring at the barely risen sun through the glass sliding doors, he accepted the reality that you were up against his back, almost as if you were a kitten who wanted to be petted. It was such a strange act coming from you, that it was hard to pull away.

"Y/N," he said your name softly still laced with sleep and deep.

You wanted to lift your arm, and pull him close. You wanted to adjust the sheets so your legs were flushed against each other and you wanted to feel his body naked against your own. But you didn't do it, because you...couldn't. You pride yourself with how you lived and how you stuck to your rules like glue. You prided yourself for the trait. But at what cost?

Remaining still and feeling the tiny bump of your belly against his back, Namor asked," What are you doing?"

Right now, you didn't know nor could you give him answer because it your emotions guiding your limbs. You were stuck in a strange place, that place that you dared not step foot in. A place where you questioned, and wondered about other things that were different from what you were taught.

"Do you ever wish that...for one night, even just one hour, that you could be someone else? Someone different?"

His mind raced, trying to decipher what you meant. But your mind had always been somewhat difficult to pinpoint because you were so unique. And now, you were completely different from your day to day self, even with him it was hard to figure out. "What do you mean?"

You bit your lip and thought it over. "I...don't know. Everything is different to what I am. Even when seeing people who aren't the same as me, having a child, a man, a functioning family, I can't understand it...I don't know how to change. I don't think I can alter."

The sea king drew his brows together and wondered if this was the same woman who he choose to impregnate. " Change is not always granted to us because we simply want it. At most, change is thrust upon us when we are not ready for it."

"Change is impossible." You muttered. You were a woman who changed everything constantly. But the one thing you could never change was yourself.

Namor didn't know where to begin with all of this you were spewing at him. He took the necessary steps to be here. Even with the war with Wakanda, taking the previous monarchs life, he will not regret it because it lead him to his siren, his surrogate. But if he could alter a few things he would. If it were ever possible to become a different person even if it was for one messily hour then he would not be a man of vengeance. He would make it go away.

For one hour, one night or da, he would make it all go away.

You pulled away from him the, turning to your other side and giving him your back as he'd done with you. Your hair felt poufy against the pillow, so wavy and uncombed from her time holding it up from vomiting and from tossing all night. But it was the least of your worries. The bigger thing to worry about was that Namor had turned over as well, your positions now reversed.

And you still couldn't shake yourself out of this weird funk that had pulled you in deep.

"Who do you want to be Y/N?"

Your little home was homey, clean now after you found out you were pregnant. Usually it was so unkept with clothes tossed about the floor, shoes, bras, dancing outfits, it was always a mess. But now it looked clean. But you found that it wasn't enough. You starred at the closed bathroom door," I was taught to stay free. Never to be caught up with affairs of a normal life because a normal life wasn't meant for someone like me. I stayed free, running all these years. I never once stopped,"

Something dark came upon Namor at the mention of her mother. Everything you were told and taught was from a woman who's husband left her to be with a normal human woman. What he took from your stories of your childhood and the lessons of your mother was that she loathed you, she hated that you had inherited her power and she could no longer keep your father entranced to stay with her. If you were a man, there would have been no issue.

These lessons were that from a jealous woman.

"What does your mother say that would hinder you? Trap you?"

You didn't hesitate to answer him because it was one of the lessons that she bore into you since the moment you could walk." Love. Love is...only meant for certain people, and shouldn't be taken lightly, or given away freely. Because then your freedom would be taken away," You hesitate a bit before continuing. "Sometimes certain people you can love are so few. So, one person is enough...they have to be. They won't tie you down or trap you." Did you sound silly? If you did, you didn't care. You were in this void, so you would use it to talk about things you'd never talk about with another person before.

"I can't...I can't connect to anyone. There's no room, no time, no effort."

Namor looked at your hair, cascading in waves against the pillow. Your skin looked darker against your baby blue sheets," Do you wish to be someone to connect to others?"

"No. But sometimes I wonder what it's like." Whether it was the truth or a lie you immediately responded.

He lifted a hand, ran it over the exposed skin of you shoulder and down the length of your arm pushing the blanket down with it." That is a feeling that can kill someone. Perhaps it's better that you don't know what it feels like."

You stayed still while he felt down your side, exposing your naked body. What was he trying do? This wasn't what you both agreed upon. You were already pregnant so there was nothing to gain from being intimate again.

"What are you doing?" Now it was your turn to ask him.

Namor said nothing as he continued to slide his hand further down past your hip and to your thigh. While you were feeling better already, you felt a fire start to ignite in the pit of your stomach. His hand went back up to your hip and stayed there, then he decided to scoot closer to your back moving the blanket back over the both of you so your bodies were meshed together. Meaning, what you so desperately wanted to do earlier when pressed against his back he did to you.

He slid one of his legs in-between the two of yours and spooned you. If it was just for one night, one day, or even one hour he will pretend. Pretend that the both of you deserved to feel that you both belonged, you both were accepted that the feelings between the two of you were answered. It was the least he could do.

As much as you wanted to say this was an expected outcome, it wasn't. This conversation shouldn't have happened, but it did. He shouldn't have stayed to comfort you after watching you throw up the contents of yesterdays dinner, but he did. You both shouldn't be laying in bed like two couples making up for lost time, but you were. And now you realized that this, his touch, his warm embrace were the things you missed. You craved it.

That powerful hand slid over the bump of your hip and to the tiny baby bump that held not just his child, but yours. This was what he wanted. An heir to rule his kingdom by his side, with the power of both a god and a powerful siren, unstoppable. But he did want the woman that carried that powerful being, you. He wanted what he knew he could not have and that's what made this transaction between the two of you that much more covetous. You belonged to your rules and he was willing to rip you away from them.

"Let's pretend, for an hour. That you are all that you wish to be and I am all that I wish to be," His lips were on your should in an instant kissing it. "You will be a woman who wants to give love and understand others. I will be the man who receives your love and will help you to understand."

This was a ridiculous way to ask you to sleep with him but it was one that you somewhat understood. Talking was cheap, actions was what got you somewhere. "You want...us to pretend we're...together?"

"No. That's not what I said. Pretend you are a woman who is a woman and I will be a man who is a man. Like that night? I know you remember it as vividly as I do," He spoke lowly trailing his lips up to your ear that was hidden under the tresses of your hair," Pretend. And I'll touch you however you want to be touched Y/N."

There was temptation here and pleasure but there was also another rule breaking. You got the job done so...why again? It wasn't like him to give you yet another opportunity to give in to your wants and needs. Did he miss being intimate with you?

"W-we had one night. A few moments," Words were coming out but it was as if you were on autopilot. The mouth could move all it wanted, a thousand words spoken, but the desires of the body could overpower it all. Like it had previously.

During this time, you nor him realized that you both were resonating with one another. Calling one another from the darkest depths of the sea and now the great serpent answered the sirens call, a life in return for pleasure. And maybe he will take a little more before he was consumed.

Slowly his hand went up, fingertips brushing against your naval, tickling and touching the sirens skin before reaching one of the breasts that his unborn child will never suckle from. You took in a hiss of a breath when he encased it with his hand, thumb brushing against the sensitive little nub. "I'm already pregnant, I don't need this Namor,"

"Say my name." His lips were still whispering by your ear. Somehow he managed to slip his other arm under the pillow you rested your head on and put you in a lazy headlock. His veiny forearm lightly pressed against your neck , the sea king wanted you, and he wanted to take you so you knew just how well he could 'pretend'.

His name wasn't Namor but Ku'kul'kan. And he wanted you to say his true name like that night, you said it over and over again until it sounded like gibberish falling from your lips. Namor found great pleasure when he heard his name sung from your lips like a hymn, a hymn that was meant just for him.

Releasing a soft breath you shook your head. No, this wouldn't be like the last time because the last time you were blinded by lust, greed and overall was just sexually frustrated. You weren't this time. The lust, the hunger was always there and still was but that other feeling you never wanted to feel was nagging at the back of your mind. Longing.

Longing for what could be and what will be. To pretend the bot of you felt the same at least for an hour...an hour should be enough.

"Ku'kul'kan," You whispered softly closing your eyes. You fell back into the headspace of what could be while chanting his name in your sing song voice that lured men to their deaths but for him it just sounded beautiful. It was only for a bit, pretend for a bit.

"Let me touch you mujer fatal,"

"Touch me then, touch me here," You took his hand that played with your breast back down to your pelvis, past the trimmed curls," Here. Touch here."

Without missing a beat he slid his thick fingers through those soft curls at her pelvis and was welcomed by a pooling wet heat. So you were excited. He was gentle in his exploration, caressing, rubbing, tapping and flicking of your clit. Thankfully his leg was keeping your parted because there were a few instances that you wanted to close your legs and mewl out in ecstacy. Namors second exploration of your body lead him a few conclusions, you enjoyed being handled like this barely having any say in how you were positioned. Secondly, this thing the two of you had between the two of you excited you. The pretending wasn't what excited you, it was the relationship you had brewing. Forget the agreement, forget the rules, outside of that you liked that you carried his child and you liked the attention you were receiving from him. He knew deep down in that cold heart of yours that this was what you wanted.

Your soft breaths were what kept him going touching every inch of your cunt before deciding that it was enough, he slipped in two of his digits making you arch. It's been forever since you were touched like this and over a month since he laid hands on you so intimately like this. His hand took your chin and forced your head to tilt to look up at him, and through hazy eyes you saw his bright chocolate eyes that smiled down at you. That feeling came up again like bile at the back of your throat. Longing.

That longing to be normal and have normal feelings for another person, that longing to be one with another and love another. But that feeling, longing, was a feeling you were forbidden to feel. After all, there was no room for it. No room for the effort you had to put in in order to achieve what you most desired and it was to be taken and loved on...but still be free.

You released a quick moan when his fingers found that certain spot that made your toes curling in pleasure. When he heard the moan his chocolate eyes grew sharp when he found the perfect spot to bring you to your end. Faster his fingers went, curling and uncurling inside you flicking that one spot over and over again. Now, you were gripping his wrists for dear life never breaking eye contact even when you breathlessly begged him.

"Don't stop, please don't stop," You whispered craving for more of his touch, accepting it.

Namor grinned, chocolate eyes full of victory. "Did you know Y/N," He began deeply, pressing his mouth to your ear," that when a woman tell as man not to stop, it means he has found the exact rhythm she uses when she pleasures herself?"

He pressed harder, rubbed faster and you all but purr." Don't...stop." You moaned again.

Everything you were doing and saying was maddening. Namor looked down at your mouth again, focused on it and craved it. He eased on the motions of his hand, and knew he needed to take from you now.

Namor leaned in without any hesitation, and kissed her.

There was absolutely nothing soft about it, as their kiss had lacked gentleness as well. The act was only to use, only to take and only to taste. Instantly, your mouths opened against one another, instantly your tongues met. Namor could taste the sweet sin that lured men to you, could taste the desire, and he almost felt the need to pull away. Almost. But your mouth was giving even as you demanded more of him, you sucked his lips before accepting his tongue again.

His hand no longer forced you to keep your head tilted, he eased that hand down to your breast and gave it another squeeze, he couldn't get enough. "It's so good," you whispered between kissing him, your mouth open against his as your tongues met and licked each other," Why is it so good?"

Namor pulled away from your mouth, and your enticing voice, moved to your neck and sucked you there with all the desperate drive of a man with a time limit. His fingers helped you soar to new heights as they maneuvered between your wet folds, his thumb surprised you and rubbed your swollen bud with precise flicks. You hummed deeply while exposing your neck more to feel those lips of his taste your flesh and mark it. It wasn't enough for Namor, he wanted more of you.

Pulling back he gave your neck a lick before finally whispering back," No man will have you like this Y/N, you carry my seed, I will fill you up as many times as I have to, to make you understand."

You were already on the brink, his forefinger and thumb played with your sensitive nipples," It feels 'so good' because you want it to feel good Y/N." Your voice went higher and your body began to tremble. Before you knew it you were crying out with your true voice, the call of the deep, the call of a siren being pleased by the very man who impregnated her.

There was no better feeling to Namor than watching your red lips spill his true name in a song. Your juices spilled from you drenching his hand, as you settled from your high you found the strength to keep your gaze locked on his. While you were panting desperately trying to catch your breath he went on to make you lose it some more when he pulled his soaked fingers from your center and did the one thing you didn't know would turn you on.

He slid those fingers that were soaked in your nectar across his tongue, tasting you. The taste of a fully willing woman tasted explosive on his tongue, it was your taste, the woman who devoured men was being tasted by the man who planned on being devoured by the alluring siren.

Namore continued to taste you off his fingers with an unwavering look that told you to watch him, and to witness just how delicious you were to him if he devoured you. He wondered just how a woman who was normally tough and blithe could look as innocent as you did, an expression that had nothing to do with the words you said during sex or your own actions.

Your face...your face was capable of giving him all he could ask for.

But would he be able to ask from you more than what you've already given? The dreamy look on your face could convince him that you'd say yes to anything he'd ask but he knew better than to push you.

As you basked in the afterglow of a much needed orgasm you couldn't help but caress his forearms, his hands that smoothed over your thighs and belly. Did pretending always feel this nice? Were they truly pretending, right now?

Longing could do a lot to a person. Fix them up to be great and do better.

Or it could break an already fragile relationship into pieces, that could never be put together again.

------------------

TAG LIST

@theatreslave @niyahwhoreworld @mdnghtfae @sithapprentice @mariaxxxxx @forevermoremagcon @artaxerxesthegreat @diabaroxa @astronautelilanded @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @a--1--1--3 @swimmingrascalbatdragon @mrsstanbarnes @prentissjr

[usagii-bun]

𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 ( NAMOR X READER ) PT.4

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

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

hiraeth ( namor ) wattpad | oc version!

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4

TAG LIST :

@f1uveryys @xxmilli @ethereal-athalia @cyberficlya @complete-randomness-2 @bobateaae @lunamoonbby @kpopgirlbtssvt @lazyassfinals @ilovehobi101 @r3dc4ndy @puzzlemastersworld @namorlover @happycupcakeenthusiast @kakimakiloh @glaciuswduo @disaster-in-waiting @givemefiction2 @phoenixgurl030 @monbebefan247 @intense-sneezing

comment if you want to be apart of the tag list or set a notification to get updates when I post ! every like, share and reblog is highly appreciated, tysm 🤍

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 5

[urlocallsimp]

Who's touching our husband like dat 🤨🤨🤨

Also how do i apply for this job?

[amhrosina]

If you don't mind me being a little nasty. *clears throat*

I feel in the deepest parts of my vagina that Namor would be that type of man that would grind his cock into you.

Like he would bearly leave your pussy while he fucks you. He would grind sinfully and roughly hold you down so you can do nothing but take his deep penetration.

And last but not least he would do it in the missionary position so he can watch as your eyes roll back as he drags his cock against your walls

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

BESTIE!!!!! YES!!!!!!! (*for the record, i don't mind anyone being a little nasty in my asks when it comes to things like this lol*)

So like, we all know Namor has likely had a string of lowkey lovers over the years, right???

And being absolutely astronomically for real, the rumors about him being SO good in bed are absolutely true ANYWAYS

I feel like Namor has always insisted on taking his various lovers from behind?? Like it subtly puts some emotional distance between him and whoever he has in his bed.

And he has a strict 'no kissing' rule. He has centuries of mistrust, walls, and rage built up - these boundaries are a way for him to stay in control of this situation!

And then he met you and that all flew right out the window.

The first time he takes you to bed, he doesn't even realize he has you panting and moaning on your BACK until you arch into his touch and it almost sends him over the edge.

He decides he doesn't care about following his rules anymore when you look that stunning cumming around him.

And shit, when he finally ruts into you so deeply that his entire world shifts, it's like having a taste of the forbidden fruit.

He will literally leave important meetings just to find you and fuck you against whatever surface is closest.

He's never been so ravenous for someone before. And he always fucks you in missionary because he loves to watch you squirm underneath him.

The easy access to your sinful lips is also a perk.

When he's feeling particularly mischievous, he'll tease you by nipping at your jaw, pressing kisses to your collarbones, and whispering the dirtiest things he can come up with into your ear, all while fucking you hard into the mattress.

Watching you uncomfortably shift in your seat after he spent half the night fucking you on every surface imaginable is his favorite way to spend breakfast, though he's been known to lay you down on the literal breakfast table and take you right then and there if he thinks you didn't find enough pleasure the night before.

Namor is a self indulgent lover, but he never fails to make you cum multiple times before letting himself climax.

Don't even get me started on how feral he gets when you ask him to taste you!!!!! That man is 500 years old!!!! He knows how to eat pussy!!!!!!

This was so much longer than I was expecting??? Anyways, Namor makes me absolutely feral (as do most of the men I write about), so everyone can feel free to send me more of these lol

tag list:

@thatlesbosimp @legocity2 @softclue @violet-19999 @uwiuwi @omgsuperstarg @purpleetou @Raeluvsbloodline @historygeekgueen @kneelarhmstrung @euphoricjupiter @ethereal-athalia @quackson03 @johfaam0 @messymissy @husherstan @quackimilktea @certifiedhunter @shoxji @dazecrea @layazul @bontensbabygirl @jasmihine @brookiecookiez0 @foxfaceintheflesh @atabeyguabancex @m0nster-fvcker @lokidbadguy @lunamoonbby @theesexystallion @scoliobean @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt

[mrs-lockley]

Across the Spider-Verse

Miguel O'Hara (Hades & Persephone AU, WOC!Reader) Once Upon a December

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

Namor of Talokan/K'uk'ulkan (Filipina (Kapampangan) Sirena!Fem!Reader) Where the Spirit Meets the Bones

Moon Knight

Jake Lockley (Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, Sabrina 1955 AU, No Moon Knight AU) Reach for the Moon Series Masterlist Moon Knight System (GN!Reader) Sleeping Headcanons

Last Updated: 2/19/2024

[mariaxxxxx]

Gods fall sometimes (+18)

Summary: Summary: K'uk'ulkan for You to give him a baby (+18)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, good ending, slight degradation, pregnancy, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words

A/N: A sequel, or not, to Dragon Fruit. I feel like the reader and K'uk'ulkan have a lot to tell about the baby.

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

PART 1

You woke up at your usual time in the morning. A young maid came to the hammock and gently woke him up. Rested, you sat in the hammock, watching the cabin. It was already daytime, you assumed the sun wasn't present in that cave meters below the sea. So, the room was cold, indicating the presence of salt water around the stones. You stretched, passing your hand over the hammock, something you had become accustomed to doing.

He wasn't there, in fact, he never was. Her husband always slept next to her, but they never woke up together. K'uk'ulkan always woke up early and left the room, leaving her alone to rest. A habitation that You were already accustomed to. Even though, after years of marriage, he was still in the hammock while You woke up, it didn't take long, and he soon returned to Talokan.

You understood. I couldn't stay mad at him. Her husband had ruled for centuries alone, and taciturn habits were hard to shake. Although her days were lonely, her husband made the nights warm. Attempts to make a baby were fun, but fruitless so far. You thought you conceived a baby the day your husband made you pray for him, but the Gods gave you no such gift. The red spot between his legs the following month was enough to make him give up trying.

The Gods, not even K'uk'ulkan, were willing to make you a mother. If not even the divine was able to make you conceive, you thought that an infusion with dragon seeds wouldn't do it either, so you chose to leave it aside. You hadn't talked to your husband about giving up on him, you just continued to let him devour you during the night and cum while he whispered in your ear how beautiful you would look pregnant.

You shook your head to get the bad thoughts out of your mind. He got up from the hammock, noticing for the first time, a box on a small table. A box wrapped in jade green paper. Feeling attracted to that object, and as she approached, she captured a small paper containing the drawing of a celestial goddess generating life in her womb. A faint smile formed on her lips as she noticed her husband's enthusiasm in conceiving a child.

You ripped open the wrapping and opened the wooden box, taking out what appeared to be hair ornaments shaped like your crossed serpents encrusted in gold and jade stone. You smiled a sincere and charming smile. You loved getting jewelry and your husband knew it

“Beautiful, my queen.” Exclaimed the young maid. You hadn't noticed that she was still in the room. “Like the serpents in the hair that adorn the goddess Ixchel.”

“Oh.” You exclaimed in surprise. Only then did he realize that they really resembled the snakes in the hair of the statue of the Goddess Ixchel.

You underestimated your husband, as you always had, he knew you like the back of his hand. It was a not-so-subtle warning that he would continue to try to get her pregnant. He saw her as the goddess of love and the moon herself, this only revealed her adoration before You. Her hands felt for her hair ornament while her mind thought about how You could put an end to her anguish. Then an idea popped into his mind; an idea that could please or upset the gods. It will be her last attempt at conception, if it doesn't work, you will accept that the Gods were not willing to give you the gift of pregnancy. Determined, you turned to the young handmaid and said:

“Cancel all my commitments as queen. Then help me with something

(….)

You were on your knees in the soft reeds waiting for him. As K'uk'ulkan slipped through the curtain, wet from head to toe and richly adorned in gold, he froze at the sight of her figure sitting on her knees in the reeds. With the outfit, or almost none of it, more erotic than he had ever seen. He left him speechless and his cock hardened just by the sight. You looked like the Goddess of the moon herself. With her breasts uncovered, a huge black pearl necklace around her neck, a thin transparent petticoat that covered her intimacy, her perfectly styled hair held back by the hair ornament received in the morning.

 K'uk'ulkan didn't say a word or make a sound, like he could have. He just allowed himself to enjoy the most beautiful sight. It was You who dared to break the silence.

“My devotee.” You exclaimed in a low voice. “Tell me what You want.”

K'uk'ulkan laughs, realizing his joke and approving the idea. Would it be a challenge? Yes. He would do everything to please the young God who lived in his bed. For You, K'uk'ulkan would bend the knee.

“Ah, my beautiful goddess.” He murmurs, approaching the reed. He placed his knees on the soft padding, getting close to You. “Can I eat You, my Goddess? Put my seed in your blessed body?”

You lick your lips, push your knees up until your lips are close to his.

"Perhaps." You whisper. “Show me how much you want this. Show me how much you want me.”

Before you can react, he reaches out to tilt his cheek and presses his mouth against yours to begin a familiar dance between tongues. You kissed those lips several times, infinite times and it would never be enough. No amount of touching would be enough to satiate her love for this man.

You move away a little to breathe, resting your forehead against his and stroking his nose affectionately.

“Last time, my love.” You say. “If tonight we don’t conceive, know that it will be the last time we try.”

“Don’t say that” he says with a slight tone of sadness in his voice. “We will try as many times as necessary until my seed takes root in your womb.”

You wanted to argue and say how much the failed attempts destroyed you inside. She wanted to tell of the times she cried in secret during each new cycle of the new moon without a child in her arms to thank the goddess. But you didn't say it, you just withdrew that feeling to the bottom of your heart and kissed him again.

This time the kiss became more urgent as a silent promise of comfort and burning desire. He wraps his arms around your waist, until you're sitting on his lap. You snuggle onto his hardened cock, moving your hips just the way he liked it. K'uk'ulkan's desire rose like the rising tide before the full moon.

"Part." You murmur into his kiss. “Ask me. Offer me everything.”

"Yes." He says over moans. “My beautiful goddess. I guarantee that my offering will be satisfactory.”

"Hmm." You lick his lips.

Your husband takes a deep breath as his fingers curl around your hips propelling your movements, his lips pursed awaiting more of your kisses. You put your hands on his chest and push him so he lays down on the soft pillows. It was his turn to be in charge. He tries to get up to pull you to yes, but you push him away again, remaining firmly seated on his covered cock.

You lean in and start placing small kisses on his lips, which go down to his chin and neck. Before you know it, he distributes kisses and nibbles over his toned chest. With an expert touch, you pull the fabric of the shorts down. Her mouth salivates and her pussy tightens at the sight of his hardened cock.

“Oh, is this my offering?” You question, your voice full of desire. “I’m not sure it will be enough to satisfy me.”

You notice your husband's fingers gripping the sheets tightly as you wrap your hand around his cock and massage the damp head with your thumb.

“I guarantee that will be more than enough, my goddess.” He grits his teeth as he groans when You squeeze his dick tightly, just the way he liked it.

“I will taste my offering then.”

Sue husband sighs loudly as her fingers curl around him and her lips close over the weeping purple head. Even with little provocation, her pussy fills with excitement at having the salty taste of his seed on her tongue again. You start by kissing the tip, brushing your lips, then continue to tease him with brief sucks and nibbles, listening to your husband's cry for more contact.

"Do not tease me." He orders through his teeth.

"Silence." You exclaim. “I need to check if this offering is up to me.”

K'uk'ulkan rolls his eyes and moans loudly when You take him almost entirely down his throat. His mouth works well, extracting every drop of your salty essence. Her husband Sue pushes her hips up trying to make her swallow more, alternating between provocative sucks and playful licks on the sensitive skin. You keep him in a state of pure pleasure and he growls loudly at the audacity provoked. You were the only mortal who could have a god like him, so weak in the knees, panting like a whore. Her mouth opens wider, pushing herself beyond the limits of paradise, as if she wants to ascend to the divine status her husband has placed her in. You completely swallow it deeper into your throat. Even as his eyes water from the task, you lower yourself onto his cock until your own nose brushes the black hairs of his crotch and his purple head reaches the back of your throat. Your husband gasps as he feels the outline of his cock in his throat, a sight that makes him almost tear the sheets.

"My Goddess." He murmurs between moans and sighs. “Let me spill my seed inside You.”

You take it out of your mouth but wrap your hand around it to continue massaging. Making the provocation even more torturous.

“My worshiper” You tease with a quick movement of your hands, “What do you offer before me?”

"All. I offer everything. My body, my spirit, my nation. Just let me spill my seed into your pussy so that life will be nourished.”

You line yourself up, with your knees around him, to straddle him. Your hand guides the stiff, weeping cock into your wet pussy. You moan loudly as you feel him enter all the way in, your walls welcoming him with sacred heat and divine adoration. Now, no teasing or games. It was time to conceive the much-desired baby.

His cock sinks deep inside her pussy caressing every sensitive spot on her walls. Your hips gain momentum to ride him; rolling and jumping to extract all the lust.

"How many?" You question breathlessly without missing a beat. “How many babies do you want, devotee? Tell me and I will give them.”

“One, two, three...all of them, my goddess. Give me them all”

Your belly contracted with an indication of the approaching orgasm, but You refused to finish before it, as tonight would squeeze out every drop of your seed. K'uk'ulkan lifted his hips to meet his thrust, making it even harder to keep the ecstasy away. Her husband seemed not too far away from his own orgasm, to bring him even further to the brink of pleasure. You made circular movements with your hips as you bounced on his dick.

“Spill your seed!” You demand with the tides of your own release rising within your body, “I'm close, so close…”

Your pussy clenches around him, sobbing his name as you reach your orgasm. The rhythmic spasms of your walls dragging you to the edge along with it. K'uk'ulkan moans with his head against the pillow, his hips stutter briefly, but he continues to pump his seed deep inside her pussy. He holds her hips to keep her trapped and only lets go when all his cum has been emptied. You held in place feeling his penis soften inside You. His breathing was still labored, his head was spinning and his ears were ringing with the powerful orgasm given to You by the divine.

You got off of him, leaving his softened penis lying on his left side. She lay down next to him enjoying the little world of pleasure that surrounded them.

“Tonight, my love.” Her husband said, breaking the silence. “Tonight we will conceive a child.”

And he was right. It was that night that the first baby was conceived. Two months after that night the symptoms started; the swollen breasts, the nausea, the sleep. An old woman confirmed her pregnancy when You came to her to report about the illnesses. When You told him K'uk'ulkan spun her in his arms as she rejoiced promises of love and joy at having a fruit growing in her womb.

For a long nine months you were pampered and fawned over by your husband. No request, no matter how ridiculous, was too small or difficult for her devoted husband. When her belly and breasts became swollen, K'uk'ulkan massaged her body with scented oils for hours, tending to each aching muscle. And when the baby was finally born with its big cheeks and webbed ankles, such devotion also extended to the conceived child. It was no secret how deep K'uk'ulkan's love was for his wife and child.

[imthataliensuperstar]

every time namora was on screen , she made my black panther PURRRRRR ! SHE IS SUCH A BAD ASS!!! SHE WAS DOWN FOR WHATEVER !! SHE IS TRULY ABOUT THAT LIFE, A REAL RIDE OR DIE FOR HER PEOPLE ! TO TOP IT OFF IM OBSESSED WITH HER OUTFITS MY GOD 😩

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt. 3

Part One  |  Part Two

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Language, Violence, Depictions of drowning, Fluff

Summary: Delivered to safety following the battle on the beach, you are left reeling as you grapple with nightmares and questions about an uncertain future. But as you come to know more about the Talokanil people and grow closer to their king, Namor is faced with a question of his own -- what does he do with this stranger from the surface?

A/N: It’s heeeeeere!! As always, thank you so much for your patience, for being here, and for reading! And a BIG thank you just for taking the time to engage with and be a part of this story. You all have been so encouraging to me as new writer, and I love being able to create something around characters that so many hold so dear. Comments and reblogs make my heart happy, so please show some love, share the joy, and be kind!

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

Bullets fly as bodies hit the ground in front of you. There on the open beach, spears soar high above your head. Your gaze is drawn to the heavens as a chopper falls from the night sky. It crashes onto the shore below, an intense heat flashing against you as you shield your face from the explosion.

Suddenly, the sounds of dying men and burning metal fade as you lower your hand. You look down to find yourself waist-deep in a raging sea, the battle on the sand becoming a distant memory as waves beat harshly against you, unrelenting and unforgiving. A deafening melody accompanies each swell of the tide. It consumes your mind with pain and serenity as you are pulled further out into the ocean’s depths, following its call. The chorus grows louder as the water rises to your chest, building with intensity. Then, suddenly, all is quiet.

And there he is.

Hovering just above the water’s surface, his winged ankles carry him effortlessly. His reflection glistens perfectly against the water, now calm and smooth as glass. Illuminated by the full moon behind him, his body is covered in beautiful armor made of gold, jade, and other metals. A finely crafted serpent headpiece with bright feathers crowns his head, resting just above his brow.

Namor.

Wordlessly, Namor stretches out his hand, beckoning you to come to him. You reach out as if your very being is at his command. But, before you can grasp hold of him, the chorus of voices returns with a vengeance. A violent tide drags you under, swallowing you beneath the waves. Further and further down you are pulled as darkness surrounds you. Looking up toward the fading light, Namor’s silhouette above the surface dissolves from view. Your lungs burn as you begin to drown.

You jolt awake, your body shooting up in a cold sweat.

Chest heaving, your mind desperately claws its way back to reality. You quickly scan your surroundings, clinging to any detail that will anchor your consciousness and keep you from slipping back into that nightmare.

Gripping the stone surface beneath you, you take in every porous curve your fingertips graze over. Looking upward at the high rocky ceiling, you study the patterns of limestone stalactites that hang like icicles. Droplets of water run down a few of them, their melodious drips echoing in small pools below, falling like a gentle, rhythmic rain.

This is the place Namor had spoken of the last time you saw him. The one where he promised you would be safe. And for good reason — here in this cavern, you were well below the ocean’s surface and out of range of any agents who might come searching for you.

By your best guess, you figure you have been down here about two days. It’s hard to be sure without the reference to natural light. The cavern itself is beautiful, though. Illuminated by pockets of glow worms that drape down from the ceiling, their soft luminescence casts gorgeous green and blue hues across each surface their light touches.

As your heart rate begins to even out, you continue to survey the cave. You look over at your belongings, bag laying on the ground, clothes hanging on a line to dry. Your heart drops a bit when you see your little leather-bound book, its pages separated and spread out across the rocks. Ink bleeding. Pages ruined. You had made your best attempt to salvage what you could. Perhaps if you had asked Namora how the two of you would be traveling to this safe haven, you wouldn’t have brought a damn book with you.

The dissonance of the Talokan melody still rings in the back of your mind. You cradle your head between your knees, rubbing your temples with your thumbs when you hear light footsteps approach.

Looking up, you find a familiar face entering the cavern. No longer geared up for battle, Namora dawns a lovely dress that gathers over one shoulder and flows down to the floor. It moves like waves with each step she takes toward you. Instead of a spear in her hand, she now carries a small tray with a medley of food.

“Eat," Namora says, placing the tray on a small end table beside you. She then moves gracefully over to your draped belongings, removing them one by one from the line and folding them into a neat pile.

“Can I ask you a question?” You inquire as you begin to nibble on a piece of food.

Namora shoots a skeptical look over her shoulder but says nothing, so you ask anyway.

“Have you always been a warrior?”

Unresponsive, she keeps her attention on one of your shirts which she has just pulled from the line, tucking it into itself and placing it with the others.

“It's just, I mean the way you fought those agents on the beach, you are — you are very good at, you know—” you should have given more thought to what you were going to say before opening your mouth because as you reach the end of your sentence all that comes out is, “—killing people."

Nice.

You cringe at your comment. It hangs in the air, practically mocking you.

“I’m just saying," you add, trying to recover, "you obviously know what you’re doing. It was impressive. Me on the other hand…” Your voice trails as you raise your bandaged hand, recalling how your first instinct in a fight was to block a fucking knife with your open palm. Next to Namora, your combat skills pale by comparison.

Halting her task, Namora finally turns to face you in one calculated motion. She stares for a moment then her eyes quickly dart toward the side entrance of the cavern where she had come through only minutes ago. The entryway is empty. When her eyes settle back on you, there is resolve in them.

“Up.” She says, walking toward you with purpose.

“What?” You reply in a tone that matches the confused look on your face.

“Up.”

You do as you are told, hastily pushing yourself to your feet. Namora steps in close and then taps your elbows.

“Up.” She orders a third time, only now she seems to be referring specifically to your arms. You follow her instruction, raising them awkwardly out in front of your body. You can almost hear the sigh of hopelessness when Namora, her brow furrowed, grabs your arms and positions each one in a fighting stance. Slipping a hand up to your left wrist, she grips it firmly while tapping your exposed forearm with the palm of her other hand.

“Shield.” She says with emphasis. Her eyebrows raise, looking for any indication that you comprehend what she is trying to explain. When you nod, Namora moves her hand from your wrist up to your fingers, balling them into a fist and tucking your thumb on the outside.

“Weapon.”

Namora then steps back from you, putting her own arms up to mirror your stance.

“Shield, weapon,” she repeats, patting her forearm and waving her closed fist.

“Shield, weapon,” you echo back to her, nodding your head again as you begin to understand more fully.

Just as she begins to step back toward you, a deep voice calls from behind.

“Namora.”

You both look up to see the large man who wears the hammerhead skull standing in the entry of the cavern. Attuma is his name, as you have come to learn. Namora straightens her posture as she turns to face him, her hands behind her back as she squares her shoulders in a commanding stance.

Attuma saunters a few more feet into the cavern, then speaks to her in their native tongue, a language still unfamiliar to you. The two of them converse back and forth for a few moments. You may not know what they are saying, but you can tell they disagree about something — whether with each other or someone else, you are not sure.

Namora swiftly turns back to you, her face serious again and her brows pinched together.

Fighting lessons must be over.

“Come,” she says.

Without any further instruction, she pivots back toward Attuma, who also turns to leave. You quickly grab your belongings which Namora had folded for you, stuffing them into your bag. You sling it around your shoulder as you exit the cavern.

Following the two generals into a tunneled hallway, you find yourself moving through a network of caves, each tunnel connecting to a series of other openings and pools. Soon, Attuma splits off into one of these open caverns, nodding to Namora as he does so. Your eyes trail him as he joins with more Talokan warriors, and just as you stare at them, they stare at you.

You continue walking behind Namora past them, their whispers reverberating through the tunnels.

“When was the last time someone… not Talokanil came here?” You ask. In typical Namora fashion, she remains silent and unresponsive to your question.

“Sorry,” you say apologetically, “back there it just seemed like they hadn’t seen someone new in a while.”

The two of you walk, furthering yourself from the turnoff where Attuma parted ways. Cautiously, you step around the uneven surfaces of the rocky ground. You can feel yourself being led deeper into the maze of caverns. If Namora decided to up and ditch you right now, you are certain you would be lost in this labyrinth forever.

“You are the first,” Namora says rather abruptly, catching you off guard. Not only does her response come well after your question was asked, but it is also the most she has ever said to you at one given time.

“The first?” You ask, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“To come here,” Namora answers. “The first surface dweller to receive Talokan’s aid. The first the king has ever…” she pauses a moment, searching for the right word, “tolerated.”

The influx of her voice is not lost on you.

“And you don’t approve?”

“It is not my place to approve, " Namora clarifies as she leads you around a bend and past several open pools of water. "I am… concerned. When it comes to you, I fear he is blind.”

Silence befalls you both again as you enter another cavern, this one much larger and more spacious than any others you have seen. Within it are several large pools, glistening with light reflected from more glow worms above. Their tendrils hang from the high vaulted ceiling like sparkling chandeliers.

In the center of it all stands a large hut enclosed by beautifully woven fabrics. You follow Namora shoulder to shoulder up the stone-carved steps to it until you nearly reach the side.

“We’re here,” Namora says, coming to a dead stop. She then takes a step back from you.

Still unsure of where “here” is exactly, you glance over your shoulder, looking to her for further instruction or explanation. But Namora gives you nothing. The moment you begin to take a step backward as well, her hand shoots out, holding the back of your shoulder in position with a firm grip.

Ah. Don't move. Got it.

Subconsciously you begin to hold your breath, bracing yourself for the unknown.

Then, there he is.

From around the corner of the hut comes Namor. Immediately you are taken aback by his appearance. Up to this point, you have only seen him suited for battle. Now he stands before you dawning a beautifully woven cape plated with gold and draped across his broad shoulders. His hair is slicked back and his arms are adorned with various metal cuffs. Truly a wardrobe fit for a king.

A single nod of his head and Namora is dismissed. You hear her small footsteps fade as she leaves the two of you alone.

“How is your hand?”

Namor’s question snaps you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you raise your hand, glancing at the worn bandage. "It’s fine, thank you.”

Staring at the gauze, you can almost hear the lullaby Namor hummed as he gently tended to your wounded palm the night of the battle. Something flutters inside you as you touch the corner of the fabric. Realizing your mind has drifted again, you bring yourself back to reality by following up with your own question.

"Are we in..." you stop to rephrase, shifting your weight from side to side as you look around the cavern, “Is this… Talokan?"

If it is, it's very different from what you pictured.

Your question brings a smile to Namor’s face.

"No," he answers with a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "Talokan is far beyond this place. I assure you, your body would not survive the journey to its depths. But these caverns are safe, I promise you.”

Namor then shifts the topic of conversation.

“I am told some of your belongings were ruined on your traveling here, including your book. I apologize. I had hoped to make up for it.”

With one arm, Namor ushers you around the corner to the entrance of his quarters, inviting you inside.

Intrigued and eager to see what awaits, you accept his invitation. As you enter, you find yourself in a study of sorts. Lit by several lanterns, the room is warm and bright. Within it sits a small table, a prominent desk full of scrolls and artifacts, and a cozy hammock hung in the corner. But what catches your eye most of all are the walls.

All around you hang gorgeous tapestry walls with breathtaking murals that stretch from floor to ceiling.

“Did you do all of these?” You ask in disbelief as you move to one at the far end of the room. Your eyes widen as you gaze in admiration at the beautiful artistry.

“Yes,” Namor answers humbly, following behind you. “I think you will find a more accurate depiction of my history here.”

“I don’t know,” you say with playful skepticism in your voice as you inspect the artwork closer, “always be weary of your authors, right?” You smirk as you shift your glance sideways to Namor, echoing his words back to him in jest. His face is serious at first but quickly turns to amusement.

“You remembered,” he says nodding his head, an impressed grin now stretching at the corners of his mouth, “that is good.”

You return your attention to the paintings. What a gift it is to be standing here in front of them. Full of stories, full of history. And to be accompanied by the man who created them himself — who lived them himself. It is all a far cry from the vague glyphs you tried so hard to decipher in your book.

"They're amazing." You say in awe, following along the panels as you trace the line work delicately with your fingertip.

Immersed in the murals, you are too busy to notice Namor's softening gaze as he watches you study his work so intently. Here you are, an outsider who he has welcomed into his space. It is not like him to be so open, especially not with a stranger from the surface — never someone from the surface — yet, something about you causes a stirring inside of him. Perhaps it is your enthusiasm and wonders for his culture or your refreshing dose of humanity towards his people that compels his desire to be close to you.

As you follow the artwork from panel to panel across the walls, you arrive at a scene that suddenly makes you freeze. Your wrist snaps your finger back as if repelled by the paint itself. In front of you is a large image of Namor dawning a serpent headpiece as he hovers above the water. You are immediately back in your nightmare, your mind flashing to Namor’s outstretched hand then the darkness that closes in around you as you start to drown. You can almost feel the fire in your lungs as they grow desperate for air.

“What troubles you?” Namor asks with genuine traces of concern in his voice. Your sudden silence has not gone unnoticed. He moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with you now, looking up to analyze the same part of the mural.

"Nothing," you lie, shaking your head while your hand drops to your side. You withdraw from the painting, taking a few steps back from it and Namor.

“Your people," you say to change the subject, pointing your thumb to the rest of the artwork in the room, "they honor you. It's admirable, what you've done for them. To keep them safe all this time."

“But?” He senses there is more on your mind.

You stare at him, then turn your focus back to the tapestries surrounding you. Scanning them from wall to wall, you notice a pattern in the stories shown.

“It’s just,” you begin with uncertainty in your voice “for someone who has spent his whole life bringing peace to his people, I wonder how much of it you have experienced for yourself?”

Namor is quiet for a moment.

"And why do you wonder this?" He finally replies, turning to face you fully.

“I guess I look at these and I’m curious… how? How can you do that without completely breaking under the weight of it all? Even with—” you begin gesturing to his body and suddenly become desperate to come up with the right words in time, “superhuman strength.” Thank god.

“Hmmm,” Namor exhales, thoughtfully nodding as his gaze drops to the floor. He folds his arms over his chest, the golden band around his exposed bicep reflecting the light that softly glows from a nearby lantern. Taking a few steps toward you, he lifts his eyes to yours.

“It is true,” he says, “the burden I carry for the sake of my people does not always permit me the personal luxury of peace. It… can be difficult.” His tone shifts from diplomatic to vulnerable. “And who is to say I have not broken under it? It is that brokenness that has made me the leader I am.”

Turning his head toward the mural, he looks at it carefully before speaking again. His chiseled jawline accentuates the exposed veins protruding from his neck.

"To your question,” he continues, “I believe how is never as important as why. Why would someone fight to bring others peace when they themselves cannot have it?” Namor takes another step closer and lifts his hand to your chin, delicately angling your face upward toward his own. "Because we sacrifice to protect what we love.”

His eyes search yours earnestly. After a moment, Namor quickly drops his hand from your chin and you watch as he moves towards his desk, shuffling a few scrolls around before looking back up at you again.  

“I love my people,” he says, planting his hand firmly on the desk, “and I have seen evil, what it is capable of. I watch as the rest of the world grows desperate in their greed and ambition, their desire for power. They are becoming more dangerous by the day."

"You mean — surface dwellers?" You ask.

Namor raises his brow at you knowingly.

"Yes,” he answers cooly.

"I'm a surface dweller. Am I...dangerous?"

Namor sighs with a small smile.

“Yes. Though not in the way you may think.”

He moves from out behind his desk and back over in your direction.

“Now I have a question for you,” he says in a low voice, approaching you with a dark look looming over his face. “Please consider your answer carefully.”

The silence is intense. Your heart feels like it is going to jump out of your throat as you anticipate what damning question the king of Talokan has in store for you.

Namor’s expression changes on a dime, and he suddenly asks in a lighthearted tone,

“Are you up for a swim?”

—

You follow Namor out of his quarters and into the large open cavern. As you pass by several beautiful pools of water, you are enchanted by how the light dances across the rich tones of Namor's skin. The same light casts dazzling hues of aquamarine and cerulean across the surface of the pools, reflected onto the rocks surrounding them.

Namor approaches one of the bigger pools and removes the cape from his shoulder, exposing his bare chest underneath. Here is the Namor you recognize - prominent necklace, bare chest,  emerald green shorts. Before dropping his cape to the ground, however, he pulls out a Talokan mask from the fabric like the ones Namora and the other warriors wear.

“Take a deep breath,” Namor says as he turns to you. He pushes your hair back from your cheek delicately as he applies the apparatus to your face. Doing as you are told, you inhale deeply as the mask fastens over your nose and mouth.

“Stay close,” he instructs. You nod, and Namor steps to the edge of the closest pool. He looks back at you with a hint of a smile on his face. Then, with all the strength and grace of a god, he dives perfectly into the water and disappears under the surface.

You step closer to the pool. The faint rhythm of droplets falling from the ceiling rings throughout the cavern. You glance behind you toward the entrance, but there isn't a soul in sight. Namora’s words echo through your mind.

When it comes to you, he is blind.

You dive in, following Namor.

Once in the water, you quickly orient yourself. Looking around, you see the outline of Namor, his silhouette waiting for you in the distance. As you swim closer, he gestures for you to follow him. You kick your feet to propel yourself further downward, ears popping as you equalize to the increasing pressure.

You swim until you are clear of the caves. Though your muscles ache, there is something serene about being beneath the water; the quiet, the weightlessness, everything drifting harmoniously in rhythm with the current. For the first time since you can remember, your mind feels still. Free from the chaos. Somehow, the vast open sea does not frighten you with its deep blue void as it did in your dream. Not even a little. Instead, you feel a calmness in your soul as you lose track of time entirely, trailing Namor as you move through the ocean’s depths.

Quite literally in his element, you watch in awe as Namor swims so effortlessly. To him, it must be as easy as breathing. He looks more relaxed than you have seen him. Perhaps even enjoying himself?

You continue to swim, the water getting lighter as the visibility becomes clearer. A school of fish rushes past, their scales glimmering with each flick of a fin or contour of their bodies. Countless numbers weave around you in sync as if part of the same carefully choreographed ballet. You can’t help but smile as you watch them move so freely, and Namor can't help but smile as he watches you.

Suddenly the fish rapidly disperse and within seconds a huge mass flashes past you with incredible speed and agility. Your eyes widen and adrenaline rushes through you as you witness a killer whale chase the school, its size completely dwarfing your mere human frame. Involuntarily, you begin hyperventilating as you watch the giant creature swim off into the distance. When you feel a touch against your arm, you turn to find Namor next to you. His hand rises and falls in front of his torso, gesturing for you to take deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

The two of you remain suspended in the endless ocean blue as you your breath slows and your muscles recover. Namor looks upward, and as you savor the moment of rest you follow his gaze. You can tell by the light above that you are getting close to the surface, which must mean you are nearing your destination. When he nods, you know it is time to move. Slowly the two of you start your ascent and the ocean becomes warmer as you gradually near the top.

When you arise from the water, the sound of the rushing wind, the rolling waves, and birds flying overhead rush into your ears. Less than a hundred meters from you stretches a beautiful coastline covered in soft white sand and lined by rich green foliage.

You make your way towards it. Soon you are walking knee-deep in the waves, the tide splashing against the back of your legs as you near the shore. Removing the mask from your face, the sweet breeze of the island races by, rustling your wet hair and filling your nostrils with the earthy aroma of some nearby palm trees.

Namor has already reached the sand. He stands tall, water still running down his body. Staring out at the horizon, he runs his hand over his face and pushes his hair back, inadvertently flexing his bicep as he does so. The sun slowly begins its descent toward the Earth, its warm rays casting brilliant tones of red and orange across Namor’s exposed skin. It contrasts the deep blues and greens that illuminated him in the caverns, and at this point, you are confident he looks devastatingly beautiful in any light.

As you reach the shore, you take your place next to him and stare out at the skyline.

“Hard to beat a view like that,” you say breathlessly.

“My mother would always describe to me the beauty of the setting sun,” Namor responds. “I have no love for the surface world, but from time to time I visit this island. See what she saw.”

“Is this—?” You begin to ask.

“Where she is buried.” Namor answers before you finish your question. His eyes drop as he reflects, “I am not sure what I expected to see the day I came to lay her body to rest. I suppose the beauty of an island she spoke of so fondly. Instead, I found my brothers and sisters enslaved by men who took life without a second thought.” His jaw clenches as he recalls the bitter memory. “But I saw to it the favor was returned.”

His meaning is clear. You are not sure which makes you more nervous — the calm and cool way he says it, or the menacing smile that accompanies his statement. Either way, his smile disappears as quickly as it comes. You have seen Namor’s ferocity firsthand and know what he is capable of, especially when it comes to protecting his people. A nervous feeling grows in the pit of your stomach as you begin questioning his purpose in bringing you here.

You consider the facts:

You are a surface dweller.

He did call you dangerous.

Oh shit.

Anxiously you glance at him, then redirect your gaze back to the horizon to maintain your composure. The soft waves break along the shore, racing up to your ankles. As the sand beneath your feet gets pulled out by the tide, you wish with all your might you could be pulled away with it. Instead, you sink deeper into the ground, more immovable than before.

“Are you going to kill me?” The words come out blunter than you intend, but you stand by them despite the quiver in your voice.

The question pulls Namor out of his thoughts as he turns to you, eyebrows raised. He studies your face carefully before answering.

“I probably should," he says. There is no malice in his words, only honesty. “The knowledge you have of me and my people... it puts me in a difficult position.” His eyes are solemn. "But I have lived a long time, and in that time I have witnessed many in their final moments before death when one truly reveals themself. That night on the beach, in what you believed were your final moments, you kept your word to me and my people. You said nothing to those men, even with your life on the line. There is no truer test of loyalty.”

Without a word, he reaches his hand out for the mask you still carry. You cautiously hand it over.

"There is a village eastward,” Namor continues, “you will find everything you need there, and the means to leave this place."

You feel his palm slip under your fingers to receive the mask. He takes a deep breath, then purses his lips in the direction behind you.

“Or, just up the way beyond those trees is a house. It is not much, but comfortable. It is yours to use... if you wish. You would be safe here.”

The offer catches you off guard.

“I… I don't understand." You mutter in slight confusion.

With a deep inhale, Namor squints back at the setting sun to collect his thoughts. Then, taking another step closer, he eliminates virtually any remaining space between you. His eyes are deep and mesmerizing as ever. Your heart races from his sudden proximity and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to speak again. He peers down at you, so impossibly close that you can sense the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

"You are no enemy of mine," he says with authority, "and no prisoner of Talokan. You have my trust. And because of that trust, I will not order you to stay." Namor then drops the mask into the sand like it is worthless and gently slides his hands underneath your jawline, cradling your face in both of his palms. “But I am asking you to.”

You are speechless. The way he is holding your gaze, the tenderness of his thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek, the fluttering of his lashes as his eyes flick down to your mouth.

"Stay," Namor says fervently in one final clarifying word. It is not a command, but an invitation. Perhaps even a plea. But most importantly, it is a choice. Your choice.

His eyes quickly dart back up to yours as he awaits an answer, but even Namor is not strong enough to keep his attention from dropping back down to your lips. He is clearly focused on more than just the words he hopes to hear come out of them.

In an overwhelming wave of boldness, you allow instinct to take over. No lives at stake, no siren’s song  — it is only the burning desire within your very soul for him that compels you. You close your eyes and melt into Namor’s touch, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you do so, it is as if a surge of energy courses through your veins, electrifying your entire body. Namor immediately welcomes your advance, molding his lips to your own. The smooth piece of jade that pierces his septum presses cooly above your lip, contrasting the heat of his skin to ignite your senses. As he slides a hand around to the back of your neck, his fingers curl into your hair to bring you in even closer.

A small moan escapes you as the tip of his tongue traces along your bottom lip. You can feel his smile against your mouth, then a tug at the same lip with his teeth. Another invitation, to which you gladly accept. You part your mouth open to let Namor inside. Both of your tongues dance together as your kisses become deeper and more indulgent.

Consumed by his taste and his touch, you slide your hands up his bare chest, desperate for more of him. Without missing a beat, Namor responds by running his arms down your body and hoisting you up off the sand with ease. You wrap your legs around him tightly and take full advantage of this new, higher angle. Moving your mouth in tandem with his, you savor the richness of his lips and entangling your fingers in his dark locks of hair. 

The two of you ebb and flow just like the rolling ocean waves, losing yourselves in each other. It’s not until you feel a faint burning in your lungs that you face the harsh reality of having to break away for air. Everything inside you fights it. If Namor were the sea, you would gladly let yourself drown in this moment.

But Namor, also sensing your need for oxygen, begins to slow down. He lowers you gently to the ground, though he is careful not to let you slip too far away from him. The two of you breathe heavily as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Namor gives you another passionate kiss, this one slow and deep. His lips then move to the corner of your mouth and trail up to your ear, the heat of his breath spreading like wildfire across your skin. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Holding you close, Namor leans his forehead against your temple and presses his lips against your ear.

“Please," he whispers. "Stay with me.”

--------

Tag List! (I think I got everyone who requested to be included!) @looneylikesbooks @omgsuperstarg @chixkencxrry @vainillasmil157 @demoiseller @sodonuthideout @shoutaaizawas @stany0url0calwh0res111 @hjjks @duckwithsunglasses @jamesbarnesbestgirl @nellycanwrite @namorlover @queenofthekill @uhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmm @cosmic-lavender @fckwritersblock @doimakeyounervous-blog @viktoryn @bontensbabygirl @lokidbadguy @sammi-doll483 @violet-19999 @artaxerxesthegreat @zeeader @star-dusst @hawkins-2000 @madsothree @takeheartyall @slytherheign @agustdboyoongie @nightingal3-tales @psamathegoesrawr @myotakureprieve @spideyworldsposts @ginger-swag-rapunzel  @jurneesjourney @kpopgirlbtssvt @commondazy @vicky-8426 @05-redacted @boredoutofmydamnmind @h34rtsformilli @adoiescents @ari-fay @daddyslittlevillain @namorswhore @loversjoy

[wint3r-h3art]

Listen I don’t know how it gets to this point but the idea of Namor fucking you in his room in the cave with all his paintings, but it’s MESSY like y’all have paint smeared on your bodies, smudged a new painting on the wall that hadn’t dried yet, you’re body sweating and leaving marks all over eachothers bodies, the whole fucking place is just TRASHED

And how embarrassed you’d be after when you both thought you’ve cleaned up, but Namora comments on the paint on your neck (and how Namor would be smiling all smug lmao)

Our Secret

A/N: My hand slipped. No beta, so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry.

18+ ONLY | Minors DNI

warnings: mutual pinning, mentioned of male masturbation, vaginal sex, wall sex

Namor of Talokan Masterlist

It started off with stolen glances between the two of you.

His eyes followed the path of your brush stroke against the cool cavern wall, then slowly they traveled up your arm, then your shoulder. To the slenderness of your neck, his eyes linger, watching and wishing to taste your skin on his tongue.

Then up his eyes linger on your lips, watching almost tentatively and imagining the way those soft, pillowy flesh would feel against his.

It's almost foolish the way he felt himself getting hard at the sight. His grip on his own brush is almost too hard that the little thing is almost breaking in half.

Then your curious eyes shift to meet his hungry ones. It's borderline desperation the way his gaze would linger and how hard he's swallowing by just your presence there. It's a torturous affair for him, yet he craves and longs for it. He loves the way your scent would linger in the cavern and envelopes his hunger with the ghost of you whenever he's alone.

He must admit that he found himself giving in to his own needs once or twice already. His hand would be moved on its own and stroke the half-hardened shaft to the image of you. Of course, he felt like shit afterward, knowing full well that he shouldn't, yet every time you and he share a space, all of his rationality dissipated into thin air.

Just like now. The hunger and needs to have you are more than apparent. The wordless exchange between the two of you is simply too much to bare.

You swallow for a brief moment, only to find yourself being crushed against the cool cavern wall. His lips descend upon yours almost too quickly for you to realize what's happening.

His tongue and teeth are everywhere. His rough, calloused hands dig into your skin almost imprinting them right to your bones. His touches are as hot as the sun itself, and you wouldn't mind being burned by him.

Next thing you know, you find yourself being wrapped around his waist. Your clothes are lying on the cavern floor. Your arms wrap around his neck as his lips are still covering yours, swallowing whatever noise you emit.

And without any hesitation, he enters you with a swift motion, making both of you moan out in unison. There is no softness to this. It's a pure need from all the unsaid attraction you both have been feeling for these past months. A passion that is as hot as the sun itself, yet none of you seems to care of either of your burn from each other.

His hips move with desperation and eagerness that make your head spin. Sweats slick your bodies as the small room fills with nothing but the sound of your bodies. You can feel every fiber of his muscles move beneath your fingertips from the effort alone.

It's almost too much yet not enough. He would move to lie on the table, causing all the paint pots to fall and clatter all around you, but there is no sign of stopping. Your nails drag across his back in a desperate attempt to hold on to the last bit of your sanity.

K’uk’ulkan is determined more than ever to bring you to release. His movements become more and more erratic as he feels your body slowly closing in around him, and before he knows it, you came with a muffled scream as he continues to drive into you, using you until he reaches his own release.

Silence fills the small cavern, except for the sound of your heavy panting as both of you slowly come down from your high, and once more the shared silence between the two of you continues, yet there's a mutual understanding of this little secret you share.

Both of you part way, yet there's a lingering look you share when you leave the room, and for the first time, you notice the way the smile finally reaches his eyes, melting his deep brown eyes like the way the earth softens right after the rain just falls.

A couple of days later though Namora points something out as you and the king silently work on the mural once again.

"Is that gold paint stuck to your hair?"

You turn to her, but she has already looked straight at the king beside you with a knowing smile. Heat flares up on your face as you glance to your right, directly at K’uk’ulkan, and he too has the same smirk that makes you want to crawl under the table and hide.