#namor fanfiction
Text
His Sacrificial Offering | Namor
Summary: You were sent to be his, and his you shall be; both body and soul
Word count: 2.0K
Warnings: brain rotting smut ahead. Little plot, just thots. oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex. Breeding kink, cum dumping, slight mention of possessive behavior. Romance undertone if you squint.
18+ ONLY | Minors DNI
A/N: Tenoch Huerta be pulling me out of my writing slump, and here is the result. I hope you liked it. Little plot, but somewhat coherent (I hope). No beta either, so if I do miss anything, I apologize. If you enjoyed this little blurb, comment and reblog is greatly appreciated 💛
Part 2
*** Do not copy, repost, or translate anywhere else.
Your eyes fluttered close as a long shaky breath drew out of you. Pleasure clouded your judgment–perhaps you were too drunk of this ecstasy that at this exact moment you have forgotten that you were no more than his offering.
His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, imprinting his touch into your skin–burned to your very bone. Sweat trickled down your temples while your legs shook from the intensity of it all.
The desirous torture came to a close when Namor pushed his thick fingers inside your sopping pussy. Your body jolted, hips bucked forward as he pushed his digits all the way to his knuckle.
His name fell from your lips like an incantation–breathless and enamored by his touch. Your voice was desperate and eager, hoping it would be enough for him.
Namor’s breath wavered at the way you were squeezing his fingers–so tight, so eager, and oh so perfect for him. His little sacrificial offering.
His, he thought with a smirk etched on his lips, cracking his stern visage in that instant. His heart swelled with pride at the prospect, and suddenly his thought was replaced by his carnal instinct, and the thought of having you round, and heavy with his seeds excited him.
“Mine,” he muttered before his mouth latched onto your nipple. His velvety tongue flicked over the stiff bud. His cheeks hollowed as he was sucking on the soft mound. His eyes stared up at you again, and this time it felt more primal. It felt like you were burned alive while being doused by pure ecstasy all at once. You groaned as your body eagerly responded to his attention.
His lips moved to the valley between your breasts as he kissed his way southward. His tongue grazed on your skin, tasting the salt of your skin and marking you, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
His mouth continued to move southward until he settled in between your thighs. His palms smoothed over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. For a man his size, he was surprisingly gentle with you–perhaps, a bit too gentle.
Namor was trying to restrain himself not to be too rough with you. After all, mortals bruise and can get hurt easily. A part of him wanted to do more though, but his conscience said otherwise.
You sucked in your breath when you felt his mouth descend upon your throbbing core. All of your rationality flew right now as his warm, velvety tongue grazed over your swollen heat. It excited him how willing you were to be his.
His tongue swept over your swollen cleft again, this time he made sure to collect the slicked nectar on his tongue. A low moan reverberated from his chest, shooting right through your pussy. He glided his tongue over your opening, rimming it, pushing the tip into it that had you scrambled under his hold.
Namor kept you in place though by that strong, steely grip of his while he worked your swollen clit, reducing you to nothing more than a panting mess.
“My king…”
“Hmmm?” he asked as his mouth was still on your cunt, licking and fucking at your tight hole with shallow penetration.
“My king, please,” you gasped as your hips bucked forward to meet his mouth.
“Please what, my sweet?
You felt almost frustrated by the question, but you were in no position to be mad at him. You were his, and he was free to use you however he saw fit.
“Please let me come,” you pleaded almost pathetically as if he hadn’t let you do just that too many times over.
A gleam in his eyes made your heart shudder as he continued to lick at your fold and thrust his tongue into your tight hole that made you dig your heel into the soft bed. Your pussy was practically aching by the time you hit your first climax, but of course, the king wasn’t done with you yet.
Pulling back, Namor was now seated between your legs. His hand wiped off the gleaming remnant of your juice on his face. His hair was disheveled and messy. Some stuck to his forehead as perspiration dampened his skin. Raking his finger through his hair, he leaned forward and spoke.
“Bring your knees up to your chest. I won’t ask twice” he said in his deep timbre voice that sent a tremor straight through your glistening pussy. You were throbbing and aching to the point where you started clenching at the emptiness, wishing to have more of him. Even just a little bit of him was more than enough–it was more than you deserved.
Trembling, you complied. You felt so exposed and oh so vulnerable, holding your knees open for him. Uncertainty plagued your mind as many thoughts swam through your head, anticipating the treatment that awaited you.
Yet you trust him.
Every molecule in your body shivered with needs as you stared up to meet those beautiful, deep brown sapphire eyes–molten and warm like how he made you feel at the moment. You could have easily used you for his own pleasure–yet his touches had been nothing of that sort. You felt like you were meant to be his from the very beginning. It was expected that you would receive him and serve him as he sees fit, yet–
“Tell me who you belong to.”
It wasn’t a request. His voice was firm while his thick fingers traced your slippery folds. His eyes gleamed between your nether lips and your face. There was an underlying intensity behind his gaze, and it sent your nerves into a frenzy. Your body trembles again as he continues to stroke at your folds, coating them in your essence. You felt lewd in a way as you lay there, baring your most intimate part to him.
“You,” you mumbled as he crashed his lips into yours for the very first time, tasting yourself on his tongue. Your body strained beneath him as he worked you over with his fingers. You were so wet and so slick that he had no issue with adding his third digits. The man was dexterous and oh so talented with his hand that you felt another wave of an orgasm slowly slither its way up your spine.
Your legs shook as your wall fluttered around him as his pace quickened. He was fucking you so hard and so deep with his fingers that his chamber filled with nothing but the sound of your wet, squelching pussy being fucked relentlessly by the king himself.
A string of incoherent begging fell from your lips once more as you neared your release. In a fit of a throe of passion, you came with a shout.
His mouth covered you instantly, swallowing your sound. His tongue flicked over yours, licking and savoring your taste. His lips trailed down along your jawline, kissing whatever skin he found.
With a swift motion, he entered you with a low grunt. A soft gasp slipped past your lips as he began to move, slowly at first. Your fingers dig into his back, feeling the way his muscles strained and cored from the movement.
You clung to him as if he was the only anchor that was holding you down. Your chest ached. Your body throbbed with a need that you’d never thought you had. Your body burns from the feverish pleasure, shattering all of your resolves.
Namor was trying to be gentle at first. Yet the more plunge himself inside your velvety heat, the more he felt like he was being intoxicated, and with every minute he spent inside you, he felt like all of his control and common sense were slowly eroded into nothingness. Every cell in his body screamed for you, and in turn, his movement became erratic. He was fucking you, rutting into you with a ferocity that made your mind scramble.
No sounds came out of your mouth as if all the air had been fucked right out of you. You came with an uncontrollable rush. His name was the only thing you could utter because he didn’t stop. He was still fucking you relentlessly, driving himself into you.
His hands spread your legs wider, and his thick cock sank deeper. His grip on your wrist seemed to tighten, shoving you down into the plush bed. Drooled slipped out of your lips as he continued to pound into you.
Again and again, you came, sobbing with pleasure. You were practically begging him to finish you, to fill you up, and Namor did just that. It felt like hours later when he began to slow down as he rode out his release, pumping his lust into the depth of your body, emptying himself with a deep guttural groan that sounded like the sweetest sin.
You turned to look at him. Your lips parted, panting. Your hand fisted the sheet beneath you to the point where it was aching. Your legs shook as the remnant of his release sputtered out of you and onto the sheet below.
Namor was slowly coming back to his senses. Every part of him was attuned to you as he stared down at your fragile form–so delicate compared to his, yet you were the only thing that somehow made him lose his mind. The fact that you have easily accepted your role as his offering was enough to drive him to the edge once again.
You woke up sometimes later to find him looking at you.
You realized that it was the first time that you were looking at the king right in the eyes. Your face was warmed by the sudden rush of heat. Your eyes quickly averted, casting down to his broad chest.
You knew it was stupid and childish, but the memory of what he had done to you was replaying again, and the distinct ache between your legs was proof of that. The slippery feeling between your thighs was also proof of what he had given you. You wouldn’t be surprised if the seeds had already taken root inside your womb by how frequently he had bedded you.
You’re not complaining though. To be in his good Grace was everything you’ve ever wanted. He had been nothing by spoiling you, adorning you with jewelry from head to toe, dressing you up in whatever fine things he thought would suit you. You were his to play with, you accepted this without any objection.
“Are you afraid of me?”
The question puzzled you so that you found yourself frowning slightly. Namor fought the smile that threatened to form on his lips.
“No, my king,” you answered. You realized how weak and hoarse your voice was.
Namor’s gaze softened upon the realization that perhaps you were slowly coming back to your senses. His calloused fingers traced over your soft, delicate skin, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You shivered, and he felt it. Namor pulled you closer. His heat and scent filled your head, making you feel at ease for the moment.
“Then why are you not looking at me?”
The question was a tease really. He was curious as to how you would react to him. He knew you were well pleased by how many times you had shouted his name, but there was this pleasure of hearing it from your mouth that made him eager to hear.
You chewed on your lips. How do you explain to a god that you were thoroughly fucked and thoroughly satisfied? Indeed such admission was a taboo thing to utter out loud.
“You weren’t too shy that long ago,” he added. Your eyes briefly met with his, and you could feel the heat now completely enveloping your face.
“My king, I–”
“No matter,” he smirked as slowly spread your legs apart again and settled himself between them. “I just have to make you talk.”
He watched you swallow the way you watched his cock come to life. All of your rationality wavered once more between needs and common sense.
But you knew which one won on this one.
Namor took his time again to show you again that you were more than his sacrificial offering.
#namor x reader#namor x you#namor x y/n#namor#namor smut#tenoch huerta#namor fanfiction#namor imagine
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─ 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑
𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋
𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥 𝘅 𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗔!𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — a prophecy has tied you to the feathered serpent god before you had even existed. now, it’s time to come home.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. possessive behavior. near death experience. smut; penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie (lots of cum bc i'm disgusting), breeding kink.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑❜𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — this has to be the most excited i've been for a fic in a long time 🥹 i had a blast including a little bit of my culture's superstitions and lore. my sincerest apologies for any inaccurate yucatec maya translations, i used a translator website. the song the reader sings is "daughter of the sea" by sharm. i hope you all enjoy! ♡
𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 —
⁀➷ “anak” - child.
⁀➷ “po” - a respectful term with no direct translation used when talking to someone of higher rank than you such as elders or your boss.
⁀➷ “mag ingat ka” - “be careful.”
⁀➷ “ka’a suku’un u?” - “cousin?”
⁀➷ “ko’oten tin wéetel in kaxtik ti’ le ajawo.” - "come with me to find the king."
⁀➷ "in yakunaj" - "my love"
⁀➷ "in k'áaté" - my one and only.
⁀➷ "le ba'alo' leti'e" - that is her.
⁀➷ "bienvenido tin wotoch ti', in reina." - "welcome my queen."
꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡
FOR AS LONG AS YOU COULD REMEMBER, the ocean was your safe haven.
While others strayed from its depths for fear of the unknown, of the creatures that could be lurking down there, you had always been curious to know. There had always been an itch that couldn’t quite be scratched when it came to your love for the water. You frequented your local beach nearly every day, wandering aimlessly until you grew tired. Unlike others your age, your life was one of solitude. To an extent, you were content with it, for the ocean was your companion. It never judged you and always welcomed you. It listened when you spoke, carrying your worries far from you never to be seen again.
Nowadays, to your heart’s discontent, the ocean was not enough.
You were lonely. Truly lonely and feeling what it was like to be so for the very first time in your life. There were nights you stared into the abyss; eyes watery as you wished to drown in it. To be embraced by the one thing that was consistent in your life. Would you feel less alone then?
─
From the deepest point of the very sea you gazed into, the heart of a God grew heavy. K’uk’ulkan loved his people, adored them with every fiber of his body. Each and every one of the faces of those he ruled, dead and alive, were imprinted in his soul permanently. Every step he took was taken with them in mind. He prided himself for being a good leader, for doing everything and anything possible to keep his nation safe. After the events leading up to the alliance with the Wakandans, however, he did not know if that pride was deserved. He had made mistakes; misplaced his trust and allowed two of his own to die right in their very home. Namora, as loyal as she was, began to question his decisions. He was alone in bearing this burden with no one to rest his head on at night from the heaviness of the day.
What pained him the most? He knew he shouldn’t be alone.
He recalled the day he and his mother had been read the prophecy when he was a child clearly. The emotions he felt upon hearing those words spoken into existence were still fresh. There was someone for him. Just for him, and him alone.
“For His fealty, the First Son of Talokan shall be given a gift from the Gods; a descendant from the Heavens, a child of Bulan with the voice of an enchantress. For as long as He shall live, She shall rule the seas by His side.”
Years passed. Those years slowly faded into decades. After the passing of his beloved mother, it became difficult differentiating when those decades turned into centuries. Still, there were no signs of his soulmate. His people knew of the prophecy. K’uk’ulkan was all too aware of the anticipation his children felt as they eagerly awaited the arrival of their queen. Yet, she never came.
He grew angry at the so called Gods for turning on their promise – at her. Where was she? he’d hiss. My people, our people, have come dangerously close to being discovered. I have nearly died defending them all alone. My wings have been ripped from my flesh. Why isn’t she here? The prophecy meant nothing to him anymore. Just as he was naïve when he entrusted Princess Shuri with seeing his home, he was blindly foolish for believing in a fairytale.
Namor was without love in more ways than one.
─
You didn’t remember falling asleep. There was no explanation as to how you ended up perilously close to the edge of the water, the violent thrash of waves serving as a warning to you. Still, you remained completely still as fear immobilized you. You racked your brain for any recollections of your previous actions. Nothing came up. You couldn’t remember anything after you came home from the market.
Nothing, that is, aside from a single voice.
It cooed to you, whispered your name like it had waited a thousand millennia to taste it upon its tongue. Sang to you like you were its favorite person in the entire universe.
Come to me.
Come home.
In yakunaj.
In k’áate’.
Come home.
Taking a moment to steady your breathing, you slowly stepped away from the ledge before rushing back home. As you tucked yourself into bed that night, you tried your best to bury what had just transpired. You sought out every possibility – rational and irrational – that could have resulted in your odd behavior. You always went to the beach, maybe you just wandered there after dinner out of habit. Perhaps something went wrong with the batch of your usual tea and an ingredient that causes cognitive dysfunction was accidentally added to it. Maybe tomorrow morning you will wake up to a news report about your batch being recalled from all stores.
The explanation you vied for never came.
As time persisted, so did the bouts of blacking out, regaining consciousness, and finding yourself near the ocean. Each time, you got closer and closer to its waters. Every day after the next, you would feel the fatigue in your muscles from all of the walking. And yet, it did not stop you. You always found your way back to the ocean. It didn’t matter if you walked into ongoing traffic or if a concerned neighbor physically restrained you, the pull was stronger. Shamefully, you began to avoid leaving your home altogether. You couldn’t bear to face the condemnatory looks you were bound to receive. Whatever those in your area thought of you, you didn’t want to know. You were afraid enough of what you were becoming.
When you wake up from the next spell, you were waist deep in the ocean. Shivering as your thin nightgown stuck to your skin. Wrapping your arms around your torso, you salvaged any and all body heat. The gravity of your circumstances hit you all at once. Biting your lip, you held back your tears as your turned around and began making your way out of the water hastily. Just as your bare feet touched the white sand, you caught the eyes of the elderly woman who lived closed by. The two of you had never spoken, but her presence as a resident was always acknowledged.
“Sorry, po,” You spoke sheepishly, a polite and apologetic smile on your face.
Her expression was grave as she stared at you wordlessly. Silence stretched between the both of you and just as you were about to walk away, she harshly spat one single word.
“Magindara.”
Before you could seek clarification, she was back inside her small hut, the door slamming behind her acrimoniously. The only proof that the interaction with her was even real was the residual sting of her hostility and rage. Her persecution was the straw to break the camel’s back. Unable to maintain your resolve any longer, you fell to your knees and began to you’re your hands clutching at your chest in hopes to alleviate the pain. Humiliation, terror, anxiousness, and frustration were just a few of the emotions you were feeling. Even then, they were just the tip of the iceberg. As you cried to yourself, sand sticking to your wet limbs uncomfortably, you longed for nothing but someone to wrap you up in their arms – for someone to tell you that for once, everything would be okay. Just this once, you craved a life outside of isolation.
Once your breathing evened out, you stood up and leisurely began to talk along the shore. Soothing yourself in the only way you knew how, you began to softly sing.
“Beware, beware the Daughter of the Sea. ‘Beware’ I heard him cry. His words carried upon the ocean breeze, as he sank beneath the tide.”
Namora watched acutely as the quill in her king’s hands abruptly dropped to the floor. The warrior waited for the moment he would pick it up off of the ground and continue with his painting, but it never came.
“K’uk’ulkan?”
She received no response. His eyes held an indecipherable expression, one far away from the present.
“Ka’a suku’un u?” Namora repeated, her tone now carrying concern.
The King of Talokan turned to her for a split second before he stormed out of the room with speed she had never witnessed from him before. Namora was hot on his feathered heels, but the second she dived into the water, her cousin was nowhere to be seen.
“Attuma!” She bellowed. “Ko’oten tin wéetel in kaxtik ti’ le ajawo.”
K’uk’ulkan was stunned when he first heard it – the most beautiful sound to grace his ears. He was livid with himself for being unable to find a better word to describe the voice, for “beautiful” was such an understatement that it was borderline insulting. Without hesitation, he followed it. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know where it was coming from or who it even belonged to, he needed to find it. It called to him, turned him into a man possessed as he soared through the waters restlessly to get to it.
His head broke the surface, and that’s when he saw its owner – her. His soulmate.
She was the most exquisite living being he had ever laid his eyes upon. A gift from the heavens she was. Her beauty made him dizzy, his knees growing weak as he took in his beloved’s features. He admired her as she outstretched her arms, cupping the moon in her delicate palms. It paled in comparison to her. Everything did. Nothing could possibly compare. He remained paralyzed as she continued to sing, a foreign feeling settling in his stomach.
“Why this? Why this, oh Daughter of the Sea? Why this? Why did you forget your seaside days? Always the pride of our nation’s eyes, how could she go astray?”
The words of her melody pierced his heart. They reflected their journey far too accurately to be a coincidence. Did she know that she had always been destined for him? To be loved by the entire nation of Talokan? His lids fell shut slowly as he basked in her harmonies, feeling tranquil at last.
“I heard, I heard, across the moonlit seas, the old voice warning me. Beware, beware, the Daughter of the Sea. Beware, beware…of me.”
Namor studied her face as her song ended. He noted her red rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. Her damp nightgown stuck to her body tantalizingly. The despair in her hypnotizing voice was palpable. All of the wrath and resentment he had once harbored dissipated. Oh, my love. I have longed for you too. He could do nothing as he watched you turn your back to him from above, only pray for another encounter. He rose entirely from the sea, the wings on his ankles fluttering in the air as he watched her in the sky until she was safe in her abode. A quiet splash could be heard from under him. Attuma and Namora stared up at him expectedly.
“Le ba’alo’ leti’e’.”
He nodded slowly, eyes burning holes in the spot where she once stood.
“A human?” Attuma questioned, his voice rigid.
Namor shook his head.
“’A child of Bulan with the voice of an enchantress’.” Namor quoted the prophecy directly. “Bulan was a deity the heavens sent to the ocean to protect the moon from sea monsters. She is a siren; they are descendants of Bulan.”
“What is she doing on the surface?” Namora chimed in.
The king frowned, his fists clenching at his sides as he longed to feel her touch.
“She is lost.”
─
Returning to the beach after the unpleasant encounter with the elderly woman who lived on its grounds probably wasn’t the most sensible decision. In your defense, however, nothing in your life was sensible nowadays.
Magindara was what she called you. A whole day’s worth of research, hundreds of Google searches, and several life crises later, you found out what it meant – siren. A subspecies of mermaids that were known for being especially vicious. You wanted to badly to laugh it off, to chuck it up to her being a senile old woman, but that was not an option. To do so would be like ignoring statistics. The facts of your life were laid out clearly; there was a connection between you and the ocean. A connection so strong that it bewitched you – mind, body, and soul. There were no traceable origins you could use to refute the woman’s claims. Afterall, you had no family. There was nothing more to do than return to the very place that could give you answers.
Your eyes darted everywhere in search of the familiar head of silvery locks. Once identified, you ran to her.
“Excuse me, po?” You called desperately, your eyes begging her for something. Anything. “What…what am I?”
She stared at you with a severe expression on her aged features.
“The man from the sea with wings on his ankles. Mag ingat ka, anak. He’s coming for you.”
You furrowed your brows in confusion.
“Could you expla—”
“Do not come back here.” She warned. “He will drag you down with him.”
With that being said, she entered her home and slammed the door in your face for the second time. Vexation filled you as you were met with another dead end. A man from the sea with wings on his ankles. What the hell was that alluding to? Did the elderly have to always speak in riddles? Were you in danger? Why was he after you?
You dragged your feet as you trudged home dejectedly. You were already exhausted, not sleeping a wink once you returned home after your stint last night. Sleep was unfathomable considering you were haunted by unanswered questions. Once you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, however, you could no longer ignore your body’s need for rest. Flopping down on your bed, you shut your eyes and instantaneously succumbed to a peaceful slumber.
That night was the last time you slept in your own bed.
The beach was eerily quiet, void of the usual sound of waves crashing against the shore. Seemingly, the ocean yielded to you, it’s queen, the second you stepped foot in its territory, entranced and guided by a single voice.
Come home. Come to me.
Your feet carried you to a cliff high above the sparkling midnight waters.
My love. My soulmate.
Home. You needed to come home. It was time.
Come home.
Just a couple of more steps.
Come home.
This is your destiny. Fulfill it. Fulfill the prophecy.
Come home.
With that, you took one final step off the cliff and prepared yourself to plunder into the deep waters. Your feet were only in the air for a brief moment before a pair of strong arms caught you midair. Upon physical contact, you snapped from your trance with a sharp gasp, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to panic.
A deep, gentle voice lulled you. It was then that you finally registered who it belonged to. The being who had saved you was the epitome is beauty. Everything about him exuded regality from the air of confidence and ease he carried himself with, to the adornments on his muscular body. A large gold and jade neck plate took up the most space on his expansive chest. Ropes of auriferous shells and opalescent-like pearls hung around his neck. Gilded cuffs were locked around his biceps, wrists, and ankles. You quickly noted the alabaster wings fluttering away attached to them, the very wings responsible for suspending the both of you in the air. Your eyes trailed to his delicately pointed ears, embellished with jewels just like the rest of him. The only clothing he sported was a pair of emerald shorts that left nothing to the imagination. The walls of muscle that were his thighs were on full display, the muscles of a man built to withstand the brutality of the ocean.
This was the man the elderly woman was speaking about. The man from the sea with feathers on his ankles.
That revelation should have scared you. Every alarm in your body should have gone off.
Escaping him should have been the only thing occupying your mind. You should have kicked and screamed until your throat was raw and bloody.
But you did no such thing.
Instead, it was the way he looked at you, gazing at you with the most intense smolder in his eyes that occupied your attention. He gazed at you with pure wonder, and held you delicately yet fiercely in his arms like you were the most precious thing in the entire world. Instinctively, you placed your hands on his bare chest, mindlessly tracing the dew drops sticking to his golden skin. The beautiful man shivered beneath your touch.
“500 years I have waited for you.” He whispered reverently.
Your mouth opened, prepared for a response that never came. Instead, your vision went dark.
─
You woke up to hushed voices and heedful, diligent hands. One set of hands languidly brushed your hair away from your face. Another daintily shimmied clothing onto your body once they were finished drying you off with the velvetiest cloth to ever touch your skin. The last set secured what you assumed was jewelry onto your wrists, neck, and ears. Upon opening your eyes, your assumption was correct. The dress on your body was stunning, embroidered with hundreds of crystalline beads. The jewels on your wrists alone were probably worth more than what you had made in your entire life.
The women who stood above you were unlike you had ever seen before. Their skin was a brilliant shade of cerulean. Vibrant, yet pleasantly understated. Masks covered their mouths and noses, but you could still see the bright smiles behind them.
“Hello,” You greeted shyly. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
Each of them let out a small cry, their eyes welling up with tears as they bowed earnestly.
“Bienvenido tin wotoch ti’, in reina.” They spoke warmly in unison, forming a gesture with their hands at you respectfully. Their mother tongue was foreign to you, but not for long. As if you had spoken it your entire life, your mind made quick work of interpreting it.
Welcome home, my queen.
Once again, you were puzzled. You had no idea where you were or who exactly that man was and why he had taken you here. You obviously hadn’t a single inkling as to what he meant by “500 years I have waited for you”. Now, these women were calling you their queen in a language you had never heard your entire life but somehow had the ability to understand perfectly.
The sound of feet pattering lightly gradually got closer and closer until the man of the hour stood before you at the foot of the bed. The women attending to you immediately turned their attention to him, bowing and forming the same hand gesture you had seen moments ago. He looked just as regal still, now adorned in a cape tucked into golden plates of armor on his shoulders. He regarded them gratefully.
“Leave us, my children. Thank you.”
They bowed to you both once more before swiftly making themselves haste. You now had his undivided attention.
“I hope you slept well. The healers said showed signs of exhaustion.”
“I—” You cleared your throat nervously. “I did, thank you.”
The barest hint of a smile graced his features. With graceful and controlled movements, he poured water into a glass and handed it to you.
“Do not be nervous.” He spoke lowly. “Speak freely.”
“Thank you.” You squeaked out again, taking a generous gulp of water before speaking again. “Where am I? Who are you?”
“My people call me K’uk’ulkan. To my enemies, I am Namor. You are in our kingdom – Talokan.”
The water got caught in your throat mid swallow, causing you to cough obnoxiously. The man who you now knew as K’uk’ulkan, discreetly smiled to himself as if this was a reaction he had anticipated. Before you could blurt out another string of questions, he held his hand out to you.
“Come. I will remedy all of your concerns.”
As if you had done so a million times, you placed your hand in his and stood by his side. Namor lead the both of you through a series of corridors. Your eyes took in your surroundings with pure astonishment. Cavern seemed to be a secluded corner for the king, crystal waters surrounding its premises. Bits of glittery minerals were embedded into the sediment walls. An air of serenity blanketed the entire area.
From the corner of his eye, Namor gaged your reactions, his heart so full of unfiltered adoration that it felt like it would explode in his chest. His hand was still tightly clutched in yours like it was second nature. Subconsciously, you had drawn your body closer to his. He was a meticulous man of control and strategy, but at that very moment, K’uk’ulkan wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms and kiss you breathlessly. The moment was cut short when you reached his study. He offered you a seat at his desk, drawing the door shut behind him for privacy. It didn’t take long for you to deduce that the murals painted on the walls were ones depicting the history of Talokan.
“Centuries ago, my people took an herb that allowed them to survive underwater. The herb was infused with vibranium. We are the only nation aside from Wakanda to possess it.” He began, his hands tracing over a painting of a beautiful woman cradling an infant. “My mother was pregnant with me when she ingested it. That is why I am the way I am – why I am the only one out of my people that can survive on both land and underwater, fly, and age slower than the rest. For this, they made me their king. Their god.”
You listened intently, fascinated by the discovery that they had remained a secret for this long.
“There was a prophecy made shortly after my birth. The gods promised me a soulmate.”
Turning around to face you, he bore his soul to yours through his eyes as he read the prophecy to you. With each word that fell from his lips, the world around you spun quicker and quicker. It made sense. It all made sense.
“I gave up on the idea of the prophecy coming true as time passed. In yakunaj, when you have lived as long as I have, seen as much as I have, happy endings are nothing but meaningless fallacies. But then, that night came…the night I heard you sing for the first time.”
He approached you slowly, cautiously like a wild animal that would take flight if startled by any sudden movements. What happened next made your eyes fill with tears; he knelt before you. This man – a king, a god – surrendered to you with no hesitation.
“I have finally found you…” He breathed, his orbs shining with devotion. “You are home. Why do you think you have no family? No one to trace your roots back to? You were made for me. Mine.”
Your face fell in between the palms of your hands as you wept. Quickly, your hands were replaced by his. He held your face in his hands like he was holding the entire world, the pads of his thumbs gently brushing away your tears.
“Why the tears, my love?”
You shook your head, placing your hands on top of his. The spark you felt every time the two of you touched could no longer be ignored.
“Why did they just now bring us together?” You cried. “We’ve both been alone for all this time, how could they not do something about it!”
“Shhh,” Namor cooed. “You think I have not been angry with them, my sweet? I have held myself back from tearing their skies and oceans apart just to find you. But what I feel for you right now in this very moment? That feeling will always win.”
The both of you said nothing more, for there was nothing that needed to be said. Your long lost love held you in his arms as you liberated yourself from what felt like decades of anguish. His grip never faltered even as you gripped his flesh hard enough to draw blood. Instead, he soothingly rocked you as he recounted the stories of his people’s origins. Talokan was a clandestine national treasure, one of the only things on the earth that had not been bastardized. That was all the doing of this wonderful being who had been promised to you.
“They were wrong about you. Your name.” You whispered. “You’re not without love, quite the opposite actually. The actions you have taken, the lengths you have gone to protect your people and your home, are ones of a man consumed with nothing but love. You can see it in how happy they are.”
With cautious hands, you caressed his cheeks. He preened against your touch, melting right into your palms. The world would never see the stoic warrior king falter, but already, you had him firmly wound around your finger. He could sit there for hours soaking in your ardor.
“Our home. Our people.” Namor corrected. “They can’t wait to meet you.”
Lovingly, he pressed his forehead to yours, nudging the tip of your nose with his.
“Are you ready to meet them?”
He observed endearingly as your eyes widened as large as flying saucers as you nodded overzealously, a giggle tumbling from your lips. K’uk’ulkan noted once more how full of love he felt. He wondered if this was what your lives together would consist of, overcome with all of the possibilities. Was adoring you more than he did in this moment even conceivable? When your smile faltered slightly, worry filled him.
“I’ve never seen…myself.”
“I am honored to be the first to see your true form.”
The two of you stood, walking hand in hand out of his personal study and to the outermost cove surrounded with the most water. Inhaling shakily, you eyed what awaited below you with apprehension. You were not human, far from it, and yet it felt as if you and your true form were worlds apart. Namor was silent. He knew this was something you needed to do alone. The only form of assurance offered to you was a look of encouragement.
Slowly, you dipped one foot into the water and allowed the other to follow. Keeping your eyes closed, you focused on your heart rate as your body adroitly descended into the abyss of the sea. You could have easily fallen asleep if it weren’t for a tingly sensation disrupting your peace. It started small, gradually winding around you until all at once, currents of electricity bolted through your limbs. Instinctively, your lungs expanded, and you took your first gulp of air underwater. You ripped your eyes open in bewilderment when you didn’t choke on water. The clear-cut view you had of your surroundings despite no sources of light being near further consolidated your shock. A noise akin to a squeak and gasp escaped your lips and before you knew it, you were cutting through the waters with newfound ease until your head broke the surface.
Namor would have given everything to his name to capture the sight before him. There you were, beaming at him with unrivaled radiance. He stopped breathing when you lifted your tail out of the water. Just when he thought you could not be any more magnificent than you already were, you defied his expectations. The scales covering the muscle were a range of shades of lapis lazuli, emerald, and gold. Towards the tips of your forked fin, they all blended into a rich shade of dark indigo. Your torso was bare but hidden behind your locks as they cascaded over your breasts. Namor could have gawked at you for hours if it weren’t for you playfully flicking water at his face. He felt light and dream-like as your melodious laughter echoed through the cavern. He decided then and there that your laughter was his favorite song. The scowl permanently etched onto his face fell. In its place, a smile so wide it hurt spawned. For the first time in centuries, he laughed so hard his abdomen hurt.
Powerless to his desires, he dove into the water after you, finding shelter in your embrace once more. Intuitively, your tail curled around one of his legs. He submerged the two of you back into the water and before you knew it, his lips were pressed against yours. Skin to skin, naked chests were tightly pressed against each other, your arms locked around his neck as your mouths feverishly meshed against one another. A barely audible moan slipped from your mouth right into his as his tongue pushed passed your lips. Namor voiced his pleasure with a low rumble from his chest. Pathetically, you could cry again right then and there. How could you have gone without this your whole life?
A loud clearing of the throat caused you both to cease your ministrations. Namor was anything but sorry as he pulled away with the softest expression you had seen on his face thus far. He regarded the two individuals standing in front of you – a hulking man with long inky tresses and an ornate headpiece resembling the skull of a hammerhead shark and a fierce looking woman with a feathered lionfish-esque headdress. Though both clearly high up in the royal ranks with a cutthroat reputation to uphold, they studied you and Namor with mischief.
“K’uk’alkan, they are waiting for her.” The man spoke.
“You might want to put this on before you go.” Spoke the woman, pulling an opulent bra top from behind her back and extending it towards you.
The state of undress you were in hit you like a bus. Your face felt like it was on fire from embarrassment, your lover pressing a tender kiss to your heated cheek. Tactfully, he maneuvered you away from the eyes of the warrior you now knew was Attuma. The woman, his cousin and second in command named Namora, expertly laced you into the garment.
“That was so embarrassing,” You mumbled to yourself once your modesty was secured.
Namor cracked a hint of a smirk.
“Attuma and my cousin expected nothing less from us. Now, shall we?”
─
Talokan was a magnificent sight. The agriculture was impressive, the vibranium rich soil working wonders for the crops. Sea creatures from colossal sized sea turtles, lengthy luminescent jellyfish of different colors, lively fish, and enormous whales to start were one with the Talokanil, peacefully existing with one another. The treatment you received from everyone was something you would never get used to. Despite not knowing you, they acknowledged you as if they had known you their entire lives. K reina perdida they called you with earnest smiles and misty eyes. Our lost queen.
But you were no longer lost.
It was evident in the way the orcas sang with you as you glided through the waters, seemingly understanding you in a way no one else could. Namor’s soul was finally content after seeing you swim freely, laughing so hard your stomach hurt as a couple of toddlers crawled around on your tail. His people loved you. Just as he thought they would. And you fit right in just as you were meant to. With further exploration of your physiology, the two of you discovered that like Namor, you could survive both underwater and on the surface, donning a set of legs seamlessly upon contact with land. Your strength, speed, and agility matched up perfectly with his. For hours, he chased you through the ocean, the both of you weaving in and out between walls of coral and tall beds of seaweed with dexterity. You truly were made for him.
A week later, you were officially crowned their queen. You and Namor ended the celebration with an intimate wedding ceremony in the cavern. After years of going without each other, neither of you had the patience to wait for a union on a grander scale. You both were enough – you would always be enough. And as he laid your bare body across the bed he occupied by himself for half a millennium, he was confident in that conviction.
You felt dizzy as he pressed his hard bulge against your core. The most heavenly noise to grace your ears came out of your now husband when you raised your hips to grind against it. Your hands liberally roamed his chest, now stripped of his jewels, before slithering to his robust back. Your nails drew tiny half moons as they dug into his flesh when his lips made their way to the column of your neck. The decorum of countenance he upheld was nowhere to be found as he ravaged your breasts with his mouth, lightly tugging your erect nipple between his teeth before he began to suckle. You cried out pathetically. His lips twitched, umber orbs now staring up at you with lust.
“You are so noisy for me,” He purred. “I have not even touched the most sensitive parts of your body yet.”
“Please,” You breathed. “Please, I need you,”
Namor made his way down your body, leaving no part of you untouched by his lips. Deftly, he gripped your thighs and place both of your legs over his shoulders. Gently, he kissed your dripping core.
“You have me, my love. Always.”
His mouth took you straight to heaven. He devoured you like a man starved, tongue flicking your nub of nerves tirelessly with precision. Your thighs were already trembling, but he had just gotten started. Your orgasm crept up on you, the strongest one you had ever experienced. It left you heaving with your back arched off of the bed, unable to do anything besides chant his name like a mantra. But your beloved’s ministrations did not cease. He continued working at your core, now swollen and glistening from your juices and his spit. The second orgasm built up slowly, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with each time he sucked your clit. The final straw was when you noticed his hips gyrating. He was pleasuring himself while pleasuring you. This time when you came on your lover’s tongue, no words or sounds were able to slip passed your mouth. You were quite literally speechless.
With a satisfied moan, he lapped up the rest of your arousal, cooing to you as you quivered and whimpered from hypersensitivity. His scorching body covered yours once more, his lips familiarizing themselves with yours. Namor held you tightly against him, whispering sweet nothings against your lips as you steadied your breathing. It wasn’t long before you felt the head of his cock prodding your entrance. Gripping your face firmly, he forced your eyes open. The frenzied look in his eyes as he languidly sunk into you alone could have made you come for the third time that night. But alas, the universe was on your side. Instead, you savored that moment – the feeling of him. Every inch, every vein, ingrained into your memories for as long as you shall live.
“You feel incredible.” Namor panted, now beginning to steadily thrust. “You truly were made for me.”
You could only respond with wanton cries, too consumed with desire. The king began to piston in and out of you until he was fully pounding you into your marital bed.
“Namor!”
He grunted into your ear, pulling out of you for a brief moment to flip you onto your stomach. He plunged back into you and picked up right where he left off. This time, however, he was brutal with the punctuality of his thrusts.
“Am I your enemy, wife?” He taunted. “Are you even worthy of any mercy I have to spare?”
At this point, you could not even recognize the sounds you were making. They were debauched. Depraved. Combined with rhythmic percussion of skin against skin and the squelch of your wet cunt each time Namor entered you, the song you two orchestrated was one only for the lecherous.
“K’uk’ulkan,” You barely managed to murmur. “I’m s-so close, you make me feel so good,”
He hummed satisfactorily, driving into you even faster.
“You are, aren’t you, my sweet? That’s it, sing for me. Take my seed. Carry my children.”
“Please!” You screamed as your walls convulsed around his cock. Please come in me,”
With a shout and one final thrust, he released in you. Rope after rope, he filled you with his cum with proclamations of everlasting love on the tip of his tongue. His cock remained nestled deep within you as you both descended from your highs, keeping his spent from spilling. He shuddered at the image of you round and radiant carrying his child and just like that, he was hardening inside you once more. As you lay there, thoroughly cock drunk, he began to pull out of you and slowly push back in. This time, he was tender and gentle, unhurriedly focused on taking you apart for one final time that night. The two of you had centuries left together. There was no need to rush. Then again, Namor could live another 500 years with you by his side and still feel like it was not enough. He needed you forever, and then some.
“I love you,” He whispered against the blade of your shoulder. “You are everything.”
The next morning you would wake to the sight of your husband painting a new mural. One of a beautiful woman with the upper body of a human, and the lower body of a fish. By her side, a man with ears that pointed to the skies and wings on his ankles, their eyes locked and hands intertwined.
The beginning of your story.
#namor x reader#namor x you#namor x y/n#namor x poc!reader#namor x filipina!reader#namor the sub mariner#namor fanfiction#k'uk'ulkan#k'uk'ulkan x reader#tenoch huerta#tenoch huerta x reader#tenoch huerta smut#tenoch huerta mejia
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The Stranger - Pt 1
Part Two | Part Three
Pairing: Namor x Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: Language, blood, brief mentions of violence and alcohol
Summary: Upon discovering the unconscious body of a woman floating in the water, you rush to provide aid. Little do you know her people are searching for her, bringing a mysterious man to your door.
A/N: Still very new to writing fanfic (this is literally post number two), but couldn’t get this drabble out of my brain for a week so here it is. Please be kind!
***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!
It’s close to dusk when you make your way from town back to your home on the secluded shoreline. With food and supplies in a bag slung over your shoulder, it will be another two or three days before you head back to restock. Although a fair distance, you have come to cherish the 5-mile trek into town. Walking along less traveled paths, visiting with the locals, and admiring the breathtaking nature around you have become some of your favorite things about living on the island.
As the sun steals its last glimpse over the horizon, the vibrant orange and purple hues stretching across the sky begin to dim. The outline of a small bungalow comes into view about a hundred meters down the way. The warm glow of lanterns you hung before you left shines from the front porch, welcoming your return.
You stumbled across this place two years ago, abandoned and needing major repair. Maybe it was just your nature to see the beauty and potential in broken things, but as soon as you laid eyes on the residence, your heart was set on it. Wrapped around the front is a porch with stairs that lead down onto a stone path, eventually making its way to the sand. Through the front door, an open entryway and a small kitchen are situated to the left accompanied by a simple sitting area. To the right is a doorway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom. It's a humble home, but you've worked hard to make it comfortable.
As you walk the familiar pathway toward the bungalow, you look out at the ocean. You watch as the water dances its way up the beach with every push and pull of the tide, waves gently lapping their way up onto the sand to make a melodic rhythm. You breathe in the salty air and revel in the beauty the island so generously offers.
The moment of serenity is interrupted when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice something just past the wave breaks. You squint as you try to focus your gaze to ensure the evening shadows aren't playing tricks on you. A shiver shoots down your spine.
There's something floating in the water. Only, it's not something. It's someone.
"Oh my god," you say in disbelief, your eyes widening as you feel the air rush from your lungs.
You react on pure instinct, immediately dropping your bag to the ground and sprinting into the water. Taking a deep breath, you plunge straight into the waves, pumping your arms and kicking your legs until they burn. You swim as hard as you can toward the body as it floats face down.
When you reach it, you fear the worst. Quickly you turn it over to check for a pulse and discover it is a woman. Her frame is small, but she's solid and muscular. Body adorned with beautiful gold and jade trinkets, she appears to be wearing some sort of woven armor. You also notice her raven-black hair tied in a knot on top of her head, and a mesh-like apparatus covering her nose and mouth.
You carefully cradle the woman's head, lifting it out of the water.
"What the hell??" You mutter in shock.
Right before your eyes, part of the woman’s face that is now exposed to the air turns a pale pigment of blue. She seems human enough, yet the way the blueness of her skin contrasts with its golden tones underneath the ocean surface makes you question what she might be instead.
All thoughts are pushed aside, however, the moment your attention is drawn to the sight of blood. Two gouges, a laceration across her shoulder, and a wound to her abdomen are seeping red into the salt water. She’s in poor condition and time is not on your side.
Doing your best to grapple her body, you kick your feet and pull the woman back to shore. The tide's added assistance gives you both the momentum needed to propel you toward the beach. As soon as you are able to stand, you turn and haul her body the rest of the way out of the ocean.
Gently you lay her on a patch of dry sand as you take a moment to catch your breath. Your chest repeatedly rises and falls, your lungs straining for more oxygen. Staring at her now, you feel your heart nearly pounding out of your chest as the rest of her body turns the same shade of blue as her face. You shake your head as you fight back both your fear and curiosity. Whatever the woman's origins, tending to her wounds is your main priority. Help her now, and ask questions later.
Still unconscious, you reach up to remove the apparatus over her face, preparing to administer CPR. Suddenly, her arm shoots out and grasps your wrist, scaring the shit out of you. With unbelievable strength, she restrains any movement your hand could possibly make. Her eyes are wide and intense, pupils dilated.
"Okay, okay, I won't mess with it!" You promise. Her grip slackens as her eyes roll to the back of her head, losing consciousness again.
You rub your wrist, the bruise already forming. Deciding it would be best to move her from behind, you link yourself under her arms and pull her towards your home, unwittingly leaving a trail of sand and blood behind you.
Making it to the bungalow, you manage to get the woman inside and onto your kitchen table. She's breathing, but it's shallow. Quickly, you grab all the first aid and sewing supplies you can scrounge out of the cabinets. You swipe a bottle of tequila from the shelf above the sink for good measure. Then you get to work to patch her up the best you can.
You clean the wound on her abdomen first, as that's where the bleeding is most prominent. Disinfecting it, applying pressure, then sewing it up, you focus meticulously on the needle in your hand, threading it back and forth through her skin. Once you finish, you fashion a bandage to soak up the excess blood.
The sky is dark as you move on to her shoulder to do the same. It feels like hours have gone by as you continue dressing the woman's wounds. It’s well into the night now, and the only light reflecting off the ocean for miles is from the moon and the lanterns of your home.
That's when he finds you.
A dark figure emerges from the water. He surveys the scene in front of him, eyes filling with rage as his focus dials in on the bloody trail leading up to your door. Spear in hand and body seething with anger, he marches towards your little house.
Just as you clip the thread used to sew up the woman's shoulder and begin to apply another bandage, you're startled by a deafening CRASH!
Behind you, your front door gets obliterated. Through it, storms a man who quickly steps over the wooden debris that now litters the floor. His presence swallows the room as water drips off of his body. His eyes lock on to yours.
"Holy shit!" You exclaim in terror. Before you know what is happening, he has made his way over to you, aggressively backing you up against the kitchen cabinets.
Face-to-face with you now, he holds the tip of his spear to your throat, grazing your skin with it threateningly. He leans in so close you smell the salty ocean spray that covers his dark skin and can practically see your reflection in the cold piece of jade pierced through his septum. His breath is steady, but his glare is wild and ferocious. You raise your hands, attempting to show you mean no harm, only you don't account for the fact that your arms are covered in the woman's blood. His look becomes more menacing.
"What have you done?" He growls, his voice low and dangerous. A fire is burning in his eyes as they widen with rage.
"I'm helping her! I'm helping her!" is all you manage to say as you plead your case to the mysterious, hostile stranger.
His stare remains intense as you feel the growing pressure of the cold metal spear against your throat. Everything inside you is screaming, telling you to close your eyes and that one way or another it will all be over soon. But you don't - you hold your ground and hold his gaze, searching his face for any shred of hope that he will spare your life.
The man's eyes flick over to the woman on the table, taking in more of the scene. As his head turns, you notice his pointed ears and beautifully hand-carved gauges made of jade. He turns his head slowly back to you, looking at you this time as if deliberating in his mind whether or not you are telling the truth.
Again he leans in close, and you hold your breath as you await his final verdict.
"You will speak of this to no one." It's not a question. It's a command.
You nod, willing to agree to anything at this point if it means not having your jugular sliced open.
"You will forget this night, and what you have seen."
Again you nod.
He keeps the spear pointed at your throat while carefully backing away toward the table. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as adrenaline pumps through your veins. You don't dare move a muscle.
The man retreats, withdrawing his spear and scooping up the woman who looks so petite in his arms. He carries her through the doorway but stops to look back at you. He says nothing, but his eyes are deadlocked on yours. You can’t describe or decipher the electric sensation that runs through your body at that moment, so you chalk it up to being in shock.
Finally, he turns to leave, seemingly floating down to the shoreline with the woman securely in his arms. You watch as they disappear into the ocean and the night.
Left alone, surrounded only by silence, the stinging memory of a blade against your neck, and a buzzing in your chest, you look around the empty kitchen. Blood and first aid supplies cover your table; debris that was once your front door now lays scattered across the floor, a draft gliding its way through your home.
Your mind is still processing everything that has happened. Physically and emotionally, you are exhausted.
"Screw it," you say out loud, grabbing the tequila still on the table and taking a swig straight from the bottle. "I'm going to bed."
--
You wake up the next morning as the sun is starting to rise and feel just as exhausted as when you had fallen asleep. Your mind is hazy. Your body is sore. You get up and pull on a fresh shirt and some shorts before making your way out of your bedroom. Groggily you shuffle through the entryway and into the kitchen to greet last night's mess.
Only a few steps into the kitchen, however, you stop. Blinking a few times, you rub your eyes. On the table, where bloodied gauze, cloths, sewing needles, and the works had been scattered, now sits your bag next to a neat pile of the food and supplies you had gathered from yesterday's trip into town. You look down at your feet to discover a clean, debris-less floor. Moving in reverse, you pace a few steps back into the entryway and turn your head. Stunned, you see a new, beautifully carved wooden door in place of where your old one had been kicked down the night before.
You pinch your temples as you try to convince yourself you're not losing your mind. You move closer to inspect the door. Eyes full of wonder and amazement, you run your fingers down its wooden grooves. The surface is smooth as stone, yet the grain in it gives the material a richness that makes your jaw drop as you admire it.
Before you can even ask yourself how it was possible, you open the door and your breath catches in your throat. The man from last night is sitting there on your front porch, legs hanging off the edge of it, looking out at the softly illuminated horizon.
"I apologize about the door." He says, still facing the ocean.
Fear takes over as you find yourself frozen in his presence. He senses your uneasiness and, still seated on the edge of the porch, turns toward you. He raises one hand to the air as a sign of his peaceful intention.
"I promise I am not here to bring harm to you... or your home," he adds, his eyes trailing toward the doorway. You say nothing, equally stunned and confused by his being there.
"I am sorry for threatening you," he says, his voice turning somber. "I didn't know what you were doing to her."
"Is she okay?" You ask, finally finding your voice. "Your wife?"
He lets out a sharp chuckle.
"Namora isn't my wife, she's one of my generals -- my best, in fact. And yes, she is okay, thanks to you."
A general. You avert your gaze, feeling foolish for assuming incorrectly. Suddenly the events of last night take on a different tone than what you had perceived.
"We had been searching for her for two days." The man continues to explain, "When I finally traced her whereabouts here and found her with you, I assumed the worst." He looks back out toward the ocean. "History has not typically been kind to my people in these types of situations."
You feel your chest tighten as the weight of his words sinks in. Your eyes wander from the ground up to the stranger. You watch as beads of salt water forge paths on his skin, rolling from his dark slick hair down the toned muscles of his back.
"Who... are your people, exactly? Who are you?" You find the courage to ask.
He turns back to look at you, raising an eyebrow in your direction as he considers his answers.
"There are some who know me as K’uk’ulkan." He says thoughtfully. "But most know me as Namor." Pushing himself up to a stand, he continues, "As for my people, that is a discussion for another time."
Namor walks up to you, and once again you find yourself face-to-face with him. Only this time his presence is not menacing, it's hypnotizing.
"Thank you," he says softly, "for what you did. It will not be forgotten."
There's a rich sincerity in his voice. Mesmerized by it, all you can muster in response is a nod of your head. A slight smile pulls at the corners of Namor's mouth as he closely studies your face. The light of the morning sun reflects in his eyes, and where you had only seen brooding darkness before, you now see shimmering flecks of gold. Everything about him is beautiful.
"You are not what I expected." He says warmly, leaning in closer as if the two of you are sharing a secret. He lingers there a moment longer. Then, all too soon, he nods and turns to head down the stairs of your front porch. As he reaches the end of the stone walkway, he stops before stepping out onto the sand.
"Remember," he says, repeating his instructions from your encounter last night, only gentler. "Speak of this to no one."
"Will you be back?" You ask earnestly. You don't know what prompts your question, other than the thought of his departure suddenly pulling at your soul in a way you can't explain.
He turns back to look at you and smiles. You return it with a smile of your own. No words are needed for you to know that somehow, someday, you would see him again.
You watch from the porch as Namor strides out into the water and disappears below the surface. The sun glimmers brilliantly across the waves as they engulf him in their deep abyss.
#namor#namor x reader#namor x you#mcu namor#namor x y/n#k'uk'ulkan#namor fluff#namor imagine#mcu imagine#namor fanfic#namor fanfiction#namora#wakanda forever#namor x gen!reader#namor x fem!reader
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Baby, all at once, this is enough (Namor x f!reader)
(Still obsessed with him, don’t judge me)
Masterlist
Pairing: Namor x F!reader
Word count: 574
Summary: You gave him one of the gratest gifts he could have ever asked for.
Warning: Nothing to be honest, just the must pure of purest fluff, I think.
A/N: What can I say? I love him so much that I will write for him to the day I die
Translations:
In yakunaj - My love
Jats'uts - beautiful
In reina - My queen
Meent in ts'áaik teen asab ti' le ba'ax je'el k'áatik, Nib óolal in yaakunaj. - You have given me more than I could ever ask for, thank you my love
Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received!
Namor enter quietly to his quarters, not wanting to disturb you if you were resting. He remembered the moment he saw you laying on his bed, so pale and weak, that the thought of loosing you terrified him. He just couldn’t stand seeing you like that. He couldn’t. You were everything, his strength, his heart, his soul. He was a changed man because of you.
You opened your eyes at the sound of him, a smile immediately forming on your face. “Hi.” You whispered.
“In yakunaj.” He kneeled at your side, his hands quickly grabbing yours, kissing your palms. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”
You laugh. “I have everything I could ever need at the moment.”
Namor smiled, even after all this time, he waiting for you to ask anything, you would always deny that offer. “You are glowing.” One of his hands left yours and brush away the few strands of hair that glued to your face thanks to the sweat. “Jats'uts.”
“So you are saying I was not beautiful before?” You said, the smile still on your face. Namor shook his head in amusement. “Have you seen them?”
“Not yet.” He kissed your forehead. “I wanted to see you first, needed to make sure you didn’t leave me.”
“As if I could leave you alone.” You whispered back.
As if on cue, Namora entered smiling, two little bundles tucked on her arms. “K'uk'ulkan.” She nodded at Namor, turning quickly to you. “In reina.”
Namor left your side for a moment, walking towards Namora, gently taking away one of the babies. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his son, cradling him as gently as he could. You had given him so much more than he ever expected to have. Much more than he deserved.
Namora soflty place the baby girl on your arms, her fingers tracing the features of the infant with so much wonder before taking her leave, leaving both parents to bond with their children.
He walked to you, sitting on your side. Your head rested on his arm, as he watched both of his children. “Meent in ts'áaik teen asab ti' le ba'ax je'el k'áatik, Nib óolal in yaakunaj.” He kissed your forehead, making you close your eyes. Namor couldn’t help the tears that began falling down on his face, looking back and forth between his children. “I vow to protect them, to protect you.”
You hummed, a bit tired from everything. “You don’t have to vow anything, I know you will do it regardless.” Your tired eyes watched how your husband brushed his hand over your son’s bald head. At that moment, you love him even more than you had before.
“The others want to meet them soon.” Namor whispered against your hair, noticing how your eyes began to close. “I manage to appease them for a little bit, but I am afraid that they will demand to know them soon.”
“I know, Namora didn’t leave my side until they were born, I think she even threatened the midwife when she made a mistake.” You laughed, your eyes finally closed.
Namor hummed in approval. “Remind me to thank her later.” He put his son on the basket, the one that the old women from Talokan had given him before, repeating the action with his daughter. “Rest, in yaakunaj, you have earn it.”
“Stay.” You muttered against his chest.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
#namor x y/n#namor x you#namor x reader#namor fluff#tenoch huerta#namor#kukulcan#black panther#black panther wakanda forever#K'uk'ulkan#namor imagine#namor fanfiction#namor of talokan#i still love this man#he is so precious#and my life#namor baby i love you#im still waiting for you baby
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Judgement
Namor x Reader
Word Count: 870
Summary: You chose humanity over your heart. And now you were here to face judgement by the person who shattered it.
A/N: No Namor fics yet? *Thanos Voice* Fine…. I’ll do it myself. (LMK if we are digging this for a part 2 lol)
Warnings: 18+ Only, Lil smut (if I do a part 2 there will be more lol), angst, implied previous smut, possessiveness, suicidal thoughts, war, wakanda forever spoilers, possible incorrect Mayan language translation (tried my best with research but if anyone out there has feedback please let me know!!!)
Masterlist and How to Send a Prompt
Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!
-
You shouldn’t be here.
War raged, and yet you found yourself on the sand, standing at the edge of a turbulent ocean. The waves churned just as turmoil stirred in your veins. Your guilted thoughts raced, tears filling your eyes.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
You stepped into the surf, too numb to the feeling of its icy waters.
I deserve this.
Forgive me.
The water stilled, as if in the eye of the hurricane.
And then, he emerged from the surface, molten eyes filled with wrath.
The wrath of a god.
Ku'ku'lkán.
Namor.
You fell to your knees, sand biting into the skin, transfixed by his fury.
He was just as you remembered so long ago…. So painfully beautiful, like the sight of a wave eroding a cliff side.
He became more than a god to you. Friend. Companion. Lover.
In the beginning, all he asked for was your loyalty and silence on him and his people. You gave him not only this but love. In return, he revealed himself parts of himself to you in those moments together, slowly showing you all of himself over time.
He gifted you something he never gave to anyone on land.
Trust and devotion.
You were gladly blinded by this dream of a man and woman in love... A man who made you laugh so hard until your sides hurt, painted you beautiful stories of his kingdom with words, brought you art and trinkets from the depths of his home, confided in you, taught you his mother’s tongue, and coaxed your utter undoing each night with his hands, his mouth, and his body.
He was the water, current, waves, and the depths of an ocean and people.
You fell in love with a god.
But a god cannot love a person who betrayed him and his people.
He chose war against humanity instead of you.
And you chose humanity instead of your heart.
He promised to kill you if you ever stepped into an ocean again the day you parted.
You deserved his wrath, forsaking him for the world above. This war had waged too long with violence committed on both sides, but the people of Talokan, who you had come to love through Namor, were being slaughtered. The guilt disintegrated what left of your heart remained. And you came here before your anguish consumes you, knowing it was would be the end.
You didn’t realize your head had bowed in shame until you felt the cool blade of his spear tuck under your chin, lifting it up.
His face was blurred in your tear-soaked vision, but you could see eyes churned with an emotion you feared to never see….
Rage. Anguish.
Your tears flowed silently, pinching your lips together for fear of choking on your breath.
He just stood there, the pressure of the blade never increasing or decreasing. He had seen battle since you last saw him, three distinct claw marks scarring his cheek. You ached for him and his suffering in this war. If only you stayed. If only you chose him.
If only.
If only.
If only.
And then the blade left your chin. He slammed the tip of it into the ocean floor, the sound of it rippling across the water.
Namor extended his hand.
You didn’t hesitate to place it in his, the warmth of his hand enveloping yours like the sun.
Namor’s eyes had calmed, the tempest in them before now a gentle current. You were lulled by them as he brought you to your feet.
He pulled you with him further into the water, his eyes remaining fixed upon yours.
And once you were weightless in the ocean, he pulled you to him, your body flush against his own with hand wrapped around your back. You’re warmed, the memories and feeling of him radiating through your body.
He cupped your cheek with one hand.
His decision was made, eyes softening.
Forgiveness.
Namor chose forgiveness.
And then you broke, tears continuing to fall as you sobbed. “Ma'taali'teeni' ajawo’.”
I’m sorry, my king.
That same hand gripped the back of your neck, your face now tipped up to meet his own. You could barely breathe as his gaze burned through your own.
And he breathed one word, carving it into your soul.
Mine.
His mouth crashed into yours, coaxing it open where he poured his fury, rage, forgiveness, and love with your own. He stole your breath, suffocating it as he adored your lips, your jaw, your neck. He repeated the word to you over and over again. Your core pulsed with the heartbeat rushing through your ears.
And then he murmured new words in whispers over and over your skin.
In k'aatech.
I love you.
You whimpered, tilting your head to the sky and arching into him as his adoration became desperate. He lavished an open kiss on the pendant at the base of your neck… A gift he gave you the first night he made love to you.
You were his that day long before he spoke the words to you now.
And then his mouth found yours again before he pulled you under a swelling wave, sending you both beneath the surface into that vast, endless blue.
To his home.
To Talokan.
-
A/N: TENOCH ILY I AM NOT OVER THIS MAN AND THIS MOVIEEE
Update: part 2 is being worked on 🫶😽
#namor#mcu namor#tenoch huerta#wakanda forever#black panther#namor x reader#namor x gen!reader#namor smut#namor angst#namor FanFiction#mcu fanfiction#black panther fic#wakanda forever fic#storyarcscribe
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Tenoch Huerta and the racism in Mexico that he wants to be known about: a little bit of "Orgullo Prieto"
Photo taken for EL PAÍS, 09.07.22
For a few weeks Tenoch Huerta has been a trend on different social networks (which makes me proud, certainly. Hollywood finally makes the right people famous 👏) thanks to his portrayal of Namor in "Black Panther: Wakanda Forever" (I already read all your fics, they're amazing by the way).
But today I want to talk about something else, beyond his sexy back, his great performance as Namor and his countless and exotic sexual fetishes: his first book, in which he exposes, without stuttering, racism in Mexico: "Orgullo Prieto".
For those who don't know, Tenoch is an actor who for some time has turned his privileged speaker into a continuous platform against racism in Mexico.
This year, a few months before the premiere of his most recent film, Tenoch gave us this beauty, where, based on reflections, anecdotes, questions, concepts and ideas, he covers this topic, in an attempt to answer the question: of what we talk when we talk about...?
I had the opportunity to read a little of this book, which from the first page captivated me. You may not believe me, but throughout the entire reading I was smiling. Not because Tenoch was telling a story that made me happy or saying something funny, but because every word this man wrote, every word from which I learned something new. It left me floored. As part of Mexican society, reading this book (even if it was only a small part of it) made me realize the impact that racism had and has on my life and those around me. It made me question the origin of every decision I've made in the past and many of them come from the same root: racism, which without realizing it, was instilled in me since I was a child.
Leaving my sentimental speech behind, I would like to share with you small parts of—what I read from—this book, phrases and stories that made me think, get out of my comfort zone and say: "Verga, estamos bien jodidotes".
—
"racism exists in everything: in every governmental, social, private, cultural institution and even in language. If we are part of this society and participate in all of the above, without needing to be violent or actively aggressor , whether we want to realize it or not, we are all racists. You and me too. Why? Because we were trained in it and it conditioned us, and because we ignore it for centuries so as not to speak openly and on a daily basis about the subject."
"It was too tired and painful. (He was talking about his attempt to belong to the whiteness) That attempt to assimilate me, to mix myself, cost me a lot. Little by little I came back to myself, but there is something I still can not recover from: I lost my linguistic identity, and I think forever. I stopped sounding like myself, like I sounded all my life. I stopped sounding like my childhood, like my friends, like my family. Years after having lost or forgotten this part of my identity, I took a voice workshop where the teacher said: "The eyes are the mirror of the soul, but the voice is the mirror of intimacy". I had lost it: I had lost myself. I was adrift for a few years and made a number of stupid things that separated me from my true and original being."
"I remember when, as a child, a teacher asked me if my parents weren't ashamed for giving me a dog's name. She was Mexican, brown like me, and part of the same population group. Without knowing it, with that question, she was denying our roots, our identity. She did it because she surely grew up hearing (also at school, the same from monographs or history books full of Europhile biases) that our ancestors were savages and that Europeans were an "advanced" civilization, just because they were cool, because they were splendid, They came to save us from an almost animal life. We must thank them for our "humanization" or something like that. Was it really like that? Were the Mesoamerican peoples the true savages?"
"I remember one of my girlfriends, brown girl, who always sought shade or avoided sunbathing at all costs because "it burned her face". She didn't say it because she was worried about getting skin cancer, but because she didn't want it to darken. She even told me that it was to avoid stains. She searched for all possible euphemisms to turn around the real reason: not to get "more dark". It is clear to me that she, like others, surely grew up hearing that the ideal way to be beautiful was to aspire to be white and that if you are dark, you have to avoid being even more so. They are aggressions that mark us."
"What happens then with those who deny racism in their country? Being racist is a "bad" thing. So, first: no one comes off as racist because no one wants to be the bad guy. Second: since they do not see themselves in that situation, riding a horse burning crosses, it means that they are not racist. It would be like saying that men who commit gender violence are only those who have reached the point of beating or murdering a woman. Seen like this, if I don't wear the cone, I'm not a racist. Mistake."
—
#tenoch huerta#tenoch x reader#poder prieto#orgullo prieto#justicia social#social justice#mexico#mexican#racisim#clasismo#tenoch huerta namor#king namor#namor smut#namor fanfiction#prince namor#marvel#wakanda forever#black panther#marvel universe#activism#namor x reader#pase 8 hrs escribiendo esto qué
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Dilf! Namor...so tempted to write hcs for that
well let me inspire you with this hot mess bestie 👀
pairing: dbf!namor x (f)reader
warnings: eighteen+ content, unedited because it’s late and i’m lazy so beware of hella spelling mistakes, lowercase, sexual tension to the max, alcohol mention, pining, and kissing, that’s literally it but it’s more inner monologue and tension heavy than anything honestly.
note: bro this was supposed to be multple hcs but turned into one long ass tension filled mess lmao, i’m sorry but dbf!namor took over, it’s just perfect for him!!
part two | feel free to send me thots on these two!
i saw a gifset where tenoch was riding a motorcycle so obviously that's dbf!namor get's around, and he's giving brooding, grumpy, man who is always scowling at you and you're not even sure if he really likes you. if he is only polite for your dads sake
but one night you go out with your friends and have a little too much to drink-and using uber right now with your vision blurry and fingers key punching so bad your messages look like a toddler did them-namor is the first person you think to call. why? you're not sure. and you almost regret it, retreat into yourself-sober up-when you hear his rough voice answer, the "hello" landing heavy in the pit of your stomach
it take you a few deep breaths and closing your eyes to steady your tipsy mind on why you even called, your name on his lips sounding stern, adjacent to being worried you think
"where are you? stay where you are." and he's there before you realize it. the loud rumble of his bike as he pulls up in front of you making your entire being vibrate with nerves. "you need better friends." he says as he hands you the helmet that was just on his head, pleasantries dead as always
"what about you?"
"just get on." it's a command, rushed, demanding, as he helps your wobbly limbs onto the bike. wordlessly pulling your wrist to have your arms wrap around his midsection. and it's probably the liquor in your system that has every bump, the vibration of the bike, the wind whipping against the tops of your thighs-or maybe it's the heady affect his cologne that engulfs the inside of the helmet-how you almost feel completely compliant and light to lay your head on his shoulder. to let your palm spread flat against his rib bone
the heavy thump of his heart matching the same speed of the thumping that leads from your chest cavity to regions it has no right to be in. and when you expect him to fix your hold on him, to shrug off your head from his shoulder, he gives you no reaction. something that both makes your nerves burn and grow cold at the same time
when he pulls into your driveway, pulling himself off of the bike first, his fingers rubbing against your chin as he undoes the clip keeping the helmet steady on your head. helping your drunken hands pull it off your head-there's a moment where his eyes catch on your outfit. like he's really taking it in now, letting his eyes drag along your exposed thigh, before that signature scowl is pulling a shadow over his eyes again
"your father home?"
"no."
"do you need help inside?"
yes. is the first thing that comes to mind. yes, please. a heat bringing itself to your cheeks when you internally shame yourself for it. lock away somewhere in your brain that tipsy you cannot be trusted to think clearly-normally. and there's a split second where you think maybe he's shaming himself for something, that the two of you are sharing the same thought, the same link to something that maybe has always been there but you've stuffed away because it was better that way-proper, normal. with the way he's just staring at you
"no." you say again. your tongue feeling heavy and dry in your mouth as you swallow and force yourself to look away from him. brace your hands on the bike to pull yourself from it but end up catching your foot and ending up where you shouldn't be: in his arms. your palms once again finding themselves pressed to his front as he wraps an arm around you to stop you from planting yourself on the harsh pavement
"let me walk you inside." he says low and gruff against your temple. your insides turning into liquid compliance as you nod without a second thought. his breath heavily fanning itself across your skin as it takes a minute, two, three, before he's pulling you from his chest and holding your wrist to help you inside
once you're inside he drops your wrist, doesn't speak, just watches as you move on wobbly legs to the stairs. the pathetic thought to trip, to plummet yourself down the steps in hopes he'll touch you again, is volleying itself back and forth between just running up the stairs and sleeping this off and waking up to whatever this tension-filled-air-and insanity going on in your head-is gone
"thank you," you send over your shoulder as your fingers have a death grip on the railing. forcing yourself to surface a smile that you know probably looks as ridiculous as it feels to your burning cheeks
namor hums, nods, keeps his eyes on every step you take up the stairs, hype focused incase you fall-you assume. "do you need me to stay?"
you know he means it politely. not in the way your body is currently taking it, he's your dads friend, besides tonight he's barely shown you a kindness besides a pressed smile. you really need to sleep. need to reset your mind back to normal because his words shouldn't stop you in your tracks. have your body internally clenching at the intensity of his stare, from the glint in them that you're definitely imagining when you watch him move closer to the bottom of the steps-because you probably look like a tripping hazard right now
"do you want to stay?" the words leave your mouth before that last sober cell in your body can stop them-stop you from making a fool out of yourself
"i want you to be safe." he replies simply. you don't know why the answer only fills you with disappointment. i'll be fine, leaving your lips as you quickly take the rest of the steps up to your room. ignore the way you feel foolish and silly as you slip into bed
a silly feeling that still lingers when you walk down stairs the next morning to see a rumpled sheet and blanket on the couch deserted, and the smell of food coming from the kitchen. a sticky note stuck to a plate covered in foil on the counter: eat. simple. to the point. but still bringing a smile to your lips and those silly feelings imbedding themselves into your marrow
turning into something burning and aching when you see him again. when he drops something off for your dad and he's nowhere to be found in sight. when the two of you are stuck in the kitchen together, a heavy silence weighing down the air that seems to suck itself from your lungs the longer the two of you just stand here. the longer he keeps looking anywhere but you as his grip tightens on the neck of the beer you offered him-mentioning your father would be home any minute now
"thank you for staying, and for the food."
a nod. curt. ever him.
"you didn't have to help me-"
"think so little of me?"
"that's-i didn't mean it like that-i-" you want to state how he's avoided you like the plague before that. how his face morphs into a scowl when you enter the same room as him. how you are certain he hates you, still think that, just maybe a little less after helping you
"you need better friends." he repeats himself from the other night. making an annoyance shift your emotions
"so does my father."
the snort he lets out from under his breath shocks you, as does the pull of the corner of his mouth in the smallest-genuine-smiles you've ever seen him give you. it makes your stomach swoop
"i'm glad you called me."
"that's hard to believe. i'm confident this is the most you've spoken to me in a span of minutes." you joke, the corner of his mouth pulling into a full grin that makes you upset you've never seen him smile before this-has he always been this handsome?
"and here i thought you were a smart girl." the words would wound you if he wasn't staring at you like that over the bottle pressed to his lips. how even when he sets it back on the counter his eyes are still boring into your very being, right to that part of your body that you're understanding now has always wanted him. that you slowly realize, after much analysis to everything that happened the other night: the look in his eyes, the grip he had on your body to make sure you were kept safe, how he didn't even second guess or ask questions when you called, just demanding to know where you were, and to wait for him-that he was coming to get you and that was that
and it’s like a domino effect because now all you can think about is the stolen glances you’ve let go unnoticed, that you’ve chalked up to some festering dislike he may have had for you. how quickly his eyes shifted away from you when your father was in the room, how you’d look over and see him already looking at you when your father was distracted-that scowling coming back, the swivel of his head away from you almost something you’d see a frustrated animal do
maybe you weren’t as smart as either of you thought. or maybe being blind to something you both ignored was better than doing something you’d possibly regret later
if it were that, the fear of betrayal and regret, it didn’t seem to have any place in the room as you watch him finish his beer, walk around the counter to stand in front of you. reaching past you-your chests touching for half a second, your breath getting caught in your lungs-as he sets the empty bottle beside the sink behind you. and when you expect him to move away, to bid you goodbye, you feel his finger under your chin lifting your gaze from the floor. his deep brown eyes sucking every last potential breath from your lungs, your back digging into the edge of the counter as you try to ground yourself, try to settle the burning nerves that are making it hard for your brain to function right now
“if it was only me, all this time, tell me right now.”
you don’t need him to elaborate, there’s no need for explanation, you read through his words, the knowledge sitting heavy in your lower belly; the fear of shaking your head and having him stop touching you stops you from moving, a barely audible “no. not just you” falling from your parted lips
lips that his thumb presses into, your bottom lip met with the pad of his thumb as he rubs along it. throat bobbing with a hard swallow, eyes flashing from your mouth to your eyes. you want to ask why now? what changed? why throw both your dignities to the wind and say fuck it? but the look of stern-protection he showed the other night each time he looked at you, like he was fighting with himself with being upset at himself and upset at you for not having better friends, for putting yourself in a potential bad situation. you know why now
“if i keep touching you-if i let myself cross that line-i’ll never stop.”
“what if i don’t want you to stop?”
“you’ll have to beg me to.”
“i won’t.”
his front is completely pressed to yours, a thigh between your parted legs, forehead on yours as you see the internal battle going on in his expressions, in his heavy breaths, in how he keeps dipping his mouth down to yours only to pull it away at the last minute, “you need to.”
“i need you.”
and it’s those magic words that have him cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss of passion-every lick into your mouth, every bite at your bottom lip, the moans he swallows down from your throat, speaking silent words of how long he’s waited to have you like this.
#namor x reader#namor x you#namor x y/n#namor fic#namor x fem!reader#namor headcanon#namor x f!reader#namor imagine#black panther fanfic#namor headcanons#black panther imagine#namor fanfic#namor fanfiction#black panther fic#dbf!namor
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A God-King and his Generals.
#alex livinalli#mabel cadena#namora#mcu namora#mcu attuma#attuma#tenoch huerta#tenoch Huerta Mejia#tenoch Huerta namor#namor of talokan#namor fanfiction#agua papi#black panther#wakanda forever#mcu cast#black panther wakanda forever
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yandere namor x f!reader | super psycho love - part 1
Masterlist
Pairing: Namor x F!reader
Word count: 1k
Summary: An unfortunate woman encounters the king of Talokan.
Warnings: Sensual wording and descriptions lil spicy, kidnapping, hints of stalking, future smut in later chapters
Translations:
In yukanaj - darling
kaab - honey
Something lately drives me crazy
Has to do with how you make me
Struggle to get your attention
Calling you brings apprehension
The fresh air of the summer breeze hit (Y/N)'s nose as she took in the beautiful scenery on the beach she's looking upon. The smells of sand baking in the heat, the saltwater ocean, and the light smell of sunscreen she'd adorned on her skin. On her little space on the beach laid her computer, a towel, and portable beach chair. (Y/N) decided to take a vacation from her hard work as a software developer. Of course, she wanted to go into the water and enjoy the relaxing sensation she'd heard about, but she was afraid of the water.
It's not that she isn't a good swimmer! She'd done it a lot when she was younger and in the pool. But witnessing her friend almost drown as kid made her too anxious to step into water again. She loved the beach, but water was not her thing. The ocean was too much and too deep for her.
(Y/N) laid in her bikini, basking in the sun. It was pink from top to bottom, had a little bit of skirt, and some little diamonds on the top. Her (S/C) glowed in the shining sun, looking beautiful and otherworldly. She really looked dazzling to anyone who would be walking by, but alas, a private beach for a wealthy woman. She was just a human, 22 year old fresh out of college just a few months ago. Her job opportunities lead her to have a the dream life she wanted. But did she really have everything..?
The sound of singing was heard in the distance. (Y/N) was immediately put into a trance against her will. To her, it just seemed like she was curious why she would hear that when she's alone. However, that was not the case. Beyond her field of vision, a dark figure hid in the depths of the water, keeping a distance away from (Y/N).
She had always been fearful of water, but it felt different to her this time. (Y/N) just had to go in there! It was like a switch went off in her mind!
(Y/N) dipped her toes into the shallow, crystal blue water. It was just about the right temperature but it sent shivers up her spine. Unaware, something wasn't right. Her defenses weren't kicking in. Survival instincts? Gone. All due to the voices of song in the distance.
She went in deeper, ending up with the water at her waistline. Its slight ripples were creating small, gentle pressures against (Y/N)'s skin. All she wanted to do was dive right-
(Y/N) gasped when she tried to step forward and ended up colliding with a broad chest, adorned with gorgeous abdominal muscles that were wet, glittering in the sun. The beautiful brown skin caught her eyes but she realized that this person had been much taller than her!
"Watch your step, In yakunaj"
She stepped back, making eye contact with the stranger. Her eyes refused to pull away; the coco eyes; black, well trimmed facial hair; thick lips that were a dusty rose; and the humped nose with a septum piercing through. (Y/N) was left speechless by this unknown man, at least she perceived him as one.
"You.. This is a private beach! I rented this fair and square for my vacation! How did you get here!?"
The man let a dark chuckle leave his throat and stepped closer to her, closing the gap between them. His lips just slightly a few inches above her soft ones.
"Kaab, this beach doesn't belong to you. I go where I please and I just happen to be here with you."
His voice sounded like velvet to (Y/N)'s ears. She hadn't even noticed the siren song still going on. She was focused entirely on him.
"Well.. Can't really argue against that.. Nothing I can do about a weird guy on the beach-"
(Y/N)'s eyes caught sight of the pointy ears. Who was this guy? She had no idea. She'd never seen anyone with ears like that!
"With abnormally pointed ears.." (Y/N) finished.
"Don't you know it's rude to disrespect a king?"
This information totally caught her by surprise! A smirk appeared on his face, pretty proud of his snarky comment. Something about the way she looked when surprised lit a spark in him. Not that it'd add anything else to the way he felt about her when she caught his eye.
"King?"
"My people call me K'uk'ulkan, but my enemies call me Namor. And I hope you don't become my enemy, mi amor."
(Y/N) was taken aback, seeing the passion light up in Namor's eyes. The brown iris' seemed to grow darker; he had his eyes on the prize.
"I don't think we'll get there, K'uk'ulkan, king of the people you rule."
She had felt an immediate attraction but had immediately tried to push it down. After what happened many years ago? No. (Y/N) couldn't think about it. Namor's aura was dark and it seemed to be radiating onto her.
He said no word, still sizing her up with his eyes.
Sure, (Y/N) felt some random feeling for the king, but she knew creeps came in all shapes and sizes. She knew she had to watch out.
"I uh.. really think I should go-"
YANK!
(Y/N) had found herself wrapped up in Namor's arms, her back now to the chest she had only looked at. She felt the gaps of muscle graze her back and the body heat radiating from his skin.
"Please don't go.. I don't want to hurt you. Stay."
The singing in the distance grew louder. The vocal notes impacted and seeped themselves into her ears. The once (E/C) eyes became faded. Ghost-like, even.
"Yes, In yakunaj. Just like that."
There was no movement in (Y/N)'s body. Just the breaths and slow blinks. She was helpless to him, like a damsel in distress. Except he was the perpetrator to the damsel. Namor nodded over to Talokanil, signaling them to take care of her. He roughly picked her up into his arms bridal style. His soft hands scaled her forehead, pushing the loose hair behind her ear.
He nodded once again to his people. Amora stepped up and took out a blue oxygen mask, placing it over (Y/N)'s nose and mouth. They had sang one more note, putting her to sleep.
"You are finally mine, (Y/N). My future queen of Talokan."
#namor x reader#namor#namor the sub mariner#kukulkan#namor x y/n#namor x you#namor smut#tenoch huerta#black panther#black panther wakanda forever#namor imagine#namor fanfiction#yandere namor
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By The Water’s Edge (Namor x Reader)
WARNINGS: yandere elements, siren song influence, alluded to dubious consent, loss of virginity, pregnancy (hinted at intentional), wakandan!reader
➥ if my Yucatec Maya translation is wrong, please feel free to let me know
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies
summary: you never stood a chance once you caught the eye of the king of the sea
~
You waded through the tall grass, the nightly breeze cooling your skin as you repeatedly looked over your shoulder. This corner of Wakanda was always so quiet at night, but silence never guaranteed anything. It didn’t guarantee that you weren’t being followed.
And you absolutely had to be sure that you weren’t being followed.
You were relieved that you could only hear the slight ruffle of grass from the wind, the beads on the end of your braids hitting each other, the clanking of the bracelets on your wrist. You turned back around with confidence, trekking further and further away from everyone else…and closer to the water. It was always a safe place for you, a place to sort through your thoughts, a place to just be, but now it was a comfort for an entirely other reason.
He had come out of the water one night like something out of a dream.
Or nightmare.
Your body had stilled as you sat on the water’s edge, rooted in a mixture of awe and horror. He was adorned in jewelry that reminded you so much of the kind you and your sisters wore. The glow of the moon had lit both his path and him as he slowly rose above the surface, water clinging to his skin and dripping from his dark locks.
He was beautiful, and you hadn’t been able to look away.
However, a tinge of horror had started to creep into your chest as so many things hit you at once.
Who was this man? How did he get into Wakanda undetected? Where did he come from? You had so many questions as you watched him come closer, and you had stood in trepidation. There had been a soothing breeze that night too, ruffling the blades of grass behind you and your skirt with it. Despite how much your heart had been racing, you still hadn’t moved, hadn’t left to inform the queen somehow.
You didn’t know why.
You and the outsider had stared at one another for what felt like too long, drinking each other in for entirely different reasons. You wanted to know who he was and why he was here and what he was going to do. He, on the other hand, seemed to be studying you. He had tilted his head, dark eyes fixated on your face like you were the least threatening thing in the world to him.
You didn’t know how you felt about that.
“My mother told stories about a place like this…”
The deep baritone of his voice had struck you, making you blink. For the first time since he walked out of the water, he broke eye contact, looking around and roaming his eyes over the land around you.
“Pristine air…and the water,” he trailed off, a hint of a smile on his lips. “A protected land with people that would never have to leave.”
You hadn’t taken your eyes off of him, watching as he looked back to you, running his hand through his wet hair. You ran your gaze over him, taking in his skin and the bands of muscle that were his arms and torso. Even his legs looked powerful, and you didn’t stop yourself from taking a step back.
“…but of all the reasons to envy this place…I never expected it to manifest in the form of a woman.”
You had frowned at that, brows pulling together in confusion, and that was when you finally spoke.
“Who are you?”
He had chuckled to himself, perfect teeth winking at you as he placed a hand to his chest as if you had reminded him of the very important fact that you were strangers.
“My people call me Ahau K’uk’ulkaan,” he’d said. “My other name… That is for my enemies, and I hope that you will never have to refer to me as such.”
You hadn’t realized how relaxed you had become, shocked with yourself when you didn’t move when he placed his foot on the dirt before you, moving closer.
“You come here a lot…”
Your heart had skipped a beat at that, eyes widening slightly at his words. It was true. You did come here a lot. It was probably your favorite place in all of Wakanda, and you had wracked your brain as to how he knew that. As if he could hear your thoughts, he answered your silent question.
“I’ve watched you,” he told you, gesturing to the water behind him. “I’ve watched you sing and write and just relax by the water’s edge.”
His admission should’ve terrified you, and in a way, it did, but there was something more that kept you from running. There was something that held you in place to listen to him.
“I didn’t intend to at first, that’s not who I am, but…”
He was standing right before you now.
“I could not look away.”
You swallowed, and his dark eyes were drawn to the movement, gaze momentarily lingering on your throat.
“I kept coming back, hoping to catch glimpses of you, and the more I did…the harder it became to leave for good.”
“How…how did you get in here? Queen Mother-.”
“Doesn’t need to know about what isn’t a threat.”
Your face had heated up at both his interruption and the implications behind his words. It wasn’t up to him to decide if he was a threat or not, and your lips parted, but no words came out. Here was a man who had uninterrupted access to Wakanda, the queen none the wiser, and you couldn’t help but to linger on the immense guilt you’d feel if he did turn out to be a threat all the while you said nothing.
You glanced up at the sky, noting how late it was getting and sure that one of your sisters would come looking for you soon. The man, K’uk’ulkaan, followed your gaze before your eyes met again, and you took another step back. Then another…then another. You were surprised that he settled for merely watching you, making no attempts to stop you, and when you were far enough away, you turned your back on him and ran back home.
You should’ve gone to the queen that night, or at the very least, the next morning. Something like this was unheard of, and you were the only one who knew, so it was your responsibility to do what was right in the best interests of your people. And yet…
You had spent all of the next day distracted, mind miles away as it was plagued with thoughts of the man who came from the water. You had almost convinced yourself that it was a dream, but the scent of the water on his skin was burned into your brain, and so conflicted about what to do, you had almost forgotten his words.
The reason why he was even here.
Years after that night, you would finally admit the truth to yourself. You didn’t keep his existence a secret for Wakanda. You didn’t return to him again and again to learn more about him to tell the queen. You didn’t get close to him and succumb to him for the benefit of your nation, but instead to sate your curiosity. You went back to him every night because you were curious about the beautiful man who put his existence in jeopardy just to know the woman by the water’s edge.
You had found yourself sneaking through the grass the next night, almost disappointed to find yourself alone.
“You did not tell your queen.”
You had been startled by the sound of his voice, jumping and looking over. He stood by the water, the flow of the tide washing over his feet as he gazed at you. You had stared at him for a long time, mulling over your next words.
“I might have,” you argued.
The small smirk dancing along his lips made your stomach flip.
“You did not,” he called you out on your lie. “Why?”
You didn’t have the courage to tell him it was solely for your curiosity. You had spent more hours awake the previous night than you wanted to admit, thinking on the man before you and the predicament you found yourself in. Part of you hated him for putting you in this position, the position to betray your home and your people by not revealing his existence and access to Wakanda to the queen.
However, another part of you, a larger part, was drawn to him.
And that draw, that pull you felt towards him, was why you came back night after night. You would meet him by the water’s edge, sometimes barely speaking and sometimes talking about everything. He told you about his home, an entire civilization of people who made a home and a way of life beneath the water. You thought that it explained so much, his ability to breathe under the water long enough to travel through it to Wakanda, and even his access to Wakanda in general.
You were fascinated by him, entranced, and he knew it.
“Y/N,” you had told him one night, your name rolling off of his tongue like water as he repeated it to himself.
You liked the way he said it, unable to take your eyes off of him as he held your hand. His other traced an index finger along your palm, the action equally soothing and arousing. There was a point where you forgot all about the queen and the fact that this outsider had access to your nation. The thought of what he and his people could do was long gone, replaced by the desire to see him every night instead.
Blinded by that desire or not, it didn’t take you long to understand that he wasn’t out to hurt Wakanda.
He was here for you.
The way he’d look at you both excited and scared you, having never been on the receiving end of such a look before. It was intense in a way that was almost overwhelming, like he was hanging onto your every word and studying every movement you made. You had wondered if it were possible that he was just as entranced by you as you were by him. You wondered if you imagined that glint in his eye, that look like he wanted to keep you all to himself.
“Do you sing for your family? Friends?”
You had shyly shaken your head, and his smile had warmed your chest as he reached up to touch your face.
“Why not? You have a beautiful voice,” he’d told you. “Hypnotizing even. Almost like…a siren song.”
“I’ve always liked singing alone.”
You had shrugged, still somewhat embarrassed that he’d heard you on several occasions. That embarrassment lessened as time went on, as well as your timidity, and your days felt brighter with the anticipation of seeing him every night. It was noticeable, your cousin Okoye commenting on it one day, asking about what had you glowing. You had shrugged in response, a small smile on your face.
“Just happy, I guess.”
You came home sometimes with new jewelry, a necklace or earrings he’d made resting against your skin. The first time, you had held your breath, heart pounding as he stood behind you. His bare chest had grazed your back as he clasped it behind your neck, fingers brushing your skin and causing a shudder to travel down your spine. You had heard him deeply inhale, breathing you in, and when he turned you around, it only hit you just how close you were.
“It suits you,” he had complimented, a secretive smile on his lips. “Just like I knew it would.”
If your parents or any of your sisters noticed, they didn’t voice it. If they noticed the way you began to pull away, isolate yourself and preferring to stare off into space, they kept quiet about it. K’uk’ulkaan consumed both your waking thoughts and your dreams, waking up and falling asleep with him on your mind. There were times where you couldn’t even fall asleep, too wrapped up in thoughts about the king of Talokan. Your mother only said something when you started eating less and less, seemingly in a daze as you merely pushed your food around on your plate.
You remembered what K’uk’ulkaan had said about your voice, comparing it to a siren’s song, and you thought to yourself that’s how you felt whenever you were around him.
Ensnared by a siren’s song, mind consumed with nothing but him.
So, it came as no surprise when you kissed him back one night, eager to taste more of him. The grass hid you both from view, the moonlight shining down on you both, and your hands pressed against his arms. Your entire body lit up with a heat that you desperately wanted to chase, moaning into his mouth. His hands on you felt like heaven, and you never wanted to leave.
The dirt had been nonexistent against your back, the water hiding your lower half from view as he rested against you. Your dress was feet away, the only thing on your skin being the jewelry he gave you…and him. Your fingers dug into his skin, nails scraping along his back while he thrust into you. Your mewls were low, paranoid of being found out, and you could tell that he liked hearing you.
You clenched around him, clinging to him and fluttering around his cock. He surrounded you, trapping you beneath him as he stretched you out, lips dragging over your skin and tasting you. Your fingers threaded through his hair as you gazed up at the moon, the faint sting in your core registering in the back of your mind but too overcome with pleasure to dwell on it.
You felt like he wasn’t close enough, hips lifting to meet his with every thrust. Your chest arched up into his, legs bending and toes sliding up his own legs. You lost count of how many times you came around him, stumbling back to your house in the early hours of the morning in a daze. You had the faintest memories of one of your sisters pressing her hand to your forehead, concerned that you might be sick as you merely laid in bed.
You only left your room to return to him again, sinking down onto him as he held you in his lap, fingers pressed into your skin. He touched you and held you like he never wanted to let you go, and whatever alarm bells went off in your head at that were promptly silenced as he lifted his hips, pushing his cock up into you as you wrapped your arms around him. Your face was buried into the crook of his neck, your breathing labored and choppy as you sighed against his skin.
His hands had traveled up, resting on your face as he pushed your head back, forcing you to look at him.
“Do you love me?”
Wracked with pleasure and drunk on him, you had lazily nodded, mind passing over the way his dark eyes glinted under the moonlight. He leaned in, kissing down the column of your throat and pulling a moan from you as your head lolled back. Your lashes fluttered, and your gaze rested on the sky.
“How much?”
“More than I’ve loved anyone,” you had sighed, head falling forward against his shoulder again.
“Do you promise?”
Your reply was immediate, and he didn’t let you go until you were coming undone in his arms. That was how most of your nights were spent now, stealing moments with your lover from the water and driving yourself insane every time you had to walk away.
“Why do you call me that?”
K’uk’ulkaan was looping a braid through a small seashell, his lips pressed to your forehead as he did.
“My k’iino,” he had murmured when you reached him, practically tripping over yourself to be in his arms. “Mine.”
He hummed, pulling away to finish what he was doing, and you watched his face.
“It means sunshine…or sun,” he quietly replied. “…even though I only ever see you at night, to me, the moon pales in comparison.”
You had smiled at that, heart sinking a bit as he pointed out the limitations on your trysts. Deep down, you knew that, realistically, things couldn’t go on like this forever. Somehow, some way, something had to give, but you had never expected it to come in the form of an upset stomach one morning, spilling the contents of your stomach in the bathroom.
One of your sisters went to your mother in concern, and she believed your assurance that it was just something you ate, but in your heart, you knew.
“…but this is my home.”
You both stood at the water’s edge, your eyes wide at his suggestion to leave Wakanda. Of all the solutions to the dilemma you faced, you hadn’t expected that. You didn’t miss the way his features hardened slightly at your resistance, stepping closer and head lowering a tad.
“You said you loved me.”
“I do,” you told him, blinking in shock that he’d ever doubt that.
He took your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips.
“…and don’t you think you should prove that to me…?”
Your mind spun, and you looked away.
“Besides…there’s no guarantee our child will survive on land like you.”
You looked back to him, stricken at his very valid point. He had long explained how he came to be, how he was so different from the rest of the Talokanil. The chances that the baby inside of you would be more like them rather than him due to you and what you lacked were high. Your eye stung, feeling stuck in an impossible situation.
“I need…to think,” you slowly whispered, stepping back.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that his eyes had darkened at your words. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, and for the first time in almost a year, you left him while the moon was barely in the sky.
You didn’t sleep much, if at all, that night, staring up at your ceiling. You were wracked with a myriad of emotions, so many of them conflicting and confusing. K’uk’ulkaan had consumed every aspect of your life for months on end, and you felt like you couldn’t even physically live without him, but in the same breath… Wakanda was your home. Your entire life was here, and you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
Even the next night, you still hadn’t come to a decision. Night after night, you mulled over your predicament with a heavy heart, chest tight and eyes burning with tears. Your days were spent with your head in the toilet, and your nights were spent sitting outside of your house, wholly aware that you didn’t have all the time in the world.
And your time ran out one starless and moonless night, the most hypnotizing melody reaching your ears and imbedding itself into every crevice of your brain. It was addictive, filling your entire being with the desire to find it. You heard nothing and no one else as you seemed to glide across the land, steps sure as you waded through the grass. It filled your heart with a peace and security that you hadn’t felt in days, bringing a smile to your face.
Nothing registered. Not the disregard for your family and your nation, not the carelessness in the way you boldly walked through the tall grass, nor that you were traveling down a familiar path. Your body didn’t quite feel like your own, but you were too captivated to care. You only cared about following that sound.
And found it you did.
K’uk’ulkaan, Namor as he’d one day revealed to you what he also went by, stood in the water where you always met. His hand was outstretched to you, beckoning you closer with a welcoming smile. You happily returned it, your feet dipping into the water, dress clinging to your skin the deeper you waded. Your hand met his, bringing it to his lips with a soft kiss as he threaded his fingers through yours.
Without so much as a backwards glance, you followed him into the murky depths.
#namor x reader#namor x you#black panther wakanda forever#black panther fanfiction#namor fanfiction#k'uk'ulkan#namor x black reader
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Continuum - 1
Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader
Rating: EXPLICIT
Summary: Despite the alliance between Wakanda and Talokan, The Feathered Serpent God isn’t truly welcomed in the Golden City. That doesn’t stop you from allowing him in your bed, nor him from wanting more
You call his name, but you don’t think he hears.
Don’t think Namor can sense anything beyond the taste of you on his tongue, sweet and smearing his chin—the way he always wants you, and you know your sheets will be a mess when he’s done. Know you’ll have to wash away the evidence of a liaison that should never be.
Alliance or not, he isn’t truly welcome on these shores, but you allow him anyway with the promise that this time will be the last.
Your resolve is questionable, as is your loyalty.
Your fingers thread through wet hair. You pull him closer to your soaking pussy, and he groans. The feel of it reverberates through you as you choke out his name.
Namor pulls away from your soaking slit with a sigh. His dark, half-lidded eyes trail up your body until they meet yours.
“You have missed me,” He whispers against your thigh, licking the wetness that’s made its way there.
He lets nothing go to waste.
“That wasn’t a question,” you note, feeling the ghost of a smile against your skin.
“No…” Namor’s hand traces the inside of your thighs. Thick fingers brush against the folds of your pussy, slowly reaching your clit, “It was not.”
He returns his mouth where you need it most, while his thick fingers work away at your throbbing clit. Your legs shake, your breath hitches as you’re drawn closer to another soul shattering orgasm. Even as Namor takes you apart, he does it will no real urgency. His movements are languid, as if he has all the time in the world.
Namor replaces his tongue with his fingers, stretching you as he pushes two fingers into you sopping cunt. You can hear the evidence of your desire—the slick, wet sounds as his fingers massage your fluttering walls. Your hips buck forward, wanting his fingers knuckle deep, and he laughs. A deep, throaty laugh that’s almost cruel.
“What would they say?” Namor lifts his face; his lips curl into an amused smile as he watches you. Watches the rise and fall of your breasts, the tremble of your lips as praise and encouragement falls from them, “Hm? If they all knew how desperate you are for me? How eager.”
“I…I don’t know,” you lie.
It’s easier than thinking about how you would be dishonored. The question of your loyalty would be immediate, and no answer you gave would satisfy your elders, nor your king.
Though an alliance stood between Wakanda and Talokan, it did not wash away Namor’s sins, nor earn him the favor of your people.
As far as anyone was concerned, he was a necessary evil—one that you could seemingly not say no to.
Namor tsks. The rhythm of his fingers slows as he considers you. He wants the truth you refuse to give.
“Do you think they will forgive you? Will you beg for it? Lie?” He pulls his fingers out of you, eyes following his digits glazed with your wetness, “Or will you have to turn to me?”
He looks at you as he lifts his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. He groans contentedly around his digits, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he is savoring just how fucking sweet you are—as if there is no fruit, nor drink in existence that can quite satisfy his hunger the way you do.
You blink up at him, dazed by his display and so painfully needy. Your cunt aches as it clenches around nothing. It’s enough to bring you to tears, but you’d bet that’s exactly what he wants. You, dumb and delirious and crying for him. Completely at his mercy.
“I would never turn to you,” you bite, and Namor’s eyes finally open. They seem endless as he stares up at you with an indecipherable expression.
His slick fingers skim the length of your leg, leaving a trail of his saliva that leads straight to your pulsing cunt.
“You already have.”
His fingers push back into you, and a curse rips from your throat. His languid manner is long gone, replaced by a feverish need to make you come around his fingers now. His pace is ruthless, his fingers reaching further into you until he’s knuckle-deep, just the way you need him—and then he fucking curls his fingers.
You tip over the edge without warning, your release violent and unexpected as it racks through you. Your walls flutter around his fingers, your legs convulse, and his name falls from your lips with so much devotion, you’d think perhaps he is the god his people claim him to be.
Your body goes limp as you come down from your high with a shaky sigh. You feel the heat of Namor’s mouth as he trails kisses up your body, a steady path upward until his lips hover over yours.
His fingers cradle your jaw, his hold firm as he keeps your gaze trained on him, and your heart aches.
Bast, he’s beautiful. It always stuns you no matter how many times you have the revelation—and this is when you promise yourself that this is the last time you allow him in your bed. You both never stopped to explain what this was, but you know feelings would only complicate things further…make the inevitable end that much harder to see through.
“What are you thinking right now?” Namor asks against your lips, teasing. He’s back to taking his time, dragging everything out for his own pleasure, while simultaneously driving you as mad as he possibly can. You have half the mind to close the gap between you two, and another to send his happy ass back to the sea.
You do neither.
“I think that you’re ruining me,” Namor grins. You nearly stumble over your words, “And I am disappointed in myself for enjoying it.”
He nods, leaning in as he closes the space between your lips. Namor kisses you like it’s the first time—all hunger and a need to consume you, but he does not rush. He tastes you, rolls his tongue along your bottom lip. Your lips part with a sigh, and he’s quick to make you taste yourself on his tongue—to know just how delicious you truly are, before he breaks away.
“I wish to do more than just ruin you…”
His hand reaches down, wrapping around his hard dick. He gives it a few quick strokes, groaning against your mouth before he rubs his dick between your folds, coating himself with your juices. You gasp, squirming beneath him as you feel your walls flutter painfully. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasms, but this will do little to deter Namor. He will have you until you’re boneless, voice gone from how hard you’ve used it to call out for him, to plead him to go deeper. Fuck you harder.
And Namor always ends it how he starts, between your legs and with your sweet arousal coating the back of his throat. The taste of you lingers, even when he returns to the depths of the ocean, back to Talokan. He tastes you while he paints hieroglyphs memorializing the legends he’s lived, and the ones he might.
Namor pushes into your entrance, feeling the warm slickness of your velvety walls as they hug his thick length, and he drives himself deeper. He curses in his mother tongue, adjusting to you as your sensitive walls throb around him. He won’t have to do much to set you off, and for a second he considers being charitable and putting you out of your lust-filled misery, but even that comes at a price.
He hadn’t wanted much in the beginning. Just you sprawled out for him in all your beauty. You had both been chasing a high, a need to have the other—and maybe it was the taboo surrounding the nature of your relationship that spurred it—the threat that lingered if one of you were found out, though Namor was not foolish enough to believe you did not have more to lose.
It hadn’t mattered before, but it mattered now. Here, with the taste of you on his tongue and your nails digging into the flesh of his back as he thrust into you shallowly—you fucking mattered, and he was no longer satisfied with late night hookups, and kisses behind closed doors. He resented having to wait weeks or even months to see you again, wondering all the while if you’d finally decide to turn him away when he returned.
He wanted more.
He wanted everything.
And what a creature craving could be.
Namor glanced down at you, mesmerized by your long lashes fluttering as your eyes closed—the furrow of your brow as pain and pleasure pulsed through your body. A plea fell from your lips, whispered so softly he nearly missed it.
Now was not the time to be charitable. Now was the time for negotiations.
“Say it.” Namor thrust harder, earning a whine from you, “Call my name.”
Your bottom lip quivered; the words nearly spoken before you caught yourself. You shook your head, and Namor let out a frustrated sigh.
He had told you to call him K’uk’ulkan. Whispered it against your lips like a plea months ago, but even now you deny him. The name was spoken with adoration by his people, and you learned he gave it to outsiders sparingly.
So, you couldn’t say it. You wouldn’t.
It’s the confession that you swallow, hidden away just like these meetings between you two. It’s the treacherous desire of wanting all of him at the cost of everything else.
And while you could be reckless enough to entertain desire driven nights with him, you could not conjure a fantasy where he was yours, and you were his. The cost was too great.
The rhythm of his hips slowed. Your eyes fluttered open as you glared up at him, biting back a curse in Xhosa.
“Are you so afraid of a name?”
He cocked his head to the side, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck, “Or afraid of what it might mean to call me by it?”
Your breath hitched as you blinked up at him, the heat of his gaze and weight of his question making your thoughts foggy. Despite it, you found your voice.
“I’m afraid that you’ve forgotten what this is.”
Namor was silent for a moment. His dark eyes searched yours, before his lips curled into a smile that did not reach his eyes.
“Then remind me.”
He pulled out of you fully, leaving you wanting before he thrust back in with a force that made you cry out. He buried himself deep inside of you, stretching your aching cunt and making you feel every glorious inch of his dick.
He grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing your legs closer to your chest and began to fuck you like a wild, depraved animal.
You clawed at his back, anchoring yourself to him as he continued to pound into you. He groaned into the nape of your neck, his fingers bruised the flesh of your thighs as he lost himself.
“Is this all that you are then? A hole to fill?”
The sound of the meeting of your flesh filled the shack, drowning out the peaceful hum of the wind outside. The rustling of the trees.
You cursed, feeling the deliciously painful pressure in your core building with each brutal thrust.
Your hand trailed up his neck, fingers digging into his damp curls, and you pulled his head closer, resting his forehead against your as his hips started to stutter—his rhythm quickly losing its coordination.
“Please…” your voice sounded pathetic, even to your own ears, “Namor…K’u—”
You choked on his name as pure hot euphoria ricocheted through you. Your toes curled, your back arched painfully as you cried up towards the ceiling. A tear rolled down your cheek as you came violently around his aching dick.
Namor hissed a string of Mayan against your lips, words spoken so quickly your mind couldn’t even catch them. Your name was the only thing you could make out before Namor went rigid. His teeth bit into the flesh of your shoulder as his seed poured into you. His dick twitched inside of you as he gave a final thrust, pushing the evidence of his desire further into your pussy. His mouth hung open as his chest rose and fell, and bliss cascaded through him.
Namor carefully draped himself over you, conscious of not crushing you under his weight despite how featherlight he felt. He kissed your temple, whispering his praise as he stayed buried inside of you, feeling the mix of your release and his own slowly seeping out of you.
He would take care of you soon. Wash away the evidence of your love making before he returned to Talokan where he was needed most. But for now, he would bask in the feel of you beneath him, and the possibility that lingered between you two.
PART 2 , PART 3
#namor x reader#namor x y/n#namor x you#namor#namor fic#namor fanfiction#namor imagine#black!fem!reader#namor x black reader#kukulkan x reader#kukulkan x you#namor x fem!reader
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Retaliation & Retribution | Namor
Summary: You thought that you have the upper hand when you tease him, but you found yourself in a compromising position when the king retaliated back.
Word count: 2.6K
Warnings: Brain rotting smut ahead. No plot whatsoever. Finger sucking, semi public teasing, oral (female receiving), hand job, inappropriate used of the throne, vaginal sex (reverse cowgirl), cum dumping. Brat taming undertone.
18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI
A/N: A follow up to His Sacrificial Offering! I hope this fic receive the same love as the first one too. I’ve been trying to squeeze this into my busy schedule, so I hope it comes out good, and everyone enjoy it. The idea came from this post and 🐠 anon throne sex idea. Per usual, no beta, so if I miss anything, I do apologize. If you do enjoy it, please, please do support me by reblog and/or comment. It means a lot <3 (also that’s how you bribe me for more fics)
*** Do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my work anywhere else !!
Rough fingertips skimmed lightly along the back of your thigh. The light caress sent a chill straight through your spine, making you shiver slightly. The King noticed it and a smirk quirked at the corner of his mouth. His eyes glistened with interest.
You knew what you had done, and you knew the sort of retribution your king demanded from you.
It all started when you teased him while he was addressing his subjects. Normally, no one really paid no mind to you whenever you were there. The king had made it clear from day one, that you were his. Though you had never dared to act out of place, today was different.
Today, you felt extra naughty. As you laid your head on his thigh, spacing out as usual. Then an idea came to you.
His hand never strayed too far from you. His fingertips often linger on the top of your head or touched your hair–just something to feel you. Most of the time, you simply enjoyed the feel of his touch and the sound of his voice when he spoke, but today was different.
When his fingers reached down to stroke your cheek, you turned and began sucking on his fingers. It was meant to be a childish game on your part, but the look he gave you at that moment stirred something inside you. You couldn’t help but give him an innocent look as if you didn’t mean to turn him on or something.
Oh, you were a wicked little thing alright, Namor thought as he tried to slow his breathing, but of course, his mind wandered, imagining your mouth wrapped around his length.
Whenever you sucked on his fingers, Namor could feel his body stiffen, trying not to imagine how it felt similar to the way your pussy squeezed around his cock. He wanted to moan, wanted to squirm–fuck, whatever that he could just do to release him from this torture.
He gave you a warning look–it was so subtle that no one in the room noticed it. But you persisted with your teasing. As a matter of fact, you were using your tongue on him, making the ache that was growing in his groin become more apparent, which brought you back to this moment, alone in the throne room with the King, completely at his mercy.
“Present yourself to your king, my dear,” he said for the first time. His voice was softer, less firm than when he was in front of his people. Each syllable made you shiver with anticipation as you straightened slowly to your full height.
Under no circumstances you were allowed to stand taller than the king, but this was the only exception.
The look he gave you made you throb terribly. Your thighs squeezed in an attempt to sate that ache, but to no avail of course, not when the king was looking at you like he was going to devour you in that instance.
“Turn around,” he commanded, and you swallowed as you slowly did as he said.
Your heart practically slammed against your ribcage as your body buzzed in anticipation. Heat slowly enveloped your face, warming you to the tip of your ears. Your breathing became almost too hard as if all the air in your lungs was getting pumped right out of you.
“Bend over.”
You swallowed. Your eyes widened as your stomach did a flip. You complied with shaky breath as you leaned forward, widening your legs apart, exposing every part of you to him. The golden jewelry he had adorned you rattled softly, hanging off your neck as you stood there as your breathing labored, anticipating his touch.
Your breath wavered when you felt his hand cup the back of your thigh just below the swell of your buttcheek. His thumb rubbed gently at the sensitive skin that was near the lips of your pussy, but he made no effort to touch it just yet.
Namor could feel himself shuddering slightly in his throne as he parted your folds, exposing your most intimate part to him. His mouth salivated as he watched you tremble before him.
Slick slowly seeped out of your exposed hole, and it made his mouth water. Desire pooled at his loin. He could feel his erection pressing quite insensibly, demanding its own attention. The urge to just pull you back and let you bounce on his cock was slowly becoming overwhelming, almost to the point where it clouded his judgment. He imagined the way your pussy would squeeze and stretch around his length, and the way you moaned out his name. His need to be in control was wavering.
“You’re so wet already, and we haven’t even begun yet,” he teased as he slowly stroked at your slippery folds. More slick began to leak out, and your thighs shook as you stood there, feeling the way his rough fingertips traced and explored the delicate flesh.
You swallowed hard as you felt your king push the tip of his finger past your swollen nether lips, teasing and testing you. You bit down hard on your lip, trying to stifle that moan from ever coming out of your mouth.
You knew the sort of depravity he was capable of, but this was new compared to his other game. You could feel his breath fanning over the lips of your pussy, hot and humid over the moist, sensitive flesh. Your hands desperately reached over to your knees, aching for any sort of support just to keep you from toppling over and falling right over the massive throne.
“Just look at how your body reacts to me–feel that, you’re practically swallowing my finger, my love,” he murmured as he slowly pushed his finger inside you. “Are you imagining something else in its place–something thicker perhaps?”
Your body shook slightly, and a groan rumbled in your throat as you relished the way his thick finger worked at your slick heat. “Since you like sucking on my fingers so much, perhaps I can entertain you with them a bit, don’t you like that.”
You nodded as you swallowed another lump in your throat.
He was retaliating alright–the dirty talking, and the way he dropped his voice an octave lower. The slow torturous stroke of his finger–just slowly stringing you up to the point where you are just a needy mess.
He loved every moment of it.
A surprised gasp slipped past your lips as he licked across the seam of your folds. The feeling of his warm, velvety tongue traced along your opening was almost too much that it made your legs waver. His hand gripped your thighs and pulled you into him further as he delved his tongue right into your hole.
Another depraved sound drew out of you as you struggled to keep your composure. Perspiration dusted your skin. Your nails were digging hard into your thighs as you tried your hardest to hold on to reality, which was slowly slipping slowly the more he was licking so deliberately with just his tongue.
A delightful groan coming from your king reverberated straight to your pussy, creating a vibration that was much needed for your swollen clit.
His tongue continued to work you, teasing your opening, rimming it in slow circles first before letting his tip nudge and pushed your clit. Then he began to fuck you with shallow penetrations, short and quick, pushing into your tight heat. Your legs were wavering, but Namor was keeping you in place with his strong grip. Whenever your body slacked a bit too much, he would pull you in with a force that made you gasp out loud.
“My king,” you practically cried out as your body strained and ached from straining and clenching so hard. “Please…”
“Hmmm…?”
You whined. “My king, please. I learned my lesson.”
“No you don’t” he mumbled right into your pussy, before he lewdly sucked on the lips.
You attempted to pull away but to no avail of course. It only encouraged him further to fuck you deeper as his tongue allowed.
You turned and looked at him over your shoulders. The sight of your teary eyes, and parted lips drove him further into his desires. The urge of bending you over and fucking you over this throne was becoming more and more apparent.
It wasn’t long until you came with a stifled cry. Your body convulsed and strained, almost falling over if it wasn’t for his grip.
He pulled you back until you were seated right on his lap. Your head lolled on his shoulder, inhaling his masculine scent. His arousal was apparent as his hardness pressed against your lower back. Your king kept you there, allowing you to feel the way you have made him feel.
Namor’s hand slowly slithered up your body–from your stomach, up to your chest, which he paused to squeeze at your mound. His fingers teased at your nipple, twisting the hard nub between his fingers until it was perked up.
“You must think it is over now, don’t you?” His voice was still low and deep, and a gentle rumble on the ocean floor. His fingers slowly stroke the valley between your breasts, then further up until he is tracing the delicate skin of your neck.
He lingered there.
Your eyes fluttered when he trailed his hand down to the column of your throat. The thought of him slowly losing his grip made your pussy throb to the point where it was aching, wishing, and hoping for some sort of release.
“Are you going to make your king work for this, or what? Guide me,” he said. His breath fanned warmly against your cheek. “Put me inside you.”
Your throat went dry as you struggled.
Namor sucked in his breath when you began fisting him in your hand, pumping his thick, cock from root to tip, relishing the weight in your hand–he was heavy and warm. Hard, but also soft like hot steel wrapped in velvet.
You were enamored by the feelings, of course, especially knowing that you did this to him–to the king, to the living God himself. No one dared to come as close to you as you had with your king.
Your lover.
Your paramour.
Namor felt like he was about to lose it the moment your hand wrapped around him. His eyes fluttered, mouth hung agape, while he leaned his head back against the throne. His groan rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against your back.
Beads of his precum leaked out of the slit of the fat head of his cock, covering your hands with his slick as the pleasure continued to build at the base of his spine. Your mouth watered at the sight of the feelings alone. It didn’t help that his hand was kneading your breast this whole time.
It was a deadly combination–the kind that made your pussy ache and squeezed at nothing, wishing to have his dick inside you.
“You’re going to make me come, my love,” he warned as he squeezed at your soft flesh hard enough to pull you out of your little trance.
You replied back with a little whining noise as he continued.
“I said put me inside you, not stroking me. If I wanted to come, I would have used your mouth, my dear. Now, don’t make me remind you again, my sweet. We know how I get when I have to repeat myself.”
You bit your lips and nodded. The tone of his voice made you shiver as you rose slowly till there was enough height for you to position yourself. With a shaky hand, you lined the head of his cock at your quivering opening.
With one deep breath, you slowly sank down onto his length. Your eyes fluttered shut as he slowly stretched you and filled you till your mind was clouded with nothing but the thought of him alone. Every inch you swallowed him was a desirous burn as your body tried to adjust to him
His groan came out like a deep guttural noise, lacing with the breathless panting. Your name fell from his lips no more than a whisper as you began to bounce on his cock, impaling yourself slowly and deeply. Your thighs burned from the effort, but you didn’t care.
Namor let out a low groan as you moved. You began to set the pace, slowly at first before you caught on, allowing yourself to get lost in the rhythm of your movement, setting the pace by the sound of his breathing–slowed when he gasped, and quickened when he was silent.
His hand caged your body, entombing you in his hold as he began to control the speed and angle of your descent. Your body was attuned to his movement as your head fell on his shoulder. You became lax as he eased you all the way down to the hilt. His arms reached around your body and crossed over your chest. Your thighs draped on top of his, spreading you wide open.
Perspiration coated your skin, making it slick where your body joined. Every movement was torturous and desirous all at once–like swallowing fire and being bathed in the warmth of euphoria.
Namor reached between your legs and began to massage your exposed clit, circling it with his fingers all the while he was fucking you with determination. It was no longer about punishing you, but rather making you feel what he wants you to feel and when he wanted you to feel it.
He was fucking you so hard that you could feel your teeth rattling every time he brought you down. Your mind scrambled the faster he pistoned his hips and drove himself into you. It felt like you were torn in half and being put back together again all at once.
Your rapture drew near the more he was toying with your clit while he drove his cock in and out of you with vigor. You climax with a cry as you convulse and straighten above him, but it doesn't matter. Namor continued to fuck you and used you until he too reached his own released. He came long and hard. A wash of heat filled you up with his seed.
It was quite sometime before your breathing slowed once again. Your eyes fluttered open to find that the king had snuggled you close to his body, tucking your head under his chin. His masculine scent filled your nostril, warming you from the inside. Every part of you was hyper-aware of him and him only.
“I need to rile you up more often,” you said softly, still trying to pull air into your lungs as you looked up to your love.
The King grunted, but you noticed the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. You knew he enjoyed this perhaps more than you do.
“Are you telling me you don’t like it?”
Namor squeezed you slightly, which made a giggle slip out of you.
“We should leave before we get caught.”
“You’re changing the subject, my king. I’m sure Attuma can wait for your presence.”
“Hmm, I really don’t know what you mean,” he said as he cradled you in his arms. You laughed before Namor silenced you with a long deep kiss.
This was so worth the punishment, you smirked.
A/N: my condolences to the beautiful throne. 🫣
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→ Love Underwater.
gif credit.
pairing: namor of talokan x queen!reader.
rating: fluff.
warning: spoilers for black panther: wakanda forever.
The King lets out a light grunt when you slip his large necklace off after you took his cape off of his shoulders, revealing the gills on the two crooks of his neck. He tilts his head, cracking the bones of his neck, and you giggle when his lips graze the knuckles of your fingers. Then, you click each of his arm bracelets open, removing and putting them on the adorned tray for the servants to pick up later when you're done.
You massage the muscles of his arms and shoulders, and he groans approvingly. Hands trailing down to his abdomen, unclasping his large belt from around his refined waist. You never let the servants undress the King when he retires to his chambers; a job you've taken it upon yourself since the day you married the King of Talokan; a sweet and intimate gesture of a wife to her husband. When you're done, Ku'kul'kan whisks you playfully to his lap while he's sitting on the large bed. He kisses your neck fondly, while you kiss the crown of his head, then you rest your cheek on his shoulder.
“Namora came to me today, my love.” You say idly, “Again.”
“Oh,” He raises an eyebrow, “Did she?”
“Yes.” You answer, drawing your head back so you can look at his face, “She's expressed her worry about you, my King.”
The latter regards you with gentle eyes, “And you share the same sentiment as well?”
You cup his cheek, your palm pressing lightly on the three marks left by the three scars.
In the recent weeks, the King has spent most of his time drawing the murals at his memorabilia cave —his sacred shrine as you call it— where you're used to watch him flicking his brush nimbly against the wall, recoding history. The latest of his works is The Battle Between The Serpent God and the Black Panther, the first time your husband lost.
“Our King chose peace over slaughter.” You told Namora, when came to you sulking, in her rough way of speeech, about her king cousin, your husband. The seasoned warrioress still can't digest the defeat of Talokan — of her king... god. In all honesty, neither could you, but as the queen, it's your duty to calm your subjects' qualms down, even if you have some of your own.
You glance down at his wrapped ankle, the slightest frown on your face; you've never seen your husband wounded in such a grotesque way. Despite your displeasure, the King seems to wear it with pride. Your eyes flit back to his face again.
“I did.” You answer frankly, “But not anymore. My trust in your judgement never wavers, my King.”
Ku'kul'kan cradles your cheeks in his warm hands, pressing a smooth kiss on your forehead, “Sometimes, I wish they had a piece of your wisdom, my love.”
You hold his hands, pressing kisses to his palms. “You flatter me, my King.”
“I only speak the truth, my Queen.” He smiles, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.
Even after hundred years of marriage, you can't prevent the blush from smearing your cheeks red, and your husband laughs, flicking your cheek with his fingers.
“But the Panther Princess ought to be true to her words.” You say stubbornly. “Should she break them, and I'll be the one to bring her head on a spike,”
Ku'kul'kan smiles. “I'm counting on that.”
#namor x you#namor x reader#namor smut#tenoch huerta namor#namor fluff#namor x y/n#namor imagine#namor fic#namor fanfiction#namor of talokan#ku'kul'kan#namor#mcu namor#tenoch huerta#black panther wakanda forever#namor mcu#kukulkan x you#kukulkan x reader#kukulkan
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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.
-- -- --
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I just saw black panther and let me tell you that I fell in love with Namor and everytime he appeared on screen I was screaming internally, I was wondering if you could write something silly like the reader gives him a rock every time she sees him because on a trip to the surface she saw a couple giving each other gifts and hugging at the end and she thought a rock was the equivalent of that, please please please
I can’t speak, afraid to jinx it (Namor x f!reader)
Masterlist
Pairing: Namor x F!reader
Word count: 1.5k
Summary: A tiny gift that almost drove him to madness.
Warning: Prepare yourself to be attacked with fluff
A/N: At this point, I think I'm really in love with Tenoch, you feel me?
Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)
Namor was beginning to noticing this strange thing about you, no matter where he was or what was he doing, if you passed him you would stop and give him a small rock with a huge smile on your face.
It had started the moment you first were put in charge with helping him recollect a few things from the sinking boat that was closer to his city. Namor was waiting for you at the borders, his hands on his back as his eyes were looking at the calmness of the waters when he heard you humming a soft tune as you approached. He turned around and watched you struggle with at least ten bags on your arms. When he told you that he needed you to bring a few bags to carry the stuff, he was imagining you would bring two, not ten. He couldn’t help but smile at your determination.
“K'eeban tumen k'uchul chúunk'iin!” Sorry for being late! You quickly swam to his side, his eyes watching curiously as you tried to suppress your labored breaths. “Utia'al u completamente honesto, k'uchen tu k'iinili' ba'ale' in distraje.” To be completely honest, I was on time but I got distracted. You cheekily smiled. “Ya'ab in wu'uyik K’uk’ulkan.” I’m really sorry.
“English.” He told you once again and had to bit his tongue to suppress his laughter when you huffed. “You asked me to teach you and I am doing that.”
“Stupid English.” You muttered under your breath. Your hands quickly adjusted the bags on your shoulder. “Can we just go?” Your hand motioned the waters. “I do not want to be there when is dark, sharks bite then.”
Namor held out his hand so you could give him a few bags but you held them closer to you. “Let me help you, and sharks do not bite if you do not annoy them.” He managed to take a few bags from you, adjusting them at his shoulder and began to swim.
You gasped at his words and at his actions. “Sharks do bite! One bit me a few days ago on my leg, I have a scar to prove it…you even saw it, you said it was amazing.”
“Those words have never left my mouth.” Namor was smiling at your tantrum but managed to hide it as his face never left the waters.
“Uh, yes they have.” You managed to caught up with him, swimming at his side. You noticed his smile. “What are we recollecting?”
“Whatever we find useful.” He stated as que stopped, you following suit. “I will check if there are threats, stay here.” Namor didn’t wait for your answer as he quickly swam away, leaving you there with all the bags once again.
You huffed but decided to listen to him, your eyes looking at everything that surrounded you, there were a few fishes out there, thankfully no sharks, the corals looked bright and the sand too inviting to lay just there. But then you saw it, it was shiny and a beautiful turquoise color, you quickly tried to find Namor but he was still away, you bit your lip in concentration and decided to just go for it.
Your hands quickly grabbed the tiny and shiny object, your thumb carefully swiping away any left-over sand, your eyes widening before quicky putting it inside of one of the bags and swam to where Namor was calling you.
As you would expected, the recollection of things from that boat was completely boring, your eyes often diverting towards Namor, you admitted that he looked quite good, completely concentrated in this activity. When he was completely secure that there wasn’t anything more to salvage, he nodded at you and both of you left.
Namor took the bags from you when he left you at your home, you bit your lip and without thinking you grabbed his arm. He looked at you in confusion.
“I have a gift.” You quietly said. Your hands fumbled with one of the bags that you refused to give him. Finally retrieving the tiny rock. “Found it there, I think you will love it.”
He looked at you for a moment, his eyes following your hands as they put the rock on his palm and close his fingers against it. You gave him a last smile before entering your home and leaving him there, watching at the door.
And so it began.
Every single time you saw him, you always gave him a rock, it didn’t matter the size, the color or the weight, you always gave him one. At first he was confused at why you were giving them to him but he began appreciate them after you failed to give him one after one day.
He was swimming with Attuma at his side, the later telling him about the improvements they were making with the protection of the barriers, Namor was glad that everything was going within the plan.
“Táan in planeando bisik u kantúulo'on ti' leti'ob utia'al inspeccionar u máquina u kajnáalilo'ob le superficie decidieron túuxtik tak ka'anal.” I am planning to take four of them to inspectionate the machine the surface-dwellers decided to send from above. Attuma stopped for a second, pointing to the ones he wanted to take. “Chéen k'áabet u t'aan aprobación bey ma' táanil.” Just need your word of approval before proceeding.
Namor was about to speak but he managed to see you approaching them, his fingers were tingling with anticipation, imagining what kind of rock you would give him today, the corner of his mouth was twitching upwards, a smile he wanted to suppress at the presence of Attuma. But he failed.
Attuma watched in amusement at how his king was acting, he would have laughed if you hadn’t approached them. You smiled at them before swimming away. That’s when he saw his face and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Bejla'e' ma' jach juntúul roca, huh?” Not a rock today, huh? Attuma patted his back. “Ma' xaan ka' leti' a ts'áaik juntúul sáamal.” Perhaps she will give you one tomorrow.
“Bix a wojel?” How do you know? Namor asked him, his voice completely annoyed at the missing rock on his hand.
“Tu ya'alaj teen ka tu yilaj le kajnáalilo'obo' le superficie ts'a regalos, tu tukultaj u a gustaban le tunicho'ob ken aceptaste le primera.” She told me she saw the surface-dwellers give gifts, she thought you liked rocks when you accepted the first one. Attuma simply said, trying his hardest to not laugh again.
“Juntéen, wáaj bix supiste?” Again, how did you know?
“Leti' tu ya'alaj teen, ku pinchamos kaaye' globo sáastale'.” She told me, we usually poke pufferfish at dawn. He shrugged, swimming away.
What?
Namor was pacing through his cave, he was going absolutely mad, it now has been twelve days since you had given him a rock. He didn’t know what was happening, why did you stopped? Had the rocks you been seen weren’t up to your standard? He didn’t care, he wanted them.
He couldn’t help but sighed, his eyes turning to his small (HUGE) collection of rocks, he had been keeping them protected since you had given him them. But he wanted more, was he being selfish? Hell yeah, but this was something you had given the thought, you searched each one of them, you put your mind into looking for the perfect one before giving them to him.
So he went to look for you, he couldn’t find you anywhere in the city, a few of his people were looking at him strange as he began asking for you. But your mother was kind enough to point at your location.
Near the corals, she had said.
So he quickly swam there, and there you were, poking at pufferfish with Attuma. He needed to give you a reminder to not do that.
“Cha' k.” Leave us. Namor told Attuma, it was more like a order.
Attuma watched him and then you, before nodding. A huge smile on his face as he left.
“K’uk’ulkan?” You asked him confused, a stick on your hand. “Tu láakal ba'ax ma'alo'ob.?” Everuthing alright?
“English.” He told you, you noticed how tense he was, but still huffed and nodded. “Why did you stop?”
“Stop?” You tilted your head. “Stop what?”
“Rocks.”
You stared at him, you simple shrugged, not really knowing what to say.
“You have not given me any rock in twelve days, why?” He took a step closer to you. “Did something happened? Are they not in your standards? I do not mind what kind of rock you give me.”
“Oh.” You whispered, adverting your eyes. “Is not it.”
“Then what is it?” He grabbed your hands. “I do not care what you give me, but please do not stop.”
You sighed. “My mother say it is not nice to give rocks to someone…so I stopped.”
“Do not.” He whispered, “Please.”
You stared at his hands before looking upwards at his eyes. A tiny smile formed on your face. “Stick?” You gently raised the stick you were holding.
Namor couldn’t help but smile, taking the stick on his hands. “Thank you.” You smiled. “But now, why are you pocking pufferfish? Did you don’t know the dangerous things they could do to you?”
You sighed.
#namor fic#namor x reader#namor imagine#namor x fem!reader#namor x y/n#namor x you#namor fluff#namor fanfiction#k'uk'ulkan#kukulcan#black panther wakanda forever#black panther imagine#black panther: wakanda forever#the reader litteraly is just a precious little thing that I love so much#tenoch huerta#this is pure fluffiness
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The Artist and the Sea (Namor x f!Reader)
MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST
Requests are open - slowing working my way through them!
Part 2
A/N: Hello Nonnie! Thank you for requesting! It inspired me, and I couldn’t not write it as soon as I saw it. Also, let's pretend we can't see the spears being pointed at Namor in this gif lol. (Again, if any of the Yucatec Maya to English translations are off, please let me know!)
Request: tbh it's my first time requesting something regarding the marvel fandom but can i request a namor x fem reader where they meet at the beach when the reader is painting the landscape of the ocean? if you don't understand or don't want to write this, it's okay <333
Summary: You meet a stranger on the beach who takes an interest in your paintings, which somehow puts you in the position of painting the King of Talokan’s portrait.
(Warnings: not a lot?, the kisses gets a little steamy, Namor is a little touch starved, WING TOUCHING!!!!!, no smut (nonnie didn’t specify and I didn’t want to deliver hardcore smut to someone who didn’t want it lol), reader doesn’t speak Namor’s language but loves the nicknames anyways, I think that’s it???)
Translations:
ki'ichpam artista – beautiful artist
pétalo – petal
ch'ujuk ch'úupalo' – sweet girl
princesa – princess
The light reflecting off the ocean was a blinding blue, and you had been trying to blend your paint together to mimic the color for 15 minutes already. You grunted with displeasure as your paintbrush stained three shades too dark. Today was a day for painting. The wind wasn’t blowing too hard, the weather was the perfect mix of cool, but not too cold, and the tides were relatively consistent. When you’d walked out onto your back porch earlier this morning and laid your eyes on the little slice of the beach you owned, it almost felt like an invitation.
Now, you were regretting your decision to lug all of your paint supplies out of your tiny studio and down the beach. You rolled your eyes, tossing the palette down onto the old blanket you used to keep any stray paint from spilling onto the beach. You dipped a clean brush into the tan color you had mixed earlier and began working on creating the right texture for the sand.
The beach was mostly empty today, but even during tourist season, there wasn’t much foot traffic this far down the beach. Your grandmother’s house was a small, but cozy cabin-like home, nestled in a small cove that only locals knew about. You had spent many summers here, tucked away in your little slice of heaven, painting anything and everything you saw. When your grandmother had passed away, the deed of the house was transferred to you, and suddenly you were a homeowner.
You had transformed the inside after moving in, turning the office into an art studio, and transforming the bedroom into a library. Your bedroom, if you could call it that, was actually the living room with tapestries hung up as makeshift walls. You didn’t mind, and neither did anyone else. Or they wouldn’t, you thought, if anyone happened to come by.
You sat back on your stool, looking between the sand around you and your canvas. The texture was coming along nicely, and you grinned at your work. Landscapes had never been your forte – most of your commissions were oil portraits – but you had been working on expanding your skills over the last few months.
“You are an artist?”
An unfamiliar voice startled you from your concentration, and you furrowed your brow at the intrusion. You weren’t one to hog the beach, but you’re clearly a busy woman that didn’t want to be bothered. You leaned around the canvas, intent on staying silent and ignoring the man, but did a double take when you made eye contact with the man.
He was undoubtably beautiful, and definitely not a local. His body was adorned with beautifully carved artifacts draping across his chest and shoulders, and the only actual article of clothing he wore was a pair of green shorts. You glanced down at the light flutter at his ankles, which had small wings sprouting from the sides of them. You brought your eyes back up, not wanting him to catch you staring, but the stranger hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you’d acknowledged him.
“I’m a...what?” You asked, blinking. You’d been so distracted by his sudden appearance that you’d forgotten the question he’d asked.
“You are an,” he nodded to the canvas in front of you, “artist. Yes?”
“Yes.” You nodded, standing from your stool. “But I am not very good at landscapes.”
He walked around you, facing the canvas and looking over it with a prompt shake of his head.
“This is beautiful. You are very good.”
“Oh.” You mumbled, ringing your hands together. “Thanks.”
You could feel your cheeks heating at his compliment, and you didn’t want to know why his compliments were getting such a rise out of you. This man was a complete stranger, and his opinions on your art should not have gotten that reaction out of you.
“You are not reacting to me the way I thought you would.”
You stared at your half-finished canvas harder, refusing to look in his eyes again, as you mulled over his statement. Yes, this was definitely the strangest encounter you’d ever experienced, but you lived in a universe where Avengers seemed to be popping up in every city, so the idea of a man from the sea appearing on your beach wasn’t as farfetched as it sounded. He was clearly a powerful being, but you weren’t afraid of him, or his power for that matter.
“How did you think I would react?” You finally asked, peeking at him in your peripheral.
“I am not sure. This is my first time approaching a surface dweller like this.”
“Surface dweller?” You scoffed, finally meeting his gaze.
He had a small smile on his face. “You dwell...amongst the surface. Do you not?”
“I’m assuming you dwell amongst something else?” Your eyes flicked towards the sea and then back at him.
“You assume correctly.” He dipped his head in a nod, adjusting his stance to face you. “I am Namor.”
You tested the name on your tongue, repeating it under your breath. Your gaze ran across his broad chest, trying to gauge the colors of paint you would mix to paint the golden-brown hues of his skin.
“Can I paint you, Namor?”
The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. He was just so pretty, and the artist in you couldn’t deny how beautiful the painting would turn out.
“You want to paint me?” He furrowed his brows, but the grin on his face grew slightly.
“Yes,” you responded quickly, nodding your head with vigor, “I would like to paint you.”
He was silent for a few moments, before shrugging his shoulders in a very human motion. “Okay, ki'ichpam artista. You may paint me.”
-
Your portrait of Namor would take you a few weeks, maybe even a month to complete. You wanted to highlight his strength and the unbridled power he possessed, but you also wanted to emphasize his beauty. Namor would have to visit you many times for you to get every detail just right, and the thought of that sent an excited flurry of butterflies through your stomach. You thought about taking a photo of him, to speed the process along, but quickly decided against it. It’s not every day that a girl gets to sit with a God, let alone paint one.
The first visit was mostly a sketch session, and you spent the vast majority of the time studying Namor’s features, sketching a few lines, and then erratically erasing different areas of the canvas. Namor sat patiently, watching you mumble under your breath as you captured the angles of his face. He wasn’t used to being studied so closely but being under your careful eye didn’t make him uncomfortable.
“Why did you become an artist?” Namor asked as you looked between your canvas and his face.
“Because I love art.” You murmured, squinting at the line you’d just drawn.
Namor smiled, and you ignored the fluttery feeling in your chest.
“I know that pétalo. I meant, why do you love art?”
You glanced up at him, studying the way his lips curled when he smiled. You began sketching again before you answered him.
“Art brings people together, you know? That’s super cliché, but I guess it’s true.” You shrugged. “Languages are complex. They cause confusion and barrier us from other cultures. But art is a form of communication that doesn’t have those boundaries. Everyone can look at a painting and understand it at its very core, even if they interpret it differently.”
Namor nodded, leaning back on his hands in the sand. You had a sneaky feeling that not many people got to see Namor in this relaxed state and took a mental picture of it so you could sketch it later.
“You have a very pretty way of saying things pétalo.”
You blushed, focusing on the angle of his pointed ears on your canvas.
-
It wasn’t until your third session with Namor that he began opening up about his home in Talokan. He told you about his people, and how most of the world didn’t know of their existence due to his vigorous efforts to protect them. You had an overwhelming sense that Namor’s pride lay in the ruling of his people, and that he would do anything to protect them.
While he described his homelands to you, you snuck another peek at his ankles. You’d have to ask him for a closer look eventually. The only way you could do them justice in your painting was by touching them, but you didn’t know how to ask.
“You can...touch them, if you need to, pétalo.”
You looked up, stiffening with guilt. You didn’t know what to say to that.
“You cannot hurt me. I promise.” He nudged his foot out, urging you to touch them.
You nodded slowly, softly setting your paintbrush down and standing from your seat. You kneeled down beside him, leaving a trail of featherlight touches along the inside of one of the wings. The texture was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and you couldn’t help the second stroke you left across the back of the wing.
Namor inhaled sharply and you pulled your hand away, looking up at him with concern.
“Did I hurt you?” you asked, squeezing your hands together.
“No, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. They are very...sensitive.”
“Oh. Oh.” You stood up, swiftly turning to walk back towards your canvas, when his hand lightly wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.
“It’s okay, pétalo. No one has touched them in many years. It was a feeling I had forgotten, that’s all.” His eyes shone bright with ease, and the soft smile on his lips was comforting.
You nodded, returning his smile. You noticed that he hadn’t let go of your wrist, even though it was clear you weren’t moving away from him anytime soon.
“Were you born with them?” You asked, looking up at his tall frame.
“Yes. And these, too.” He pointed at his ears, and you couldn’t help it when you reached forward, running a fingertip along their edge.
“Beautiful.” You murmured under your breath, leaning in to get a closer look. Everything about him was beautiful, and you were finding it harder and harder to breathe when you were this close to him.
Namor stumbled back, facing the ocean with such speed that you stumbled forward in his absence.
“I must go. Something is not right at home. I am sorry to leave so quickly. It was just getting good. I will see you again, next week, pétalo.”
You watched him walk back into the water, washing away with the tide, and just like that, he was gone.
-
The fourth session you were supposed to have with Namor was nearly ruined by a terrible storm brewing on the coast. You’d startled awake to the loud clap of thunder and watched through your window as the ocean violently responded. The rain came soon after, and just as you convinced yourself you wouldn’t be seeing Namor today, his powerful body trudged out of the water and onto the beach.
You met him at your front door, ushering him inside as the storm raged above his head. He stood in your foyer/living room/bedroom and looked around. You froze with the realization that this was the first time he had entered your house. It was strange, you thought, seeing someone so ethereal surrounded by the familiar, but common, walls of your home. You hadn’t done the dishes the night before, and your bed was unmade, but his attention had been snagged by the light coming from your makeshift studio.
“In here, then?” He pointed, gaze returning to you.
“Yeah. I’ll be in there in a minute. I just have to get my sketches.”
As soon as he rounded the corner, you bolted forward, straightening the covers on your messy bed and throwing dirty laundry into a pile in the corner. You ran your fingers through your hair, and finally joined him in the room a few moments later.
He was hunched over, looking at the dozens of sketches you’d drawn of him. You face palmed and internally groaned as you realized that you hadn’t put them away before inviting him inside. This was an embarrassing secret, to say the least, but you couldn’t stop drawing him. Every time he sent you a new look or moved his body in a way that captured your attention, the urge to draw it in your sketchbook wouldn’t leave your mind until you finally gave in and sketched it out.
“You are very talented, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'.” he said, standing to his full height.
“Thanks.” You mumbled through your hands, trying to hide the fact that you were blushing, again. You shifted your focus to the painting, which was nearing its completion. “I’m almost done with the painting. I think after today I’ll just have to do minor touchups.”
“That is...wonderful, pétalo.” He plopped into one of the chairs you had set up around the room. You moved toward him and reached your hands out, intending to turn his head the way you needed it to finish the painting, but you hesitated. Your arms were frozen, stretched out in front of you as you met his heated gaze.
He shifted forward, keeping his gaze on you as he slowly leaned into your outstretched palms. Your hands curled into hair, and he shuttered, eyes closing as he forcefully pushed his head further into your hold. You tried to ignore the butterflies his slight movement had spurred in your stomach, but the soft groan he let out as you ran your fingers through his hair ruined any chance you had of controlling your blood pressure.
“It has been...a very long time since I’ve been touched so gently, princesa.”
You swallowed, unsure what to do next, but he was quick to hoist you into his lap. You traced his jaw and couldn’t help but glance at his lips as you met his gaze. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you closer to his body.
“I did not mean to fall for you so entirely, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo', but you have not left my mind since I saw you painting on the beach.”
His voice was soft, but his hands tightened around your waist as he spoke. He had to physically restrain himself from pulling your lips down to meet his. But he would wait, a lifetime if he had to, for a sign of consent from you before crushing his lips against yours.
“I finished the painting last night.” You revealed, choking out a laugh. “I just wanted one more day with you before you left.”
Namor let out a deep laugh, throwing his head back against the back of his chair. “What were you planning on doing all day, princesa?”
You groaned, resting your forehead on his shoulder. “I was going to pretend to paint for a few hours before showing it to you.”
“If you wanted to spend more time with me, princesa, you only had to ask.” Namor was grinning wide, running his fingers along the curve of your waist.
“Don’t you have important kingly things to attend to?”
“Yes, but nothing that can’t be rearranged, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. You are also important to me.”
You smiled, cradling his face between your hands. His expression turned molten as you leaned into him, parting your lips in anticipation. He cupped the back of your head, pulling you the rest of the way down to meet his lips. The kiss was both sweet and lustful. His tongue dominated yours, begging for more as he ran his hands over your waist.
He pulled away from you abruptly, squeezing your waist. You were about to crawl off of his lap and begin profusely apologizing to him, but his words stopped you.
“You said you finished the painting. Can I see it?”
“Of course.” You jumped off of his lap and ran to the closet you’d hidden it in, suddenly excited to reveal it to him. You’d been keeping it a secret until it was finished, and to say you were eager to hear his thoughts on it was an understatement.
You set it on your canvas stand and stepped back, allowing him to fully see the painting. It had come out better than you’d hoped, and you’d known by the time you were halfway finished that it would be your best portrait yet.
He leaned in, marking the tiny details you’d spent hours polishing, and smiled.
“Ch'ujuk ch'úupalo', I have seen many paintings of me over the years, but none come close to this. You are so talented, princesa.”
“Do you really like it?” You asked, clutching your hands into your chest.
“I love it, my ki'ichpam artista. If I could take it with me and hang it for all my people to see, I would.”
“Really?” You squeaked, trying not to tear up at his declaration.
“Do you like it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.
“I think it’s my favorite painting I’ve ever done.” You breathed, glancing at it.
“You should keep it, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. Hang it in your home as a reminder of me, for when I have to attend to those kingly duties.”
You thought it over for a moment, and then smiled. “Okay.”
Parting with that painting was something you’d been dreading since you’d started it, along with the idea of not seeing Namor on a regular basis, but he’d just relieved your doubts in one sentence. You got to keep the painting and you’d be seeing him again.
“Okay.” He repeated, pulling at your waist until you were situated in front of him. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your lips, and you finally gave into those damned butterflies, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.
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