#like namor shut up

[valninja]

“Then keep me instead... I’d love to see your nation.”

“You can’t come down there in that.”

[blackbat05]

First of all I would like to apologize for my unhinged and feral behavior upon watching Wakanda Forever.

Second of all, if I am unwell - it’s his fault😊

[seawhcre]

You’re right…because it didn’t fucking happen. It was actually a pretty big part ya know…shuri DEMANDING to see Namor and demanding to be brought to him.

was it not the reason he attacked wakanda?? because he treated her and riri well and in return two of his people died. like ooooooo my god

[theold-ultraviolence]

The longer I have to wait to see Joseph Quinn as Johnny Storm, the more insane I'll get

[straightfromthetorturedpoetsdept]

watching wakanda forever with my boyfriend's republican father is very funny because he didn't like the movie cause he thought it was too left and I didn't like how far right it STILL was. yes, I'm talking about the make POC fight each other to prove that they're just as "power hungry" as white people are trope. It really made me frustrated because some of the moves these people were taking were just so.... white? and sure maybe, you could be like "but it's true!!!!! colorism blah blah" and yes in REAL LIFE it is but if you're going to make a movie about a fictional african country that was never touched by colonization, followed by an indigenous country that was, why would you rely on racist tropes still for the plot? They could have just as easily made it about POC cooperation with one another to fight the real enemy: France.

[talkingparrotkee]

One thing I like about MCU Shuri and also think several people sorely get wrong is that she's the more cool-headed character. She is slower to shout, panic, and anger, being relatively more laidback. Shuri would rather wall up and bury herself in her lab (M'Baku confirms this at Ramonda's funeral, and we see her doing just that in the beginning) before lashing out.

Even Ryan described how T'Challa was more hotheaded to T'Chaka's diplomat, while Shuri was the more cool and laid back one to fiery Ramonda.

We see it in her clothing styles.

We see this in the way she initially approaches things. Two key instances:

The way she first responds and confronts Namor. Shuri is still on defense at the river, but she is less combative or reactive compared to Ramonda. Shuri more quietly assesses and responds to him. Compare this to Ramonda, who immediately fires back and disregards what he says without even checking if it could possibly be true, to which Shuri has to point out some truths by empirical evidence (i.e., Ramonda dismissed him saying only they had vibranium, Shuri gently nudges her, saying he's covered in it, so that cannot be the case). A similar thing happens when she is down in Talokan with Namor. Throughout it all, Shuri kept a leveled head and bit back her tongue to think of solutions, even when things started turning south. She knew how to shut up as well rather than argue him down more (something not many people know how to do).

The way Shuri tried to extract Riri compared to Okoye. For starters, Shuri did not break into bathrooms or bring spears in Riri's dorm - she blended in and used the door. She did not make threats and give an ultimatum either. Shuri just tried to explain the urgency to Riri and draw her out without the use of physical force.

We also see it in her reactions with other characters.

In the first movie, she tells T'Challa to "calm down" when he shouts at her to drive. We also see her not care to fight T'Challa for the mantle, even if it is her birthright (she just wanted to go home and get out of a particularly uncomfortable corset). Instead, she prefers to fight alongside and as support.

Black Panther: "The Black Panther lives. And when he fights for the fate of Wakanda, I will be right there beside him."

Black Panther 2: "I was not trying to save the mantle mother, I was trying to save my brother."

For another example regarding her interactions with characters from Wakanda Forever, Riri is consistently depicted to be the more anxious and is more inclined to lose composure. Shuri, even when she's stressed or overwhelmed too, is often the one to remain composed. Shuri attempts to calm Riri down so she doesn't have a panic attack. Shuri also didn't reply when Riri started snapping at her about the FBI, only calmly working about and mapping out an escape plan.

One last particular example is with Okoye. Shuri is less quick to be defensive or shout compared to Okoye. We see it in the way Okoye commanded her to get in the car, and rather than shout back, she simply uttered quietly, "Why are you shouting at me..." Shuri didn't reply to Riri snapping, but Okoye did not let anything slide, pointing the finger back to her. During this entire exchange, Shuri was quietly observing before cutting in, saying how they needed to work together to get out of their situation.

Black Panther Wakanda Forever was her later in-character out-of-character. In other words, that unrivaled anger and snapping you saw was never her baseline. She's not an angry or vengeful person. That was the point of Ramonda, "Show him who you are," when she was hesitating killing Namor.

It was the result of her character at a breaking point. Shuri was not coping properly and dealing with frustrations she couldn't see her way out of. Shuri was struggling with spirituality. She was trying to know if her family was truly still there. She was trying to find the reason behind her failure and loss. Shuri already began cracking since T'Chaka died (see: Wakanda Files). T'Challa's death just broke her, with her narrowly holding her pieces together.

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt. 2

Part One: The Stranger

Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 8k (lol whoops)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, PLOT

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

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

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

There is a growing unrest inside you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man's left eye slowly squints open.

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

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

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

"King. Serpent. God. Monster."

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

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

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

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

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

King. Serpent. God. Monster.

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

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

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

There is someone inside.

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

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

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

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

“Sir,” the man behind you bellows.

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t move a muscle.

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

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

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

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

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

She. He is looking for Namora.

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

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

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

Barrett sighs and gives you a disappointed smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His implication is obvious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zzzzziiinnng!

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

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

Namor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep moving, you tell yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come,” she insists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A god. A monster.

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

"No." She whispers fiercely.

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

——

Your feet drag through the cool sand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

You only nod, afraid to say too much.

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" He asks through a clenched jaw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His face is stoic as he listens to your answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's beautiful." You say reverently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A version of me." He answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- -- -- 

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

[thegreatestsandwich]

I won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay (Xavier Thorpe x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x f!reader

Word count: 1k

Summary: There was one thing Xavier truly despise and that was you...so why does he feel bad when he sees you cry?

Warning: Enemies to lovers, but mostly for Xavier because you are a sweetheart and who could ever hate you?

A/N: At this point, my blog became a huge love appreciation for this little baby (and for Namor as well)

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

There’s some things Xavier truly despise about you, the way you always seem to know the answer to whatever question the professor asks, the way you always have that smirk on your face when you ace another exam, the way you never shut up or when you never take off the gloves on your hands, and the list could go and go and go.

So when the rumor about that normie that asked you on a date, he knew that was another reason to hated you.

Xavier couldn’t help to think that your ego was really high and even if you were a bit secretive about your personal affairs, the whole school loved to talk about you. I guess that was another fact of his hatred.

The fair had arrived a bit earlier this month and the school was happily giving passes to every student so they could go and enjoy it. It was Ajax the one who persuade him into going, but in reality he didn’t want to. He just wanted to go into his shed, close the door, put some music and enjoy the small quiet space while he painted.

But now he was sitting on one of the benches, cotton candy on one hand, a corndog on the other and a sour face. He was clearly enjoying this. Xavier sighed as he just wanted to do anything else than being here.

“Dude, dude, dude!” Ajax pushed him a bit as he sat on the bench. “Guess what I just saw?”

Xavier couldn’t help but sigh again. “What.”

“Remember the normie that asked (L/N) out on a date?” Ajax was getting so giddy with the story that Xavier decided to ignore him but nodded anyway. “Well, the guy never show up! She’s been there sitting all alone and creepy, isn’t it awesome?” He raised his hand and Xavier stared at it. Ajax moved it a bit. “Dude, high-five?”

Xavier frowned, “What?”

“Yeah dude, this is like your chance to go and laugh about it!” Ajax grabbed the corndog and the cotton candy. “Go, go.”

Xavier quickly stood up and began walking towards your location and he saw you there, sitting all alone. He sighed, placing his hands on his pockets and walked a bit slower. He stood next to you and stayed quiet.

“If you came here to make a joke, let me tell you that you are a bit late, the others already came to laugh about it.” You stared at your hands, not really having the strength to look at him. “Sorry.”

“You think I came here for that?” Xavier asked you, he was a little bit offended but when you turned to face him, whatever he was feeling just disappeared at how distraught you were. “Move.” His hand gently pushed you to make room for him.

You huffed but kept quiet, you began tapping the table with your fingers, trying your hardest to kept your cool. “Ajax told you?” You murmured.

Xavier nodded, placing his hands on the table and interwinding his fingers. “Did he show up?” He gently asked you.

You bit your lip and shook your head. “In a way.” Your voice wabbling a bit. Your hand quickly went into your purse, got your phone and unlocked. You put it on the table. “Took a photo and left.”

Xavier grabbed the phone and the anger he was feeling got bigger, he bit his cheek to refrain himself to curse in front of you.

There it was, a simple photo of you sitting here, waiting.

‘SIKE! Good luck next time freek!’

“He didn’t even spell freak right.” You laughed but Xavier could hear the tears burning on your throat. “Stupid right?”

“C’mon, grab your things.” He gave you your phone back and stood up, watching you.

“What?”

“C’mon, there’s a convenient store closer, it’s a bit of a walk but it’s close.” His hands went quickly into the pockets of his jacket, his head nodding to the side. “C’mon.”

You sighed. “What are you doing Xavier?” But still stood up anyway.

“I just told you, I’m hungry so let’s go.”

You sighed again and began following him, the walk was quiet as neither one of you were too comfortable to be in each other presence. Xavier glance at your direction, noticing how you were trembling for a bit. I mean it was quite obvious, you weren’t dressed for the cold but he understood, you wanted to make an impression. But you didn’t need to. He thought.

“You cold?” He broke the silence, you turned to face him but shook your head.

“Uh, no.” You paused. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.” He shook off his jacket, he felt the cold but he didn’t care. His hand offering you his jacket, you stared at it and gently took it. Your gloved hands quickly putting it on. “Why the gloves?” He was curious.

“So I don’t accidently touch anyone.” You whispered, your eyes on your hands. “Um, principal Weems gave them to me after my parents transferred me here, after the accident.”

“Accident?” Xavier began wondering if he truly knew you if he ignored the rumors.

You nodded. “Um, a guy kissed me on my other school but he kinda…just…died, so that’s why the gloves.”

Xavier then realized that you actually never have a group on your own to just hang out, you were always alone and the reason wasn’t that you thought superior. You just didn’t want to touch the others. “I um, I make things come to life, mostly my paintings.”

You softly smiled at him. “Yeah, I know, um, my first day you made a cat spook me after I left principal Weems’s office.”

He smiled. “Kinda awesome, don’t you think?” And you nodded, still smiling and he smiled back.

“So,” You started, this is the first time he was talking to you and you didn’t want to fuck it up. “What are you going to buy?”

“Kinda craving some ramen.” He shrugged. “Wanna share?”

“Oh.” You paused. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well, um.” You hesitated. “I don’t…”

“We are sharing.” He bumped your shoulders with his and you froze, stopping completely. “You okey?”

You stared at Xavier and waited for him to just drop dead.

He didn’t.

“Yeah.” You sighed in relief. “Totally,”

Xavier offered you a smile and nodded back to the road. “Cool.”

[angelltheninth]

NSFW Masterlist Part 4

DC COMICS

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader - Roger That, Over

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Sweet Smoke

Being Friends with Benefits with Bruce, Nightwing, Red Hood and Oliver Queen

MCU

Dom!Druig Makes You Beg

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader - Wall Crawling Lover Boy

Namor x Fem!Reader - On the Waves of Pleasure

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader - Warm on the Inside

Edging the Moon Boys

Moon Boys + Breeding and Creampies

CALL OF DUTY

Domestic Smut Headcanons with Ghost

Ghost Can't Keep Quiet

Sub!Ghost with a Mommy Kink

Ghost's Mask Stays on During Sex

Ghost Stamina Headcanons

Ghost Using Sex Toys

Ghost Marking You

Ghost + Condoms

Ghost with a Breeding Kink

One Night Stand with Ghost

König with a Breeding Kink

General NSFW Headcanons with John

Bondage with John

Task Force 141 and Alejandro being Overstimulated

Size Kink with König

Ghost and König + Primal Kink

First Time with Task Force 141 and Alejandro

KIMETSU NO YAIBA

Wedding Night with Tengen Uzui

Kidnapped by Akaza

Fun Under the Table with Tengen Uzui

Breeding Kink Blurb with Tengen Uzui

BUNGOU STRAY DOGS

Cockwaming Dazai

Overstimulation with Fyodor

Fyodor Punishes You

Worshiping Fyodor

Pain Play with Nikolai

CRITICAL ROLE

Grog Strongjaw x Fem!Reader - Rough Around the Edges

NSFW Letters D, E, I, K, R with Percy de Rolo

First Time with Percy, Scanlan and Grog

Scanlan x Fem!Reader - Sing Me Your Song of Pleasure

Percy de Rolo with a Baby Fever

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE

Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader - Put on Display

Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader - Conquest in the Sheets

THE WITCHER

Geralt x Fem!Reader - Bad Influence

First Time Having Someone as Big as Geralt

BLUE LOCK

Bachira Using Your Panties to Masturbate

Friends with Benefits with Sae Itoshi

Chigiri Rails You Over the Table

Breaking up and Getting Back Together with Sae Itoshi

Bachira Going Feral on You

NSFW Letters B, F, J, K for Sae Itoshi

Praise + Cockwarming with Mikage Reo

Chigiri Blingfolding You

Reo and Nagi + Facesitting Headcanons

Rin Itoshi Wants You to be Loud

Threesome Blurb with Sae and Rin

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Sukuna x Fem!Reader - In the Eyes of God

Yuuji Itadori x Fem!Reader x Sukuna - The Mirror Effect

JJK Men when You Have Big Boobs

AVATAR

Miles Quaritch x Fem!Reader - Alien Needs

Jake, Quaritch, Tsu'tey, Tonowari + Mating Season

Tonowari x Fem!Reader - How It Should Be

Aonung x Fem!Reader - Under the Surface

TWISTED WONDERLAND

Leona Kingscholar x Fem!Reader - Hate You Fuck You

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader - Green Colored Lust

Leona Chases You Down

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader - Wedding Night Frenzy

GENSHIN IMPACT

Al-Haitham, Childe and Ayato when You Fake an Orgasm

Genshin Men when You Call Someone Else's Name During Sex

Dainsleif and Kaveh with Sex Pollen

Pantalone x Fem!Reader - Just Say Yes

Genshin Men with an S/O who Loves Their Big Chest

Ayato, Childe, Al-Haitham and Zhongli when Their S/O Cries After an Orgasm

Genshin Men with an S/O who likes to Hold Hands During Sex

Dottore x Fem!Reader - His Greatest Achievement

Closet Sex with Bodyguard!Capitano

Pregnancy sex with Childe, Al-Haitham and Zhongli

Genshin Men when You Laugh in the Middle of Having Sex

Scaramouche x Fem!Reader - Sit Down and Shut Up

Fatui Harbiger Men + Size Differance

Being Cumdrunk and Cockdrunk with Genshin Men

Threesomes with Genshin Men

Make-up Sex with Diluc, Xiao, Scaramouche and Al-Haitham

Diluc x Fem!Reader - Darknight's Undoing

Shower Sex with Childe, Dottore, Pantalone and Al-Haitham

ARCANE

Sneaking Around with Vander

Finn x Fem!Reader - Within These Halls

Vander with a Breeding Kink

First Time with Cassandra, Grayson and Ambessa

Vi x Fem!Reader - Brawler Who Got the Cream

STRANGER THINGS

Billy, Eddie, Steve Fingering Headcanons

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - Like Fire in My Skin

Steve Watches You Masturbate

Missionary Sex with Billy

Eddie, Steve and Billy + Being Loud or Quiet

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

Dabi x Fem!Reader - Dirty Dancing Through Life

BNHA Men Fingering You

Izuku "Deku" Midorya x Fem!Reader - Disciplinary Action

STAR WARS

Din Djarin Blindfolds You

Darth Maul Catches You Masturbating

Din Djarin with a Baby Fever

[lieutnt]

Please I need to see more Namor content 😣

Sub Namor getting a hj from his general after he snaps at him. Like his general just sits behind him and holds his close so he can't squirm or wriggle. HED BE LIKE A (non)HUMAN HEATER HIS BODY WOULD BE SO WARM..

I have risen to deliver this message to you. I haven't been on here much due to midterms, but guess who passed their lit exam with a 98% average 😋

Either way I hope you're doing amazing!!

98% is amazing! As a congratulations I offer you this :)

You’ve been a steadfast presence at Namor’s side for countless years as his most trusted general, and with that comes the deeper understanding that if Namor snaps at you, it’s out of frustration at the world around him rather than something you’ve done.

This time is no different, Namor spitting out words harsher than intended before his shoulders sag, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as he turns away from you. The words are already forgotten, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders as you begin to massage them. “You seem stressed today, my King.” His lips twitch into a brief smile at the title, one you rarely call him in private unless in a teasing manner. Slowly you guide him backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed, gently settling you both down so Namor is sat in front of you, back pressed against your chest. Your hands snake over his shoulders and down, down, down until you can tease his inner thighs, “I may know a way to help you… relax.”

He’s already sinking into your touch, weight falling against you and Namor nods, eyes fluttering shut when your hand travels further between his thighs, cupping his soft bulge. With a few quick twists of your fingers he’s naked before you, already half-hard as you release his cock. When you spit into your palm and begin to languidly stroke him, his head tips backwards to rest against your shoulder, pleased sighs escaping his lungs as you switch between swiping your thumb over his shining head and trailing a finger over the most sensitive veins. 

His hips begin to move, attempting to thrust into your grasp and you move impossibly closer, moving your free arm to hold across his waist. You kiss behind his ear, and with a voice low and calm, “I thought I was supposed to be helping you relax?” you question, smiling as his hips stop. 

You keep up the same pace, stroking him until he clings to your thigh, nails digging into your skin. “I’m close,” he warns breathlessly, body like a furnace as the heat of his impending orgasm zings through his veins.

“Cum whenever you’re ready,” and with a few more strokes he does, quickly turning his head to moan into your neck as cum pulses from his cock, coating your fingers in his sticky release as you stroke him through it, able to feel the way his body tenses and relaxes with pleasure until he’s boneless against you, fighting to stay awake in your arms.

[acontrariis]

⸺ alta mar

r. Namor x Mutant!Reader

wc. 4.2k

d i s c l a i m e r. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Mentions of human trafficking. Mentions of physical and mental abuse. Death. Mutant Powers. Pining. Third Person POV.

n o t e. highly recommend listening to The Lighthouse - Halsey, big inspo for Reader.

→ a o 3 [link]

⸺ gif credit [here]

The sea is quiet tonight.

Too quiet for his taste, in fact. The wandering fishes seemed to be hiding in the dark, afraid to be seen, to make too much noise. The life in Talocan went on as usual, the people relishing in the comfort the well-earned peace brought. Yet, there was an uneasiness in his heart, a warning that something was happening close to his home.

Namor had the practice of roaming the ocean, he made it part of his routine to explore and help wherever he could, to make the underwater life as better as it could be. After hundreds of years on this planet, he felt a connection to the ocean as that of a limb, a part of him he prayed never to lose. So, as any other night, he made his rounds in the deserted land. This time, paying close attention to everything in sight. It didn’t take long for him to find the source of his worry.

A foreign cargo ship stood on the motionless tide. The engines off, the place deserted. As his head came out of the water, he noticed the lack of breeze. It was as if time had frozen. He would almost think there was no life inside, an abandoned boat in the middle of nowhere, had it not been for warmth still present in the walls from the force of the movement, and the frantic heartbeats that echoed inside. For a moment, he simply stood there, floating in the salty water. It was not for him to meddle in the affairs of the surface, and he didn’t particularly care for them, as long as they didn’t affect his people.

The quietness, however, ended as abruptly as it had started. In a fraction of a second, the winds picked up with herculean strength. The ship rocked violently as the water shook furiously around it, giant waves started to form. He started in awe, quickly moving away from the chaos, flying to safety away from the grasps of the ocean. It was not missed how the commotion centered in one place, an invisible line separating the ring from the rest of the ocean. He couldn’t pinpoint where the culprit was, except that they were inside the wrecking ship.

The screams filled the air, along with the metallic scent of blood. As if the hands of the goddess herself emerged from the depths of the ocean, the waves ripped the vessel in two as a dozen armed men fell into the water, dragged down without a chance to ever come out for breath again. Another dozen or so of chained women and children fell into the water, their lifeless bodies floating in the storm and in the middle of the commotion, a single body stood out to him.

Her turquoise eyes glowed like gems in the dark of the night, the most beautiful color he’d ever seen. Deadly glimmer. Her own body fell and as she struggled with what he thought were certainly her survival instincts kicking in, a grin adorned her face. He could hear the loud pumping of her heart, almost reaching its limit. She didn’t have long to live, and the blood pouring out of her mouth was proof of it. With the last of her strength, she made sure every man in uniform was engulfed in darkness, before her piercing eyes shut the light he was so desperate to catch.

⸺

Darkness and the whooshing sound of the wind was all her senses could pick up. As if waking up from a deep sleep, her limbs numb and too weak to even try to move, little by little her consciousness started to awaken. The burn in her eyes and the dryness of her mouth tells that she wasn't as dead as expected. The woman could feel the blood pumping through her veins, the beating of her heart accelerating with every shallow breath she took and as she finally managed to open her eyes, the panic started to take over.

Unable to move, she could still feel everything: the cold stone surface she was lying on, the soft cloth covering her, the dull ache from the previous beatings she had taken not long ago. A pair of hands came to her aid, as her mind was starting to drift into hysteria, they covered her shoulders and softly spoke in a calming voice. The words weren’t something she could decipher, as it was a language unknown, but soon she found herself mimicking the unknown woman’s breathing, her smile a soft approval. What she assumed was medicine was poured down her throat and for a moment she allowed herself to relax, tears of relief rolling down her cheeks.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, there were zero changes that could give away the time of day, let alone the passage of it. The only constant was the caretaker, she didn’t know her name and after several failed attempts to communicate, she decided she didn’t really need to know. Several days could have passed, a routine now formed: wake up, drink the medicine, eat whatever she could. Her wounds healed faster than ever before, the constant pain now a faint memory. Everyday they would wash her, clean the scratches left on her body and dress her up. After that, they would help her up and start “exercising”.

The movement of her limbs didn’t come as easily as one would expect. This is what she imagined rehabilitation would look like. It was strange. On one hand, she felt better than ever. The bruises on her body were fading, her skin softer, she didn’t throw up everything that was fed to her anymore either. On the other hand, her body felt foreign, like an infant learning the basic functions, she stumbled and fell in the arms of the women surrounding her. Celebrating each little victory, picking up new words and expressions to get through the day and feeling a pair of watching eyes monitoring her every movement.

After the relief settled and she reluctantly accepted perhaps these people won’t hurt her, the questions started to pile up. She knew she should be dead. She had made peace with it. As she made sure all the bastard’s had their lungs filled with salty water, she decided to join them in hell. Anything better than being stuck in that tin cage and being used as a circus trick. So then, how did she end up here? And where (and what) exactly is here? What if she was actually dead? What if this was just some sick dream before she started to burn for her sins or something like that? What if this was like her personal purgatory? What if they were feeding her so they could sacrifice her to some weird god in a volcano?

Needless to say, most of her questions remained unanswered for some time. Apparently, this place was called Talocal and, at least for now, they would not turn her to their god. K'uk'ulkan. No volcano for now. She was introduced to some women who spoke English, and as her recovery progressed, her understanding of her surroundings also improved. Soon enough, she was walking on her own, the long desired sense of independence little by little took root in her, feeling safe perhaps for the first time in her life.

There was one thing she desperately wanted to ask, what everyone seemed to intentionally avoid: how did she end up here? They filled her days with stories about their god, the old legends and the bedtime stories that embodied pieces of their knowledge. They also taught her how to tell time in there, and informed she had been in Talocan for two weeks now, half of it was her deep in slumber, while the worst of her injuries had still not passed.

It was easy to notice how they never truly left her by herself. Even if they allowed her to explore some rooms and ask some questions, it was very clear there were lines drawn. That, and the constant feeling of being watched. She couldn’t quite pinpoint where exactly it was coming from, but she knew there was someone, not human, watching every step she made. It took another week for her to get the answers she was looking for.

⸺

The day started ordinary, as any other. Her wounds had long been healed, and her condition far improved, so the women around her felt more like babysitters than caretakers now. As part of her new found routine, she sat by the little pond that connected the cave to the ocean. She had been warned not to dive in, for her body couldn’t withstand the pressure. By now, three weeks had passed since she arrived, and as grateful as she was for their attentions, it was still unclear why exactly they were giving them to her. Frankly, she was starting to feel like an animal in a cage, a feeling she was well accustomed with and to which she refused to go back.

In one of those rare moments where the women’s attention wasn't on her, she decided it was time to test what’s the worst that could happen. She knew someone was watching, but it wasn’t those she could see. So, what would it do if she tried to go into the water? Will it show itself or let me die? Letting me die after going through all this trouble seems unlikely, and it’s about time I find out what exactly these people want with me. Trying to make as little fuss as possible, as if it was simply a little stretch, she took one deep breath and jumped in the water, the exalted shouts left unheard.

Swim, just swim.

It was hard to see, pitch black as it was the deeper she dived, but that feeling never left her. She knew they were there with her. Now, her body seemed okay, something she didn’t really question, as focused as she was in trying to find something, anything besides the dark that engulfed her. Just when she was starting to panic, not knowing how long it had been since she took a breath, he appeared before her. At first she didn’t see him, a mere silhouette as her eyes tried to get used to the absence of clarity, she felt his hands surrounding her. A familiar presence that, without her knowing how to explain why, brought her calm.

She wasn’t sure how, but she heard his voice, instructing her to open her mouth, let instincts take over and stop holding her breath. Before stopping to question it, she did as he said. Scientists would have a field day with her now. There was no clear explanation, but she was okay. Her lungs weren’t filling with water, her bones were not being crushed by the pressure, her eyes were adapting to the darkness as if her body was slowly adapting to this new environment and she couldn’t help but let out the bubbled laugh of ecstasy. She could swear she saw him smile, even if for just a second. It’s what she thought as he quickly pulled them back to the cave and out of the water.

He didn’t let her out of his arms for a second, calmly carried her through the corridors and into a bedroom she had yet to see before. The murmurs in the background, no doubt discussing her latest transgression, were mere noise as she observed him. He didn’t look like anyone she had ever seen before, there was a softness in his eyes as he returned her gaze that made her feel like she could stay in that position for all eternity. It almost made her smile, if she didn’t think she would look like an absolute lunatic she maybe would have. Reluctantly, he let her go once they reached the closed quarters. Signaling her to move to what she assumed would be a bathroom, she quickly changed out of her wet clothes to go back to his side.

The former naked figure was now covered too, his towering form an intimidating image. She didn’t know what to say, and he watched her as if she were an unstable animal, too much pressure and they would break. Curiosity soon won and she broke the silence.

“K'uk'ulkan?” The hesitance in her voice was not missed by him, a clear tell along with the tilt of her head.

“That’s one of my names, yes. It’s a pleasure to officially meet you. I see you’re doing better.”

“My guess is that’s thanks to you? I… There’s a lot of holes in my memory. For one, I do not understand how I can possibly be here… alive… I have considered that this is just some sort of dream and I’m actually dead somewhere in the bottom of the ocean.”

She tried to pass the last part as a joke with an awkward smile, but he didn’t seem to like that.

“I will explain everything in due time. First, I need to know what you are. I saw what you did back there, those people on the ship… There wasn’t a single survivor, but you. I need to know if you’ll be a threat to my people.”

She avoided his gaze and walked around the table, setting some space between them. Her hands softly caressed the material as a sad smile adorned her face.

“You brought me here without first making sure I wasn’t dangerous? Sloppy, sloppy.”

The comment hit him like a lance through the chest, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t already heard from Namora and Attuma, but an outsider questioning his behavior made it that much worse. He didn’t sense any hostility from her, though. Her snarky comments may be a way to buy some time, it couldn’t be easy to talk about what happened. So he would take it, the comments, the attitude… Hell, she could hit him if she wanted, he would take anything she was willing to give him.

“They said something about a mutation in my blood. I never met my parents, so I don’t know where it came from or why it started, I just know it happened at a very young age.”

As she started to explain, the tension in her body worsened. He wanted to calm her down, he wished she would make another comment to annoy him, anything but the pained expression. If he was truly honest, he wanted to see her eyes glow once more, he wanted to see her smile full of life, just for him.

“The… The boat… We were being transported to a new facility. They didn’t say where, but I assume it was the same as the others, some underground establishment where they sold the precious goods”

Waving at her body, a sigh left her. Namor clenched his teeth, for a moment he wished they’d survived so he could kill them again.

“What you saw was the first time I used it like that.” She explained how in between the daily beatings, one of the electric rods came into contact with her collar, causing a malfunction that allowed her to use her powers.

“I didn’t mean to hurt the others too… but we were all dead either way…”

As the explanation progressed, he asked her what her powers entitled, and she told him it was better to see it. Her eyes glowed as the joyful shrieks coming from outside filled the place.

There was snow.

It was snowing.

In a cave.

In the caribbean.

In the middle of the ocean.

“What? You thought you were the only freak in town? I mean, maybe in this town… Hate to break your bubble, big guy.”

With his astonishment, her smile had returned, the previous tension put aside. He cleared his throat, a rebel smile forming in his face.

“Well, there are some conditions to this arrangement we have to discuss.”

“What arrangement?”

“…Me saving you.”

“I don’t remember asking you to do it, though.”

The baffled look on his face almost made her laugh, it’s not that she was ungrateful or that she was against any and all conditions he wanted to set. He helped her and she would never forget that or take it for granted, but she needed to make her point.

“Hear me out. I sincerely thank you for what you did, but I never asked for it. This is not an arrangement, you made a decision on your own and now have to face the consequences. I didn’t make any deal with you.”

The annoyance was clear on his face, and the more she spoke the more that turned into silent rage.

“So would you rather I leave you there to die?”

“I didn’t say that. I just want you to acknowledge it was you who decided that, not me. You cannot forever treat me as someone who is indebted to you, when I didn’t ask for anything. I am not one of your subjects out there, I don’t know anything about you, so why should I follow along with whatever you ask?”

Her attitude was absurd to him, and he truly hated to admit she may have a point. It had been centuries since someone challenged him like this. Even Namora, as doubtful as she could be at times, always followed his commands. It was sort of… refreshing… and infuriatingly annoying.

“I don’t see how you have much of a choice now that you’re here. I cannot let you leave as you please.”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“So what exactly are you saying?”

He was exasperated and she was having fun, he could see the glint in her eyes and the way she bit her lower lip trying so hard not to smile. For a second he wondered how her soul survived all the pain she undoubtedly suffered. Her humor was wickedly clever and had a hint of innocence that gave him comfort. He couldn’t help but thank whatever it was that kept her alive, and not the empty shell of a broken woman.

“I would like you to start by explaining to me what happened, why you brought me here and what exactly it is you’re expecting from me.”

He couldn’t admit the instant attraction he felt for her. He couldn’t say that, that night it felt as if a voice was calling for him and it guided him right to her. He couldn’t tell her he wanted her since the moment his eyes laid on her. And he most certainly couldn’t tell her how desperate he was for her to stay here with him, forever. So, he stuck with the facts, she was the only survivor of a tragedy, there was no one else he could have saved had he wanted to (which he didn’t).

He felt intrigued by her strength and the resolve she showed in what could have been her last moments. Due to the gravity of her wounds and the grave blood loss, she was given a transfusion of his blood, which proved to be effective in healing her and that would explain how she didn’t die from going into the ocean without any protection.

“Now, there is one condition to me saving your life…”

“Mmm, here it comes.”

His glare met her smile as she blinked feigning innocence.

“… You must reside here. Without my direct permission, you cannot leave Talocan.”

A minute of silence turned into two, and the longer it passed, the stiffness of his body worsened. He expected her to fight, she knew nothing about him or his world, she wouldn’t care about it, she could leave, but he couldn’t let her, he couldn’t risk it, but what if…

“Okay.”

The short response took him by surprise and stopped his spiraling thoughts.

“Okay?”

“Sure.”

He didn’t understand and the mistrust showed on his face, almost making her laugh. She shrugged her shoulders as she looked for the best words to explain it.

“I’ve been a prisoner my entire life. My first memory is of me being asked to twirl the water in a glass, and then being hit with its shards after I accidentally broke said glass…”

He flinched at the story and she smiled, knowing he empathized with her, felt somewhat warm.

“…So it’s fair to say, my memories of the surface are far from pleasant. If anything, they can be quite triggering. In addition to that, I was ready to die.” She pauses so he understands she means every word and his jaw clenches at her resolve. “I never expected to live any other life than the one I was living, because every day I prayed it would all end and I could finally get some rest. So this…” She waves at their surroundings “…was never a possibility I considered.”

“Still, you could wish for your freedom… Travel to different places…”

“But I can still do that, can I? You never said I could never leave, you said I needed your permission and, as it turns out, I can be very convincing” The wink she gave him almost made him cave in, but he still couldn’t bring himself to trust she would stay. It couldn’t be that easy.

“You’ll just be a prisoner here. A different type of prison, but it can come to trap you too and you’ll hate it. You’ll hate me for it.”

That made her pause, he sounded almost… afraid? She understood the mistrust, but fear of being hated was unexpected.

“Then say, will you imprison me? Decorate my body with pretty purple bruises and chain me in a room until you decide you wanna be entertained by the freak?”

“Of course not!” His answer came as a roar, the floor beneath them shaking

“There’s your answer.” She took a breath and stared directly into his eyes. “What I’m saying is, I’m deciding to trust you. So you should try and trust me a little bit too. I don’t think you will ever betray me, for the simple fact that you know I can destroy this entire place, even if I have to die in the process, and you will never risk your subjects like that. So, we can work together. Deal?”

She extended her hand to him, his eyes never leaving her, his piercing gaze examining her. After what felt like an eternity, the awkward silence filling the space, he took her hand in his and shook her, starting their new life together.

⸺

As he established his conditions, so did she. She would need a teacher and a guide, they already confirmed she wouldn’t die from the pressure or lack of oxygen, so she wanted to fully explore his kingdom. She also wanted to learn the language, so she would need someone to teach her. She also wanted to be given a job. Preferably something that helped her learn more about their system and the way they lived. Lastly, she wanted to explore the outside world at least once a month, for a full day, but this could start once he started trusting her a bit more. Namor was pleasantly surprised at her demands, a chuckle leaving him as she listed them.

It was surprisingly easy for them to fall into a routine. Namor wanted to spend as much time as he could with her, so of course he became her companion. He taught her everything there was to know about the way they lived, their customs and traditions, the love and respect they had for their home and for each other. Little by little, they became essential parts in each other’s lives, even if they refused to admit it. Unfortunately, the nightmares that were once kept at bay by the medicine, quickly came back when she least expected it.

The first one came like a storm, wrecking the delicate sense of peace she had come to feel during the past weeks. The engulfing darkness gave her an added loneliness, her body shaking in anguish as her sobs echoed through the walls. The tortuous tossing and turning made her fall, the hit not strong enough to wake her terror. The cloth covering her body now entangled with her limbs, a different form of restraint. Her broken cries, similar to a wounded animal, soon awoke Namor, who ran to her side.

He quickly took her in his arms, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, trying to calm her down even when she resisted and fought. The bindings of her legs were undone, her hair moved aside, her burning forehead wet as drops of water rolled down her body. Unsuccessful in his efforts to calm her, he picked her up and swiftly moved outside and into the water, just enough for it to cover her legs, he sat by the entrance and held her, reassuring her she was safe, he got her now, nothing would happen to her here. After what felt like hours, her breathing slowed down, her eyes focused on him as the sobs faded into soft hiccups.

His relief smile blinded her and for a moment, she couldn’t say a word, as he wiped the tears from her snot filled face.

“You’re back?” A soft hmm was all the response he received. He didn’t let go of her, they could’ve stayed there for hours, eventually she drifted back to sleep, at peace in the arms that were holding her.

comments and reblogs are very much encouraged! ♡

[mysweetpoisons]

Deep below the surface

Pairing: Namor/ K’uk’ulkan x reader

Warnings: smut without plot, +18, spit, dominant namor, oral, p in v

Word count: +2700

The massive crafted stone doors are pushed shut behind you, confining you from the stern looks of the Talokanil guards.

The underwater cave is massive, spacious enough to be carved into a formidable palace, the place continues to amaze you each passing day as you explore it through your assigned chores. 

This room, however, you have never been privy to. The majestic throne room that has witnessed uncountable meetings and hearings over the centuries. And, in the center of the blue-illuminated salon is him. K’uk’ulkan. The name his people chant in reverent prayers, dancing salons and upcoming battles. 

The feathered serpent god is sitting proudly on his throne, the halo of sharp teeth at his back adding a literal extra edge to his posture.  

He's wearing that attire. The ceremonial helmet that has excitement running through your veins. You had only caught glimpses of it before, the mesmerizing movement of the colored feathers, the vivid red, green and blue contrasting against the dark gold and the soft glinting of the encrusted jewels. 

Vibrant colors, brown golden skin and rich brown eyes as exhilarating as fresh coffee beans.

No soul is immune to such beauty, especially not yours. But this? Looking at him feels like looking at the sun without glasses. His burning rays weaken your steps so much so that you almost end up toppling over when your knees meet the cold floor.

" My king " you greet with a soft voice and your head lowering in respect. 

" Come closer, surface dweller " 

Feeling a little bold, you decide to crawl to him until your hands reach the step where his feet rest. Your body is perfectly aligned with his middle.

Namor reaches down to cradle your face in his large hand. The gesture is almost sweet until the rough skin of his thumb taps your chin, directing your eyes up to his and sending a shiver to travel down your spine. 

" You have kept me waiting. Tell me, have you forgotten your place?" 

"I'm so-" your apology is cut out short by his tsk of disapproval.

Without speaking, Namor spreads his legs even wider for you to accommodate between them. A silent message that you get straight away: actions speak louder than words.

Instantly, your hands move up his legs, adoring the feeling of his hard muscles beneath your fingers, his skin wet yet still so warm.. exactly like that day.

That day, when the storm clouds had crushed the sky, the thunder struck in a deafening blast and freed the rain to flood. He had appeared among the waves, cloaked as another part of the wreck.  Then surfaced again, on the other side of the tattered board you had been sustaining yourself on. The tempest in his eyes, a mirror of the one surrounding you.

The offer was simple: die to become seafood or live to never come back. While the ship drowned behind your back, you were holding your arms out, surrendering to the cold angry waves to be caught and carried away by warm arms.  

Warm spreads all over your body just like that day as you slide your hands up his thighs slowly. Your fingers toy with the fraying edges of the loincloth he's wearing and then flick it to the side revealing his barely concealed bulge. A sight that never fails to have you licking your lips, those tight and short shorts are as much of a menace as he is. 

You palm his cock through the green fabric, feeling it stir at your touch. You can almost feel his fingers twitching with impatience, the need to fist your hair and urge you on. You continue to tease him, this time with your tongue darting out to lick the straining fabric around his half-hard-on, then nuzzling your nose along the way, following its shape. 

It isn't wise to provoke a god but the truth is that he needn't be demanding because a moment after your own desire to please him has you freeing his thick cock and fisting it almost urgently.  

As precum escapes its head, the tip of your tongue rushes out to taste it, swirling it in your mouth and spitting it right out, the mixed fluids dripping down his shaft as he hisses. You keep your tongue pressing slightly on the leaking slit, opening your lips to bring his head inside your mouth, sucking on it lightly. His large girth already sets an uncomfortable sting in your lower jaw. Your eyes climb up to his, finding two black pools of burning lust that make you squeeze your legs together looking for some kind of release from the kick of arousal in your stomach.

"Is that all you can take?" he mocks " You disappoint me, surface dweller" 

Oh, he knew you could take much much more, he was just being cruel.

Working him down your throat was always a challenge, a challenge you were gladly accepting each time.

So you renew your efforts to fit more of him, setting a pace that has saliva rolling down your chin, willing your throat to reach as far as you can while your tongue continues to trace each vein and ridge of his hard cock, leaving no trace of skin unexplored. Even when you gag and sputter around him you keep going, jerking off what you can't fit in your mouth.

You can see he's close, his chest is heaving, betraying his agitated state, his knuckles clutching the rudimental armrests while his legs part widely, twitching with the need to thrust up and choke you even more. 

To imagine that he wants this almost as much as you do, to think that he needs this, he needs you.. is … intoxicating. 

Having one goal in mind, you start to suck harder, bobbing up and down until tears fall from your eyes and your throat burns. His hand shoots out to fist your hair, catching you mid bob and pushing you even further down when he cums, filling your mouth and throat with his spend and groaning his release while you moan messily around his length, the vibration adding an extra stimulation that prolongs his orgasm, spilling even more cum into your awaiting throat.

Your pussy throbs needily while you clean him off, swallowing audibly any drop that could have escaped your mouth. 

After you have finished, his hand drops down to cradle the side of your face as you catch your breath against his thigh.

His thumb is drawing the line of your jaw when he commands huskily "Open", your mouth obeys him immediately showing that you have dutifully swallowed everything he gave you "Good. You did so good. Now, you think you deserve a reward ?" the rough pad of his thumb pulls down your lower lip admiring the soft pillowy skin as he continues to taunt you seductively "Think your pretty little body can take it?" 

You nod, waiting at his feet for doing it all over again. At least it was what you expected from that very first time. That time (not so far from your arrival to Talokan) when you had hunted Namor, fell to your knees before him and begged to release him from those hideously tempting shorts to please him with your mouth. Since then, he has never been satisfied with cumming once nor seeing you once a day and the sentiment was mutual. You have become insatiable, your desire to touch more of him, to elicit groans or any kind of unrestrictedly lustful reaction from him growing each passing day.

That's why a surprised yet pleased gasp escapes you when he joists you up into his lap.

Namor chuckles and bares you unceremoniously, untying the knot at your neck that holds your dress up. His eyes devour you as his large hands trace your body starting by your neck, following your pulse point down to your collarbone and lower to the sides of your breasts, touching every erogenous zone delicately. He stops at the top of your thighs to spread his fingers, thumbs moving up and down the line of your venus, digging into the flesh where your legs and pelvis meet and sending electric thrills to your core. 

"So soft and warm" his murmur is barely audible, almost as if his words aren't destined for your ears

You feel his hand cupping your heat next, the heel pressing against your bundle of nerves as his fingers easily slide down your slit and press at your sopping entrance.

Your hole clenches and sucks them in greedily, your entire body curling into the abyss of early ecstasy. He must realize this at the same time as you do because his smirk turns devilish.

"Haven't even touched you yet and you've already made a mess of yourself" his fingers sink into your heat, steadily coaxing you open "What's caught you so excited huh?" 

Swift as the snake he's been compared to over the centuries, he catches your eyes rising to his headdress and hears the erratic flutter of your beating heart. 

"Oh, you like this mmm.."- the torture of his fingers dragging languidly over your walls never stopping "Go on, tell me what you think"

"It's so..." you extend your hand tracing the curves of the golden beast up to the feathers and green aquatic leaves, not daring to touch any of it, afraid you will tarnish them somehow just by being so close " magnificent.." your eyes turning back to the god facing you, watching closely and unexpectedly quiet. Sometimes, he can even read your thoughts, but right now you're sure he can read your eyes. He sees through the praise, the amazement and reverence that lie beyond are not purely directed to what sits above his head.

He kisses you then. Pulling from your hair, he connects his lips with yours to capture you in a voracious kiss. His kisses used to be angry, long but measured. Now, they have morphed into life-consuming spells. One kiss was enough to have you drowning in desire, your body invaded by a thirst that could only be quenched by him: his lips, his hands, his cock.

His tongue breaches the seam of your lips, tasting them as he does so, then invades your mouth to fight and defeat yours. Each breath you take against his open mouth burns, the scrape of his teeth on your lower lip adding another log to the pyre. It's enough to make you lose your mind, shamelessly mewling while your hips move up and down, fucking yourself on his thick fingers. He parts his mouth from yours and your moans fill the room unobstructedly.

"Hold it" the warning is whispered into your ear, his dark voice electric like the thunder before a storm.

The single tear that falls from your eye at the effort is snatched by his finger, the pearly bubble dissolving in his skin.

"Poor, desperate surface dweller." the chocolate in his eyes is now completely melted "You're so lucky you taste so sweet."

The world seems to fold upside down when you're lifted and turned around, your butt landing on the throne with your legs parted wide open by strong hands.

Next thing you know Namor kneels and plunges his tongue inside you, then drags it out, licking up your slit once, twice and finally, his entire mouth takes as much flesh as he can and sucks, pulling deliciously on your clit and slurping your essence as if he was eating his favorite fruit. You completely forget how to breathe, as your legs start to shake uncontrollably around him and your head hits his throne. 

The mere image of him sucking on your pussy like a maniac at the feet of his own throne is enough to send you over the edge. Your hands wildly reach out to hold onto something as the pleasure turns unbearable. Denied of his lush hair they land instead on the gold shoulder plates, scraping needily on the metal as you cum, crying silently in shock at the suddenness of the white burning bliss that crushes you. He sucks your abused folds one more time and raises.

His hand brings you back to consciousness, squeezing your cheeks and prying your lips open only to spit in your mouth. He doesn't have to say a word, you swallow it all instinctively. 

"You're so dirty " he chuckles satisfied "and you're about to get dirtier, surface dweller"

He engulfs your lips yet again, sharing the remnants of your taste on his tongue as he manhandles you into a position he likes, yanking you down and pushing your knees up your chest with firm arms.

Moaning into the kiss, you feel the blunt tip of his already hard cock rubbing on your sensitive folds, parting them to push against your entrance. Slowly, he eases his head inside allowing you some reprieve before his mercy runs thin and he continues on, burying himself in one powerful thrust, reaching your limit and knocking all of the air from your lungs. The stretch overwhelms you with stinging pleasure, like thorns pricking on your nerves with shocks of bliss.

"Always so warm" he groans, his words fueling the heat in your belly as his lips part from yours moving down to mark your throat.

He drives his hips into yours, setting an unforgiving pace while searching and finding that spongy spot behind your front wall. Guided by your lewd moans he rams his cock into it fascinated by your body fitting more and more of his large cock and squeezing so hard around him. 

He makes you cum for the second and third time of the day, driving into you with such fervor and precision that scrambles your brain and rattles your bones. Slick drips down your cunt and soaks his lower abdomen as wet sloshing sounds fill the room. 

You feel utterly delirious, your gaze dropping to where your bodies are joined, the wide base of his cock splitting you open eliciting another wave of arousal, pushing another horizon of unbridled gratification. 

"Look at me " the pressure of his hand wrapped around your throat snaps your attention back up. His jawline is tense almost as if it was carved on stone, his lips look swollen and biteable and his eyes are so dark you feel like you're falling, your stomach trembling once more as he thrusts hard.

The golden face of the roaring beast seems to goad your febrile state.

"It is said that if you look too much, its eyes can trap your soul for eternity." the playful warning falls from his lips like honey when he notices you're staring "Tell me, is yours mine already?" his final chuckle earning another pained moan from you.

You can't even fathom how to answer that. You hope he doesn't expect a coherent response because the truth is, you haven't been able to think rationally since you had set foot in this room.  

Your walls cling to him and your back arches as you drink every sinful word he keeps bombarding you with. Every taunt, every smile, every chuckle, every hitched breath and moan between you both is vitally consumed as water in the desert. 

The grip on your throat tenses, your pulse point deliciously stroked by his fingers, causing your hand to shoot up grasping his wrist as the pressure in your lower belly starts to rise. Your chest touches his muscular one, your knees getting squished between your chests as he drives his cock even deeper inside you. 

He keeps pounding into you relentlessly until you feel him throbbing, the muscles in his lower abdomen tensing and you're choking on feverish words, the desire for him to fill you up once again maddening.

"That's it" he praises, his voice pierced by want "Keep begging for my cum. How much do you need it?"

You can't control yourself, the pleas that fall from your lips are intelligible, your voice breaking between moans. It only takes two more thrusts for him to reach his peak, his cock swelling and stretching you impossibly, pumping you full of his cum. As he groans his euphoria, his other hand reaches down to draw circles around your sensitive nub. The crease of the wave starts to fall on you too as he's still spilling generously inside you. The orgasm rips you apart. You come so hard you think your soul leaves your body, the only thing it remains is his name on your lips. 

He examines the image before him with voracious yet pleased eyes. Eyes closed, shallow breaths, skin shining with sweat and still stretched around him. You're a fucked senseless mess, just how he liked it.

Thoroughly ruined, a fleeting thought of quiet complaint stuck in your mind: how is it fair that he looks like he hasn't broken a sweat in his entire life when you feel so completely undone, the post-orgasmic haze gripping your mind and body with exhaustion.

He plays with what has leaked out of you, smearing it, making more of a mess and earning a raspy whine from you. 

"You look so good beneath me" Namor whispers while leaning forward, nuzzling your nose with his " This might be your new place. Would you like that? To have me holding you down, filling this greedy pussy forever?"

Your wrecked moan is answering enough.

🌊🌊🌊

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed it, it would make my day! ❤️

[jordisblogg]

she’s gone..

shuri.u x reader

warnings: heavy angst, shuri has a panic attack

a/n: i saw an edit on tiktok from @/m1rales so that’s what inspired this. that edit made me cry no joke😭

“so.. we’re going to need you to address the queen’s death and make a statement shuri, how you’re going to be taking over her duties as the one next in line for the throne.” okoye explained, dusting off imaginary lint off of shuri’s shoulder.

it was precisely 2 days after queen romanda’s death and shuri was still shaken up about the whole thing. she hasn’t spoken since it happened, she hasn’t eaten, hasn’t slept. you tried to get her to relax but every time you tried she gave no response to anything. it’s like she was.. dissociated from the entire world.

“the cameras will be going live in. . 4 minutes.” the general checked the time on her kimoyo beads.

shuri was looking past okoye, staring blankly at the wall. “it should take no more then 10 minutes” she finished.

you, nakia and riri stood to the side. you three would be on the sidelines while shuri would be addressing the situation.

“she’s not ready for this..” you mumbled to yourself, but riri heard you. she hasn’t known shuri for as long as you have but she can obviously tell as well as you, that she was in no shape to be on national television.

“30 seconds, princess” one of the camera women stated.

shuri walked from out of the room and onto the large balcony, that sat above the city. as soon as she made it outside, she was hit by the flashing of camera lights, she held her down, staring at the mic.

she looked back at the camera woman who counted her fingers down from three, then a thumbs up, letting everybody know they were live.

shuri cleared her throat softly and opened her mouth to speak..

nothing came out.

her throat ran dry, why couldn’t she speak?

how did she even get to this point? what has she done?

everything was finally hitting her, her father was gone, her brother was gone, her mother was.. gone.

her mother was gone.

her entire family was gone and she was the only one who remained. she could never be able to see any of them ever again.

she was left with all the responsibilities, she was left with the mantel, she was left with the duty of being queen, she was left alone.

her chest stared to get tight, she couldn’t breathe.

you stared at her, searching for any movement and debating of whether to go up there or not to get her.

the cameras continued to flash, she felt like she was being blinded.

she couldn’t see, she felt dizzy, her cheeks felt wet, her hands were shaking, she was sweating profusely, what the hell is this?!

“princess shuri?”

“princess shuri?”

shuri finally turned her head to you and the sight you saw completely destroyed you.

fat tears were streaming down her cheeks and her nose was red. “.. i can’t..” she whispered, you couldn’t hear her or read lips, but just seeing her face, you knew enough was enough.

“okoye, cut this off, now.” you demanded as you ran up to shuri, grabbed her hand, and rushed her back into the palace.

you quickly shut and locked the door, bending down to shuri on the floor, who was struggling the breathe.

“baby— baby look at me. it’s okay.. it’s alright, breathe—“

“i can’t—i couldn’t do it— i couldn’t— i’m sorry!” she cried. you placed your hands on the side of her face, staring into her wet, red eyes.

“it’s okay baby, nobody’s mad at you, but you have to breathe, please!”

“she’s gone—everyone’s gone—they’re gone!”

“shuri! breathe!” you cried, trying your best to stay calm for her.

she closed her eyes and you brought her head to your chest, letting her listen to your heartbeat, as you cradled her in your arms.

her breathing started to decelerate, eventually coming to a steady pace, but you kept her close. your shirt was wet from her tears but you didn’t care.

“it’s my fault. .” she muttered against your chest. you only looked down at her, is that what she was feeling this entire time?

“i could’ve stopped.. namor.. i could’ve saved tchalla. it’s my fault” more tears started to flood down your silk shirt. you kissed the top of her head and ran your fingers through her curls.

“you are not at fault here shuri, the events that happened was nothing you could’ve predicted. the world was just placing too much on your shoulders at those moments. you know just as well as the rest of us that your family is extremely proud of you, and they’ve known you’re doing your best considering what’s been happening. i wish i had the power to rewind time or— take all of your pain away. i would do anything, but the only thing i can do.. is be here for you.. if you let me..”

shuri let out a shaky sigh, burning her face deeper in your bosom.

“you won’t—“

“i’m not going to leave you shuri, i promise. i’m going to be here as long as you need me. whenever you’re sad, you call me, whenever you’re angry, you call me, whenever you feel like you’re world is starting to crumble, you. call. me. i’ll gladly pick up the piece and rebuild it for you. i’m never going to let you feel like you’re here by yourself, like you have no one. you have me.. and nakia and okoye and riri. were all here, shuri. and were all going to help you through this. ”

for the first time in a while, she let a small genuine smile spread across her face.

“promise?” she whispered

“i promise. as long as you promise that you won’t shut us out..”

“i promise..” she sighed once more.

it only rung of silence, you and shuri, locked in the bathroom, holding onto each other.

and for the first time in the past week, shuri finally got some sleep, peacefully, knowing that when she woke up, she wouldn’t be alone.

she wouldn’t have to worry about facing her trials by herself.

and knowing that, made her feel. .

at peace.

[satoru-is-the-way]

an arranged marriage between you and namor? like ur a siren or a daughter of a sea god please.

A/N: YESSSSS also not proof read yet because 😭

(Y/n) knew this day would come. She had prepared for it her entire life. The unfortunate burden of being the next to claim the thrown, arraigned marriage. Her father Poseidon decided his reign is over with this new generation dawning the old must fade. They were not the strongest nation in the sea. An older God has claimed that title, K'uk'ulkan, or as his enemies called him Namor. Today would be a monumental event. She would meet her future husband. Namora escorted Poseidon, Amphitrite, and her through Talokan. (Y/n) couldn't help but fall in love with the people. They welcomed her with open arms, gifts, and more kind gestures. Namora leads them to a throne room. The giant shark's mouth is displayed proudly, showing the power of the Imperius Rex. "K'uk'ulkan!" The Talokanil chant as their God descends to his throne. (Y/n) couldn't deny he had the body of a God plus a handsome face to match. He picked up his spear and slammed it down causing the crowd to go silent.

"Bejla'e' damos le bienvenida k yu'ulabo'ob yéetel futuros camaradas (Today we welcome our guests and future comrades)." Namor said. (Y/n) zoned in and out of his speech. Her father truly wanted their kingdoms to become one? Or did Namor have something else in mind.

Later he requested they have a meeting in private. In his caverns to display his artwork. (Y/n) emerged from the water. Namor soon after his wings flapping to dry off. She unlike most of her people appeared normal to surface dwellers. "You wanted a meeting alone with me, Namor?"

He sighed, "Please no need for that name. We are to be married K'uk'ulkan is fine."

"I shall call you Namor until I feel you have earned my trust, loyalty, and love. I am not happy about this so cut the shit. Why do want to marry me?"

"Perhaps your father asked me. A young brat who goes against all traditions. I am doing you a favor"

Her skin boils, "Asshole. Not like I have a say in this. We are to be married by the end of this week. But don't think I will obey you." She walked past Namor running into his shoulder. The God smirked turning around to see his future queen dive back into the water. He liked her spark already.

_One Year Later_

(Y/n) walked into the cavern K'uk'ulkan covering her eyes. "Is this really necessary my love?" She questioned.

"Yes, it is. I spent a long time on this one. I wanted it to be perfect." He removed his hands. (Y/n) eyes widen to see a depiction of herself on the wall. "The first queen of Talokan." He adds.

"K'uk'ulkan..." She whispered softly.

"You know last time I remember you calling me an asshole." He smirked pulling her close.

"Hmm~ You call me a brat."

He laughed, "Well that wasn't wrong. You still can be a brat~"

"Shut up!" She huffed.

"Make me, (Y/n)" He smirked. (Y/n) raised her eyebrow pushing him against the wall.

"Maybe I should." She pulled him into a deep kiss.

[sapphiewritesstuff]

Namora, Shuri, and Namor NSFW headcanons

breaking my no nsfw rule cause i wanted to write for Namora,, love her so much 😍😍

This was originally supposed to be a post only for Namora but I decided to add Namor and Shuri cause their tags are getting dry as well.

Reblog for pt two!!

Warnings: NSFW, fem!reader, dom! Namora, sub! reader, stress fucking, use of mistress, switch! Shuri, switch! reader, uses of daddy and mommy, punishments (but like the fun sexy kind) overstimulation, slapping/spanking, switch! Namor, switch! reader, public/semi-public, breeding, spit, group sex, cock worship, degradation, not proofread, aftercare included in all!

Namora

-first of all, Namora is a commanding and dominate woman, that doesn't change in bed

-However, I can see her being into more vanilla, sweet sex than anything else

-She spends her days as Talokans most celebrated warrior, commanding her army so when she gets home she just wants to relax with you

-Loves rubbing your thighs, your curves, ect as she leaves kisses across your body and loves it when you do the same for her

-MASSAGES MASSAGES

-Likes being called ‘Mommy’ and ‘Mistress’, but loves being called by her name

-She loves hearing you moan out her name

-Suck on her tits, look up at her and whine out ‘Mommy…’ and she’ll do whatever you want

-She’s always very gentle with you except for whenever she’s stressed

-She never degrades you, but gets a little bit rougher with her love making

-She’ll throw you onto the bed, place a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet as she relives her stress using you

-An absolute goddess at aftercare

-She massages anything that might be sore, gets you food, and insists that you get some rest

-The best warrior and lover <33

Shuri

-She’s an eater ohhh my god

-She loves to spend hours between your legs, she gets pleasure from it

-She also loves to sit on your face

-Has a thing for quickes, she’s busy with her lab work and responsibilities but wants to be around you and cherish you like you deserve

-When you finally get a bunch of time alone, she can go for hours

-She loves overstimulating you

-Is very playful and competitive in bed, makes you fight for dominance

-“You’re so cute struggling like that, baby. Go on, keep it up.” She teases as she effortlessly pins you down

-AHHW SUDBD NEED HER SO BAD

-sorry bout that

-She loves being called daddy, Princess, anything that makes her feel powerful

-She’s a brat tamer, doesn’t take any shit from you

-Whenever you’re acting up she places a hand on your shoulder before commanding you to behave

-Now… her as a sub

-She’s a brat and a powerbottom

-loves punishments so she keeps on acting out to see you pissed off

-“Look at you, you’re all riled up. Does my behavior piss you off that much? Hm?”

-loves it when you slap or spank her to shut her up

-She can be a sweet service submissive sometimes, you just have to break her in enough

-She’s mommy and daddy <333

-Aftercare with her consists of cuddling, pillow talk, and a nap

-After the nap you two will head to her lab for some more time together, or you two will watch a movie

-The queen of Wakanda and taking care of her partner <33

Namor

-look me in the eyes and tell me this man doesn’t like to be worshipped

-It inflates his ego so much to see you on your knees as your worship his cock and beg for him to pay attention to you

-thinks you look so pathetic like that and he loves it

-Like Shuri, he’s also a brat tamer, though he’s a little bit more harsh with his punishments

-won’t stop until you’re crying and apologies are spewing out of your mouth

-He has both a degrading and praise kink, he'll spit in your mouth and make you slut yourself out one moment and the call you his beautiful queen the next

-Also loves it when you degrade or praise him, make him kneel for you and beg

-Cup his cheek and call him a good boy and he'll melt into your touch

-If you were comfortable with it, he would love to have an orgy or have group sex one time

-idk if cucking is the right word for this? But he would have a thing for watching others fuck you or having you watch as he fucks others

-(if you were up to it, of course. He’s perfectly content with just you. After all, why did he make you queen if you didn’t fulfill his every need?)

-It makes him crazy possessive and he’s addicted to the feeling, you don’t mind because it means you get your brains fucked out by him afterwards

-likes to have sex on his throne, it’s up to you if there is an audience

-BREEDER. Cums inside you every time and only inside you just so he can knock you up

-He wants to have a family with you, he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman ever with the most fertile body

-He’s also extremely possessive as I said, so he would want to make everyone know your his and he’s yours by getting you pregnant

-Speaking of claiming, he gives you tons of hickeys and love bites and expects you to give him some too

-He is SO VOCAL!! Either moans like a little bitch or is grunting in your ear muttering praises

-100% serious during the act, only the occasional chuckles when he sees you squirm

-He likes it when you sit on his face

-He’s a freak (affectionate)

-Has to learn how to give better aftercare

-He does love you, and he does take care of you after lovemaking, but he’s rough which leaves you sore and sometimes leaves marks

-He’ll cuddle you, clean you up, and command his servants to get some food so he can hand feed you, but he doesn’t tend to any physical things he may have caused

-He isn’t used to how fragile surface dwellers are!! -He’ll notice sooner or later, and he feels horrible for not properly taking care of you from the beginning

-“My king it’s fine, you don’t hurt me!”

-“What husband am I if I don’t take care of you? It doesn’t matter, I will tend to you no matter what.”

-I love him

-Will massage every cramp, kiss every hickey or lovebite, and rub your ass after a harsh spanking

-He is able to take care of any other injuries, but very rarely does he actually injure you, you two have a safeword system for when you need to tell him to calm down

-He loves it when you pet his hair and pepper his face in kisses, he’ll fall asleep instantly

-He’s a god in bed.

[s0lam33y]

I’m afraid everything will disappear

A/n: Hey y'all, I hope y'all aint think I was gon miss a day of shuriri week.

@shuririweek @mal-urameshi @neptoons1998

“I think you should speak to your wife before we go to war,” Aneka bluntly murmurs as she follows Shuri in the lab.

“No, I love her but we don’t see eye to eye,” Shuri replies with firmness in her voice as she taps away along her screen. Aneka sighs whilst watching the princess. She’s watched this before, the exact same thing happened with Okoye and her Ex-Husband, W’Kabi.

She didn’t see this coming with her favorite couple in the royal palace. She'd hope that if anything they'd be able to resolve this more calmly but There’s pride mixed into this, especially from Shuri's end.

“I don’t like the plan,” Riri admits in the council room. Her input is needed, they have two of the smartest women in the room, of course her input is needed.

“Me either, it’s too agressive,’it leaves no room for defense.” One of the elders agrees, receiving a couple hums in agreement.

Riri’s eyes cut to her wife’s.

“We don’t have much time, attacking is the best choice.” Shuri says, crossing her legs while she sits on the throne.

“I agree, we all remember what happened last time with the Talokan.” One elder says as silence falls upon the room.

“Right, but we didn’t know what was coming, it’s been seven years since,” Riri adds.

“And we’re still rebuilding some parts of the nation and our relationship with other countries,” Shuri retorts, she knows she’s pushing it, she’s not wrong but her tone is more aggressive than it should be.

“We also had no protection whatsoever, all I’m saying is we should be more careful than we were last time,” Riri sighs, crossing her arms. Her body’s already exhausted from having ended a training session, the last thing she needs is this.

“I didn’t say we leave the country open, I just say we attack first, specifically at the border,” Shuri says.

“And what do we do if they get past us?”

“They won’t,”

“And how do you know that?”

“We’re more advanced now, better weapons, better fighters, better defense-“

The elders watch the couple go back and forth until Riri effectively shuts the Queen up. Shuri shifts in her seat, her eyes low as she stares at her wife.

“We ain’t invincible, Shuri,”

“I know this,” Shuri spits, a vein forming along her neck. Memories of her family spill into her brain and the irritation on top of it isn’t helping. They’ve been arguing for weeks, nights have been eerily quiet and everyone around them can sense it.

“So what’s the problem?” Riri asks, she won’t back down either. She knows that Shuri’s queen but so is she. She's also aware that Shuri hesitated with Namor before and now that the Talokan are back and vengeful, Shuri wouldn't think twice before killing him.

“I made a mistake by not killing him before, I won’t risk it again, he needs to be dealt with, the plan is final,” Shuri says, some elders disagreeing but too scared to speak up.

“You’re making a mistake, Shuri, we all want him dead-“

“You defend if you’re so keen on it, anyone who wants to do so can do it with you,” Shuri interrupts, and her stern eyes only tense up when she sees the look on Riri’s face.

“A’ight,” Riri mutters, walking towards the doors with Ayo following behind her.

“Where are you going?” Shuri questions.

“Preparing my suit.”

The silence falls in the throne room when the doors shut.

“The Mining Tribe will be defending with Riri,” One of the Elders murmurs as she stands up. She excuses herself from the room and leaves.

“So will the Border Tribe,” Another speaks up, neither of them able to make eye contact with the Queen.

“As will the River Tribe, we can’t afford to lose anything, we’ve spent the past six years rebuilding.” The elder for the tribe says firmly.

“As you wish,” Shuri murmurs. That leaves three other tribes, ones that agree with the plan that she’s discussed.

…

“Aneka, I won’t speak to her right now,” Shuri dismisses the warrior as she holds her vibranium helmet in her hands, the same way she did years ago before fighting Namor.

“Since when did your tone become so dismissive!” Aneka scolds, watching the way Shuri’s face contorts.

“I-“

“I don’t care, you can disagree on a plan, you can be irritated but Bast, Shuri, We don't understand you…You’re treating your family, Like we’re your council, like we’re people you work with,” Aneka snaps as workers in the lab turn around. Never in their years of living have they heard a Dora yell at a royal like this.

“Aneka-“

“Take my spear if you must, but it’s the truth,” Aneka says, if no one else will say it, she will. Someone has to, what is everyone so scared of? The fact that people are afraid to speak up to their own Queen, that in itself is a problem.

“What are you turning into? All of this because Namor is back, you’ve become so authoritarian,”

Aneka looks at Shuri all to see the same cold look on her face. She won’t let anyone get in her way, not her wife, and not Aneka.

“The plan is said and done, Aneka, As the Queen, I’m telling you to fight, that’s an order.”

…

“When I heard of it all, I thought it was just talk,” Nakia murmurs as she sits next to Riri. From here the land is so beautiful, it’s the same spot where Eric fought the Doras and Shuri herself in Mount Bashenga.

“It’s not, She wants to kill him,”

“But at what cost, Riri? She’s doing the one thing she shouldn’t, letting it consume her,” Nakia says. She remembers T’Challa telling her that no matter what, no one in the palace should ever let their vengeance consume them.

“You think she’s wrong?”

“What?” Nakia asks, bewildered as she turns to face Riri.

“She has the right, I don’t care whether Namor lives or not, She’s gonna kill him. How long we gon’ act like he deserves to be spared? I ain’t worried bout him dying or living. She ain’t listening to me, if she goes around this wrong she’ll end up dead.” Riri says, twisting the vibranium ring on her finger.

“Riri…You have to stop her-“

“I can’t. I’m not sure I really want to.”

…

Riri watches the vibranium form along Shuri’s skin. Her footsteps were quiet but usually Shuri notices when her wife walks into the lab. Not this evening though. It’s for a special reason.

“When are you gonna strike?” Riri questions, stuffing her hands in the deep pockets of her cargo pants. Shuri turns around, and the only thing visible are her deep darkened eyes through her panther suit.

“Shouldn’t you be in a talon fighter defending the borders?” Shuri questions, there’s genuine concern for her as she steps towards her.

“Yeah, but I was told to ask what time you’ll strike. So I know when to suit up.”

“Sunset, He should be dead by sundown.” She specifies. His death has been reimagined too many times in her brain. She watches Riri nod as she turns around.

Every time either of them walks out in their suits, they never know if it’s the last time they’ll see each other.

“Oh and Shuri,” Riri says.

They look at each other briefly.

“Stay safe out there, aight?”

“You too.”

They both know that Shuri will be the one to take his life tonight in whatever way she deems fit. Riri also accepts the fact that she'll be the one to help her send his body right back to shore for his people to see in the morning.