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nellycanwrite · 1 year

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A Request

Part 1 of the “The Request” Series || Attuma x Talokanil!Princess!Reader

Summary: As the daughter of the feathered serpent god, you had always felt the pressure of living up to your father’s name. But you never had to worry; Attuma was always there to quell your fears and follow your will to the ends of the earth.

Or, in which Attuma swears his undying loyalty and love for you, even if it meant being as shameless as to declare his love to a princess when he was but a mere warrior.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 10.9K

Warnings: None. Just pure fluffy goodness. If you include a slightly overprotective Dad!Namor then yes, he’s the warning. Maybe a little bit of childhood friends to lovers. A whole lot of Princess x Warrior.

Note: It is worthy to note that I have not included any deep Yucatec Maya phrases (besides the terms of endearment) despite the Talokanil speaking in their native tongue as respect to their language. Therefore their mother tongue shall be labeled with italics.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

K'uk'ulkan had never felt as much loss as he had the day he had lost your mother. Yet there lay bittersweet joy; for the heir to the throne of Talokan had breathed their first breath and let out a cry so strong it beckoned the creatures of the deep sea to their bidding.

You were born a wee thing; weak and fragile as the old shells that littered the floors of the sea. Yet you held strong in the arms of your father as he witnessed his wife lifelessly lay in their shared chambers. The handmaidens and wet nurses all wept and mourned at the loss of their queen, the ocean swayed with the waves of its people's grief. You cried with your father's subjects as if you had understood the passing of Talokan's queen mother, but K'uk'ulkan never shed a tear, no.

He was a king to his people. He was the protector of his nation. A God was he revered by both land and sea.

He was your father.

And he dared not to weep in front of the children he held so dear—for even in the heartache of his loss does he remember the weight of his divine majesty and countenance to his people.

“The queen of Talokan has passed,” K'uk'ulkan swallowed the lump that formed on his throat as he bit back bitter tears. Tears that he will never show his people in a sign of great weakness, “yet she would not have wished for us to mourn in sadness. She brought us a gift that none could ever compare. She would have wished for us to celebrate in her absence for the birth of our child—Talokan's first heir.”

The you who had been presented with a crown and a scepter of your kingdom's rule since your birth inherited your father's features; the ears that pointed to the heavens as a sign of the divine blood that flowed through your veins, the golden skin that the sun had seemed to kiss in great exhalation to your birth, and the wings of heaven bestowed upon your ankles.

You were undoubtedly his child. The heir to K’uk’ulkan’s great nation.

��You were loved by both land and sea, perhaps a gift from your late grandmother's love for the surface, for when you visit the land and take gulps of air do you stay breathing and when you step into the rocks of your father's study do you remain kissed by the sun. You did not change into the color of the sea like the maids that have cared for you, instead, you remained the same color as your own father when he sits idly on dry land.

At the tender age of seven did you realize the weight of the name of your father. You aspired to become like him, to fly like him, to lead the people like he did in childish wonder. He showed you the land that your ancestors once owned, the burial sight of your late grandmother, Fen, and the beauty that came with your motherland.

You yearned for the sights of the surface world, craved for the sun that illuminated the sky—not the one that your father had curated all those years ago, but the one that sits amongst the clouds of the surface—and you whispered wistful wishes to walk into the luscious green of the land that was unknown to you.

But your father forbids you to go further than the coves of Talokan's entrance. The sole heir to the throne of your nation should be safe. Protected. You were only allowed to go up into the surface every three months, a leniency that your father had so mercifully given you, and stare at the land dwelling wildlife that would so cross your vision.

You were merely stuck in the watchful eyes of your guards as you gazed with great longing at the mountains so far from your reach and the forests that would call your name.

Despite the love that you had for the beauties of the surface world, you loved your people and your great nation of the deep sea. You loved your father and tried your best to live up to the name of K'uk'ulkan. At the age of eleven you were made aware of your duties to your people. You had made sure that those duties were fulfilled despite the protests of your elders for being so young; that the beloved princess of Talokan need not to carry on the mantle of her royal duties just yet. But you worked hard to outshine your peers to preserve the honor of your father.

K’uk’ulkan could not be any prouder than he is now.

But the pedestal that you stood on was lonely. You did not have many friends, not because your father was protective of you and had guards at your beck and call, but because you were always so nervous to converse with the other Talokanil children.

What if they didn’t like you? What if they decided that your status as a princess would hinder their relationship with you? What if they didn’t see you as a prospect to rule them in the future when your father passes the baton of his majesty to you?

How ironic must it be for the princess of a great nation cower before the idea of friendship to her own people.

But that had changed when your father let you meet two Talokanil children; Namora and Attuma.

You knew Namora as your relative—your father’s cousin, to be exact—and sometimes came and went into the palace when you studied. But you never did get the chance to talk to her. You were far too anxious to try and talk to someone whose aura was as intense as hers, even when she’s just a few years older than you.

“They said they wanted to be your friend, in waal.” my child, he said. Both of them shifted nervously from where they stood, toy spears hidden behind their backs as they fidgeted in place. You noticed how Namora elbowed the boy Attuma on the ribs. He glared at her albeit playfully and said nothing as he behaved.

You have always noticed the two of them from afar when you studied near your father's throne. They were always rowdy, always hitting each other with their spears clumsily. Despite this, they always laughed and took everything in a merry stride. They never ceased to amaze you.

Even though Namora was far smaller than Attuma (or any other Talokanil child your age, really), she always won their little play-fights. Their roughhousing caused other children to stay clear of them, but you always found them fascinating. You never knew they wanted to be your friends. You have never as much as held a proper conversation with them except for a few nervous waves and panicked scrambling on your part when they caught you staring.

“My…friends?” It was your turn to fidget nervously, your hands clasping together and your thumbs twiddling against each other whilst you looked down. You felt the water shift as your father swam towards you, his tender gaze calming you down when his figure covered you from the curious eyes of the Talokanil children.

“That's right. They want to play with you. I'm sure you were wishing for the same, no?” He chuckled knowingly. You felt heat rise from the back of your neck and crawl up your cheeks—your father had seen you staring at them while they were playing almost everyday!

Nervously, you nodded ever slowly. There was no lie to his claims. You truly did wish for them to become your friends.

Attuma's patience must have run out when you were taking your time to reply to your father. You shrieked in surprise when you met the biggest grin you had seen in your life from just above you, an incisor clearly missing in the front of his mouth. K'uk'ulkan laughed and gently coaxed the boy down to your level, his hair flowing gracefully with the water as your father grabbed his ankles and lowered him in front of you.

“Wanna play with us?” You blinked at his straightforwardness. You glanced at your father for help, but he merely chuckled and gestured for you to answer.

“I—well—um…” He was too close to you that you felt like fainting from your own nerves.

“Attuma, don't be rude,” Attuma grunted when Namora appeared by his side and delivered a firm whack to his head with a toy spear. You breathed out a centering exhale before shooting Namora a thankful look. She huffed at Attuma, “you might scare her. And you just swam over the king!”

“I do not mind. But be more mindful next time, Attuma. You must not swim over your elders.” K'uk'ulkan chuckled endearingly at the children's antics. He already knew how rambunctious they would be whenever he passed by them play-fighting.

Attuma nodded with a gapped-tooth grin but K'uk'ulkan doubts he would really listen to him. But that was alright—he has plenty of time to learn respect. The king of Talokan wishes for these children to be their mischievous selves a little while longer and enjoy their carefree lives as young Talokanil.

K'uk'ulkan notices you fidget once again when Namora turns her attention to you, just as eager to make you their new friend. You try to make out words with broken sentences, yet there was no right greeting that would come. You would deflate when Namora would hold the reins of the conversation again. You failed to introduce yourself proudly and your embarrassment made K'uk'ulkan coo—how precious could his princess be?

He chuckles and patted Namora and Attuma on the crowns of their heads, successfully diverting their attention away from you and into his benevolent smile.

“She's a little nervous, but she has a good heart. She also wishes to become your friend. But remember that you have to listen; it is the makings of a great warrior.”

“A great warrior?” Namor's eyes sparkled. Attuma stared at his king with wonder similar to the spark of Namora's eyes.

K'uk'ulkan chuckled and nodded. You chose this moment to swim to your father's side, hiding half of your body behind his own. You looked at Attuma and Namora curiously while they waited for their king's next words.

“A great warrior not only takes a spear and protects their people, but they listen as well. They listen to their people's cries and act upon their needs. It is also your duty to listen to your leaders—for they hold the burden of choice. Never forget that, my young warriors.”

Your father rubbed your back soothingly and pushed you gently forward. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as soon as you were in close proximity with the two Talokanil children.

“Now this is your first task your king asks of you; listen to what the princess has to say, understood?”

They were eagerly waiting for your next words, their bodies barely holding in their excitement. You would have swam away right then and there, but you steeled your resolve and took a deep breath.

You said your name with a stutter, but that did not deter you. Your father gave you a reassuring pat to your shoulder. It filled you with more confidence to look them straight into the eye and say;

“I—I wish to be your friend, Namora. Attuma.”

The children gleamed happily, the water shifting as they circled you in excitement. Attuma had it in himself to wrap his arms around you and giggle with such carefree mirth that it covered you in a sense of welcome. Of belonging.

“You don’t know how long we wanted to become your friend, princesa!” He exclaimed, his arms still wrapped around you firmly. His toy spear now lay discarded on the ocean floor but he didn’t seem to mind.

Overwhelmed with the attention, you stuttered and twitched in his embrace. But you didn’t feel uncomfortable; it was a pleasant feeling to finally have a friend. But you weren’t used to physical touches just yet.

A large hand pried you off of Attuma, your hair whipping around you as you were now brought back to your father’s side. You saw him smile cordially at the boy, albeit strained, as his eyes twitched ever so slightly.

“Now, we have to be gentle with the princess. There shall be no sudden touches in her presence, especially with you, Attuma.”

Attuma blinked and cocked his head to the side, but he didn’t question his king’s instructions.

Years have passed since you have befriended the rowdy young warriors that K’uk’ulkan looked upon with great fondness. You, along with Namora and Attuma, have trained under the wing of your father in the ways of the spear much to your new friends’ joy.

As the next heir to the throne of your nation, you always did your best to meet the expectations that came with the name of the daughter of the feathered serpent god. You would go to the fields of your farmers to oversee harvest, weave baskets with the elderly to help the storage of the new batch of produce, and join the scholars that studied vibranium so you would further verse yourself to the mineral that grew in abundance in your ocean floors.

They were once such a tedious task for you; something that you did out of necessity. But Namora and Attuma made it a point to follow you everywhere you go, help you with the work and doubling the yields of your effort, and they made you smile when you were far too tired after your duties.

Attuma had made it a habit to make you cling on his back as you swam back home. There was no reason for you to get more exhausted than you already were, he told you. And despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself falling into a habit as well.

You found your royal duties far more enjoyable with them by your side, and you absolutely awaited the time of the day where you were relieved of your duties to go and spend your time with them.

“Don’t you find studying boring?” Attuma asked you one day, his meticulous hands polishing his training spear near the drop of the deep trenches. You tilted your head as soon as you seated yourself beside him, your legs dangling on the steep edge.

“I don’t think so…the language of the surface dwellers is fascinating. I find it enjoyable to learn.”

“You’re better off not knowing their language,” Namora huffed as she emerged from the bottom of the trench, a small lamp containing bright vibranium sustaining you with much needed light. She held her training spear proudly by her side, freshly decorated with shells that she found down below, “you know what they did to our grandmothers and grandfathers. I don’t see why you want to learn so much about them.”

“It is my duty, Namora. Once I take the throne I might need to talk with the surface dwellers one day,” you looked down on your lap and fiddled with the jade bracelet your father had gifted you on your fifteenth birthday—one that once belonged to your grandmother, “and I’m just preparing…just in case.”

“We’d be dead before we let any of those surface dwellers see you, princesa,” Attuma nudged his shoulders against yours and grinned, “we’ll make sure you don’t even have to talk to them as long as we’re there to protect you.”

“Did father tell you to say that?”

“What? No!” You gave Attuma a squinted eye stare and hummed. He averted his eyes nervously, his hands now working on his spear with more fervor than before. You and Namora snickered at his plight.

“He did.” Namora confirmed your suspicions. You sighed but left it be. You knew your father was just trying to protect you, so you let him do as he pleases. Although you did not fully understand the depth of the weight of his responsibilities, you could still recognize the great sorrow that came with his hate for the surface world.

And you had kept quiet about your longing to go up into the land; for you knew how it would pain him to know that you bore as much love for the surface as you did for the love you had for your nation.

Attuma cleared his throat and straightened his back, the spear he had decorated with the teeth of hammerheads now lay by his side. He stared at you with such conviction that rendered you speechless in his presence, and the light from the faux sun that your father had created casted him in a glorious light that made your breath hitch in your throat and the feathers on your ankles bristle in anticipation.

“I’ll do my best to train hard, princesa. I’ll become strong enough to protect Talokan—to protect you—so that you won’t even have to worry about any surface dwellers by the time you will inherit the throne.”

You felt more heat rush from your neck and now up to your eyes, his words giving you so much joy that you could possibly even imagine.

You had a friend far more loyal than any of your own guards from your father’s command. And if there was one thing you had learned from your duties as princess, that was the honor that came with a loyal subject.

Your flustered surprise was eventually replaced with giggles when Namora hit Attuma on the head with the brunt side of her spear, her face contorting to one of lighthearted teasing.

“Do you really think you’re the only one training to be by the princess’ side? You’ll have to go through me first.”

“Then I’ll just have to train harder to beat you, Namora,” Attuma glanced at you and gave you a grin, “I’ll be the one to stand by the princess’ side.”

“You’ve never even beaten me once.” “There’s a first time for everything.”

She scoffed. “In your dreams.”

You stopped their little play-fight before it got too heated by pulling them closer to your side, your arms around their necks and laughing with such elation. You were thankful that they came into your lives and became your closest friends, and you would not ever want to see them change as you slowly aged with the sea.

“While the both of you train to become warriors, I’ll study even harder so I could be a queen that both of you will be proud to serve under. I don’t want your efforts to go to waste and serve a leader that’s incompetent.”

“You don’t have to do that, princesa. We shall follow you through the ends of the earth if need be. We already know that you outshine any ruler that came before and will come after you.”

“My father would not be too pleased if he heard you say that, Attuma.”

“He feels the same way, don’t worry.” Namora spoke in turn for the boy. You giggled when Attuma gave you a cheeky grin.

The three of you laughed with glee, unspoken promises now drifting with the currents of the outskirts of the capital city of your great nation.

It’s almost been a century since you have befriended them. A century since you have made your closest friends and aides. Namora and Attuma were always stuck by your side even when there were calls from their king to gather his strongest men. They gave you counsel, they gave you peace, they gave you protection in your times of need.

Nowadays, though, Namora has frequented your father’s side more likely than not—mostly because she was his cousin and his most exemplary warrior. Attuma was only second in skill compared to Namora, but he was still powerful in his own right.

You wondered when would your father hail them as generals; they deserve to be given the title for their service and their wit. You, as the princess of Talokan, can vouch for their competence.

“Where shall we go today, princesa?” Attuma asked you, his gait slowly inching closer to your own.

The boy you once knew had grown into a fine man. He had honed his body to withstand the greatest blows, turned himself into a living shield for your purpose and disposal. You did not want him to go into such extremities, but he always insisted. He even went as far as to hunt hammerhead sharks on his own and nearly killed himself in the process. The bites of hostiles were lodged firmly into his stomach, and the scars that littered his skin became trophies of his successful exploits.

You cried and cried beside him as you told him how stupid he was, how foolish he was to do everything in your name. How could he throw himself into danger just to train himself for your sake? It did not make sense to you, and you reckon that you will never understand the mind of a great warrior like Attuma.

Despite this, he comforted you and held you close to him; told you that he would welcome any sort of pain just so he could protect you from harm's way. You cried again and punched him in his abdomen—you were sure to tell your healers that you would be the one to patch up your reckless guard as an apology.

You felt his warmth from the water that surrounded you as it shifted when he tucked a strand of hair behind your pointed ears. You smiled.

“You can call me by my name, Attuma. You know that.”

“How dare I ever utter your name so casually?” He asked you almost incredulously. You sighed.

“We have been friends for over a century. You can be comfortable with me,” you turned to him with a pout, “please?”

“Is that an order?” He asked you, a trace of amusement from his quirked lip. You huffed and crossed your arms.

“You know I don't like giving orders, Attuma.”

“Then I shall continue calling you by your title, princesa.”

“And what if I ask you this as a request?” You swam closer to him, your pout breaking out into a knowing grin.

Attuma stayed silent, his head turned to avoid your piercing gaze. He felt heat from the back of his neck at your proximity, but he didn't dare move away from you.

You huffed.

“You're no fun.”

Attuma resisted the urge to chuckle. You looked at him in the corner of your eyes and smiled; you knew he couldn't resist it when you tried to make him laugh.

“And what of your errands today?” He asked you, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. You blinked and swam towards him, pling his large bicep into the direction of your father's study.

“We've wasted much time, Attuma. Now come, we are going to the surface.” He nodded in affirmation and led you towards the entrance of the underwater cave systems your father introduced you to as a child. It was one of your favorite places, but your duties called you to the deeper parts of the sea to tend to your people.

As soon as you ascended, you saw the figure of your father dressed in his cloak as he painted murals upon the walls. Beside him was Namora, her mask on her face and her pallor now blue for being in land. You regarded your father with a bow, gestured him with the sign of your people’s respect, and slowly ascended into his study.

“Father.” you called out to him. He paused from his painting and smiled at you, his eyes filling with so much love that it was unlike the name the surface dwellers cursed him to be.

“In princesa,” my princess, he greeted you, reaching out to wipe the saltwater away from your eyes, “what brings you here?”

“It is the time of the year to visit the surface, father. I was just here to let you know before I went.” His face steeled much like the other months across the century you had told him. But it was not in a place of anger—it was in a place of worry for your well-being.

“I trust you to remember all that I have taught you. Return as soon as possible, understood?” You nodded and grabbed his hands, squeezing them tight in assurance.

“You do not have to worry. You have taught me well. And Attuma will be with me while I am out, so I shall be safe in his hands.”

K’uk’ulkan glanced behind you, now regarding Attuma with a nod of acknowledgement as he placed his mask on his face. Attuma bowed his head in respect and tightened the hold on his spear. The king’s brows furrowed.

“If you bring Namora with you—”

“Father,” you cut him off, “I will be alright. I will not do anything to endanger myself nor Attuma. I will merely visit the borders of the reef, is all. I’m sure our warriors have already scouted the area before they were called back.”

“In waal…”

“We always go through this every three months. I do not doubt your worries, but place your trust in me and the warrior I have chosen.”

Attuma straightened his back a tad bit, his chest rising in pride. He met eyes with Namora and grinned behind his mask. Namora simply replied with a silent roll of her eyes.

K’uk’ulkan swallowed a lump on his throat and sighed. He knew you were right. He trusted you enough that you would be safe, especially when someone as skilled as Attuma were to be by your side. It was the surface that he did not trust. It took so much from him and his forefathers even before Talokan came to be. He did not want to lose you to the claws of the surface world.

He would have volunteered to come with you, to make sure you were safe, but one look from Namora was all he needed to know that he was needed in the council in just a few moments.

He sighed. There was no stopping you when you had your mind set on a task.

“Stay safe.” He gently held the back of your head and ducked down to meet your forehead. You hummed and closed your eyes, squeezing his hand in assurance.

“You sound as if I am going to war,” you joked, “I shall return safe. I promise. It is not something that I have not done before.”

“You know your strengths, my daughter. But be wary, still. Negligence is the first sign of weakness,” he separated himself from you and turned towards the wall mounted with spears. He took one of his own and gave it to you, the vibranium of the weapon shimmering under the light of the luminescent algae. It felt balanced. Powerful. He then smiled, “and never forget your weapon.”

You chuckled and bowed your head in respect, the spear now by your side.

“Yes, father.”

K’uk’ulkan turns to Attuma and beckons him forth. The warrior obeyed with no hesitance and bowed before his king. You watched as your father nodded to himself and placed a hand on Attuma’s shoulder.

“She’s a bit of a handful, so look after her, Attuma.” You gawked at him.

“Father!”

“I will do as you say, in ajawo,” my king, he said. The warrior dared to look up and showed his conviction to his king, “I will keep her safe—even when she is a handful.”

“You did not have to agree with everything my father says!”

Namora cleared her throat and cheekily chimed in. “K'uk'ulkan is our king. Whatever he says we agree to, princesa.”

K’uk’ulkan ignored your huffs of protest and Namora’s silent laughter as he squinted at the man, the hand that lay on his shoulder now tightening in warning. Attuma held his ground and did not yield to his king’s hold. He knew the reason for his king’s aggression; it came from a place of protectiveness. You were his only daughter after all.

And Attuma was a man who held a century-long love for you, something that K’uk’ulkan wasn’t particularly fond of.

But you were too stubbornly attached to him that no scheme that K’uk’uklan thought of would separate the two of you. He was far too wrapped around your fingers to fully say no to your whims. The king’s only saving grace is the fact that you were far too oblivious to notice the affections of your own guard.

K’uk’ulkan felt a sliver of sympathy for Attuma. Just a tad bit.

He narrowed his eyes. “And there shall be no…detours along the way, understood? Keep the princess safe, no more than that.”

“Yes, in ajawo.” With a final nod, K'uk'ulkan released his grip from his warrior's soldiers and bid a final farewell before being led out by Namora to the depths of Talokan. She gave Attuma a knowing glance and bowed her head before you.

“Be careful, princesa. The world will incur K'uk'ulkan's wrath if you return scathed.” She joked. But knowing your father, you did not doubt that he would burn the world if you would come back harmed in any way; more reasons for you to stay careful for your visit.

You smiled. “I will be careful, Namora. Do not worry. I have Attuma with me as well.”

She nodded and followed after her king to the water, now disappearing into your view. You faced Attuma and gave him a grin.

“Let's go visit the surface.”

You knew the underwater caves like the back of your hand. You weaved through the dark waters, greeting the guards hidden by the rocks. They bowed their heads and regarded you with the gesture of your people, a courtesy fit only for the daughter of their god and king.

You smiled to yourself when Attuma swam forward when sunlight peeked through the entrance of the surface, his spear drawn and ready by his side. He looked so focused and attentive, his whole body on high alert. You giggled as you reached him and held his hand, squeezing it tightly while looking into his eyes.

“You are too stiff. Nothing will harm us here.” You told him. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“I am your aide. It is only natural for me, in princesa.”

“I only wish for you to be at ease, Attuma,” you tugged him to the direction of the light, the sun now making itself known to the both of you. Attuma squinted at the sudden brightness; he wasn’t used to seeing something as intense as the real sun, after all. It was his first time visiting the surface world, “you will love the sights, I promise you.”

Attuma felt wrong to be swimming beside you like you were equals. No aide of the high blood of Talokan should even dare to swim in stride beside a warrior who bore no rank. But by your side, he felt safe and welcomed.

He did not feel fear despite it being the first time he had ever visited the surface world. Rather, he felt it to be…intimate, in a way. You trusted him wholeheartedly, put your safety in his hands as you ventured outside the safety of your own kingdom, and shared the experience that he knew to be significant to you even if you did not tell anyone your sentiments.

But he knew. He always knew.

And he would protect you in great fealty as you explore the land that you so loved, even though he knew it would anger his own king to grant your taboo affection for the surface world.

Away from the prying eyes of the other Talokanil, he allowed himself to indulge in his selfish desires and swam closer to you; your shoulders almost touching, hands tightly intertwined, and his heart finally free of the formalities that came with being your guard.

He let himself become a man whose soul reached out to you in longing.

Your heads broke through the water and were hit by the rays of the golden sun. You let Attuma adjust to the light for a few moments, his hands shielding his eyes as he tried to view the sun from between his fingers. You watched his skin slowly turn blue as the air hit his skin, and you had to smile ever so slightly as you watched him marvel at the green forests just across the beach.

“Your mask.” You reminded him, the hand that was intertwined with his tightening in your hold. He nodded albeit meekly, seemingly embarrassed to have forgotten to equip himself in the midst of his awe, and let go of your hand to make sure his mask was secure.

Attuma already missed the warmth as soon as he willed himself to part from you in a respectful distance, now aware how shameless he was to have succumbed to his own desires.

You guided him to the rocks that overlooked the beach, just by the edge of the corals that your people have grown to create a border for those who visited the surface. It was a reminder on how you were never truly free to roam the surface and discover the riches beyond your own kingdom.

The stories your father had told you plagued your mind, but beyond the violence that your forefathers have witnessed, robbed of the land that was yours by birthright, you wanted to see for yourself the motherland that your grandmother loved. You were angry at the surface dwellers, yes. You raged at the thought of the conquistadors that tainted your ancestral home.

But you never did loathe the surface. You just wanted to connect to the land of your ancestors that you were stripped of.

You were broken from your thoughts when you heard the squelch of water on rock. You looked beside you to see Attuma in full attention, his visage that of a man in full guard. You would have laughed if you saw him so serious in the midst of such a peaceful afternoon, but you knew how much his duty to you and your king meant to him.

Attuma stood by your side whilst you leaned back and rested your feet on the water. You patted the space beside you, but he shook his head. You pouted.

“Join me to rest. You are not bound by the rules of my father here,” you told him, your face cracking into a mischievous smile, “be at ease, Attuma.”

“Is that an order?” He gave you a glance, his eyes twinkling under the sun. Only now did you appreciate his dark gaze. It was as intense as it was full of life. You giggled and patted the empty space beside you once again.

“A request.”

He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes locking into yours and sending shivers down your spine. You held his gaze, the water on your skin turning cold when the breeze hit your flesh. With a huff, he put down his spear and sat next to you, his hand dangerously close to your own.

“If you’ll allow me.”

In silence did you bask in the beauty of the faraway beach that should have been inherited to you by your ancestors. The lands that stretched across the plains and the jungles of vivid colors would have been yours to rule by your father’s side. It pained you to know that you cannot even set foot on those beaches.

It was the order of your father. The order of your king.

An order to protect you from the surface dwellers that took your grandmother from him.

It only served to remind you that—despite the feathered ankles that promised you freedom—you were caged in this lonely corner of the earth, away from the adventures that you wanted to experience in full.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked your guard, your eyes following the birds that idly preened themselves on the branches. Attuma stared at you from the corner of his eyes, his lips turning into a smile as you leaned forward in interest.

“Quite so.” His heart skipped a beat when your eyes twinkled in amazement, your gaze never wandering from the land.

“Would it be shameless of me to long for the surface?” You asked him suddenly. Attuma shook his head quickly.

“Never.”

“Speak your mind. I did not ask you to indulge me and curry my favor,” you sighed and wrought your fingers together, your hand now leaving the proximity of your guard’s own, “I ask you for counsel, Attuma. You are one of the few people that I trust.”

Attuma was silent as he mulled over your question. An aide to the heir of the throne must only listen and follow their whims. The will of their masters were the will of their followers; he dare not disobey such courtesy.

But in the freedom of the duty that binded him to such rules by your order, he granted himself full autonomy.

“It might be so, in princesa,” you looked at him curiously. He held the urge to submit to you, to take back the words of his own opinion, and continued on, “you are the heir to Talokan, the nation built on the suffering of our ancestors who fled the land to hide in the sea. To long for the surface is a defiance to their dying will.”

“But we were robbed of our ancestral lands. What if I long to get it back? To let our people walk in the motherland that we once came from? To let them see this; the beauty that they were deprived of when we were chased off our own inheritance?” “Then you should be prepared for war.”

He looked directly into your eyes, ones that held such young wisdom and hope. But he knew from the countless battles he fought that to reclaim the stolen land you wished to rule is to declare a fight that you were far too merciful to lead.

“To reclaim the right that we once owned…you must be ready to shed blood; both the blood of the surface and the blood of your people. But to declare battle you must reveal our nation. Our king’s will shall not allow such a thing.”

Attuma watched as you lowered your head, trapped in the swirl of your thoughts as you continued to deliberate the weight of his words. He flagrantly allowed himself to reach for your hand first, draw circles on the back of your hand tenderly, and scooted himself closer so his hulking gait would protect you from the prying eyes of the world.

You squeezed his hand with yours, your breath stuttering at your next words.

“And what if I still desire to reclaim our land back, Attuma?” You looked up and held his gaze, your eyes now steeling itself to one of conviction.

He smiled.

“Then I shall shed blood for your will, in princesa.”

You searched for any sort of hesitation in his strong features, to try and coax out any sort of loose ends of his loyalty. But you saw nothing of such sort; there only lay pure faith to your very existence, one that you recognize as unyielding.

You stared at him right in the eye. It was piercing, cold. One that beckoned utmost honesty from your aide. It was not a simple decision to make—even the words you have uttered this very moment would be considered blasphemous. Outright treacherous.

“Even if it means to defy the orders of your king?”

He did not waver as he replied.

“You are the one that I serve. My loyalty lies with you.” He took his spear and knelt before you, his one knee digging into the rock in which you lay. He pierced his weapon down into the earth, took your hand to rest upon his cheek, and presented himself to the utmost fidelity.

“Have you not sworn your service under the name of my father?”

“I have sworn nothing,” he practically growled, his grip on his spear tightening, “I long for nothing more than to swear my piety to you. I am indebted to K’uk’ulkan; I revere him as my god and king. Yet I cannot stand the thought of offering my loyalties to anyone else but you.”

You felt your heart throb against your chest, your eyes stinging with wet tears. It was a feeling foreign to you. The waves usually wipe your tears away at the bottom of the sea. But here on land, you wore your heart on your sleeve. It was an overwhelming feeling, one that urged you to cover your mouth to stifle your joyous sobs.

In the face of the man you had grown up with, in the presence of such undying loyalty did you fail to mask your elation. Yet your head was muddled with confusion—why was he always so devoted to you? Why would he risk being cast out when your father still sits on the throne and swears his loyalties to you? Why was he so willing to defy the orders of his king for your selfish whims?

You knew the weight of a warrior's oath. It was not something to be taken lightly. Warriors would swear upon the names of leaders who have fought countless battles, led the charge to warfare, and those who were considered gods like your father.

You were none of those.

You were not your father.

“Why?” You asked him, your hands trembling against his cheek. “Compared to my father, I am nothing. Why would you swear your loyalty to me when I have nothing to give you in return? It will still be years—centuries, even—before I could inherit the throne and bear the title of queen mother. So why?”

Silence fell between the two of you, the waves of the high afternoon playing the symphonies of its motherlands. You felt like you were suffocating despite the beauty that surrounded you while you waited for him to speak.

Finally, Attuma slowly raised his head and kissed the palm of your hand. It brought a wave of heat from the back of your neck to your cheeks, and even the tips of your pointed ears warmed at the gesture.

“Will you allow me to speak out of turn?” He asked you, his voice uncharacteristically soft. You blinked back the tears that obscured your vision and nodded.

“Speak your mind, Attuma.”

He breathed in a stuttering breath, the hand that held yours tightening and trembling. It made you nervous; a warrior such as he, the embodiment of a shield that protects his nation, stuttered and shook in your hold. He could overpower you at any second, purge the world of your existence, but here he was, weak and vulnerable in your presence.

He locked eyes with you, those gorgeous oaken eyes stared deep into your very being without reservation. You found yourself feeling faint, as if you have fallen into a pleasant trap that you weren’t too keen on getting out of.

And with a steady voice he said;

“I love you, in princesa. I always have since we were children. I only breathe to serve you, only live to please you. If you so asked me to burn the world and slay your enemies, then I will show you the ashes of their bones on a jaden chest. If you asked me to become your shield, then I shall parry every blade for you and protect you with my last breath. If you asked me to become your spear, then the blood of your foes shall dye the sea in red…”

He paused as he drew closer, the heat of his body enveloping you in a sensation of great adoration. He gripped your hand tighter, his lips lingering on your palms as he leaned further into your touch.

“...and if you asked me to become your beloved, then I will become the most faithful man you would ever lay your eyes upon—for your joys are my joys, and your sorrows are mine to bear.”

You felt your throat constrict, the heat from your face now traveling down to the tips of your fingers down to the very ends of your feathered ankles. Your wings bristled and shook, your breath hitching at every breath, and you felt the sudden urge to look away from those unwavering eyes. But the gravity of his own magnetism was enough to drive you back in; to never tear your gaze away from the man that confessed his love for you.

Though this begs the question; did you love him back?

Attuma must have misunderstood your silence for rejection, so he slowly removed your hands from his cheeks and bowed his head in shame.

“I have spoken out of turn. I apologize,” he held his spear tightly, but he never removed himself from his bow—a sign of his submission to you, “whether or not you accept my feelings, I will still stay by your side. I will serve under you, make my oath in the witness of K’uk’ulkan of my loyalty to you. I will ask for nothing more.”

Your heart broke at how easily it was for him to apologize. No person should ever apologize for the feelings that they bear. It only proved how devoted the great warrior was to you; for him to present his feelings of love to you and still offer his loyalty in the face of rejection.

You recounted the days of your youth down to the decades worth of memories with him. How could you have been so blind to have ignored the signs of his affections? How blinded were you with your duties that you allowed yourself to turn away from the subtle declarations of his feelings for you?

How foolish were you to actually dismiss your own feelings for him? You love Attuma. You always have.

“Why have you not said anything in the century we have been together?” You asked him, your voice low and meek. You did not want to lose the warmth of his skin, so you gently lifted his head with both of your hands and let him meet your eyes.

You saw the gaze of your warrior waver.

“My duty is to protect you. How dare I be so impertinent as to bear feelings for the daughter of my own king?”

You shook your head and leaned in to rest your forehead against his. You heard the clatter of his vibranium spear on the rocks and into the water below. But you simply did not care at that moment.

“You are never impertinent, not when I bear the same love for you as you have for me.”

You heard his breath hitch. The hands that lay dutifully to his side now flying up to your face and hold your cheeks so delicately. In the large and dependable hands of your warrior did you feel safe and loved. It was unlike the other times that he had shown you affection when you were merely just friends.

What were you now, you wondered, now that you and him share the same feelings.

In that moment of solace did Attuma realize his place, but he did not dare remove his hands from you. He ghosted his fingers over your pointed ears, tangled his hands with your wet hair, and held you tight like you were the most precious thing in the sea.

He was but a mere warrior—a shameless peasant whose hands had brazenly touched the skin of his master.

“I am just a warrior without a title. You cannot possibly love me as I am.”

“But I do. I just have never realized it sooner, in yakunaj.” My love, an endearment that made Attuma’s heart flutter and weak against your hands.

“And when we are in the eyes of scrutiny, what then should you do?”

“It matters not, my dear warrior.”

“But your majesty—!”

“Am I not the heir to the throne of Talokan? Am I not the princess whose rule is imminent in the witness of your king? Of whom I shall love is a matter of my own choice that not even the feathered serpent god could refute.”

You drew in closer and wrapped your arms around him. He was strong and powerful, but in your arms did he surrender himself. He was not the warrior you knew him to be. In your arms, he was just a man who held a century worth of ardor.

“I dare not disgrace you, in princesa. I have nothing in my name but the battles that I have fought as a mere soldier.”

He removed himself from you and held you tenderly by the cheeks. You leaned against his touch, completely surrendering to the feelings that you have long since ignored since the beginning. He inched himself closer and continued to speak with great affection.

“But if I would be so bold to ask for you to wait; wait for me to garner titles of my own, build the foundations of my exploits, and ask you again to become mine, would you be so merciful as to grant such a plea?”

You stared at his resolve, the gaze of the man you have realized you have loved now asking you for the mercy to wait. You cupped his strong jaw and caressed his cheek with your thumb as you said;

“I will grant you mercy, in yakunaj, only if you fulfill my wish.”

He became alert, his body ready to grant your desires.

“Anything, in princesa. Anything for your majesty.”

“Then I wish for you to call me by my name, I beg you. We bear more than just pleasantries of warrior and royal.”

He gave you a smile, one that even his mask could not hide, and leaned in to touch his forehead against yours.

“Is that an order?”

You smiled.

“A request.”

It was merely a few decades later that the great capital city of Talokan was abuzz with the whispers of a great blessing bestowed upon their royal heir. It lit the fire of pride within the citizens of the hidden nation, a pride that K’uk’ulkan wore with high regard as he descended to present himself on the forefront of his throne.

Their darling princess, the radiant pearl of the deep sea, was ready to assume the throne of K’uk’ulkan’s legacy.

As your citizens have revered your father as the god king of your people, they have revered you as the same; a deity whose hands extended to the waters to create a shield of protection, a divine being whose mercy radiates the warmth of a thousand suns, the daughter of the feathered serpent god whose wings carried you through the winds of battle through the century. Your chest bloomed with unending bliss when you realized you've lived up to the name of your father—an entity that you've molded yourself into the likeness of.

You had held the expectations of the name of K’uk’ulkan to your very heart, and you were thrilled at the fact that your father had acknowledged your efforts in the witness of your people.

Your kingdom cheered and praised your name as you descended into the throne room from above, the feathered headpiece similar to your father’s symbolizing your authority as heir apparent of Talokan. Your father extended his hand for you to take, and you had done so with such grace befitting of your title as radiant pearl of the sea.

And there he had presented you with a throne of your own, just below the teeth of the monster of the deep oceans that he had slain many years ago. It was decorated with the finest of jade, vibranium, and gold with the likeness of an open shell. Compared to his throne that was decorated with the splendor of his long battles, yours was the embodiment of the abundant riches of your nation.

It was a symbol, perhaps, that the toil of your father’s work had borne fruit of great wealth to Talokan and passed down to the generations that would come next.

The radiant pearl of the sea had finally assumed her reign as heir apparent after a century of her rule by the feathered serpent god’s side, and there was no one in the kingdom who would oppose to the majesty of K’uk’ulkan’s daughter—not because she had the blood of their king in her veins and the feathered ankles that proved her divine lineage—but because of her love for her people and the duties that she had so diligently carried with grace.

K’uk’ulkan swam to your side and guided you to rest upon your new throne. It was a new feeling for you, one that could not compare to the childish wonder that you had just sitting on the lap of your father when you were still a wee babe. In the high seat of your throne did you overlook the citizens that had adored you, watched as they bowed their heads and put their hands in the likeness of a serpent’s mouth as respect to your inauguration.

As much as you loved to see your people acknowledge you, you could not find a glimpse of your best friend and secret lover. To you, their opinions were the only ones that mattered. It would not feel as joyous as it is if they were not to witness your greatest achievements.

Where were they, you wondered. They promised to be here in time for your ceremony.

“Something troubles you, in waal.” your father beside you, the feathers from his headpiece tickling the sides of your cheek. You gave him a smile, one that masked your worries, and found comfort in the hands that gripped yours reassuringly.

“Namora and Attuma are not here,” you supplied him, your eyes scanning the crowd of your people, “I worry for them. They promised they would come.”

K’uk’ulkan smiles and brings his hand to caress the base of your neck tenderly and rest his decorated forehead on your own. Your breath, which you didn’t realize had become labored, instantly calmed at the mere comfort of your father.

“Quell your nerves, my daughter. They will come.” With a knowing smile, your father separated himself from you and swam up to sit in the jaws of his own throne. The people all cheered while chanting the words of praise to Talokan’s honor.

K’uk’ulkan puts his hand up slowly and everyone falls into a hush. The air was still buzzing, the water under your command feeling the energy of everyone’s bated breaths as they awaited the words of their king.

“We honor the place of my only child as the rightful heir of Talokan. She has proven herself worthy of such a title for a century, and the seas have blessed us with such excellence that no one could dare defy. The future of Talokan is bright.”

Your people cheered and hollered, yet your eyes still strain to find your best friend and lover. You tried your best not to feel upset, but you felt a painful twist on your heart.

Where were they? It was unlike them to break their promises, especially your beloved warrior, Attuma.

“Not only do we celebrate the coronation of my daughter’s place in my council, but we celebrate the oath of our two new generals.” your father continued, your head snapping up at the familiar silhouette of your secret lover up the grand entrance of your underwater throne room. Your heart settled and you smiled in great pride as your father presented them at last.

“Namora and Attuma, the new grand generals of Talokan.”

They extruded such power as they descended ever so slowly, the light of the vibranium sun creating a halo of light around their bodies. They wore new armor that suited their character; the likeness of the spines of a lionfish adorned the body of your best friend, Namora, and the skull of a hammerhead shark and the spikes of its teeth littering every crevice of Attuma’s plated armor. Both of them held their respective weapons made of vibranium, and you could only smile at how proud you were for them.

You couldn't help but ogle at the sight of your warrior. You had kept your word and waited for him to finally gather his own accomplishments before asking for your hand. But that did not stop you from sneaking off and relishing yourselves in each other’s company. No one had ever suspected anything yet, but you gathered that your people were still under the impression that Attuma only bears one-sided love for you.

Oh your poor love, you didn’t mean to make him wait for so long.

You wondered when he would finally ask for your hand, to finally make your blooming romance known to your father and your citizens. It filled you with warmth just thinking about the possibilities.

You and Attuma locked eyes as soon as they had finished their descent, his eyes raking across your figure sat on your jeweled throne. He felt the need to kiss you right then and there, a privilege he had not yet taken across the decades of your secret romance in respect to his promise. He dared not touch you so inappropriately when you were not yet his, but he was sure to finally claim you as his own.

You were a jewel in Attuma’s eyes. A gem fit to be heralded around in great praise to your charm. Although your beauty spoke wonders of your outward appearance, you were a strong warrior, maybe even as strong as Namora. You are wise like your father, and you cared for your kingdom in the ways that a mother would.

You were crowned princess of Talokan, heir to the throne of K’uk’ulkan’s majesty, and the future queen mother of your nation.

Attuma could not even begin to describe in words such a blessing that fell into his hands so tenderly.

As soon as they were done taking their oath, bowed before you and K’uk’ulkan to swear their undying fidelity to your nation of Talokan, Attuma and Namora shared one look before your warrior ascended alone, careful to keep his gait below your eyes and on the feet of your throne. Your people fell into a hush, the momentary celebration ceasing to wait for Attuma’s next words.

“In princesa,” he started, his eyes looking up to lock eyes with your father, “K’uk’ulkan. If I may speak.”

“Attuma,” he regarded the warrior, his head held high in authority, “what do you wish to say?”

“My fealty lies with no one but the princess,” he bowed low and presented presented his spear by the jewels that adorned your throne, “the oath I shall take is one reserved to be of service of her, and if she wills me to serve under you, K’uk’ulkan, then I shall do so with no question.”

You waited with bated breath as your father stood from his throne and descended to stand in front of your warrior. Your heart thumped in your chest as you saw your father inch closer to him, his hand now resting on his shoulders and urging Attuma to rise.

“You have done a great deal for the name of my daughter, but the decision is hers to make.” K’uk’ulkan started, his voice carrying nothing but tender command. He turned towards you and beckoned you forward. You did so without question and swam beside your father.

“Do you accept his oath, in waal?”

There was no other answer for such a question. It was something that you had dreamed of since the beginning of your blossoming romance, the fantasy that you had always dreamed to come into fruition.

With a smile that would outshine the stars of the night, you eagerly replied.

“I shall accept your oath with open arms, Attuma. My dear warrior.”

Your people broke into joyous cheers as Attuma rose from his bow. You turned to pick the spear by the feet of your throne and presented it to him with a proud grin. He replied in kind, kissing the vibranium shaft that touched your hand as soon as he had received it. Heat traveled up your neck and into the tips of your pointed ears at the gesture, your fingers wringing together in bashful fluster.

K’uk’ulkan smiled at the exchange, but he could not help but urge you away from the warrior and back to your throne. He could not help himself—you were far too precious to be in the presence of a man who fancied you all his life.

The king turned to Attuma and regarded him with a nod and gesture of Talokan’s respect, the warrior replying in kind.

“Serve her well, Attuma.”

Before K’uk’ulkan could return to his throne, Attuma rose high and proud, brandishing his weapon only he could ever wield with such power. A show of strength, if you will, that left the people at awe at the display of his prowess.

“My king! If I may be so bold, I have something to ask of you.” He declared, his voice loud and strong. Your brows furrowed in confusion at such a statement; what else did Attuma need when he had already pledged his service to you?

You held the urge to giggle when your father turned with an amused chuckle of his own.

“What is it?”

Attuma turned towards you, the both of you locking eyes. And in that moment, he sent you an affectionate grin.

And then realization hit you.

He wasn’t going to—!

“I wish for your permission to court your daughter, the princess.” Murmurs and excited gasps spread across the hall. You see Namora grinning to herself staring at Attuma, impressed. Your cheeks burned with heat, your chest pounding at how incredibly mad Attuma was for declaring something as bold as a courting during your coronation as crown heir.

But it was something that you absolutely loved about your warrior, no matter how insane he was to declare his desire to court you in front of the entire kingdom.

Your father stiffened, his eyes steeled and ready to pounce at Attuma. He had to hold himself back—there was no reason for him to needlessly attack his finest warrior just because he expressed his desire to court you. He could not even dismiss such thought; the titles and the achievements of Attuma held far more worth than any man in Talokan.

From where it stands, and with your close relationship with the warrior, he was by far the only man worthy of your affection.

And so, with a reluctance that held every possible threat in the world, K’uk’ulkan replied.

“Prove to me your worth, Attuma, for the radiant pearl of the sea does not need an incompetent suitor to court her.”

“Father!” You hissed quietly. You felt your father’s animosity course through you in waves. You had to resist the urge to groan and sigh; he was so protective of you.

But Attuma did not seem phased as he spoke steadily.

“By your will, K’uk’ulkan.”

In the eyes of your people did you swim beside your father and held his arm reassuringly. His steely gaze finally fell as he looked at you, and you allowed yourself to swim to the level of his ears and whisper, “Please be gentle with Attuma, father. I also bear feelings for him.”

He looked at you like he was betrayed, but he was not surprised. How could you not have told him about your budding feelings for the warrior?

Then again, he knew the throes of a woman when it came to sharing their romantic feelings, so he did not blame you for keeping it a secret from him, your own father.

“How long have you known?”

“A few decades,” you smiled sheepishly, “do not be so hard on the warrior that I have chosen. He means it in good faith, and he has done nothing to cross any boundaries set by your command.”

“Are you sure?”

“I swear it upon my name and crown, father.”

Your father pondered on your words for a little while longer and resigned with a sigh. You pressed your forehead against your father’s and giggled.

“Thank you for your leniency, my king.”

You separated yourself from your father and swam forward to Attuma. He gave you a cheeky grin, one that screamed unapologetic mischief. You shook your head, amused as his antics, as you raised your hand to cup his cheek.

“My father has given his word; prove to him that you are worthy of my hand so we will be together, my dear warrior.”

He dared cup your hands that feathered along his strong jaw and leaned into your touch. You could feel your father’s piercing stare, but the both of you ignored it, too engrossed in your own little world in the watchful eyes of your nation.

“Is that an order?” He asked you, his eyes boring into yours with such intensity that would have sent you immediately to your knees.

You leaned in close until your lips met the base of his mighty headpiece, the jagged teeth of the hammerhead shark that he had slain digging firmly into the skin of his forehead. When you parted, you stared into his eyes; the eyes that held nothing but veneration to your glorious name.

And with a tender whisper to your beloved, you replied.

“A request.”

Anyone up for a Part 2? >:))

Taglist: @haideehaids @xnodamsel

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devilishcupid · 1 year

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THE KING'S PROPOSAL | Namor

☆ premise: centuries since the calling off of your engagement, namor comes back and proposes once more.

☆ pairing: namor x fem!royal!reader

☆ warnings: romantic history between namor and reader, tension between namor and reader

☆ a/n: genuinely down bad for this man. i love him so much🤧

"Be my queen, and I will be your king."

The room was suddenly filled with the laughs of your advisers. Even you found it amusing. Who knew Namor, the Feathered Serpent God, would be in standing in the middle of your throne room right now, proposing an alliance between your kingdom and his through marriage?

After all, not only did your kingdom have a bloody history with Talokan—you and Namor had history yourselves. Centuries ago, you were old flames whose relationship's end nearly caused a civil war between your nations.

"If I may speak, my queen," one of your advisers appealed. Giving your nod of approval, she turned to the Talokanil King. "Attempts to form an alliance didn't work the first time. In fact, it only ended up dividing us further. Why should her majesty accept your proposal a second time?"

Your eyes narrowed at the steely glint in Namor's eyes. "Because if you don't, a time will come where your people will regret not having Talokan by its side."

The room became quiet as tension filled the air. Millions of thoughts ran through your head. What were his intentions? What did Talokan have that your people did not? Was there truth behind his words? Or was he merely bluffing?

Finally, you spoke. "Leave me with him."

Your advisers were about to protest, but your glare silenced them into submitting to your command. Namor's own advisers, Attuma and Namora, followed suit after a nod of approval from their king. With the last person closing the doors shut, it was only you and Namor in the throne room.

You descended from your throne, your footsteps echoing until you stood in front of your former flame. Looking up at him, you said, "This is the first time we've met since the unfortunate calling off of our engagement, and the first thing you do is threaten me under my own roof."

"Whether my words are a threat or an act of good faith will depend on whether or not you accept my proposal for marriage."

"What you just did was asking for my hand in marriage? You've gotten more romantic since we last met, Namor." You remarked, sarcasm dripping from your words.

A low chuckle left his lips in response. "And you're still the same as always, In yakunaj."

Your eye twitched at the term of endearment he used to reserve for you. "If you think you can charm me into marrying you, I assure you it won't work."

"It did the first time." He quipped, an eyebrow raised suggestively.

"Yet it ended disastrously, did it not?" You shot back, before returning back to your former demeanor. "What do you really want, Namor? We don't make contact for years and now you want me to marry you and unite our kingdoms. Why?"

"Talokan has shown itself to Wakanda," Namor revealed, as your eyes widened at the revelation, "and we have formed an alliance that will be of great help when war arrives."

"Strengthening your nation in preparation for battle. So that's why you've come." You concluded, sighing and shaking your head. "Did we not decide that the surface dwellers will end up killing each other anyway? That we will watch those fools burn without us having to light the fire?"

He scoffed at your words. "That would be true, if they hadn't gotten stronger. I wouldn't had revealed my people's existence to Wakanda if the surface world hadn't threatened Talokan's safety."

Namor leaned into you, one hand gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, while the other rested on your waist. "And I wouldn't be here if your safety hadn't been threatened as well."

You gulped, your chest heaving as you stared at him. The two of you were completely silent, save for the sounds of your breathing, neither of you breaking eye contact.

You caught yourself leaning closer to his face, and you immediately pulled away from his grasp. You turned your back to him, cheeks tinged red from how close you were to kissing him. Even after all these years, he still had the same effect on you.

"I won't accept your offer. Not now, at least." You said after composing yourself. You turned around to face him once more. "I'll consider your proposal, but I can't promise my nation's compliance."

"Then I'll leave you to deliberate, your majesty." Namor handed you a large shell, which you recognized as a Talokanil communication device. "Tell me of your decision as soon as you have made it."

You nodded, and Namor headed towards the exit. He stopped in his tracks when he reached the doors, making you raise an eyebrow. "What is it, Namor?"

"I was right. You haven't changed one bit."

"What made you reach that conclusion?"

"It's been years yet making you fall for me still is no hardship."

#˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ doll's fics #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #black panther #wakanda forever #namor #namor x reader #mcu x reader #namor fic #namor fanfic #namor imagine #namor the sub mariner

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strawberrishortbabe · 1 year

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Every time an attractive black or poc character gets introduced into Marvel, fans who are of the same race and/or culture as them has to deal with ignorant white authors taking that character and writing the most blatantly offensive and whitewashed fanfics.

There’s no reason why Namor is speaking Spanish instead of his own native language. It’s not that difficult to do your research and it’s clear y’all have no problem doing it when it came to Thor or Loki. Y’all don’t even bother hiding it yet get defensive when someone points it out. Since we’re on this topic, lets not act dumb about his dislike for white people and the LOW chance of him having a white partner like bffr…

Lastly, we need to be VERY careful on how Namor is written and not play into stereotypes that’ll harm his character (and also Tenoch himself) in the long run. Y’all don’t seem to know (nor care) how dangerous it is to have him being written as the “aggressor” pursuing the “naive and innocent” white girl.

#namor #namor fic #namor x reader #tenoch huerta namor #marvel #wakanda forever

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sunshinescribes · 1 year

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Continuum - 1

Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT

Summary: Despite the alliance between Wakanda and Talokan, The Feathered Serpent God isn’t truly welcomed in the Golden City. That doesn’t stop you from allowing him in your bed, nor him from wanting more

You call his name, but you don’t think he hears.

Don’t think Namor can sense anything beyond the taste of you on his tongue, sweet and smearing his chin—the way he always wants you, and you know your sheets will be a mess when he’s done. Know you’ll have to wash away the evidence of a liaison that should never be.

Alliance or not, he isn’t truly welcome on these shores, but you allow him anyway with the promise that this time will be the last.

Your resolve is questionable, as is your loyalty.

Your fingers thread through wet hair. You pull him closer to your soaking pussy, and he groans. The feel of it reverberates through you as you choke out his name.

Namor pulls away from your soaking slit with a sigh. His dark, half-lidded eyes trail up your body until they meet yours.

“You have missed me,” He whispers against your thigh, licking the wetness that’s made its way there.

He lets nothing go to waste.

“That wasn’t a question,” you note, feeling the ghost of a smile against your skin.

“No…” Namor’s hand traces the inside of your thighs. Thick fingers brush against the folds of your pussy, slowly reaching your clit, “It was not.”

He returns his mouth where you need it most, while his thick fingers work away at your throbbing clit. Your legs shake, your breath hitches as you’re drawn closer to another soul shattering orgasm. Even as Namor takes you apart, he does it will no real urgency. His movements are languid, as if he has all the time in the world.

Namor replaces his tongue with his fingers, stretching you as he pushes two fingers into you sopping cunt. You can hear the evidence of your desire—the slick, wet sounds as his fingers massage your fluttering walls. Your hips buck forward, wanting his fingers knuckle deep, and he laughs. A deep, throaty laugh that’s almost cruel.

“What would they say?” Namor lifts his face; his lips curl into an amused smile as he watches you. Watches the rise and fall of your breasts, the tremble of your lips as praise and encouragement falls from them, “Hm? If they all knew how desperate you are for me? How eager.”

“I…I don’t know,” you lie.

It’s easier than thinking about how you would be dishonored. The question of your loyalty would be immediate, and no answer you gave would satisfy your elders, nor your king.

Though an alliance stood between Wakanda and Talokan, it did not wash away Namor’s sins, nor earn him the favor of your people.

As far as anyone was concerned, he was a necessary evil—one that you could seemingly not say no to.

Namor tsks. The rhythm of his fingers slows as he considers you. He wants the truth you refuse to give.

“Do you think they will forgive you? Will you beg for it? Lie?” He pulls his fingers out of you, eyes following his digits glazed with your wetness, “Or will you have to turn to me?”

He looks at you as he lifts his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. He groans contentedly around his digits, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he is savoring just how fucking sweet you are—as if there is no fruit, nor drink in existence that can quite satisfy his hunger the way you do.

You blink up at him, dazed by his display and so painfully needy. Your cunt aches as it clenches around nothing. It’s enough to bring you to tears, but you’d bet that’s exactly what he wants. You, dumb and delirious and crying for him. Completely at his mercy.

“I would never turn to you,” you bite, and Namor’s eyes finally open. They seem endless as he stares up at you with an indecipherable expression.

His slick fingers skim the length of your leg, leaving a trail of his saliva that leads straight to your pulsing cunt.

“You already have.”

His fingers push back into you, and a curse rips from your throat. His languid manner is long gone, replaced by a feverish need to make you come around his fingers now. His pace is ruthless, his fingers reaching further into you until he’s knuckle-deep, just the way you need him—and then he fucking curls his fingers.

You tip over the edge without warning, your release violent and unexpected as it racks through you. Your walls flutter around his fingers, your legs convulse, and his name falls from your lips with so much devotion, you’d think perhaps he is the god his people claim him to be.

Your body goes limp as you come down from your high with a shaky sigh. You feel the heat of Namor’s mouth as he trails kisses up your body, a steady path upward until his lips hover over yours.

His fingers cradle your jaw, his hold firm as he keeps your gaze trained on him, and your heart aches.

Bast, he’s beautiful. It always stuns you no matter how many times you have the revelation—and this is when you promise yourself that this is the last time you allow him in your bed. You both never stopped to explain what this was, but you know feelings would only complicate things further…make the inevitable end that much harder to see through.

“What are you thinking right now?” Namor asks against your lips, teasing. He’s back to taking his time, dragging everything out for his own pleasure, while simultaneously driving you as mad as he possibly can. You have half the mind to close the gap between you two, and another to send his happy ass back to the sea.

You do neither.

“I think that you’re ruining me,” Namor grins. You nearly stumble over your words, “And I am disappointed in myself for enjoying it.”

He nods, leaning in as he closes the space between your lips. Namor kisses you like it’s the first time—all hunger and a need to consume you, but he does not rush. He tastes you, rolls his tongue along your bottom lip. Your lips part with a sigh, and he’s quick to make you taste yourself on his tongue—to know just how delicious you truly are, before he breaks away.

“I wish to do more than just ruin you…”

His hand reaches down, wrapping around his hard dick. He gives it a few quick strokes, groaning against your mouth before he rubs his dick between your folds, coating himself with your juices. You gasp, squirming beneath him as you feel your walls flutter painfully. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasms, but this will do little to deter Namor. He will have you until you’re boneless, voice gone from how hard you’ve used it to call out for him, to plead him to go deeper. Fuck you harder.

And Namor always ends it how he starts, between your legs and with your sweet arousal coating the back of his throat. The taste of you lingers, even when he returns to the depths of the ocean, back to Talokan. He tastes you while he paints hieroglyphs memorializing the legends he’s lived, and the ones he might.

Namor pushes into your entrance, feeling the warm slickness of your velvety walls as they hug his thick length, and he drives himself deeper. He curses in his mother tongue, adjusting to you as your sensitive walls throb around him. He won’t have to do much to set you off, and for a second he considers being charitable and putting you out of your lust-filled misery, but even that comes at a price.

He hadn’t wanted much in the beginning. Just you sprawled out for him in all your beauty. You had both been chasing a high, a need to have the other—and maybe it was the taboo surrounding the nature of your relationship that spurred it—the threat that lingered if one of you were found out, though Namor was not foolish enough to believe you did not have more to lose.

It hadn’t mattered before, but it mattered now. Here, with the taste of you on his tongue and your nails digging into the flesh of his back as he thrust into you shallowly—you fucking mattered, and he was no longer satisfied with late night hookups, and kisses behind closed doors. He resented having to wait weeks or even months to see you again, wondering all the while if you’d finally decide to turn him away when he returned.

He wanted more.

He wanted everything.

And what a creature craving could be.

Namor glanced down at you, mesmerized by your long lashes fluttering as your eyes closed—the furrow of your brow as pain and pleasure pulsed through your body. A plea fell from your lips, whispered so softly he nearly missed it.

Now was not the time to be charitable. Now was the time for negotiations.

“Say it.” Namor thrust harder, earning a whine from you, “Call my name.”

Your bottom lip quivered; the words nearly spoken before you caught yourself. You shook your head, and Namor let out a frustrated sigh.

He had told you to call him K’uk’ulkan. Whispered it against your lips like a plea months ago, but even now you deny him. The name was spoken with adoration by his people, and you learned he gave it to outsiders sparingly.

So, you couldn’t say it. You wouldn’t.

It’s the confession that you swallow, hidden away just like these meetings between you two. It’s the treacherous desire of wanting all of him at the cost of everything else.

And while you could be reckless enough to entertain desire driven nights with him, you could not conjure a fantasy where he was yours, and you were his. The cost was too great.

The rhythm of his hips slowed. Your eyes fluttered open as you glared up at him, biting back a curse in Xhosa.

“Are you so afraid of a name?”

He cocked his head to the side, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck, “Or afraid of what it might mean to call me by it?”

Your breath hitched as you blinked up at him, the heat of his gaze and weight of his question making your thoughts foggy. Despite it, you found your voice.

“I’m afraid that you’ve forgotten what this is.”

Namor was silent for a moment. His dark eyes searched yours, before his lips curled into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Then remind me.”

He pulled out of you fully, leaving you wanting before he thrust back in with a force that made you cry out. He buried himself deep inside of you, stretching your aching cunt and making you feel every glorious inch of his dick.

He grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing your legs closer to your chest and began to fuck you like a wild, depraved animal.

You clawed at his back, anchoring yourself to him as he continued to pound into you. He groaned into the nape of your neck, his fingers bruised the flesh of your thighs as he lost himself.

“Is this all that you are then? A hole to fill?”

The sound of the meeting of your flesh filled the shack, drowning out the peaceful hum of the wind outside. The rustling of the trees.

You cursed, feeling the deliciously painful pressure in your core building with each brutal thrust.

Your hand trailed up his neck, fingers digging into his damp curls, and you pulled his head closer, resting his forehead against your as his hips started to stutter—his rhythm quickly losing its coordination.

“Please…” your voice sounded pathetic, even to your own ears, “Namor…K’u—”

You choked on his name as pure hot euphoria ricocheted through you. Your toes curled, your back arched painfully as you cried up towards the ceiling. A tear rolled down your cheek as you came violently around his aching dick.

Namor hissed a string of Mayan against your lips, words spoken so quickly your mind couldn’t even catch them. Your name was the only thing you could make out before Namor went rigid. His teeth bit into the flesh of your shoulder as his seed poured into you. His dick twitched inside of you as he gave a final thrust, pushing the evidence of his desire further into your pussy. His mouth hung open as his chest rose and fell, and bliss cascaded through him.

Namor carefully draped himself over you, conscious of not crushing you under his weight despite how featherlight he felt. He kissed your temple, whispering his praise as he stayed buried inside of you, feeling the mix of your release and his own slowly seeping out of you.

He would take care of you soon. Wash away the evidence of your love making before he returned to Talokan where he was needed most. But for now, he would bask in the feel of you beneath him, and the possibility that lingered between you two.

PART 2 , PART 3

#namor x reader #namor x y/n #namor x you #namor #namor fic #namor fanfiction #namor imagine #black!fem!reader #namor x black reader #kukulkan x reader #kukulkan x you #namor x fem!reader

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thegreatestsandwich · 1 year

Note

I just saw black panther and let me tell you that I fell in love with Namor and everytime he appeared on screen I was screaming internally, I was wondering if you could write something silly like the reader gives him a rock every time she sees him because on a trip to the surface she saw a couple giving each other gifts and hugging at the end and she thought a rock was the equivalent of that, please please please

I can’t speak, afraid to jinx it (Namor x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A tiny gift that almost drove him to madness.

Warning: Prepare yourself to be attacked with fluff

A/N: At this point, I think I'm really in love with Tenoch, you feel me?

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

Namor was beginning to noticing this strange thing about you, no matter where he was or what was he doing, if you passed him you would stop and give him a small rock with a huge smile on your face.

It had started the moment you first were put in charge with helping him recollect a few things from the sinking boat that was closer to his city. Namor was waiting for you at the borders, his hands on his back as his eyes were looking at the calmness of the waters when he heard you humming a soft tune as you approached. He turned around and watched you struggle with at least ten bags on your arms. When he told you that he needed you to bring a few bags to carry the stuff, he was imagining you would bring two, not ten. He couldn’t help but smile at your determination.

“K'eeban tumen k'uchul chúunk'iin!” Sorry for being late! You quickly swam to his side, his eyes watching curiously as you tried to suppress your labored breaths. “Utia'al u completamente honesto, k'uchen tu k'iinili' ba'ale' in distraje.” To be completely honest, I was on time but I got distracted. You cheekily smiled. “Ya'ab in wu'uyik K’uk’ulkan.” I’m really sorry.

“English.” He told you once again and had to bit his tongue to suppress his laughter when you huffed. “You asked me to teach you and I am doing that.”

“Stupid English.” You muttered under your breath. Your hands quickly adjusted the bags on your shoulder. “Can we just go?” Your hand motioned the waters. “I do not want to be there when is dark, sharks bite then.”

Namor held out his hand so you could give him a few bags but you held them closer to you. “Let me help you, and sharks do not bite if you do not annoy them.” He managed to take a few bags from you, adjusting them at his shoulder and began to swim.

You gasped at his words and at his actions. “Sharks do bite! One bit me a few days ago on my leg, I have a scar to prove it…you even saw it, you said it was amazing.”

“Those words have never left my mouth.” Namor was smiling at your tantrum but managed to hide it as his face never left the waters.

“Uh, yes they have.” You managed to caught up with him, swimming at his side. You noticed his smile. “What are we recollecting?”

“Whatever we find useful.” He stated as que stopped, you following suit. “I will check if there are threats, stay here.” Namor didn’t wait for your answer as he quickly swam away, leaving you there with all the bags once again.

You huffed but decided to listen to him, your eyes looking at everything that surrounded you, there were a few fishes out there, thankfully no sharks, the corals looked bright and the sand too inviting to lay just there. But then you saw it, it was shiny and a beautiful turquoise color, you quickly tried to find Namor but he was still away, you bit your lip in concentration and decided to just go for it.

Your hands quickly grabbed the tiny and shiny object, your thumb carefully swiping away any left-over sand, your eyes widening before quicky putting it inside of one of the bags and swam to where Namor was calling you.

As you would expected, the recollection of things from that boat was completely boring, your eyes often diverting towards Namor, you admitted that he looked quite good, completely concentrated in this activity. When he was completely secure that there wasn’t anything more to salvage, he nodded at you and both of you left.

Namor took the bags from you when he left you at your home, you bit your lip and without thinking you grabbed his arm. He looked at you in confusion.

“I have a gift.” You quietly said. Your hands fumbled with one of the bags that you refused to give him. Finally retrieving the tiny rock. “Found it there, I think you will love it.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes following your hands as they put the rock on his palm and close his fingers against it. You gave him a last smile before entering your home and leaving him there, watching at the door.

And so it began.

Every single time you saw him, you always gave him a rock, it didn’t matter the size, the color or the weight, you always gave him one. At first he was confused at why you were giving them to him but he began appreciate them after you failed to give him one after one day.

He was swimming with Attuma at his side, the later telling him about the improvements they were making with the protection of the barriers, Namor was glad that everything was going within the plan.

“Táan in planeando bisik u kantúulo'on ti' leti'ob utia'al inspeccionar u máquina u kajnáalilo'ob le superficie decidieron túuxtik tak ka'anal.” I am planning to take four of them to inspectionate the machine the surface-dwellers decided to send from above. Attuma stopped for a second, pointing to the ones he wanted to take. “Chéen k'áabet u t'aan aprobación bey ma' táanil.” Just need your word of approval before proceeding.

Namor was about to speak but he managed to see you approaching them, his fingers were tingling with anticipation, imagining what kind of rock you would give him today, the corner of his mouth was twitching upwards, a smile he wanted to suppress at the presence of Attuma. But he failed.

Attuma watched in amusement at how his king was acting, he would have laughed if you hadn’t approached them. You smiled at them before swimming away. That’s when he saw his face and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bejla'e' ma' jach juntúul roca, huh?” Not a rock today, huh? Attuma patted his back. “Ma' xaan ka' leti' a ts'áaik juntúul sáamal.” Perhaps she will give you one tomorrow.

“Bix a wojel?” How do you know? Namor asked him, his voice completely annoyed at the missing rock on his hand.

“Tu ya'alaj teen ka tu yilaj le kajnáalilo'obo' le superficie ts'a regalos, tu tukultaj u a gustaban le tunicho'ob ken aceptaste le primera.” She told me she saw the surface-dwellers give gifts, she thought you liked rocks when you accepted the first one. Attuma simply said, trying his hardest to not laugh again.

“Juntéen, wáaj bix supiste?” Again, how did you know?

“Leti' tu ya'alaj teen, ku pinchamos kaaye' globo sáastale'.” She told me, we usually poke pufferfish at dawn. He shrugged, swimming away.

What?

Namor was pacing through his cave, he was going absolutely mad, it now has been twelve days since you had given him a rock. He didn’t know what was happening, why did you stopped? Had the rocks you been seen weren’t up to your standard? He didn’t care, he wanted them.

He couldn’t help but sighed, his eyes turning to his small (HUGE) collection of rocks, he had been keeping them protected since you had given him them. But he wanted more, was he being selfish? Hell yeah, but this was something you had given the thought, you searched each one of them, you put your mind into looking for the perfect one before giving them to him.

So he went to look for you, he couldn’t find you anywhere in the city, a few of his people were looking at him strange as he began asking for you. But your mother was kind enough to point at your location.

Near the corals, she had said.

So he quickly swam there, and there you were, poking at pufferfish with Attuma. He needed to give you a reminder to not do that.

“Cha' k.” Leave us. Namor told Attuma, it was more like a order.

Attuma watched him and then you, before nodding. A huge smile on his face as he left.

“K’uk’ulkan?” You asked him confused, a stick on your hand. “Tu láakal ba'ax ma'alo'ob.?” Everuthing alright?

“English.” He told you, you noticed how tense he was, but still huffed and nodded. “Why did you stop?”

“Stop?” You tilted your head. “Stop what?”

“Rocks.”

You stared at him, you simple shrugged, not really knowing what to say.

“You have not given me any rock in twelve days, why?” He took a step closer to you. “Did something happened? Are they not in your standards? I do not mind what kind of rock you give me.”

“Oh.” You whispered, adverting your eyes. “Is not it.”

“Then what is it?” He grabbed your hands. “I do not care what you give me, but please do not stop.”

You sighed. “My mother say it is not nice to give rocks to someone…so I stopped.”

“Do not.” He whispered, “Please.”

You stared at his hands before looking upwards at his eyes. A tiny smile formed on your face. “Stick?” You gently raised the stick you were holding.

Namor couldn’t help but smile, taking the stick on his hands. “Thank you.” You smiled. “But now, why are you pocking pufferfish? Did you don’t know the dangerous things they could do to you?”

You sighed.

#namor fic #namor x reader #namor imagine #namor x fem!reader #namor x y/n #namor x you #namor fluff #namor fanfiction #k'uk'ulkan #kukulcan #black panther wakanda forever #black panther imagine #black panther: wakanda forever #the reader litteraly is just a precious little thing that I love so much #tenoch huerta #this is pure fluffiness

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syrma-sensei · 1 year

Text

→ Love Underwater.

gif credit.

pairing: namor of talokan x queen!reader.

rating: fluff.

warning: spoilers for black panther: wakanda forever.

The King lets out a light grunt when you slip his large necklace off after you took his cape off of his shoulders, revealing the gills on the two crooks of his neck. He tilts his head, cracking the bones of his neck, and you giggle when his lips graze the knuckles of your fingers. Then, you click each of his arm bracelets open, removing and putting them on the adorned tray for the servants to pick up later when you're done.

You massage the muscles of his arms and shoulders, and he groans approvingly. Hands trailing down to his abdomen, unclasping his large belt from around his refined waist. You never let the servants undress the King when he retires to his chambers; a job you've taken it upon yourself since the day you married the King of Talokan; a sweet and intimate gesture of a wife to her husband. When you're done, Ku'kul'kan whisks you playfully to his lap while he's sitting on the large bed. He kisses your neck fondly, while you kiss the crown of his head, then you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“Namora came to me today, my love.” You say idly, “Again.”

“Oh,” He raises an eyebrow, “Did she?”

“Yes.” You answer, drawing your head back so you can look at his face, “She's expressed her worry about you, my King.”

The latter regards you with gentle eyes, “And you share the same sentiment as well?”

You cup his cheek, your palm pressing lightly on the three marks left by the three scars.

In the recent weeks, the King has spent most of his time drawing the murals at his memorabilia cave —his sacred shrine as you call it— where you're used to watch him flicking his brush nimbly against the wall, recoding history. The latest of his works is The Battle Between The Serpent God and the Black Panther, the first time your husband lost.

“Our King chose peace over slaughter.” You told Namora, when came to you sulking, in her rough way of speeech, about her king cousin, your husband. The seasoned warrioress still can't digest the defeat of Talokan — of her king... god. In all honesty, neither could you, but as the queen, it's your duty to calm your subjects' qualms down, even if you have some of your own.

You glance down at his wrapped ankle, the slightest frown on your face; you've never seen your husband wounded in such a grotesque way. Despite your displeasure, the King seems to wear it with pride. Your eyes flit back to his face again.

“I did.” You answer frankly, “But not anymore. My trust in your judgement never wavers, my King.”

Ku'kul'kan cradles your cheeks in his warm hands, pressing a smooth kiss on your forehead, “Sometimes, I wish they had a piece of your wisdom, my love.”

You hold his hands, pressing kisses to his palms. “You flatter me, my King.”

“I only speak the truth, my Queen.” He smiles, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

Even after hundred years of marriage, you can't prevent the blush from smearing your cheeks red, and your husband laughs, flicking your cheek with his fingers.

“But the Panther Princess ought to be true to her words.” You say stubbornly. “Should she break them, and I'll be the one to bring her head on a spike,”

Ku'kul'kan smiles. “I'm counting on that.”

#namor x you #namor x reader #namor smut #tenoch huerta namor #namor fluff #namor x y/n #namor imagine #namor fic #namor fanfiction #namor of talokan #ku'kul'kan #namor #mcu namor #tenoch huerta #black panther wakanda forever #namor mcu #kukulkan x you #kukulkan x reader #kukulkan

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amhrosina · 1 year

Text

The Artist and the Sea (Namor x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

Requests are open - slowing working my way through them!

Part 2

A/N: Hello Nonnie! Thank you for requesting! It inspired me, and I couldn’t not write it as soon as I saw it. Also, let's pretend we can't see the spears being pointed at Namor in this gif lol. (Again, if any of the Yucatec Maya to English translations are off, please let me know!)

Request: tbh it's my first time requesting something regarding the marvel fandom but can i request a namor x fem reader where they meet at the beach when the reader is painting the landscape of the ocean? if you don't understand or don't want to write this, it's okay <333

Summary: You meet a stranger on the beach who takes an interest in your paintings, which somehow puts you in the position of painting the King of Talokan’s portrait.

(Warnings: not a lot?, the kisses gets a little steamy, Namor is a little touch starved, WING TOUCHING!!!!!, no smut (nonnie didn’t specify and I didn’t want to deliver hardcore smut to someone who didn’t want it lol), reader doesn’t speak Namor’s language but loves the nicknames anyways, I think that’s it???)

Translations:

ki'ichpam artista – beautiful artist

pétalo – petal

ch'ujuk ch'úupalo' – sweet girl

princesa – princess

The light reflecting off the ocean was a blinding blue, and you had been trying to blend your paint together to mimic the color for 15 minutes already. You grunted with displeasure as your paintbrush stained three shades too dark. Today was a day for painting. The wind wasn’t blowing too hard, the weather was the perfect mix of cool, but not too cold, and the tides were relatively consistent. When you’d walked out onto your back porch earlier this morning and laid your eyes on the little slice of the beach you owned, it almost felt like an invitation.

Now, you were regretting your decision to lug all of your paint supplies out of your tiny studio and down the beach. You rolled your eyes, tossing the palette down onto the old blanket you used to keep any stray paint from spilling onto the beach. You dipped a clean brush into the tan color you had mixed earlier and began working on creating the right texture for the sand.

The beach was mostly empty today, but even during tourist season, there wasn’t much foot traffic this far down the beach. Your grandmother’s house was a small, but cozy cabin-like home, nestled in a small cove that only locals knew about. You had spent many summers here, tucked away in your little slice of heaven, painting anything and everything you saw. When your grandmother had passed away, the deed of the house was transferred to you, and suddenly you were a homeowner.

You had transformed the inside after moving in, turning the office into an art studio, and transforming the bedroom into a library. Your bedroom, if you could call it that, was actually the living room with tapestries hung up as makeshift walls. You didn’t mind, and neither did anyone else. Or they wouldn’t, you thought, if anyone happened to come by.

You sat back on your stool, looking between the sand around you and your canvas. The texture was coming along nicely, and you grinned at your work. Landscapes had never been your forte – most of your commissions were oil portraits – but you had been working on expanding your skills over the last few months.

“You are an artist?”

An unfamiliar voice startled you from your concentration, and you furrowed your brow at the intrusion. You weren’t one to hog the beach, but you’re clearly a busy woman that didn’t want to be bothered. You leaned around the canvas, intent on staying silent and ignoring the man, but did a double take when you made eye contact with the man.

He was undoubtably beautiful, and definitely not a local. His body was adorned with beautifully carved artifacts draping across his chest and shoulders, and the only actual article of clothing he wore was a pair of green shorts. You glanced down at the light flutter at his ankles, which had small wings sprouting from the sides of them. You brought your eyes back up, not wanting him to catch you staring, but the stranger hadn’t taken his eyes off you since you’d acknowledged him.

“I’m a...what?” You asked, blinking. You’d been so distracted by his sudden appearance that you’d forgotten the question he’d asked.

“You are an,” he nodded to the canvas in front of you, “artist. Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded, standing from your stool. “But I am not very good at landscapes.”

He walked around you, facing the canvas and looking over it with a prompt shake of his head.

“This is beautiful. You are very good.”

“Oh.” You mumbled, ringing your hands together. “Thanks.”

You could feel your cheeks heating at his compliment, and you didn’t want to know why his compliments were getting such a rise out of you. This man was a complete stranger, and his opinions on your art should not have gotten that reaction out of you.

“You are not reacting to me the way I thought you would.”

You stared at your half-finished canvas harder, refusing to look in his eyes again, as you mulled over his statement. Yes, this was definitely the strangest encounter you’d ever experienced, but you lived in a universe where Avengers seemed to be popping up in every city, so the idea of a man from the sea appearing on your beach wasn’t as farfetched as it sounded. He was clearly a powerful being, but you weren’t afraid of him, or his power for that matter.

“How did you think I would react?” You finally asked, peeking at him in your peripheral.

“I am not sure. This is my first time approaching a surface dweller like this.”

“Surface dweller?” You scoffed, finally meeting his gaze.

He had a small smile on his face. “You dwell...amongst the surface. Do you not?”

“I’m assuming you dwell amongst something else?” Your eyes flicked towards the sea and then back at him.

“You assume correctly.” He dipped his head in a nod, adjusting his stance to face you. “I am Namor.”

You tested the name on your tongue, repeating it under your breath. Your gaze ran across his broad chest, trying to gauge the colors of paint you would mix to paint the golden-brown hues of his skin.

“Can I paint you, Namor?”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. He was just so pretty, and the artist in you couldn’t deny how beautiful the painting would turn out.

“You want to paint me?” He furrowed his brows, but the grin on his face grew slightly.

“Yes,” you responded quickly, nodding your head with vigor, “I would like to paint you.”

He was silent for a few moments, before shrugging his shoulders in a very human motion. “Okay, ki'ichpam artista. You may paint me.”

Your portrait of Namor would take you a few weeks, maybe even a month to complete. You wanted to highlight his strength and the unbridled power he possessed, but you also wanted to emphasize his beauty. Namor would have to visit you many times for you to get every detail just right, and the thought of that sent an excited flurry of butterflies through your stomach. You thought about taking a photo of him, to speed the process along, but quickly decided against it. It’s not every day that a girl gets to sit with a God, let alone paint one.

The first visit was mostly a sketch session, and you spent the vast majority of the time studying Namor’s features, sketching a few lines, and then erratically erasing different areas of the canvas. Namor sat patiently, watching you mumble under your breath as you captured the angles of his face. He wasn’t used to being studied so closely but being under your careful eye didn’t make him uncomfortable.

“Why did you become an artist?” Namor asked as you looked between your canvas and his face.

“Because I love art.” You murmured, squinting at the line you’d just drawn.

Namor smiled, and you ignored the fluttery feeling in your chest.

“I know that pétalo. I meant, why do you love art?”

You glanced up at him, studying the way his lips curled when he smiled. You began sketching again before you answered him.

“Art brings people together, you know? That’s super cliché, but I guess it’s true.” You shrugged. “Languages are complex. They cause confusion and barrier us from other cultures. But art is a form of communication that doesn’t have those boundaries. Everyone can look at a painting and understand it at its very core, even if they interpret it differently.”

Namor nodded, leaning back on his hands in the sand. You had a sneaky feeling that not many people got to see Namor in this relaxed state and took a mental picture of it so you could sketch it later.

“You have a very pretty way of saying things pétalo.”

You blushed, focusing on the angle of his pointed ears on your canvas.

It wasn’t until your third session with Namor that he began opening up about his home in Talokan. He told you about his people, and how most of the world didn’t know of their existence due to his vigorous efforts to protect them. You had an overwhelming sense that Namor’s pride lay in the ruling of his people, and that he would do anything to protect them.

While he described his homelands to you, you snuck another peek at his ankles. You’d have to ask him for a closer look eventually. The only way you could do them justice in your painting was by touching them, but you didn’t know how to ask.

“You can...touch them, if you need to, pétalo.”

You looked up, stiffening with guilt. You didn’t know what to say to that.

“You cannot hurt me. I promise.” He nudged his foot out, urging you to touch them.

You nodded slowly, softly setting your paintbrush down and standing from your seat. You kneeled down beside him, leaving a trail of featherlight touches along the inside of one of the wings. The texture was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and you couldn’t help the second stroke you left across the back of the wing.

Namor inhaled sharply and you pulled your hand away, looking up at him with concern.

“Did I hurt you?” you asked, squeezing your hands together.

“No, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. They are very...sensitive.”

“Oh. Oh.” You stood up, swiftly turning to walk back towards your canvas, when his hand lightly wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

“It’s okay, pétalo. No one has touched them in many years. It was a feeling I had forgotten, that’s all.” His eyes shone bright with ease, and the soft smile on his lips was comforting.

You nodded, returning his smile. You noticed that he hadn’t let go of your wrist, even though it was clear you weren’t moving away from him anytime soon.

“Were you born with them?” You asked, looking up at his tall frame.

“Yes. And these, too.” He pointed at his ears, and you couldn’t help it when you reached forward, running a fingertip along their edge.

“Beautiful.” You murmured under your breath, leaning in to get a closer look. Everything about him was beautiful, and you were finding it harder and harder to breathe when you were this close to him.

Namor stumbled back, facing the ocean with such speed that you stumbled forward in his absence.

“I must go. Something is not right at home. I am sorry to leave so quickly. It was just getting good. I will see you again, next week, pétalo.”

You watched him walk back into the water, washing away with the tide, and just like that, he was gone.

The fourth session you were supposed to have with Namor was nearly ruined by a terrible storm brewing on the coast. You’d startled awake to the loud clap of thunder and watched through your window as the ocean violently responded. The rain came soon after, and just as you convinced yourself you wouldn’t be seeing Namor today, his powerful body trudged out of the water and onto the beach.

You met him at your front door, ushering him inside as the storm raged above his head. He stood in your foyer/living room/bedroom and looked around. You froze with the realization that this was the first time he had entered your house. It was strange, you thought, seeing someone so ethereal surrounded by the familiar, but common, walls of your home. You hadn’t done the dishes the night before, and your bed was unmade, but his attention had been snagged by the light coming from your makeshift studio.

“In here, then?” He pointed, gaze returning to you.

“Yeah. I’ll be in there in a minute. I just have to get my sketches.”

As soon as he rounded the corner, you bolted forward, straightening the covers on your messy bed and throwing dirty laundry into a pile in the corner. You ran your fingers through your hair, and finally joined him in the room a few moments later.

He was hunched over, looking at the dozens of sketches you’d drawn of him. You face palmed and internally groaned as you realized that you hadn’t put them away before inviting him inside. This was an embarrassing secret, to say the least, but you couldn’t stop drawing him. Every time he sent you a new look or moved his body in a way that captured your attention, the urge to draw it in your sketchbook wouldn’t leave your mind until you finally gave in and sketched it out.

“You are very talented, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'.” he said, standing to his full height.

“Thanks.” You mumbled through your hands, trying to hide the fact that you were blushing, again. You shifted your focus to the painting, which was nearing its completion. “I’m almost done with the painting. I think after today I’ll just have to do minor touchups.”

“That is...wonderful, pétalo.” He plopped into one of the chairs you had set up around the room. You moved toward him and reached your hands out, intending to turn his head the way you needed it to finish the painting, but you hesitated. Your arms were frozen, stretched out in front of you as you met his heated gaze.

He shifted forward, keeping his gaze on you as he slowly leaned into your outstretched palms. Your hands curled into hair, and he shuttered, eyes closing as he forcefully pushed his head further into your hold. You tried to ignore the butterflies his slight movement had spurred in your stomach, but the soft groan he let out as you ran your fingers through his hair ruined any chance you had of controlling your blood pressure.

“It has been...a very long time since I’ve been touched so gently, princesa.”

You swallowed, unsure what to do next, but he was quick to hoist you into his lap. You traced his jaw and couldn’t help but glance at his lips as you met his gaze. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you closer to his body.

“I did not mean to fall for you so entirely, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo', but you have not left my mind since I saw you painting on the beach.”

His voice was soft, but his hands tightened around your waist as he spoke. He had to physically restrain himself from pulling your lips down to meet his. But he would wait, a lifetime if he had to, for a sign of consent from you before crushing his lips against yours.

“I finished the painting last night.” You revealed, choking out a laugh. “I just wanted one more day with you before you left.”

Namor let out a deep laugh, throwing his head back against the back of his chair. “What were you planning on doing all day, princesa?”

You groaned, resting your forehead on his shoulder. “I was going to pretend to paint for a few hours before showing it to you.”

“If you wanted to spend more time with me, princesa, you only had to ask.” Namor was grinning wide, running his fingers along the curve of your waist.

“Don’t you have important kingly things to attend to?”

“Yes, but nothing that can’t be rearranged, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. You are also important to me.”

You smiled, cradling his face between your hands. His expression turned molten as you leaned into him, parting your lips in anticipation. He cupped the back of your head, pulling you the rest of the way down to meet his lips. The kiss was both sweet and lustful. His tongue dominated yours, begging for more as he ran his hands over your waist.

He pulled away from you abruptly, squeezing your waist. You were about to crawl off of his lap and begin profusely apologizing to him, but his words stopped you.

“You said you finished the painting. Can I see it?”

“Of course.” You jumped off of his lap and ran to the closet you’d hidden it in, suddenly excited to reveal it to him. You’d been keeping it a secret until it was finished, and to say you were eager to hear his thoughts on it was an understatement.

You set it on your canvas stand and stepped back, allowing him to fully see the painting. It had come out better than you’d hoped, and you’d known by the time you were halfway finished that it would be your best portrait yet.

He leaned in, marking the tiny details you’d spent hours polishing, and smiled.

“Ch'ujuk ch'úupalo', I have seen many paintings of me over the years, but none come close to this. You are so talented, princesa.”

“Do you really like it?” You asked, clutching your hands into your chest.

“I love it, my ki'ichpam artista. If I could take it with me and hang it for all my people to see, I would.”

“Really?” You squeaked, trying not to tear up at his declaration.

“Do you like it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I think it’s my favorite painting I’ve ever done.” You breathed, glancing at it.

“You should keep it, ch'ujuk ch'úupalo'. Hang it in your home as a reminder of me, for when I have to attend to those kingly duties.”

You thought it over for a moment, and then smiled. “Okay.”

Parting with that painting was something you’d been dreading since you’d started it, along with the idea of not seeing Namor on a regular basis, but he’d just relieved your doubts in one sentence. You got to keep the painting and you’d be seeing him again.

“Okay.” He repeated, pulling at your waist until you were situated in front of him. He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your lips, and you finally gave into those damned butterflies, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

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jeromeswife · 1 year

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husband namor headcanons

Namor is the most loyal and devoted husband. He would do anything for you. To see you smile. It is a gift in his life to make you happy

Want a massage? He'll do it. Want a drink? He'll get or make you one. Want the entire world? He would make sure to make it happen.

He never lies to you. If he has a problem, he'll always let you know. Though that doesn't happen often cause he sees you as the most perfect woman he's ever held.

You guys would make sure to take some time outside of royal duties to spend time together. After all, a husband who is a king has to treat you like royalty as his queen.

Namor would 100% wanna have kids with you. But he would never pressure you into having them unless you felt ready to. He'd rub over your stomach sometimes, just imagining a little version of the two of you combined laying in there.

He would endure your bad jokes:

"What do you call a fake koi fish?"

"Well... a fish?"

"A de koi!"

Namor proceeds to tackle you and lay on top of you for 10 minutes to assert his dominance.

He would teach you how to paint and would guide your hand as you painted along the walls.

He would also teach you Yucatec Mayan if you were from the surface world. He was so excited when he found out you were eager to learn it.

If anyone said anything wrong about you, he would defend you every time. Namor is just as loyal to you as his husband.

If you were on your period, he would 100% be by your side the whole time and get you anything you needed.

Namor would shower you with gifts since you had him wrapped around your finger. He is just so down bad for you.

#namor x you #namor x y/n #namor the sub mariner #namor x reader #namor #namor fic #namor headcanons #namor headcanon #kukulkan

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creamecafe · 1 year

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Nobody:

Me searching up Namor fics on Tumblr and ending up across reading Dark!Namor fics and just seeing the absolute most horrific concept that a writer could think of. Such as Namor killing the reader's family, burning their village, and non-consensual, and people in the comment section asking for more

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inklore · 1 year

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May I request “you’re so warm.” “i hear you, but we really need to get up, love.” for the holiday celebration?

Side note: I’m new to your blog and I’m loving everything!

pairing: namor x queen!reader

warnings: eighteen+ content, they married so established relationship, mentions of trying to conceive, teasing, sexy fluff.

note: i had to rework the second line to fit more namor, i hope you don’t mind, lovey <3 but writing softness with this man makes me swoon for real.

translations: In yakunaj (my love), ko’olelo’ tortuosa (tortuous woman).

Biologically you know the logic of ocean creatures being cold blooded. The deeper you travel down the colder the temperature, the more the water feels like ice constricting your passages and tearing into your skin like knives. It’s why you can’t leave this cavern and visit his city without gearing up.

But Namor seems to defy all logic. All things you thought you knew about the world and what was biologically capable and taught in a textbook or lab. One of the many defying qualities of his: his warmth. The temperature of his body never wavering whether he was on the surface or in the depths of the sea.

It’s a warmth you love waking up to—pressed to your back or flush against your cheek as you cuddle into his chest.

His heat at your back feels better than any blanket that could possibly be woven. The heat engulfing you like a furnace, the cave a stinging cold contrast to the warmth his body provides in the bed; on your skin, lulling your limbs to stay close to him, to stay in bed.

“You’re so warm.” You hum, sleep still clinging to you, still wanting to be had. Your voice soft and groggy.

His smile presses into your cheek when he wraps his forearm more securely around you, pulling you closer, and pressing the softest kiss to your cheek. “Yes, I know.” He mumbles against your skin as he leaves a trail of kisses from your cheek, jawline, below it, and to the beginnings of your neck. “But we must get up. Our people are going to think all we do is lay with each other, doing nothing productive. It does not look good.”

“Didn’t Namora tell us to stay in bed until we have secured an heir?”

“Yes, In yakunaj. But–”

“Who are we to not listen to her demands? She is our people correct? Your second hand–your–” he cuts you off with his mouth. His lips capture yours in a silencing kiss, maneuvering your frame so he’s now lying chest to chest with you.

“I have pumped you full for days, In yakunaj. It will take. We must do other duties.” His thumb rubs along your jaw, amusement in the up turn of his lips.

“What’s one more try?” You know you’re playing dirty, know that the two of you really should stretch and do something other than bask in each other's warmth. But that can come later, right now you want to drown in the feel of his chest on top of yours, and his cock between your thighs. So you push your hips up and let them drag along his quickly hardening cock. The soft groan he lets out feeling like a victory. “K’uk’ulkan,” you moan against his mouth as you roll your hips once more—for good measure.

“Who knew I married such a ko'olelo' tortuosa,” he growls as he slots himself between your thighs and presses his mouth to yours; hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

#namor fluff #namor x you #namor x reader #kukulkan smut #namor x black!reader #namor imagine #namor blurb #kukulkan x you #namor #namor smut #kukulkan x reader #namor x y/n #namor x female reader #namor x poc!reader #namor fic #black panther fanfic #merry slutmas

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tenochconamor · 1 year

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Tenoch Huerta ● Red

#tenoch huerta namor #tenoch huerta mejia #tenoch huerta #agua papi #namor x reader #namor x oc #namuri #nashuri #namor fic #mcu namor #wakanda forever

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usagii-bun · 1 year

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𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 ( NAMOR X READER ) PT.4

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

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

hiraeth ( namor ) wattpad | oc version!

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 5

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sunshinescribes · 1 year

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Pretend That You Love Me - 2

Part 2 of Continuum

Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT

The gods are angry today.

It’s the only thing you can think of as you make your way through the sprawling halls of the royal palace, nestled in the heart of Birnin Zana—the Golden City. You take tentative steps, counting down the seconds until your appearance is considered overdue.

You had been sprawled out in bed, scrolling through reports shared with you by a trusted American agent—Everett Ross, as your kimoyo beads buzzed. You tapped the blinking bead instinctively, and an image of your king flashed before you.

You sat up in bed, bashfully muttering your apologies.

If M’Baku was insulted, he made no point of letting you know. His expression was wary as he regarded you.

“I request your appearance at the royal palace.”

You nodded, lifting from your bed. “Did the meeting with the Talokanil go well?”

You shifted through your room in search of an appropriate outfit to wear, attempting to distract yourself from the thought of Namor and his temporary presence in the Golden City.

It had been a month since you had last seen him. A blessing, even if your heart opposed the fact. The more time you two spent apart the better. It helped you to remember your place—of your duty to your country and the throne. Namor didn’t fit in that equation, no matter how much you silently wished that he could.

“Our guests are still here.”

You stopped short, turning towards the holographic image of your king with furrowed brows.

“I don’t understand.”

M’Baku sighed, his fingers threading through his thick beard. He looked tired, and sounded even more so. “Your knowledge of the CIA situation is needed.”

You blinked down at M’Baku, before nodding your understanding. He tipped his head in a silent farewell before the hologram faded with a sigh.

You cursed your misfortune. You had stopped appearing at the meetings months ago, assuring your king that council from the elders was enough, and that your skills would be better served keeping tabs on the CIA and their newest exploits. M’Baku had been reluctant to agree, but ultimately allowed you to do as you pleased so long as you appeared when he called.

The diplomatic meetings had become harder to sit through with the presence of a certain Talokanil king who often sat across from you. Namor’s eyes occasionally found yours, and his lips would curl in a knowing smile. Images of you breathless beneath him flashed through your mind, drowning out the vital information that was spoken between both rulers.

He was too much of a distraction, so you had done the necessary thing…to little avail.

You pulled at the sleeve of your fitted dress, trying so desperately to ground yourself as you pushed through the royal palace. It would be quick—hell, you wouldn’t even look at Namor. You would present your findings quickly, answer any questions that arose, and excuse yourself. Simple.

You continued down the hall, nearly to the throne room when you felt someone at your side. You turned, earning a nervous smile from the man beside you. T’Kawe.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized.

You smiled back at him.

“You didn’t.”

T’Kawe had become somewhat of a replacement for you in these meetings. He took notes of the proceedings, transcribing each discussion with the use of his kimoyo beads, and sent them to you. You were eternally grateful to him for it. You were surprised when he also expressed interest in the work you were doing with Agent Ross, offering to obtain information from Wakandan agents scattered throughout the states, though a friend had assured you it was his excuse to get closer to you.

“Running late?” you asked, and he nodded with an apologetic look. “It’s alright. I am too I suppose.”

His worry seemed to fade slightly at your confession, and he followed close behind you as the doors to throne room pushed open.

You felt Namor’s eyes on you before you even walked into the room, as if he were so attuned to you that he could sense your very presence. The thought made your heart race, but you kept your eyes forward and your chin high as you reached the center of the room where you king sat. You dipped your head respectfully.

You didn’t even dare look in Namor’s direction, nor at the Talokanil generals that shadowed him.

“The American…what has he told you?”

You could always count on M’Baku to get straight the point. He was rarely one for small talk or pleasantries.

“Although Agent Ross is no longer with the CIA, he has given us an extensive list of members within the agency that could pose a threat to Wakanda and Talokan.”

You pressed your kimoyo beads, and images of several American CIA agents and directors appeared before you. A flurry of information on each of them scrolled beside their picture, though you still had much to learn about these individuals.

You tapped the image of the woman Ross had specifically pointed out to you during one of your calls. Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. The new director of the CIA.

“He expressed a particular interest in Fontaine,” you added.

M’Baku scowled at the image.

“Why?”

The golden question. You had asked Ross the same thing, but he didn’t have anything concrete besides an eerie confession she had made to him. She wanted vibranium, and he wasn’t sure what lengths she would go to get it.

“Ross believes she has an interest in vibranium, and potential means to try and obtain it.” You glanced at T’Kawe as he came to your side.

“We’re keeping eyes on her,” he added.

You pressed your glowing kimoyo bead, and the holograms vanished.

M’Baku turned his attention to Namor, whose eyes you could feel burning into your back. You tried focusing on the intricate details of the throne to distract yourself from the fact.

“Does that answer your concerns?” M’Baku asked the Talokanil leader.

His answer was a dissatisfied grunt, and you couldn’t help but glance back at him from over your shoulder. Namor sat with his legs spread in a way that looked absolutely obscene—it didn’t help that you felt the sudden urge to sink to your knees before him and show him just how much you hadn’t missedhim.

He tilted his head back, his dark eyes searching your face before he shifted his gaze to the impatient king at your side.

“Truthfully, this concerns me further.” Namor waved his hand towards you noncommittally. “I would know what she knows.”

You stared at him, taken aback by his request. This had been this plan all along, hadn’t it? You were not foolish enough to think Namor did not already know all of this, if not more. You had heard the stories whispered throughout the palace of the American scientists who had ventured to the Atlantic in search of vibranium. He had proven their decision to be a grave one.

You were certain there was no potential threat towards Talokan that he was not fully aware of.

“I can send what I have to—”

“No,” he interrupted quickly. There was a certain finality to his refusal—an unspoken demand, “You will go over it will me. If it is not a problem with your king.”

You glanced back at M’Baku who considered Namor with a skeptical look, as if he were trying to work out the possible ulterior motive hidden beneath his actions. You prayed he didn’t find out.

“Perhaps I can be of use instead? I’ve worked closely on this as well.” T’Kawe stepped closer to your side, placing a comforting hand on your arm, as if compelled by the uncertainty in your expression.

You could make out the subtle twitch of Namor’s jaw. The way his fingers curled around the arm of his chair. His expression was apathetic, but his body language was telling. Through the eyes of others, it would appear as simple irritation if anything, but you knew him better than most.

M’Baku cleared his throat, and your attention was his once more. He looked at you for a long moment, before sighing.

“You decide,” he stated simply.

You didn’t know whether to be grateful or exasperated.

This was a ploy of course—a way for Namor to have you in some capacity outside of the comfort of your home. He was treading a very thin line, leaving too much to those who could possibly see through this façade. That, or guilt was beginning to make you paranoid—though evidently not enough to make you see sense.

“I will help in any way I can,” you finally answered.

M’Baku clapped his hands with mock excitement, making you jump. “It is settled then.”

He leaned back in his seat, letting out an exaggerated sigh before calling out to other subjects.

You felt T’Kawe’s eyes on you as you watched Namor lift from his seat. He turned to his generals, speaking to them in Mayan. They regarded him respectfully, before making their way out of the throne room.

“Are you sure about this?” T’Kawe asked.

You nodded, thanking him for his concern, before you made your way to Namor. You could feel your heart begin to race, as if it were calling out to him, attempting to scream; there you are.

You dipped your head slightly, avoiding his dark eyes.

“Follow me.”

You stepped out of the throne room, making your way down magnificent hallways and around sharp corners of the palace until you reached the balcony. It was secluded enough to grant you both a private conversation, yet open enough to suppress any temptation to do anything…depraved.

You stared out towards the Golden City, rendered breathless by the view. It didn’t matter how many times you saw it—it always felt like the first time.

Namor was silent at your side. Though your gaze was fixed on the dazzling skyscrapers and distant mountains, you felt Namor’s eyes on you.

“Did you know?” you asked, finally turning your attention to him. “About everything I said in there?”

He nodded, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“You knew that already,” Namor stated easily. “You agreed to be alone with me, despite knowing that I knew.”

“I had a hunch,” you corrected.

Namor’s eyes seemed to gleam as he stared down at you. “You wanted to be alone with me just as badly as I wanted to be alone with you.”

His eyes wandered to your shoulder—right where T’kawe’s hand had been moments before.

“Despite the protest of your…acquaintance.”

Namor spoke the word acquaintance as if it were a curse.

“Are you upset at him for thinking of my safety?”

Namor frowned, as if offended by the idea that your safety would ever be in question around him.

“I am upset that he is able to touch you so freely and I…” He glances towards the entrance of the balcony, before placing his hand on your waist and pulling you to the side, back into a corner hidden away from any potential prying eyes. “I am reduced to this.”

Your breath hitches as Namor leans over you, his eyes falling to your parted lips, before lifting back up to your face.

“I have missed you,” he confessed, slowly sinking to knees before you. “Missed the taste of you.”

The sight alone made a delicious spark shoot straight through you. You could feel his warm hands skim across the exposed flesh of your legs, slowly riding up until they hooked beneath your dress.

“Namor…” you warned—whispered, though there was little commitment in your voice.

His touch alone was setting you alight, making your pussy wet with the anticipation of his mouth where you needed it most.

Bast, he would be the fucking death of you. All your rationale and resolve vanished when he was near, and you wondered if it was the same for him—if he felt as hopeless as you did.

His hands reached beneath your dress, pulling your wet underwear down with a soft chuckle.

“And you have missed me,” he said, noting the evidence of your arousal. “But you always do, don’t you?”

You didn’t respond, and you were certain he didn’t need you to. Not with you before him, dazed and prepared to be eaten out in such a public place—within earshot of anyone who mattered. This was all the evidence he needed.

He wouldn’t make you regret it.

Namor’s kissed up the length of your leg slowly and will clear intent, as if it were worship—as if your skin was as necessary to him as the sea.

You jolted as your felt Namor’s tongue lapped at the wetness of your needy cunt. You brought your hand up to your mouth, attempting to muffle your cries as his tongue pushed deeper into you. He brought hand to the back of your thigh, lifting it ever so slightly as to drape across his shoulder, while his other hand brushed your clit with a touch that felt featherlight.

Your head feel back, your mind reeling as your felt the pressure in your core building with each flick of his ravenous tongue, and teasing fingers—and the danger of being found like this—legs spread while Namor, a man regarded as a fucking god kneeled before you, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy so effortlessly. The reality of your circumstances made your pussy clench from just how bad it all was.

Your king could find you like this. T’Kawe could find you like this.

You cried into the palm of your hand. The sound was barely muffled, and you could feel the heat of Namor’s breath as he laughed against your aching pussy.

Namor loved this—he absolutely reveled in just how much he was able to tear you apart in a way nobody else could.

“Namor,” you whined against your hand, pleading.

Usually slow to give in, you suspected your current whereabouts warranted him to be altruistic. Just this once.

His mouth latched onto your tender nub, and you were gone—free falling into your release as your fingers raked through his hair, and your hips bucked upward. You bit back your moan, trying so desperately to keep quiet as your overwhelming release rushed through you—a release that Namor took like an offering, swallowing your sweetness with enough enthusiasm to make your pussy spasm.

Namor pulled away from you when there was nothing more to take. His breathing was shaky, his pupils dilated as he looked up at you. He licked his lips, before pulling your stained panties back up your legs.

Your fingers were still in his hair, lightly brushing back thick strands, and you finally noticed the added length. He’d grown it out since you last saw him, the ends curling slightly and sweeping against his forehead.

“You’re beautiful,” you said without thinking.

He blinked up at you, taken aback by your soft-spoken compliment. It didn’t take long for him to recover, as his lips pulled into a full smile that made your heart stutter.

“That’s my line.”

He lifted himself to his feet, wasting no time in feeling your lips against his. His kiss was all hunger—a month’s worth of moments you two should have had. You sighed contentedly against his mouth, feeling the weight of everything leave you in a single moment.

He pulled away reluctantly, as if debating if he truly wanted to stop kissing you.

His brown eyes searched yours, and for the first time since you two had started fooling around, you saw… uncertainty in his eyes, as if he were contemplating something.

“Do you remember the last time we met?” he asked carefully.

You nodded, unsure of where this was going.

You could see him going over his next question, and he seemed to try and soothe you as much as himself as he rubbed circles along your waist.

“You asked me if I had forgotten what this was.”

Ah, that. The memory was fresh in your mind, despite the passage of time—as if time could make you forget moments spent with him.

But you knew exactly what he was referring to. The statement he had made while chasing his pleasure. The statement solidified a belief that you both were seeming to forget—this is just sex.

“You reminded me that I’m only a hole,” you answered, keeping your voice nonchalant despite the disappointment that settled in your chest.

The irony of the situation was not lost on you. Last time you had been the one trying to keep his feelings—or supposed feelings—in check. Now it was his turn.

“No. I asked if that was all that you are,” he hesitated, searching your eyes. “All that you wished to be to me.”

Your stilled, swallowing the protest that dared to burst from your lips—the desire to tell him how you wished to be so much more.

Wished to be at his side, and not just during moments stolen away in the night or risqué ventures on balconies, but all day—every single day. You wanted to be the person who knew him like nobody else, as necessary to him as the sea…but those were fantasies. Beautiful impossibilities that only served to make your heart ache with want.

“What else can I be?” you asked, turning away from his powerful gaze.

Namor cupped your cheek, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. He tipped your head back in his direction, forcing you to look at him.

“Mine,” he whispered. “My queen. My heart…”

He repeated the word in Mayan as he leaned his forehead against yours—his confession for you only.

“The mother of my heir.”

Your heart seized, your mind racing as you realized he desired so much more from you than sex. He wanted you by his side—the only person to whom he would ever kneel. Ache for.

You came back to reality quickly as you looked over his shoulder—the Golden City stared back at you, as if reminding you of your station.

“My duty is to my country. My home.”

Namor’s furrowed as he stared down at you. “Do you think I would take you away from it?”

“It wouldn’t be your choice.”

Nor would it be yours. It would be impossible for you to accept Namor’s offer—to be his, and not have everything ripped from under you. Wakanda would reject you, and Talokan would not accept you.

Namor pulled away, taking the warmth of his body with him. You almost reached out for him but restrained yourself.

“You have a choice to make then,” Namor said with his back turned to you, instead turning his attention to the home that you cherished so deeply. “I will not return again. Not to you.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as his words hit you. Frustration tugged at your heart, helping you find your voice.

“Why?”

Because you were both getting in too deep. Because he wanted something from you that he was uncertain you could give.

Even if you knew the answer, you wanted to hear it from him.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, and you could see the sorrow in his eyes.

“I want you. All of you,” he confessed, “But what is it you want?”

You were silent as he held your gaze.

“If you decide it is me, come to the shore and I will know.”

You prayed there was little emotion on your face as you regarded him—prayed he couldn’t see the turmoil his confession and ultimatum were causing you.

“And if I don’t?” you asked.

Silence was the only answer he gave, but it was if he had spoken the words you never wanted to hear; Then you will be free of me.

There was no farewell as Namor lifted from the ground, the wings on his feet beating feverishly as he took off towards the sky. You watched, feeling parts of yourself fade along with him.

You had dreaded the sneaking around—the hidden moments and guilt that festered as you continued to be with Namor, but now he was giving you an out. A chance to finally rid yourself of him and play your part as royal advisor once more, untainted—or you could have him entirely.

He was forcing you to come to terms with a truth you had been tiptoeing around. You cannot have both.

You sighed, pulling away from the balcony wall. You wanted to be back in your bed, hidden beneath a sea of covers while sleep whisked you far away to impossible worlds where your reality was much different—where such decisions didn’t exist, and you could just be.

You turned, nearly stepping back into the palace before you stopped short. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared up at the imposing figure that stood near the entrance.

You swallowed thickly as your king regarded you sternly, and you could see the disappointment that flashed in his eyes. The dread that had rooted its way into your heart spread, nearly choking you.

Yes. The gods are angry indeed.

Part 3

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