#namor x f!reader

[buzzkillers]

FABLES & PARABLES 3|?

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

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

PART ONE PART TWO

“Where are you going?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

—-

It was not good for you.

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

You were all bundled around a fire.

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

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

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

Whatever.

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

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

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

You pushed forward anyway.

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

Instead, it's a relief.

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

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

You started screaming.

.

.

And everyone stared.

–

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The music only got closer.

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

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

You would only have to turn your head.

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

The tub was still running.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A chuckle followed, dry and humorless.

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

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

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

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

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

“There you are.”

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

[corellianhounds]

—

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

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

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

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

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

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

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

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

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

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

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

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

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

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

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

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

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

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

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

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

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

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

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

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

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

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

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

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

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

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

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

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

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

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

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

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

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

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

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

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

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

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

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

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

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

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

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

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

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

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

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

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

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

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

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

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

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

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

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

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

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

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

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

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

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

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

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

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

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

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

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

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

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

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

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

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

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

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

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

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

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

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

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

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

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

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

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

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

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

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

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

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

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

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

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

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

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

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

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

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

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

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

[haechvn]

Dating Shuri Udaku Headcanons

Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader

Warning: Fluff, Toxic!Shuri, Angst and Smut since yall nasty asf

Summary/Request: I got so many requests for an update so here it is!

Word Count: 1k words

Author’s Note: I decided to make her mean since you hoes wanna be treated like shit or whatever. I'm getting back into my groove with this one for sure. 18+ MDNI fr or imma beat yall ass. NEED MORE SHURI GIFS WTH

Taglist: @inmyheadimobsessed @theblacksuccubus @melodykisses @blackhottie25 @tonakings @coalmistyy @szalipcombo @prettyluhlaiiii @yelenabelovasgf @callmeoncette @clqrosmgc @theblacksuccubus @cherios @shuris-whore @nut4shuri @gaspyghosttt @elliesdinosauar @idkhersposts @ziayamikaelson @trinthebean @sleepingnova @yunhofingers

Credits: @anitalenia for the super cute dividers get into itttt

Fluff 

Cooks breakfast for you every morning after the two of you have sweet and reckless nights together 

Loves getting the two of you matching sets of grillz. Gold, silver, diamond studded. It doesn't matter

Brings you alongside her for all of her council meetings as she truly values your opinion and wants you to be involved and know your role in leading the nation with her

Has a throne for you next to hers 

Trains you with the Dora because she doesn’t want what happened last time with Namor to ever repeat itself

Buys you whatever you want right off each and every runway during all the major Fashion Week shows

Always get the biggest section when y’all got out and you betta be shaking that ass cause she gon be throwing them bills babyyyy

The amount of decorated hotel rooms you get from her is ridiculoussss. She’ll decorate a whole hotel for you just because she loved seeing your smile in the morning.

Always has her hand in yours no matter what the two of you are doing. Even hold your hand while you two brush your teeth

Never breaks eye contact with you while the two of you are speaking

Has more that 100 nicknames for you

Toxic/Angsty 

Purposely starts arguments with you because it turns her on to see you riled up and she can’t stop thinking about you putting her back in her place

Used a bit too much of her strength on you during training and you had to stay in the hospital for a few nights. She locked herself in her room and couldn’t even stand to look at you when you were released. 

Sometimes she lacks empathy because she believes she’s gone through the worse shit. She definitely gaslights you sometimes and walks away if you complain to her about having family issues

��Wow. It’s so sad you argue with your mom everyday. Where’s mine? Oh yea right. I’m done listening”

Tries to deny that she felt anything for RiRi but will constantly talk about how beautiful she is just to get you jealous. You end up beating her ass bc wtf

One of those lesbians that doesn't like when you talk to other women bc why the fuck would you?

Will look you dead in the eyes and tell you that you aren’t more important than her work and you should just leave her alone and spend the money she gives you. She sent 2 mil to your account while you stormed out of the lab

She’ll deny you sex because she didn’t like the way you spoke to the Dora earlier that morning. You said hi 

She sometimes embarrassed by the lack of strength you have. Like tighten up tf

“Can you stop touching me? Even the Dora don’t smother me this much.”

Hates when you constantly run your hands through her hair like she didn’t just get it done

Kisses her teeth when you try to shake your ass and it doesn’t move the way she want it too

“Try harder maybe? Ugh just stop actually. You look cringe doing that” LIKE WHERE'S YOUR ASS MA'AM????

Smut

Shuri likes when you eat her pussy with her panther suit on. Yes. That part is cut out 

She has different grillz for eating your pussy and then ones for eating you ass— SHE A BOTTOMFEEDAAAA

Shuri loves pressing her kimoyo beads against your clit and sending intense vibrations there. Rose toy who???

She eats your pussy at night sometimes because if you look hard enough while she’s making your head spin, her inner bottom lip glows softly with her vibranium tattoo, being the only source of light in the room

LOVES WHEN YOU DRILL HER SHIT TO THE POINT THAT SHE CANT BREATHE AND TRIES TO GRASP AROUND BUT SHE CANT BC THE VIBRANIUM CUFFS TOO STRONG EVEN FOR HER SO SHE HAS TO BEG YOU TO RELEASE HER EVEN THOUGH SHE KNOWS YOU WON’T AHHH

Can literally eat you out for hours and against your (consented) will, she definitely does

RIDES YOU IN THE NASTIEST SLOPPIEST WAY LIKE SHE LOVES SEEING YALL CREAM MIX AND IS OBSESSED WITH HOW STICKY SHE IS AND HOW MUCH STICKIER YOU ARE UGH SHE PRESSES HER LIPS AGAINST YOUR AS IF SHE CAN GO INSIDE YOU BYEEEEEEE

SHE AINT NO FAKE GAY NO MA’AM

Wakes you up most mornings with her lips sucking and teasing your breast bc babe she can’t get enough

BOTTOM!SHURI LOVES WHEN YOU SIT ON THE THRONE AND SHE TRIES TO MAKE HERSELF CUM OVER AND OVER RIDING YOUR THIGH WHILE YOU SIT ON HER THRONE OH WOW

SHE WHINES SO MUCH AND IS NOT QUIET AT ALL. Constantly getting complaints from everyone in the palace

Likes getting her ass devoured. SORRY NOT SORRY 

Kissing you alone get her wetter than river Niger omgggg (I’m African and this how we say it PLS)

Constantly talking you through EVERYTHING she does to you

“You take my fingers so well”

“Hmm, you know I love when you squeeze around me like that. Fuck, do that again.” (THE WAY SHE ROLLS HER R’S UGHHH)

“Please, I can’t take it. I-I… Fuck you feel so good. Don’t stop fucking me, put me in my place”

Never breaks eye contact with you when she’s drilling the shit out of you 

LOVES WHEN YOU FUCK HER FACE WITH ALL THE STRAPS SHES MADE IN THE LAB

Literally she’ll be in the lab with her goggles on with all her tools scattered all of the table and gets wet picturing you standing over her and using her mouth like a toy OMG

Loves when you tie her up with pink and purple ribbons and stuff her mouth with your panties BYE

LIKES BEING BLINDFOLDED AND WEARING FLUFFY EARMUFFS SO YOU CAN DO ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING TO HER AND GIVING YOU FULL CONTROL

WHITE FLUFFY EARMUFFS WITH PINK RIBBONS AND HER CURLY HAIR SHAKING AROUND EVERY TIME SHE MOVES

[queenmeraairam]

Just Hold me

Namor x F Reader I don't own the character First time writing Description Establish Relationship Reader has had a bad day like  A REAL BAD DAY NAMOR CONFORTS YOU. Hurt/Confort. Sorry for spelling errors Warning violence.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH" you screamed at the ocean you screamed until your throat went raw the tears streaming down your face you had had a real bad day first you got into a nasty fight with your dad with him calling you all sorts of horrible names and throwing things around the house. All you did was tell him to keep the toilet seat dry after using the restroom. You left before the tears could fall.

Afterwards you had to go to work at the local restaurant and to your horror you were working with the terror twins Mandy and Karen they would make you do all the work while they themselves doing the bare minimum and made your job many times harder than it had to be. You tried to complain to the manager but the manager was constantly stoned out of his mind.

And today they must hae been in a real Bitchy mode spilling dirty food on you and calling you names under their breath. And the customers were no better the heat wave was making everyone short tempered you lost count how many customers yelled at you for things out of your control. It but it wasn't till the restaurant closed up that it really got bad you were taking out the trash when they cornered you Mindy grabed your hair and pulled you to the ground and when you tried to get up Karen gave you a kick to the stomach knocking the air was out of your lungs and keeping you grounded  but it wasn't over Mandy got you to your feet only for Karen to give you a backhanded slap knocking you to the ground  you tasted blood. You tried to fight but it was two against one and they were much bigger than you. You are 5'0 these girls are 5'8 there was no way you would win. The beating felt like it lasted hours but in reality it was no more than ten or so minuites according to your phone. You were hurting but you forced yourself to your bike and made your way to the beach your safe space you would come here everytime you felt like your emotioins were too much to handle or just wanted to be alone and sing it was secluded and hard to get to.

It was also here where you meet him.

Your Kukulkan you met him a few years ago The moon was beautiful you came here because you wanted to sing and play your guitar without being seen you had just a finished a song when you heard some clapping that spooked you you turned around and saw him emerging from the sea Dark hair, Beautiful Caramel skin covered in jewels with wings at his ankles you thought he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

" That was beautiful" He said  " Thank you i wrote it myself" you blushed you never herd someone compliment your singing before your shyness prevented you from singing infront of people "i'm Y/n what is yours" you asked " My people call me Kukulkan but my enemies call me Namor are you an enemy? He asked with a menacing tone getting closer. Out of instinct you stepped back clutching your guitar to you chest "No... I am not i've got no reason to be." you said back unsure on what else to say.

"As you say you have no reason to be do not be afraid i was swiming near by and heard singing i did not mean to frighten you. You have a lovley voice," Namor says his whole demeaner changed he sits himself down hoping you do the same and you do and you begin talking he tells you about Talokan and himself and the marine life it was fascianting to learn and you told him about your life your mom died when you were young she loved to sing so you do to to keep her memory life. How your dad sucks and you are waiting to graduate University so you can go away and never come back you tell him about your dreams of going to medical school and becoming a doctor and fears which suprised you. you had never told anyone this and yet here you were telling it to a man you just met a complete stranger but you coudn't deny there was something about him that made you feel safe like it was gonna be okay it felt warm and before you realized. It was starting to get late and you need to go home because you had class in the morning. "will i see you again?" Kukulkan asked with hopefull tone, you couldn't help but smile "How about tomorrow night?" You responded Kukulkan Just nods "until tomorrow" he says and then you part ways.

True to your word you return the next night and meet him again many times you bring your homework and notes so you can study a bit and you would talk about your classes and what you were learning it never seeamed to bore him instead he seemed quite interested  he would ask questions and help you study by asking you questions from the books  but he would make sure there was time for play because all work and no play is not good he would bring you gift like shells and pearls you tried to refuse but he would give you puppy dog eyes and you would always relent He taught you his lanuage and told you things he had never told other people. And before you knew it you had falllen in love with him.

You remembered the first time you kissed him it was after seeing the results of a very difficult exam that you were so caughted up in your joy you just kissed him which supprised you. You imediatly backed away unsure of what to say or do with one hand he just gently grabbed your chin so you were looking at him and the other one he put around your waist pulling you closer  and slowly as to not scare you without breaking eye contact he kissed you and you felt your nerves go haywire and you deepened the kiss it was the first night he made love to you and oh how you felt loved for the first time in a long time you felt loved you felt seen.

You smiled at the memory it was one of your favorites.

At this point you had sat yourself down your head on your knees and you were just sobbing so hard your body was shaking you didn't hear foot steps rappidly approach.

He was on his way when he heard your cries and immidiatly rushed and what he saw made his heart stop Bruises covered your ams and legs He gently knelt by you and tried to get your attention "In yakunaj! Ba'ax tuukul a.Ba'ax ku yuuchul? Ba'ax uuch" ( My love! what's the matter? what's wrong? what's happened) He had never seen you in such a state he placed a hand on your shoulder which caused you to look up. Kukulkan frozed your face had brusies a black eye a busted lip. You didn't say anything you just threw yourself into his arms and sobbed and sobbed. Kukulkan wrapped his arms around you and just held you whispering sweet nothings after a while your sobs quited but the shaking didn't.

"In Yakunaj paakat in" (my love look at me) Kukulkan said concern in his voice "Maax beet le ba'ala?" ( who did this).He tells you his voice like iron.  And you just spilled everything by the end you were crying not as hard as before but it didn't matter seeing tears was not something Kukulkan liked to see not now not ever. "shhh my love it is okay i'm here i'm here, i'm sorry im so sorry you had such a bad day i should go and kill those three for daring to hurt you. It is unforgivable" Kukulkan's voice was hard he was trying to keep his rage in. The only thing stopping him was that you were still in his arms shaking in distress and he was not gonna leave you until you were fully calmed down even then he might not go yet.

"N-o-o don't they are unworthy as much of assholes they are they don't deserve it" you tell him as much as the idea sounds amusing you knew it was wrong " Just hold me please " Your voice breaking Kukulkan is quick to shush you and does as you say he holds you tight like you might slip away at any moment when you have fully calmed down he gently strips your clothes off and sees the extent of the injuries you suffered he is angry for the brusies are everywhere. But he puts his anger aside and just focuses on kissing the bruises he redresses you and gently picks you up and goes to an outcropping of rocks where the both of you will be more conceled from prying eyes grabs the blanket that you left there a while ago wraps you up and just holds you until you fall asleep in his arms he longs to take you to Talokan away from here but he saves that question for another day right now he just holds you

[ao3feed-wandamaximoff]

A Dragon Caught in Your Webs

by Chherry_blossom A story about being lost, stumbling into a new world that was not yours. A story of befriending the most unique personalities. A story of you crossing paths with a Dragon. A story of tragedy, resilience and love. A story of you finding your way back home. "The pain of your absence is sharp and haunting, and I would give anything not to know it; anything but never knowing you at all (which would be worse)." - Outer Wilds Words: 1179, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Rivals (Video Game), Marvel Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Lin Lie (Iron Fist), Original Female Character(s), Peni Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Spider-Zero | Master Weaver (Marvel), T'Challa (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Tandy Bowen, Tyrone Johnson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Groot (Marvel), Doctor Steven (Marvel), Clint Barton, Susan Storm (Fantastic Four), Reed Richards, Human Torch, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Jeff the Land Shark (Marvel), Peter Quill, Rocket Raccoon, Mantis (Marvel), Moon Knight (Marvel), Johnny Storm, Logan (X-Men), Shuri (Marvel), Namor of Talokan (Marvel) Relationships: Lin Lie (Iron Fist)/Reader Additional Tags: Marvel References, Original Character(s), Multiverse, Spidersona | Original Character as Spider-Man, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Multiple Crossovers, Incursions (Marvel), Wakanda (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crime Fighting, Story within a Story, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Injury, Major Character Injury, Bad Flirting, Tenderness, Eventual Smut, Smut, Lin Lie Has a Big Dick, Size Difference, Size Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Hand & Finger Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Strength Kink, Love Confessions, Heart-to-Heart, Eventual Happy Ending, Not Beta Read via https://ift.tt/lghYxWM

[ao3feed-peterparker]

A Dragon Caught in Your Webs

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/EkwOcUg by Chherry_blossom A story about being lost, stumbling into a new world that was not yours. A story of befriending the most unique personalities. A story of you crossing paths with a Dragon. A story of tragedy, resilience and love. A story of you finding your way back home. "The pain of your absence is sharp and haunting, and I would give anything not to know it; anything but never knowing you at all (which would be worse)." - Outer Wilds Words: 1179, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Rivals (Video Game), Marvel Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Lin Lie (Iron Fist), Original Female Character(s), Peni Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Spider-Zero | Master Weaver (Marvel), T'Challa (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Tandy Bowen, Tyrone Johnson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Groot (Marvel), Doctor Steven (Marvel), Clint Barton, Susan Storm (Fantastic Four), Reed Richards, Human Torch, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Jeff the Land Shark (Marvel), Peter Quill, Rocket Raccoon, Mantis (Marvel), Moon Knight (Marvel), Johnny Storm, Logan (X-Men), Shuri (Marvel), Namor of Talokan (Marvel) Relationships: Lin Lie (Iron Fist)/Reader Additional Tags: Marvel References, Original Character(s), Multiverse, Spidersona | Original Character as Spider-Man, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Multiple Crossovers, Incursions (Marvel), Wakanda (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crime Fighting, Story within a Story, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Injury, Major Character Injury, Bad Flirting, Tenderness, Eventual Smut, Smut, Lin Lie Has a Big Dick, Size Difference, Size Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Hand & Finger Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Strength Kink, Love Confessions, Heart-to-Heart, Eventual Happy Ending, Not Beta Read read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/EkwOcUg

[inklore]

Dilf! Namor...so tempted to write hcs for that

well let me inspire you with this hot mess bestie 👀

pairing: dbf!namor x (f)reader warnings: eighteen+ content, unedited because it’s late and i’m lazy so beware of hella spelling mistakes, lowercase, sexual tension to the max, alcohol mention, pining, and kissing, that’s literally it but it’s more inner monologue and tension heavy than anything honestly. note: bro this was supposed to be multple hcs but turned into one long ass tension filled mess lmao, i’m sorry but dbf!namor took over, it’s just perfect for him!!

part two | feel free to send me thots on these two!

i saw a gifset where tenoch was riding a motorcycle so obviously that's dbf!namor get's around, and he's giving brooding, grumpy, man who is always scowling at you and you're not even sure if he really likes you. if he is only polite for your dads sake

but one night you go out with your friends and have a little too much to drink-and using uber right now with your vision blurry and fingers key punching so bad your messages look like a toddler did them-namor is the first person you think to call. why? you're not sure. and you almost regret it, retreat into yourself-sober up-when you hear his rough voice answer, the "hello" landing heavy in the pit of your stomach

it take you a few deep breaths and closing your eyes to steady your tipsy mind on why you even called, your name on his lips sounding stern, adjacent to being worried you think

"where are you? stay where you are." and he's there before you realize it. the loud rumble of his bike as he pulls up in front of you making your entire being vibrate with nerves. "you need better friends." he says as he hands you the helmet that was just on his head, pleasantries dead as always

"what about you?"

"just get on." it's a command, rushed, demanding, as he helps your wobbly limbs onto the bike. wordlessly pulling your wrist to have your arms wrap around his midsection. and it's probably the liquor in your system that has every bump, the vibration of the bike, the wind whipping against the tops of your thighs-or maybe it's the heady affect his cologne that engulfs the inside of the helmet-how you almost feel completely compliant and light to lay your head on his shoulder. to let your palm spread flat against his rib bone

the heavy thump of his heart matching the same speed of the thumping that leads from your chest cavity to regions it has no right to be in. and when you expect him to fix your hold on him, to shrug off your head from his shoulder, he gives you no reaction. something that both makes your nerves burn and grow cold at the same time

when he pulls into your driveway, pulling himself off of the bike first, his fingers rubbing against your chin as he undoes the clip keeping the helmet steady on your head. helping your drunken hands pull it off your head-there's a moment where his eyes catch on your outfit. like he's really taking it in now, letting his eyes drag along your exposed thigh, before that signature scowl is pulling a shadow over his eyes again

"your father home?"

"no."

"do you need help inside?"

yes. is the first thing that comes to mind. yes, please. a heat bringing itself to your cheeks when you internally shame yourself for it. lock away somewhere in your brain that tipsy you cannot be trusted to think clearly-normally. and there's a split second where you think maybe he's shaming himself for something, that the two of you are sharing the same thought, the same link to something that maybe has always been there but you've stuffed away because it was better that way-proper, normal. with the way he's just staring at you

"no." you say again. your tongue feeling heavy and dry in your mouth as you swallow and force yourself to look away from him. brace your hands on the bike to pull yourself from it but end up catching your foot and ending up where you shouldn't be: in his arms. your palms once again finding themselves pressed to his front as he wraps an arm around you to stop you from planting yourself on the harsh pavement

"let me walk you inside." he says low and gruff against your temple. your insides turning into liquid compliance as you nod without a second thought. his breath heavily fanning itself across your skin as it takes a minute, two, three, before he's pulling you from his chest and holding your wrist to help you inside

once you're inside he drops your wrist, doesn't speak, just watches as you move on wobbly legs to the stairs. the pathetic thought to trip, to plummet yourself down the steps in hopes he'll touch you again, is volleying itself back and forth between just running up the stairs and sleeping this off and waking up to whatever this tension-filled-air-and insanity going on in your head-is gone

"thank you," you send over your shoulder as your fingers have a death grip on the railing. forcing yourself to surface a smile that you know probably looks as ridiculous as it feels to your burning cheeks

namor hums, nods, keeps his eyes on every step you take up the stairs, hype focused incase you fall-you assume. "do you need me to stay?"

you know he means it politely. not in the way your body is currently taking it, he's your dads friend, besides tonight he's barely shown you a kindness besides a pressed smile. you really need to sleep. need to reset your mind back to normal because his words shouldn't stop you in your tracks. have your body internally clenching at the intensity of his stare, from the glint in them that you're definitely imagining when you watch him move closer to the bottom of the steps-because you probably look like a tripping hazard right now

"do you want to stay?" the words leave your mouth before that last sober cell in your body can stop them-stop you from making a fool out of yourself

"i want you to be safe." he replies simply. you don't know why the answer only fills you with disappointment. i'll be fine, leaving your lips as you quickly take the rest of the steps up to your room. ignore the way you feel foolish and silly as you slip into bed

a silly feeling that still lingers when you walk down stairs the next morning to see a rumpled sheet and blanket on the couch deserted, and the smell of food coming from the kitchen. a sticky note stuck to a plate covered in foil on the counter: eat. simple. to the point. but still bringing a smile to your lips and those silly feelings imbedding themselves into your marrow

turning into something burning and aching when you see him again. when he drops something off for your dad and he's nowhere to be found in sight. when the two of you are stuck in the kitchen together, a heavy silence weighing down the air that seems to suck itself from your lungs the longer the two of you just stand here. the longer he keeps looking anywhere but you as his grip tightens on the neck of the beer you offered him-mentioning your father would be home any minute now

"thank you for staying, and for the food."

a nod. curt. ever him.

"you didn't have to help me-"

"think so little of me?"

"that's-i didn't mean it like that-i-" you want to state how he's avoided you like the plague before that. how his face morphs into a scowl when you enter the same room as him. how you are certain he hates you, still think that, just maybe a little less after helping you

"you need better friends." he repeats himself from the other night. making an annoyance shift your emotions

"so does my father."

the snort he lets out from under his breath shocks you, as does the pull of the corner of his mouth in the smallest-genuine-smiles you've ever seen him give you. it makes your stomach swoop

"i'm glad you called me."

"that's hard to believe. i'm confident this is the most you've spoken to me in a span of minutes." you joke, the corner of his mouth pulling into a full grin that makes you upset you've never seen him smile before this-has he always been this handsome?

"and here i thought you were a smart girl." the words would wound you if he wasn't staring at you like that over the bottle pressed to his lips. how even when he sets it back on the counter his eyes are still boring into your very being, right to that part of your body that you're understanding now has always wanted him. that you slowly realize, after much analysis to everything that happened the other night: the look in his eyes, the grip he had on your body to make sure you were kept safe, how he didn't even second guess or ask questions when you called, just demanding to know where you were, and to wait for him-that he was coming to get you and that was that

and it’s like a domino effect because now all you can think about is the stolen glances you’ve let go unnoticed, that you’ve chalked up to some festering dislike he may have had for you. how quickly his eyes shifted away from you when your father was in the room, how you’d look over and see him already looking at you when your father was distracted-that scowling coming back, the swivel of his head away from you almost something you’d see a frustrated animal do 

maybe you weren’t as smart as either of you thought. or maybe being blind to something you both ignored was better than doing something you’d possibly regret later 

if it were that, the fear of betrayal and regret, it didn’t seem to have any place in the room as you watch him finish his beer, walk around the counter to stand in front of you. reaching past you-your chests touching for half a second, your breath getting caught in your lungs-as he sets the empty bottle beside the sink behind you. and when you expect him to move away, to bid you goodbye, you feel his finger under your chin lifting your gaze from the floor. his deep brown eyes sucking every last potential breath from your lungs, your back digging into the edge of the counter as you try to ground yourself, try to settle the burning nerves that are making it hard for your brain to function right now 

“if it was only me, all this time, tell me right now.” 

you don’t need him to elaborate, there’s no need for explanation, you read through his words, the knowledge sitting heavy in your lower belly; the fear of shaking your head and having him stop touching you stops you from moving, a barely audible “no. not just you” falling from your parted lips

lips that his thumb presses into, your bottom lip met with the pad of his thumb as he rubs along it. throat bobbing with a hard swallow, eyes flashing from your mouth to your eyes. you want to ask why now? what changed? why throw both your dignities to the wind and say fuck it? but the look of stern-protection he showed the other night each time he looked at you, like he was fighting with himself with being upset at himself and upset at you for not having better friends, for putting yourself in a potential bad situation. you know why now 

“if i keep touching you-if i let myself cross that line-i’ll never stop.”

“what if i don’t want you to stop?”

“you’ll have to beg me to.” 

“i won’t.” 

his front is completely pressed to yours, a thigh between your parted legs, forehead on yours as you see the internal battle going on in his expressions, in his heavy breaths, in how he keeps dipping his mouth down to yours only to pull it away at the last minute, “you need to.”

“i need you.”

and it’s those magic words that have him cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss of passion-every lick into your mouth, every bite at your bottom lip, the moans he swallows down from your throat, speaking silent words of how long he’s waited to have you like this.

[psychedelic-ink]

love, or the lack of

pairing: namor x f!reader

genre: smut, romance

word count: 1.5k

summary: After your random meet, Namor visits you almost everyday. When you finally ask to see his home, he tells you he'll allow it on only one condition: after seeing Talokan, you can't ever leave again.

warnings: mild spoilers for black panther: wakanda forever, piv, fingering, mild dirty talking, creampie, breeding kink, possesive!namor

MLISTS .  LIBRARY. TAGLIST

The first time you see him, you’re throwing rocks into the water. 

You aren’t trying to make them skip or anything, you’re just frustrated and seeing how the water ripples soothes you in an odd way. You’re frustrated, angry, and lonely. Traits that drag him out of water and to you. Your first instinct, of course, is to direct your rocks at him. After all, a man coming out of water half naked could never be a good sign. But when he floats, two pairs of wings attached to his ankles, you stop your assault and listen. 

The first thing you notice is the softness of his eyes, but you see the anger and hostility he has towards the surface world, and indirectly, to you. 

Namor visits you often after that. 

Most nights are silent, he doesn’t say much other than ask you about your day. You tell him, then ask him about his city, he never says much. He mutters a lot, and avoids eye contact. In many ways he acts similarly to a wounded animal. You’re aware that he’s a powerful man, a king– no, a god– to his people, maybe you should be more afraid, but oddly enough you’re not. Sometimes he touches you. Touches filled with curiosity as they rake across your body, soft moans part your lips, he cups your breasts then remarks how warm and tender they feel. He always stops at your thighs, his hands not daring to touch the spot that aches the most. 

Then one day you break the cycle, you ask him a different question. 

“Would you ever consider showing me your home?” 

Every muscle surrounding his body grows taut at the question, he straightens himself, eyes fixated on the horizon. In all honesty, you weren’t expecting an answer when you asked. You half expected him to brush it off. His change of demenour surprises you. You pull your knees close to your chest, sand moves around you, the warmth of it subsiding with the setting sun. 

“If I take you there you can’t ever return,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. 

“Does that mean you’ll kill me?” 

“No–” he shakes his head, and finally allows his eyes to wander over your features. His eyebrows raise at your unpleasant question. “No, of course I won’t kill you. I just…I can’t allow a human to come back here, risking everything I’ve tried so hard to protect,” 

“You don’t trust me?” 

“I don’t trust any human,” 

Neither do I, you think, but sadly that doesn’t change the fact that you’re human too. You look back towards the bright city, the sound pollution reaches your ears, the yellow lights bright up the fog. Then you turn back, stare at the sea that has been bathed in orange sunlight. You turn to the man next to you, his eyes still in search of something he hopes to find on your face. Namor’s gaze drops to your lips, he swallows, and lifts his eyes back up to meet yours. 

“Take me with you.” 

“You won’t ever see the surface world again,” his voice is softer now, his body relaxing, he adds. “Well, you can visit with me by your side, but you won’t ever live here. Do you understand what I am saying? You will be underwater, forever.” 

“But I would be with you.” you smile, you softly touch his bicep. “Take me, Namor. I want to see you home.” 

You can breathe, yet you still feel the pressure of water. It surrounds you, circling around the only space that holds the oxygen you can breathe. It’s a beautiful place, it smells of sea salt. The guards that stand close by give you odd looks, Namor holds your hand and squeezes, affirming you that this is where you belong – not that you have much of a choice now that you’re here. 

“I will take you to see Talokan tomorrow,” 

Still feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, you don’t argue. He takes you to his bedroom, the bed looks soft and luscious, he pushes you down, crawling between your legs. You hold your breath. His lips inch closer and closer, your heart beats madly in your chest. He drags his lips across your jawline, they’re wet and warm against your skin. Then he licks the seam of your lips, with a sigh, you part your lips, allowing him to taste you for the first time. 

Namor kisses you softly. His tongue languidly moving alongside yours as he presses himself further between your legs, you feel the length of his cock from underneath the thin fabric of his shorts, he grinds his hips and you break away from the kiss with a gasp. Grinning into your skin, Namor finds refuge in your neck, kissing and sucking your sensitive skin. 

“You’re so responsive to me,” he mutters, his warm breath breaking across your skin. “I love that about you. Ever since we first met, I’ve been dreaming of seeing you raw and open,” 

“You wanted me since the beginning?” 

Namor chuckles, tearing away the fabric of your shirt with ease, his tongue moves along the curve of your breasts. 

“Why do you sound so surprised? I think I made it obvious that I wanted you,” 

“Then why didn’t you just say something?” 

“I’ve touched you on multiple occasions,” 

He draws one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his tongue goes in circles, teeth gently nipping around it. A shudder crawls up your spine, a moan ripping from your throat, when you speak again each word comes in between heavy pants. 

“I thought you were just curious,” 

He groans, teeth coming down harder around your nipple. Pain blossoms, forcing your back to arch off of the bed. Your eyes drop down to where he is, he’s already looking at you, eyes dark. 

“Do you allow anyone to touch you just because they’re curious?” 

Before you can utter an answer, his lips move away, a string of saliva following his kiss-swollen lips. Two thick fingers push between your folds, tracing around your entrance before sliding them both in. The air is caught in your lungs, fingers clawing at the sheets as he pushes them knuckle deep. Namor sucks in a sharp breath as he scissors his fingers, he cranes his neck, eyes flickering to yours. 

“How are you already this wet?” he groans, tongue wetting his lips. “Just watching you quivering like this makes me want to fuck you for days,” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you challenge him, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “I believe we have time for that,” 

You see his smile, it’s laced with amusement, the gesture alone makes your heart skip a beat. Namor is all over you, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance as he cups both your tits and squeezes them hard. You let out a moan, legs parting further for his broad frame. He buries himself deep inside you, stretching you to the point tears sting your eyes. It’s a beautiful feeling. A feeling you’ve craved for as long as you’ve known him. His movements are fast, hard, each thrust knocking the air out of your lungs. Your eyes roll back, pleasure laving across your skin as he rams his cock deeper and deeper. 

Namor notices you biting back your moans, when your hand covers your lips, he growls, pulling it away. Where he holds you stings. 

“Don’t silence yourself,” he commands. “You’re free to make as much noise as you please. No one can judge you here,” 

Looking into his eyes, he fucks himself into you especially hard and your moan echoes, loud and lasting. He smiles at that, and pushes your legs towards your chest, as much as your body gives. His thrusts become frantic, rutting into you like a man unhinged. You scream his name, limbs shaking from the force of his hips. You gush around him again and again, slick staining the sheets. Pleasure bursts white behind your eyelids, he kisses you when you begin to cry for him. It soothes you, he licks the inside of your mouth and pulls away. 

“I’m going to cum inside,” he rasps. “Fill you up full of my seed,” 

“Fuck– Yes, please–” 

“You want me deep, don’t you my sweet girl– You’re doing so good for me,” 

“P-Please–” you sob, arms desperately wrapping around his neck. “Need you my king– my god–”

Namor spills into you with a groan and a stutter of his hips, he continues to fuck his cum into you as his lips find the curve of your breasts. Your body shakes at the feeling, eyes dazed and mouth slacked, you feel him spilling around the edges of his cock. Your muscles go lax, your arms fall and your legs twitch in protest. Namor slowly pulls out of you, gently laying your legs on to the bed, he massages them, looking at you apologetically. 

“Are you alright, my love?” 

My love, you like the sound of that. 

“I’m perfect,” you answer, voice hoarse. “Just a bit tired,” 

Namor lays down next to you, pulling you flush against his chest. You inhale his scent, he smells of saltwater and something sweet, you’re not sure what it is. His lips touch your forehead, and you find yourself slowly shifting into darkness, your eyelids growing heavy. 

When you wake up the next day, you’re still in his arms. 

[buzzkillers]

Fables and Parables 2/5

Pairing: Namor x Black!Reader

Chapter Summary: you begin to feel the affects of the curse.

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

PART ONE

It rained the next day. 

It's so bad that you're forced to braid your hair. The gel wasn't working and the frays of your edges curled underneath the humidity.

Lucky you, but that's not where your bad day ended, of course not. 

The storm had forced you all inside, the rain battering against the very thin walls of the hostel. All plans for exploration were delayed. Quickly, your discomfort turned into irritation and then your period started. Of course it did. Thankfully, there was no blood yet but it was the beginning of it. You could feel it in the twist of your gut, the odd ache in your pelvis. It's so subtle that it could’ve passed a stomach ache

But you've never felt your stomach twist like this before. Like there was a needle in your guts that pulled and twisted.

 So yeah, you were on your period and the weather was shit and you were starving. But you didn’t mind, you really didn't. Until then it rained the next day and the day after that and you never bled. 

“It’s global warming,” your roommate whispered, her face still shoved into her book. 'Art and Society of Mayan culture ' it read, the bind of it worn and dirty. 

You relaxed in your own bed. Your leg splayed off the edge.“-just think about it,”

“I'm thinking about it,” You lied. Because you’ve actually been reading the same  ‘Wikipedia’ page for the last five minutes and you were afraid that if you moved a muscle, something just might burst. 

The other didn’t know this though. How could she? So she rolled her eyes, lips pinched. “Im serious,” 

“I mean it's May—May," she turned a page, "We're supposed to be touring temples but instead we're-" she looked over at you and then winced. "-I actually don't know what you're doing," 

"Waiting for this bootleg ibuprofen to kick in," you muttered, your phone now fallen asleep. You took a strangled breath. 

"I don't think it's working," 

“Are you sure you don't want tea?” she asked cause she was nice and didn’t know that every word she spoke made you want to bite bricks. You shoved your head into the pillow and tried to suffocate yourself. “Nah, rather vomit,” Last night, you only had one cup and instantly spat it out. You’d rather stick to sink water. 

“I think I'm just gonna die here,” you groaned, ‘cause it would just be your luck really. Then you curled into a ball, your arms wrapped around your knees. The position only made it worse.  Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes. 

The woman sucked her teeth, “Right, die in a run down hostel, in the middle of nowhere, that's not inconsiderate,”

“Kindly fuck off,”

“To get tea? Yeah I'm suddenly in the mood,” you shot the woman a glare, and suddenly it's her that's ignoring you. The look on her face smug as she jumped into some trousers and walked out the door. 

You took the moment to look out the window. It faced the front streets, above all the pop shops and grocery bags. Below you, people ran to get away from the onslaught. No one wanted to drive today, clearly. People bustled in the streets, business men went home and school children ran with their bags over their heads. Anything to get out of the rain. 

Except one, a lone figure at the edge of the sidewalk, who stood straight, unaffected. He did not wear an umbrella or a raincoat for that matter. Instead, his shelter was the leaves of the sidewalk trees. It flicked and fettered over him, it also did a shit poor job of actually keeping him dry. He looked at your Hostel. Unmoving. In your delusion, he was also blue, he looked very very blue.

Your face pinched and then the needle in your stomach twisted and your intestines curled and you forgot all about it. At least some people didn’t mind the rain. 

—-

It never stopped raining. Not truly. It might've drizzled, or splashed or allowed a pause within the bulging of clouds and the clap of thunder but it never actually stopped. Not for more than a few minutes anyway. 

Time only existed within the ratatat typing of rain. Between the moment where it splashed and melded into the streets. 

You didn't know what was more irritating, the cramps or that sound. After a few moments, your roommate picked the sound and that was all you needed to hear before you popped another ibuprofen and migrated to the play rooms of the hostel. 

Play room was stretching it though. It was simply a small living room with an ancient boxed tv and folding chairs. It's crowded when the two of you get down there. An odd mix of your classmates and other residents and they’re all watching the news on the weather. 

‘Unexpected’ they said, ‘unlikely to stop anytime soon,'  which in other words meant your earlier sentiment was right. 

You were never leaving this hostel and you were all feeling it. You've never felt so bored, so hungry. And the daily work assignments and sandwiches in the fridge weren't cutting it. You guys were going to have to leave the hostel for food eventually. Maybe that's why you were feeling the way? 

 It was a good hypothesis as the pangs in your belly tightened. You've never felt a hunger like this before. Strong and potent. 

So, a few hours later you're outside now. A few blocks away from the hostel and filled with enough ibuprofen that it might not be the storms that’ll kill you. There's only one grocery store on your street. It's an artificial beacon of fluorescent lights, the door rung when you opened it.  

With wobbly knees, you walked inside and the weather followed. A man with a mop looked up and glared at you. You ducked into one of the aisles.  

You needed something sweet, something heavy. Bread? No. Ice cream? You ran through each aisle. And then you walked and then your just sort of sludged your way around. Each movement made the world curl into itself, your floor tilted beneath your feet. 

By the time you actually got to the front again nothing looked appealing. Tortilla bread suddenly looked too heavy and chorizo looked too much. You looked at your basket, lips downturned. 

Maybe you should just get a drink instead. But even that made you want to curl into yourself. Soda was too much. A lemonade too sweet. What about water? At that your stomach twisted and turned, cold than hot. The cashier looked at you plainly. 

“¿Eso es todo, señora?" you blinked.

He was an older man, with sunken eyes and gray hair that was long but tied into a tight ponytail. He gave off a scent of artificial pine tree, his fingers battered with callouses. He had a gold tooth and his shirt, although clean, was translucent due to the rain that battered through the window every time a customer came in. 

You licked your lips, warmth in your belly overflowed. You wondered if he’d let you get on your knees. If all it would take was a look and sweet words before you led yourself behind the counter-

“señora?” the man's voice boomed you out of your thoughts, you flinched back. “Sorry, I-” you shook your head, “¿Tienes uh agua?” 

His eye twitched. “pasillo 10,”

Your mouth went dry. You looked to the back aisle, at the long tiled floors that seemed to drag on forever. On a back shelf the water sat pretty.  You licked your lips again. Something in you bloomed. It was exactly what you needed. Water.

With a fevered glance back, you battered your fingers against the counter. One gallon would be just as much as the food. It looked more appetizing too, like it would belly over the thirst that ran in your tummy. 

Like a great way to wash the taste of the man off your tongue.  

You shook your head, “Actually-” 

“-¿Te importaría conseguirlo para mí?” the man just looked at you, their mouth downturned. He looked ready to stay no. 

The aisle wasn’t that far away. And anyone with working legs would be able to make it to the back. But something in your face made the man's face relaxed, the corner of his lips pinched. “fine,” then with a glance, “Pero no vomites en mi suelo,” 

Unlikely. In fact vomiting was a very real possibility. You felt it in your throat, in the overtone and queasiness that slobbed in your tummy. 

You looked at him as he left. Watched the skin on his back, the sweat that twinkled down his spine. Your stomach flipped and turned. Suddenly, your hands were clammy and your lips dry. What kind of hunger was this?  

What kind, made you want this? Claws in your back, and kisses on your chest. You wanted it bad, like a bird wanted murder and a plant water, it was a need, a cancer that furloughed in your deepest cavities and bloomed. Ricocheting like a bullet before you fell to your knees and vomited it all out. 

—

You don't go out much after that. 

[haechvn]

Sit Down Please (Headcanon) (18+ NSFW)

Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader

Warning: Nasty whoreish good for nothing filth..

Summary/Request: Am I the only one that thinks Shuri would love when reader sits on her face 👀🥵

Word Count: 0.7k+

Author’s Note: Just read you whores. Thank you Anon! <3

Taglist :  @melodykisses, @blackhottie25, @tonakings, @coalmistyy, @szalipcombo, @prettyluhlaiiii, @yelenabelovasgf, @callmeoncette, @clqrosmgc, @beautybyfire, @homelessmicechild, @shurisbitch

Translations: Sthandwa = My love

The S in Shuri also stands for seat in case you didn’t know

Her facial structure is so pristine and clean cut. Why you may ask? IT’S BC THAT’S WHERE YOUR COOCHIE IS DESIGNED TO BE

Wants to eat you out in her lab, the throne room (ON THE THRONEEEE), on a ship. Literally everywhere

Don’t think about how Shuri practically begs you every morning to eat you as a part of her breakfast

“Sthandwa, as Princess of Wakanda, I decree that you must place yourself on my face in order for me to truly be able to guide my country in the best way possible. I cannot go without it. ”

Just the thought of her tongue circling your clit gives her more strength than the heart-shaped herb

She loves when you choke her with your pussy, constantly moaning into your pussy and rubbing both of her hands over your ass

Breathing isn’t that important anyways

You could see your juice fall down on the sides of her face and make her jaw glitter omg

She would ask you to wipe it off with your fingers and stick them in your mouth I—

Tugging you further and further into her mouth as if she is treasure hunting up your insides

Shuri would force you to always keep your eyes on her

But other times, she would shut her eyes so tight and just focus on how soft and luscious you feel in her mouth and she wouldn’t be able to stop moaning i promise

Being the kinky fuck she is, she may or may not put a finger up your a—

She wouldn’t let you go until you’ve cum at least twice and she would want you to watch her gulp your cum down her throat OMG AH

Constantly shaking her head north south east and west, wanting to catch every part of you in her mouth

SPITS ON YOUR CLIT EVERY TEN SECONDS BC THE S IN SHURI STANDS FOR WHAT??

I think she would also have a thing for biting your clit

Like when you feel like you are going to explode and want to run away, she would teasingly bite you and pull you down even closer or wrap your legs around her head even tighter bc she could care less if she died between your thighs or not

I feel like when she goes down on you, she’s more of a munch vs a fingering kinda gal buttt

Every time she fingers you, it's always three fingers bc she needs you to feel her in all her glory

She likes doing the infamous ‘come here’ motion but at any extremely slow place so you would feel her fingers on your g spot for AT LEAST five seconds at a time

DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG FIVE SECONDS IS???

while doing that, Shuri would move her whole head in circles going in one direction (#zarry) and have her tongue moving in the opposite direction!!!!

SHURI IS A DIRTY GIRL LIKE YALL

Would force you to sit on her during zoom calls and phone conversations

WOULD PURPOSELY SPEAK XHOSA INTO YOUR PUSSY WHEN YOU ARE ABOUT TO CUM BC IF THAT DOESN’T THROW YOU OVER THE EDGE I DON’T KNOW WHAT WILL

“You better bounce this pussy on my face Princess before I punish you for not being slutty enough for me” !!!!!!

Loves when you grab her hair and force her head up and just GRIND THE FUCK OUT OF THAT STUNNING FACE

WANTS YOU TO BE AGRESSIVE WITH HER SO SHE FEELS SLUTTED OUTTTTT

You would always be seeing her eyes roll to the back of her head and fuck does she look amazing

Would completely blow down to you when you reach back and start stroking her pussy bc your Queen needs attention too &lt;3

Rubbing on her clit or fingering her would literally bring growls out of Shuri likee

She would deliver the hardest and loudest slaps to your ass, and groan like the little bitch she is bc truth be told, SHE LIKE BEING HANDLED LIKE A WHORE

She would grind her hips up to meet your fingers and just whore herself out

“Fuck baby right there ughh” BUT YOU WOULDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE’S SAYING SINCE HER MOUTH IS VERY MUCH FULL

I can see her wanting to eat you out for an entire hour but “baby you have an entire country to rule”

“yea and somehow this pussy is still more important” 

I rest my case

[aviawrites]

la vida

⚠️!!Wakanda Forever Spoilers!!⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘚𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘪 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬/𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯)

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 3 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘞𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢, 𝘠/𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘞𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢’𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵. 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥’𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥. (7.1𝘬)

𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘠 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 (+ 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺), 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘴𝘶!𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘳, 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺, 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

‼️*𝘗𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬*‼️

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘬𝘬𝘬𝘬! 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 3𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘪 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘵𝘺𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘵.1 𝘢𝘯𝘥 2 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘪 𝘥𝘰 (𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥). 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘪𝘭𝘺<3

hey! read part 2 before this(:

The small blue light flashing in your arm shines a faint reflection against your white duvet. One of the first calls of action when you returned home was to remove it; only, it was made with vibranium. It had cactus-like spines that would hurt more to take out than to keep in. It’s removal could’ve caused nerve damage in your arm or even loss of movement. So against Shuri’s wishes, you decided to leave it in. 

It’s been 3.5 years since then. 3.5 years since you thought your country was on its way to turmoil. When you did return from the US hospital, you were informed of the injuries that Namor’s grand plan caused. Shuri was left with severe nerve damage to her left leg, Okoye with a ruptured ear drum and crushed ankle, and Nakia without a heartbeat. With Wakanda’s ever improving technology, everyone’s physical shape was treated immediately, but for Nakia, it was too late. She died on the jet ride home, her cause of death labeled asphyxia; drowning. 

Wakanda organized a funeral just as vibrant as her life was, the 3rd one they’ve put on in the past few years. The nation seemed to begin the process of healing, slowly but surely in the coming months. Only, Shuri wasn’t the same after that.

The minute she was cleared, she began placing protocols and procedures on what to do if a Talokan attack ever were to ever take place again. At first, you understood. It’s a smart choice to plan for Namor’s return. That was until Shuri took it a step further. It was as if she was obsessed with the idea of him coming back. She’d spend days and nights alone in that lab looking for ways to destroy them before they stepped foot in Wakanda.

But then, the unthinkable happened. Two months after you got home, news reports of the “Yucatán shore assailant’s” execution began circling the main media. The US government claimed to have not only found and convicted the attacker, but sentenced him to death. And just like that, the world was happy. They felt safe again.

But Wakanda didn’t believe it for a second. There was no way that humans in the United States government found and handled the mutant sub-mariner like they claim. Shuri wouldn’t even believe it when our own ally, Everett Ross, assured us that it was him; saying that they found, who they believed to be Namor, days after the attack returning to the scene.

Shuri refused to believe it until she saw it, and she never did. No one ever did. There was no evidence that Namor was dead, yet his 3 years of silence lead you to believe it was true. Consequently, Shuri had no choice but to accept it as well. 

You and your now wife lay silently in the soft bed, both of you staring out of the floor length window and out to the beautiful overlook of Wakanda. You feel her place a delicate kiss on your shoulder before pulling the blanket over your arm, covering the blue lights. She would never admit it, but she absolutely hated the fact that it was still in you.

“Sorry.” You mumble, separating your hand from hers.

She quickly pulls it back, interlacing them once again. “Don’t apologize.”

——

The capital buzzed with excitement as everyone readies themselves for the baby shower. Two of the most respected dora, Ayo and Aneka, announced to Wakanda that they had reached out to a donor, and are expecting a child in the coming months. The news couldn’t have had more perfect timing. In these periods of uncertainty, mourning, and fear, a new ball of light is what Wakanda needs.

Not only was this the first child being born into the dora milaje, but you and Shuri planned on announcing an even bigger piece of news. On the premise that the two of you didn’t plan on having children, Ayo and Aneka gladly agreed to allow their baby to be the heir to the throne. Boy or girl, they’re to be raised as the future protector of Wakanda.

“Make those balloons even please.” You ask, lightly jogging past the main event room. You huff when you see that the beige backdrop has wrinkles right where the photos would be.

“Yama, please.” You urge. “That was supposed to be steamed hours ago.” 

“Apologies, my queen.” She bows her head. You nod at her before entering the side room to meet with Shuri.

“Can you believe that?” You whisper, “I asked

for that to be done last night. You heard me, yes?”

Shuri only chuckles as she wraps both arms around you waist. “You’re so beautiful like this.” She pecks you.

You can’t help the smile that grows on your face. Every time you’re this close to her you feel like a love struck teenager all over again.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door opens, Okoye walking in. 

“Oh shoot.” Shuri teases, examining Okoye’s black pantsuit; a stark contrast to your white loose attire. And definitely nothing like Shuri’s panther suit that you forced her to keep on, as it’s not only formal, but sexy.

“Shut up.” Okoye rolls her eyes before she makes her way to the event room.

M’Baku walks in shortly after, followed by the tribal council and Jabari. Every single attendant brings a present except him.

“Do you come baring gifts?” You ask.

"Gifts? The girl lives in the citadel with golden cats and vibranium waterfalls.” He exaggerates, "She doesn't need my gift."

Shuri struggles to stifle her laugh as he walks away, taking his seat beside Okoye. Almost every capital resident sits in the room awaiting the expecting parents. Finally, they arrive.

“They’re here!” You hear Okoye call.

You and Shuri quickly make your way to the room and to Aneka and Ayo, assisting Aneka as she walks to the seat at the head of the room. Her stomach is big for her to only be 5 months, as it’s already impairing her walking and mobility. You and Ayo help her sit down as Shuri quickly lowers the music and hands you a microphone. Ayo takes her seat beside Aneka and you take your standing spot beside her.

“Hi everyone, and welcome to these beautiful ladies’ baby shower.” You begin. “Now before we start, you must decide.” You turn to the two women, “Reveal first or games first?”

Aneka looks to Ayo. 

“Up to you.” Ayo shrugs.

“Um,” Aneka looks back to you, “Let’s so reveal first.”

You smile and nod before Shuri hands you two black balloons. You give Ayo and Aneka both a balloon and a thumbtack.

“On the count of three you pop the balloons, okay?” 

They both nod at you. You and Shuri run back to your seats in the front row to watch with the rest of the crowd, Shuri wrapping an arm around your waist.

Before the counting starts, you could’ve sworn you felt rumbling. You just barely flinch, it must be the Maglev trains running through the city.

“One…” Everyone begins counting.

This time you’re sure of what you feel. You can hear distant buzzing outside of the ceiling to floor window sitting behind Ayo and Aneka. The buzzing almost sounds like a busy street, as if a large group of people are moving or talking outside. Yet you see no one.

The floor vibrates harder. It’s the exact rumbling you felt 3 years ago on the beach. You lean forward to look down the row of seats. There, you see M’Baku, Shuri, and Okoye looking just as confused as you. You’re almost relieved that you aren’t the only one, but terrified at what that might mean. 

Your hands begin sweating as the memories of that day on the shore return. Shuri’s hand around your waist tightens when she senses just how anxious you are. Everyone else still has a smile on their face, probably chalking it up to the trains as well. 

“Two…”

Just then, the grumble comes to an abrupt halt and the city seems to be the quietest it’s been all day. You start to anticipate the worst when you swear you see a flash outside of the window. Seeing as you’re 3 stories up, not many things make their way up here. All of your eyes are glued to the window at what you see next.

Outside of the window was a sight you’ve only seen once before. The, presumed dead, feather serpent god himself was gliding outside of the window. And in his hand were 3 blue marble-like spheres. The last time you saw anything like it was the day Queen Ramonda died.

Ayo scans all of your faces, turning around to see what you’re looking at. And when she sees it, she immediately shields Aneka with her body.

“Three.”

Namor launches the 3 orbs at the thick glass window. The panes had been thickened the week after they were broken the first time. Yet, it shatters instantly.

“Get down!” Shuri yells, covering you with her body.

The room fills with shrieks as the back row darts for the door. M'Baku wastes no time in grabbing both Ayo and Aneka and pulling them from the window. Water fills the room as Namor remains untouched, staring in at his wrath.

“Follow protocol!” Shuri repeats as the room empties itself of all guests.

You’re frozen in disbelief. You never in your life thought that said protocols would be used. Namor was supposed to be dead, his body at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. The screams around you seem to silence as you stare at the God in the sky, and he stares right back at you. 

You’re knocked out of your daze when Shuri grabs your arm, pulling you up. “Let’s go!”

M’Baku allows Shuri to grab hold of Aneka’s hand before he runs off, most likely to gather the Jabari. Together, you, Shuri, Aneka, and Ayo stay as low as you can as you run into the hallway. You turn around one last time to see Namor leave the window, only god knowing what he’ll do next.

The 4 of you take the stairs that cut through the middle of the tower to get to the base floor, and then down one more flight leading to the underground level. “I knew it.” Shuri murmurs over and over the whole way down.

Finally, you arrive at an unimportant looking door labaled, ‘Water room.’ Though you’ve never seen it, you’ve heard the Wakanda design group bringing it up often. From what you could gather, the Water room was a room that Shuri designed as one of her precautions for another Talokan attack. It’s a full bathroom sized area, walls constructed of the thickest material Shuri could find. It was made to be impenetrable. Waterproof, shatter proof, and sound proof, it’s the perfect thing for a Talokan attack.

“Touch it.” Shuri points to the key pad next to the door.

“What?” 

"It only opens to your fingerprint. Touch it now.” She urges, hearing distant booms from outside.

You’re not surprised that Shuri would make this room accessible to you and only you, as you’ve been the center of her designs since the moment she fell for you. You press your finger to the pad.

“Welcome, Y/n.” A voice greets.

The thick glass door smoothly slides open and Shuri quickly pushes all three of you inside. She allows it to close behind you. You turn around to see her outside of the door, now pressing her finger to the keypad. It makes a sound as if to verify a change.

“What are you doing?” You ask, although she can only read your lips through the sound proof glass.

“I can’t let you get hurt.” She shakes her head, “Any of you.”

“My love…” You press your finger to the pad on the inside that should unlock you. But it doesn’t work. It makes a zap sound and turns red, signaling that your fingerprint doesn’t control it anymore. Hers does.

Shuri lowers her head before beginning to walk away.

“No.” You watch her as she refuses to look at you. “No!” You bang on the glass, “Please come back, you can’t go alone! Don’t leave me! Open this!” 

You hold back tears as she walks out of view. You’re left panting, your breath fogging the glass. You let out a frustrated groan before turning and sitting down, your back on the glass.

Ayo and Aneka stand on the other side of the room. Ayo rubs her wife’s stomach as she anxiously bites her lip, seeming too afraid to say anything. It’s now when you realize the set up of the water room. A mini fridge sits in the corner beside a snack tray. There’s a covered hole in the concrete on the ground across from it, presumably a toilet. The room was clearly set up to sustain life for days on end.

 But the real thing that catches your eye is the glowing table on the right. Built into the wall was the same design of technology table that Shuri has in her lab. Touch screen, interactive, and communications based, you could only imagine what you’d be able to do from here.

“Come look, my queen.” Aneka says as the screen lights up her face.

You leave the floor and join her side, amazed at how identical it is. This must’ve taken her months to perfect. You hear blasts going off outside and it quickly launches you into action.  You open the Citadel’s mission files to see that the ‘ukuhlaselwa kwamanzi (water attack)’ folder has been opened and initiated. Your heart sinks as you imagine what extreme measures could be taking place outside of the tower.

One of the orders that you know Shuri set in place was titled WA:02, the 2nd command in the procedure. In it, it reveals that hidden underwater explosives were stationed just below and around Talokan. And once the mission was initiated, they were set to blow any minute now. 

But you couldn’t let that happen. All you could think about were the innocent kids and civilians that you met while in Talokan. They didn’t deserve to pay for Namor’s choices, you won’t let them. 

You quickly hit ‘disengage,’ automatically halting the explosions from blowing. Next, you open the city’s cameras. Aneka, looking over your shoulder, sighs at the sight. Bombs go off around the city, sending innocent Wakandans running for their lives. As the queen of the country, you have no choice but to feel like you’ve failed your people. Assuring them that Namor was dead and ridiculing Shuri as she prepared for his return, you were wrong all along.

You click a few more buttons to send jets over the perimeters of Wakanda, dropping grenades on all of the Talokanil who haven’t made it past the borders yet. On the footage, the Black Panther catches your eye. She powers through the spear holding soldiers as she runs in the direction where she hears the most chaos. She thinks she’s running toward Namor, but you see otherwise. 

In her path was a pack of Talokanil, surrounding one central figure. Upon closer inspection, you can make out a female frame. Namora. Only, she doesn’t look the same as the other Talokanil. Her skin isn’t a pale blue, but a tan tone, same as Namor’s. She’s not wearing a mask like her army. But most importantly, you notice her taking people out at the same rate as Shuri - if not faster. Only one thing could make that possible.

Your stomach forms a pit as you realize what’s happened in the 3 years she’s been hiding. Namor made a Black Panther of his own with the exact plant that Shuri traded for you. Knowing that you couldn’t let Shuri face her alone, you zoom in before pressing and holding on the ground between them. Shuri’s closer than she thinks just as the bomb falls in her path, knocking them both back. You let out a sigh of relief as Shuri slowly gets back up, not seeming too injured by your help. 

You’re still watching Shuri when you hear Aneka wince behind you. You stop what you’re doing and turn around. Aneka hunches over as Ayo rubs her abdomen.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s her stomach, my queen.” Ayo explains, “Heavy stress like this causes her sharp pains.”

You examine Aneka’s pained state as she nearly buckles over. You walk over to the mini fridge and hand her a decaf bottled tea for the time being. 

You return to the table and press the model of Black Panther suit. You click on the head, opening the touch to speak microphone that radios directly into her suit.

“You need to come let us out.” You demand.

“Y/n,” she pants, “I can’t do that.”

“Please. It’s Aneka.” 

She doesn’t say a word after that. You see her stop in her tracks and immediately head back for the tower, clearing any Talokanil that stand in her way. She enters the tower and arrives at the water room in record time.

“What happened?” She asks as soon as the door slides open, “Is the baby alright?”

“The baby’s fine, my queen.” Ayo informs her.

Shuri shakes her head in a ‘so what is it?’ motion.

“The stress is causing a strain on her body. We need to get her somewhere comfortable.”

She furrows her blood stained brows, scanning Aneka up and down.

“Where? We’re in active battle, nowhere is safe except this room.”

She has a point. The last thing you’d want to do right now is put her in a position where she could get hurt even worse. 

“The guest bedroom on level one.” You suggest, recalling how odd you thought it was that it was so secluded. “It’s windowless and far from any entrances. She’ll be safe there.” 

Without hearing her response, you hoist Aneka’s arm over yours and begin walking toward the door.

“Woah, where are you going?” Shuri stands in front of the door, “You’re staying here.”

You huff at her exceptionally bad timing. “Stop being ridiculous and move.” 

She looks as if she’s going to argue but doesn’t get a chance before Aneka groans in pain, putting more of her weight on you as Ayo kisses her temple. Giving in, Shuri keeps a hand in front of Aneka to ensure she stays up as she leads all three of you to the bedroom.

Though no one mentions it, you all hear the loud thunders and shouts just outside of the main doors. Choosing not to stress Aneka out further, you silently bring her to the room and lay her on the bed, instant relief washing over her face. Ayo sits at her bedside whispering sympathies to her as you and Shuri give her your well wishes before exiting.

No words spoken, you quickly head for the door. You hear Shuri shut Aneka’s doors before quickly running to catch up to you.

“Stop.” She places a hand on your stomach, stopping you from walking. “You’re not going.”

You stare at her, not understanding how she thought you’d go back to that room. If she was going to risk her life for her country, the other queen should as well.

“Let me go.” You austere, clearly not backing down.

“I won’t let you fight. Not this time. It’s too dangerous.”

“If you’re going, I’m going.”

“Are you listening to me?” She whisper shouts, not wanting to disturb the couple a few doors down. “This isn't just any battle, this is Talokan. The same man who kidnapped you. The man who takes Wakandan lives as if they're cattle. You could get hurt, Y/n, you could-" She stops herself.

You hold her wrists attached to the hand on your stomach, “So could you.” You place it back by her side.

She looks down, shaking her head. “Please.” She begs, barely audible as she holds back tears.

It breaks your heart to see her like this, but it’s the only way. You know that if you agree to stay in the Castle that Shuri would break every bone in her body before allowing anyone to step foot near you. She’d destroy herself to preserve your life, and you couldn’t let her.

“To stop me, you’ll have to kill me.”  

She only stares at you with pleading eyes. She watches as you walk away and out of the grand entrance.

And once you’re out there, you can see the real damage Namor has caused. The Shuri situation immediately leaves your mind as you see rubble and dead bodies littering the once sacred and safe city. You quickly duck your head as not to be seen while you sprint down the side of the tower. 

You reach the steel shed that’s lined with vibranium. You place your gaze against the tiny hole on the side, allowing it to scan your eye and unlock the doors. Once it opens, you feel relieved at how stocked the weapons wing still is.

Full of blasters, swords, and spears, the shed seems to have been untouched since the battle. Wasting no time, you retrieve two vibranium daggers, 4 basic stiletto blades, and a spear. You fasten a holster on your waist as if it’s second nature and place both daggers and blades in it. You shut the doors to the weapons wing and make your way out into the fight.

The further and further from the Citadel you get, the more and more bodies litter the floor. Talokanil and Wakandans go head to head at every turn you make. You’re careful to hide your face, not wanting to get into a pointless fight that would result in your death. Instead, you keep walking until you find someone who could make a real difference in Namor’s plan. And as if you spoke it into existence, he isn’t far.

“Attuma!” You call out.

He looks up from the victim in his grasp. A Wakandan salesman lays fallen on his knees as he begs in Xhosa for his life.

“The princess is here!” He sadistically smiles. You’d never heard a Talokanil speak English before, none other than Namor. This only tells you just how much they’ve been doing behind close doors these past 3 years.

“I’m no princess, I am the queen.” You correct him, “And I command that you drop him at once.”

“I don’t think I will.” He laughs. Of all of the enemies you’ve met, he’s undoubtedly one of the most bloodthirsty.

"You don't need to do this.” You reason, “Everyone has forgotten any mention of Talokan. We are no longer threat to you."

“You will always be a threat to me!” He shouts, quickly regaining his composure. “But not for long. Once that royal little head is on a spike along with your girlfriend’s, this place will fall with it."

“It will not. This won’t end how you want it to.”

"It'll end exactly how I want it to.” Attuma sinisterly nods. “You expose our home, scorn our god, spit in the faces of our customs, and you want - What - A compromise?"

“I beg for it.” You rectify, “We can fix this, I promise you.”

He shrugs, turning his attention back to the man. “I’m okay.”

The Wakandan, already battered and bruised, attempts to utter the only words he knows how.

“Wakanda…” he wheezes, “Forever.”

He can barely finish the phrase before Attuma sinks a spear into his heart, pulling it out and admiring the blood staining it.

You flinch at the gruesome sight, quickly picking your jaw up as to seem unaffected. As discretely as you can, you grab a blade from your holster and throw it directly at his neck. But in a grisly turn of events, Attuma lifts the lifeless body of the Wakandan and allows the knife to puncture his chest instead. 

He roughly drops the body onto the rubble, nastily laughing before running off to find another fight. You watch him with pure disgust filling your body at the carelessness of his actions. But before you pursue him, you walk over to the man. You cringe at the squelch as you pull the knife out of his body. You softly shut his fear stricken eyes before removing the flowy scarf from your formal attire and laying it over his body; the absolute least you could do.

Suddenly, you feel a pull on your arm. Your hand is at the ready on your spear as you whip around.

“You need to go back inside.” Shuri urges, causing you to put your spear back down.

You wipe the blood off of your hands and onto your white clothes. “They aren’t going to stop…” 

"I know. Not until every one of us are dead. I've got to kill him before that can happen." She points to Namor on the other side of the tower, barely visible as he swings his fist into civilians.

“How?” You shrug. Namor is indestructible. He’s not only taken both of the queens of Wakanda hostage, but has attacked the country twice. And seemingly, he’s won twice.

“I don’t know yet. But when it happens, you need to be far from-“

She stops when she sees your gaze shift to something behind her. Slowly turning around, Shuri sees it too. She sees her.

Shuri steps in front of you, evoking a scoff out of Namora; who stands tall and alone in front of the two of you.

“You know you can’t protect her.” She remarks, a heavy accent in her words.

“I can and I will.” Shuri plants her feet, her mask now covering her face.

Namora walks toward you, forcing you and Shuri to back up, nearly tripping over the casualties under your feet.

"Look around. There's no saving yourselves, it's already over. Why suffer all this when we only want one thing."

She gets no response as the two of you continue to back away from her. 

“She drank the herb.” You whisper to Shuri, low enough so that Namora can’t hear. Shuri stops in her tracks when you tell her, her head tilting upward to get a better look at Namora.

Just as she does this, Namora takes her first swing at Shuri. She slashes her spear through the air, specifically aiming for Shuri’s neck. The two of you jump into action, swinging back at her. Only, you’re nothing compared to the two enhanced warriors in front of you.

Namora is a sporadic and wreck less fighter, whereas you and Shuri are trained - much more coordinated and calm. This works to your advantage as Namora increasingly gets more frustrated at her missed blows. She lets out a frustrated scream before abandoning her spear, launching herself at Shuri. 

This goes against any training you’ve ever had. No one teaches you what to do in a spear fight without a spear. Taken off guard, Shuri’s tackled to the ground. Namora’s hands quickly find her throat and begin squeezing. Acting as quickly as you can, you search in the wreckage for your dropped vibranium dagger, knowing the damage it would do to her.

Shuri claws and punches at her face, knowing what a Black Panther-strength choke could do to her in even a short amount of time. Shuri’s mask retracts, revealing the terrified woman underneath. Namora only stares at her, a smirk on her face as the squeezes harder. Finally, you find your dagger.

You instantly plunge it through her back, seeing the tip poke out of her stomach. Namora throws her head back as she lets out an agonizing scream. Shuri gasps for air as she pushes Namora off of her. Namora looks down at her bleeding gut as her hands hover over it, too afraid to touch the wound. 

You spend no time on her as you quickly crawl over to Shuri, holding her head as you examine the dark bruises on her neck. She’s in the middle of telling you she’s fine when you feel an arm wrap around your middle and yank you to your feet.

“Y/n!” Shuri grabs for you.

You feel a strong hand cover your mouth as the other one stays tight around your stomach. The right hand keeps an airtight grasp on your mouth and nose, preventing you from breathing. You scratch at the hand as your screams are muffled. 

Shuri stands up as fast as she can in her weakened state, eyes darkening as she stares at the person behind you.

“Namor.” Her chin lowers.

“Did you miss me?” The accented god asks behind you.

Your eyes are still locked on Shuri’s as you feel your head go empty. Your vision blurs before your scratching hands fall limp.

——

The floor seems to softly sway once you regain consciousness. Although your eyes are opened, the darkness doesn’t seem to fade. The only lights in the dark room are two oil lamps hanging on the walls. You’ve almost drifted back into sleep when you hear your wife’s voice.

“Where are we going?” She asks, her voice still as soft as ever.

"Yucután.” Namor’s rough voice responds. “There, your heads will sit with the skulls of every other traitor."

Keeping your head lowered, you peer over to Shuri. It’s only when you see her hands tied behind her chair that you realize yours are as well. You know better than to tug on a knot and make it tighter. Shuri notices your presence and looks back at you, a painful and apologetic look in her eyes. 

Namor’s back is still to the two of you as you look to your left. You internally panic when you look out of a tiny circle shaped window to see the glistening moon shine down on rippling water. You’re below the deck of a ship.

“Namor.” You groan, finally raising your head.

He snaps around at the sound of your voice, his toned body cutting through the thick air. 

“She wakes.” He looks down at you, the lights behind him making him look like the shadow of a monster.

Behind him, you see the rustic wooden door, guarded by the infamous Attuma and a Talokanil woman you’ve never seen before.

“Namor, we are not traitors. We’ve done nothing to you.”

The smirk on his face faulters, “You know that’s not true.”

“It is.” You urge. “The media mention was our mistake, but the news reports following your attack were your own fault.”

He burns a stare into you before tilting his head to the ceiling, keeping his composure.

“You think I care about news reports?” He seethes. “I couldn’t care less. I care about your country not only keeping the scientist alive, hindering the safety of Talokan; but also for the death-“ He stops, breathing hard as he damn near burns bullets into your head. “For the murder of Namora.”

Your expression changed at his words. When you stabbed her you had full intent on killing her, that’s true. But you were wrong in assuming that someone who drank the herb could be so quickly saved. You expected Namora’s healing to be of Namor’s top priority, taking his attention away from wreaking havoc on Wakanda. But now that she’s dead - now that you killed her - the situation you’re in has become that much more fatal.

“You killed my baby cousin in front of my eyes. My own Black Panther.” He continues, getting more worked up by the second.

You lower your head so as to not cause a challenge. You look over to see Shuri already looking at you, just as surprised as you are. 

“I watched her choke on her own blood, gasp for air like a helpless mortal. And in her last moments, she looked over at you,” He points to Shuri, “She looked at your unconscious body like she was telling me to make it permanent. Like she was telling me to kill both of you, for her.” 

You shake your head, trying to think as quickly as you can to take him down a few levels and save yourself.

“Namor, I’m sorry-“

“You would’ve done the same to us.” Shuri interrupts you, looking at him with vex in her eyes. “Only, you wouldn’t give me the mercy of saying goodbye.”

He looks over to Shuri like a dog with his ears perked. He leaves his spot in front of you and  stands before her.

“She drove a dagger though my baby cousin’s back, and you speak of mercy?” He tilts his head.

"You killed my mother, flooded my country, kidnapped the queen, and spoke of an alliance. I guess we are both flawed." She quickly snaps back.

Namor stares at her as if he could swing his fist and kill her this instant. His fists are clenched as he looks down at her before taking a deep breath.

“That’s okay.” He shrugs, “I’ll make sure I get even.” 

He walks back over and stands behind your chair, leaning down so that he speaks right into your ear. “Maybe I should kill your Black Panther. Let you live long enough to see how it feels to have that ripped away from you.”

I do know how it feels. You’ve shown me, twice. You want to say, but you keep it in your head.

“Or maybe I should strip you of the heir set to take your place…” He suggests.

He leaves your side and begins walking to a small closet in the corner of the room, leaving you and Shuri looking at each other confused.

He swings the two doors open to reveal two more Wakandan’s tied up. Both yours and Shuri’s eyes widen at the sight of a tied up Ayo and unconscious Aneka. Shuri struggles against her ropes as Namor slides them opposite of you. Ayo in front of Shuri, and Aneka in front of you.

“Please.” Shuri’s voice shakes, eyes glued to Ayo’s panicked ones.

“Oh, now you’d like to plead?”

“Think about this, Namor.”

He squints an eye in irritation, "You continue to tell me that. Only, I've given this so much thought. 3 years this moment has been on my mind.” He reminisces. “Killing Talokan's number one threats, never to be heard of again. I dream about it." He shrugs.

“Please, let her go.” Ayo speaks up, her voice raspy and tired.

He looks at Ayo before turning his attention to the Talokanil woman at the door, smirking wickedly.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He walks behind the passed out and pregnant Aneka and begins untying her ropes. As he does, he looks back to the woman at the door, giving her a nod. When he does, she starts humming a low song.

“W- What are you doing?” Ayo asks.

“Letting her go.”

After freeing Aneka of her ties, he walks between the singing woman and Attuma and opens the creeking door. Behind it is a staircase leading to the deck.

Aneka raises her head in a zombie-like manner, her eyes having a glossy sheet of white over them. She robotically stands from her seat and begins walking toward the staircase.

“My love,” Ayo calls. Aneka keeps walking. “Come back.”

“Aneka.” Shuri chimes in, “Aneka, stop.”

She continues walking, going up the stairs and onto the deck. It becomes apparent to all 3 of you what’s going on. The woman is clearly a Talokanil siren, and you all know how that story went.

“Stop!” Shuri screams. Ayo looks in terror as Aneka walks out of view, toward the side of the ship.

“Please.” You look at the woman. “Please, stop this.”

She only stares at you. A cold look as she continues humming her enchanting song. Namor closes the door behind Aneka, leaving only the eerie sound of the singing in the room.

Shuri continues to beg worthless mercies as you stay silent. Your eyes are glued to the tiny window, praying that you don’t see what you expect to. 

But you do. You flinch when you see the flash of a body pass the window and thrust into the water. The woman immediately stops singing, the room clouds with thick tension. You stay turned to the window, not daring to look at anyone’s face right now.

“No.” You hear Ayo whimper, “Please, no.”

You hear Shuri’s breath rapidly quiver as tears fall. You can imagine her squeezing her eyes shut, hoping for this to all go away. You just look out of the window. 

The water swallowed her. The same way it did Nakia. The ocean takes life after life and just…smoothes over. It almost angers you the way the water is hardly disturbed when another life is added to it’s body toll. If only humans could smooth over a loss like that.

“Shhh, don’t cry.” You hear Namor coo. You all look over to him. He leans down in front of Ayo and begins to stoke her cheek. She quivers with shock, fear, and hate. 

“Your suffering will be over soon.” He whispers to her. He looks back toward the door, nodding at Attuma this time. “Would you like to do the great honor?” 

Attuma smiles that devilish smile, “Gladly.” 

He takes a few steps and positions himself behind Ayo’s chair. Namor moves from in front of her as Attuma raises the tip of his spear to directly on the back of her head.

“No!” Shuri screams a retched and desperate scream. “Namor stop this now! You’ve done enough, stop this!” 

Ayo sits silent, her lips moving as she mumbles prayers to herself. She shuts her eyes as if she knows what’s coming, and knows that nothing can stop it. 

You can only cry. Cry so hard that you can can’t breathe. The two of you have gone from the happiest women in the world - Having a newly ruled kingdom, an alliance with the secret superpower, and a new heir to the throne - to being the most empty and broken people, having nothing left. Not your country, not your dignity, and barely your lives.

Attuma wastes no time as he drives the sharp spear head through Ayo’s skull, her blood splattering back on his face. Your mouth hangs open as he pulls it out, letting her head drop. She looks so…peaceful in death. Eyes closed and face relaxed, as if she were finally at rest. And you prayed she was.

Shuri lets out the most bloodcurdling, chilling scream ever heard. A constant stream of tears run down her face as she looses control of herself. Primal weeps tear through her throat time after time as she stares at Ayo’s body. The sound of her grief rips your heart in two. You can’t tell if you’re so composed because of the shock or the terror, but you’re sure it would hit you hard in a short while. Until then, your eyes blur with tears over and over again as your lips uncontrollably quiver.

Presumably given some sort of signal, the siren walks behind your chair. You just wish for death, a foreign thought that’s become familiar these last few minutes. The worst few minutes of your damned life. You wish she’d walk behind you and slit your throat without question, putting you out of the pain your heart is taking right now.

And although you do hear the shing of a sharp weapon, she doesn’t cut you. Instead, she begins cutting your ties. You don’t have the energy to wonder why as she releases your hands and your feet shortly after. 

Your mind isn’t thinking as you drop to you hands and knees, crawling over to Shuri’s chair and collapsing your arms around her waist. She still weeps, only softer now, her eyes still not having left Ayo. You cry with her.

The woman cuts her legs free from the bounds first before working on her hands. The second Shuri’s free, she’s swinging her arm around and elbowing the woman in the nose, causing her to fall back, grasping at her mask. You’re thrown off of her lap as she jolts up. She lunges for Namor, tears still falling. It almost happens in slow motion, what you see next. The minute Shuri reaches for Namor, Attuma steps up, clearly hungry for more blood.

It only takes a millisecond for you to realize that there is no way you’re winning this fight. A weakened Black Panther and a sobbing queen, against a god and his blood hungry right hand man. 

What a poetic death, You think to yourself.

You grab Shuri just before she can touch Namor. She doesn’t even fight you as she turns her body, caving in in your arms. She holds her arms tightly around your neck as the two of you fall to your knees.

"Everyone's gone." She wails in your chest, "They're all gone.”

You try your hardest to stop your own body’s frantic shaking, knowing that you have to be the strong one right now. 

You kiss her head over and over. “Shhh, my love. I know.” 

Movement behind Shuri causes you to look up at Namor. He holds two vibranium daggers, both coming from your holster from the weapons wing. One of the two daggers still had blood on it, and you could only guess who’s it was.

You seem to see yourself in 3rd person, dissociating as you quickly realize exactly what’s about to happen. Everyone was gone, you’ve been stripped of everything, he only had 2 more things to take.

There was no winning this. You had to accept not only your fate, but Shuri’s as well. If it was time to meet the ancestors, then so be it.

You still shelter Shuri in your arms as your mind rushes through your entire life. From being born in the outskirts of the Golden City to being sat in the throne of The Citadel; throughout your entire reign, you can’t find one error in your work. Since you were placed in any sort of position of power, you’ve acted out of protection for your country as well as the love of your wife. And that’s what you’ll do now.

You silently hope that Queen Ramonda would be proud of the both of you as you hug Shuri, who is unknowingly weeping her way to her death. You shut your eyes as Namor nears you.

"Ndiyakuthanda, Shuri. (I love you, Shuri.)” You raise her head and kiss her with the most emotion you can conjure up out of yourself. This is the only thing you’d want to be doing in your last moments.

She pulls away, arms still draped around your shoulders. 

"ndiyakuthanda nam. (I love you, too.)"

Desde la vida, until death.

[ao3feed-wandamaximoff]

A Dragon Caught in Your Webs

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/lghYxWM by Chherry_blossom A story about being lost, stumbling into a new world that was not yours. A story of befriending the most unique personalities. A story of you crossing paths with a Dragon. A story of tragedy, resilience and love. A story of you finding your way back home. "The pain of your absence is sharp and haunting, and I would give anything not to know it; anything but never knowing you at all (which would be worse)." - Outer Wilds Words: 1179, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Rivals (Video Game), Marvel Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Lin Lie (Iron Fist), Original Female Character(s), Peni Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Spider-Zero | Master Weaver (Marvel), T'Challa (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Tandy Bowen, Tyrone Johnson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Groot (Marvel), Doctor Steven (Marvel), Clint Barton, Susan Storm (Fantastic Four), Reed Richards, Human Torch, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Jeff the Land Shark (Marvel), Peter Quill, Rocket Raccoon, Mantis (Marvel), Moon Knight (Marvel), Johnny Storm, Logan (X-Men), Shuri (Marvel), Namor of Talokan (Marvel) Relationships: Lin Lie (Iron Fist)/Reader Additional Tags: Marvel References, Original Character(s), Multiverse, Spidersona | Original Character as Spider-Man, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Multiple Crossovers, Incursions (Marvel), Wakanda (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crime Fighting, Story within a Story, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Injury, Major Character Injury, Bad Flirting, Tenderness, Eventual Smut, Smut, Lin Lie Has a Big Dick, Size Difference, Size Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Hand & Finger Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Strength Kink, Love Confessions, Heart-to-Heart, Eventual Happy Ending, Not Beta Read read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/lghYxWM

[ao3feed-peterparker]

A Dragon Caught in Your Webs

by Chherry_blossom A story about being lost, stumbling into a new world that was not yours. A story of befriending the most unique personalities. A story of you crossing paths with a Dragon. A story of tragedy, resilience and love. A story of you finding your way back home. "The pain of your absence is sharp and haunting, and I would give anything not to know it; anything but never knowing you at all (which would be worse)." - Outer Wilds Words: 1179, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Rivals (Video Game), Marvel Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Lin Lie (Iron Fist), Original Female Character(s), Peni Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Spider-Zero | Master Weaver (Marvel), T'Challa (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Tandy Bowen, Tyrone Johnson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Groot (Marvel), Doctor Steven (Marvel), Clint Barton, Susan Storm (Fantastic Four), Reed Richards, Human Torch, Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Jeff the Land Shark (Marvel), Peter Quill, Rocket Raccoon, Mantis (Marvel), Moon Knight (Marvel), Johnny Storm, Logan (X-Men), Shuri (Marvel), Namor of Talokan (Marvel) Relationships: Lin Lie (Iron Fist)/Reader Additional Tags: Marvel References, Original Character(s), Multiverse, Spidersona | Original Character as Spider-Man, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Multiple Crossovers, Incursions (Marvel), Wakanda (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crime Fighting, Story within a Story, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Injury, Major Character Injury, Bad Flirting, Tenderness, Eventual Smut, Smut, Lin Lie Has a Big Dick, Size Difference, Size Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Hand & Finger Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Strength Kink, Love Confessions, Heart-to-Heart, Eventual Happy Ending, Not Beta Read via https://ift.tt/EkwOcUg

[thegreatestsandwich]

Baby, all at once, this is enough (Namor x f!reader)

(Still obsessed with him, don’t judge me)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 574

Summary: You gave him one of the gratest gifts he could have ever asked for.

Warning: Nothing to be honest, just the must pure of purest fluff, I think.

A/N: What can I say? I love him so much that I will write for him to the day I die

Translations:

In yakunaj - My love

Jats'uts - beautiful

In reina - My queen

Meent in ts'áaik teen asab ti' le ba'ax je'el k'áatik, Nib óolal in yaakunaj. - You have given me more than I could ever ask for, thank you my love

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received!

Namor enter quietly to his quarters, not wanting to disturb you if you were resting. He remembered the moment he saw you laying on his bed, so pale and weak, that the thought of loosing you terrified him. He just couldn’t stand seeing you like that. He couldn’t. You were everything, his strength, his heart, his soul. He was a changed man because of you.

You opened your eyes at the sound of him, a smile immediately forming on your face. “Hi.” You whispered.

“In yakunaj.” He kneeled at your side, his hands quickly grabbing yours, kissing your palms. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

You laugh. “I have everything I could ever need at the moment.”

Namor smiled, even after all this time, he waiting for you to ask anything, you would always deny that offer. “You are glowing.” One of his hands left yours and brush away the few strands of hair that glued to your face thanks to the sweat. “Jats'uts.”

“So you are saying I was not beautiful before?” You said, the smile still on your face. Namor shook his head in amusement. “Have you seen them?”

“Not yet.” He kissed your forehead. “I wanted to see you first, needed to make sure you didn’t leave me.”

“As if I could leave you alone.” You whispered back.

As if on cue, Namora entered smiling, two little bundles tucked on her arms. “K'uk'ulkan.” She nodded at Namor, turning quickly to you. “In reina.”

Namor left your side for a moment, walking towards Namora, gently taking away one of the babies. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his son, cradling him as gently as he could. You had given him so much more than he ever expected to have. Much more than he deserved.

Namora soflty place the baby girl on your arms, her fingers tracing the features of the infant with so much wonder before taking her leave, leaving both parents to bond with their children.

He walked to you, sitting on your side. Your head rested on his arm, as he watched both of his children. “Meent in ts'áaik teen asab ti' le ba'ax je'el k'áatik, Nib óolal in yaakunaj.” He kissed your forehead, making you close your eyes. Namor couldn’t help the tears that began falling down on his face, looking back and forth between his children. “I vow to protect them, to protect you.”

You hummed, a bit tired from everything. “You don’t have to vow anything, I know you will do it regardless.” Your tired eyes watched how your husband brushed his hand over your son’s bald head. At that moment, you love him even more than you had before.

“The others want to meet them soon.” Namor whispered against your hair, noticing how your eyes began to close. “I manage to appease them for a little bit, but I am afraid that they will demand to know them soon.”

“I know, Namora didn’t leave my side until they were born, I think she even threatened the midwife when she made a mistake.” You laughed, your eyes finally closed.

Namor hummed in approval. “Remind me to thank her later.” He put his son on the basket, the one that the old women from Talokan had given him before, repeating the action with his daughter. “Rest, in yaakunaj, you have earn it.”

“Stay.” You muttered against his chest.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”