#wakanda forever fluff

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt 1

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language, blood, brief mentions of violence and alcohol

Summary: Upon discovering the unconscious body of a woman floating in the water, you rush to provide aid. Little do you know her people are searching for her, bringing a mysterious man to your door.

A/N: Still very new to writing fanfic (this is literally post number two), but couldn’t get this drabble out of my brain for a week so here it is. Please be kind! 

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

It’s close to dusk when you make your way from town back to your home on the secluded shoreline. With food and supplies in a bag slung over your shoulder, it will be another two or three days before you head back to restock. Although a fair distance, you have come to cherish the 5-mile trek into town. Walking along less traveled paths, visiting with the locals, and admiring the breathtaking nature around you have become some of your favorite things about living on the island. 

As the sun steals its last glimpse over the horizon, the vibrant orange and purple hues stretching across the sky begin to dim. The outline of a small bungalow comes into view about a hundred meters down the way. The warm glow of lanterns you hung before you left shines from the front porch, welcoming your return. 

You stumbled across this place two years ago, abandoned and needing major repair. Maybe it was just your nature to see the beauty and potential in broken things, but as soon as you laid eyes on the residence, your heart was set on it. Wrapped around the front is a porch with stairs that lead down onto a stone path, eventually making its way to the sand. Through the front door, an open entryway and a small kitchen are situated to the left accompanied by a simple sitting area. To the right is a doorway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom. It's a humble home, but you've worked hard to make it comfortable.

As you walk the familiar pathway toward the bungalow, you look out at the ocean. You watch as the water dances its way up the beach with every push and pull of the tide, waves gently lapping their way up onto the sand to make a melodic rhythm. You breathe in the salty air and revel in the beauty the island so generously offers. 

The moment of serenity is interrupted when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice something just past the wave breaks. You squint as you try to focus your gaze to ensure the evening shadows aren't playing tricks on you. A shiver shoots down your spine. 

There's something floating in the water. Only, it's not something. It's someone.

"Oh my god," you say in disbelief, your eyes widening as you feel the air rush from your lungs. 

You react on pure instinct, immediately dropping your bag to the ground and sprinting into the water. Taking a deep breath, you plunge straight into the waves, pumping your arms and kicking your legs until they burn. You swim as hard as you can toward the body as it floats face down. 

When you reach it, you fear the worst. Quickly you turn it over to check for a pulse and discover it is a woman. Her frame is small, but she's solid and muscular. Body adorned with beautiful gold and jade trinkets, she appears to be wearing some sort of woven armor. You also notice her raven-black hair tied in a knot on top of her head, and a mesh-like apparatus covering her nose and mouth.

You carefully cradle the woman's head, lifting it out of the water.

"What the hell??" You mutter in shock. 

Right before your eyes, part of the woman’s face that is now exposed to the air turns a pale pigment of blue. She seems human enough, yet the way the blueness of her skin contrasts with its golden tones underneath the ocean surface makes you question what she might be instead.

All thoughts are pushed aside, however, the moment your attention is drawn to the sight of blood. Two gouges, a laceration across her shoulder, and a wound to her abdomen are seeping red into the salt water. She’s in poor condition and time is not on your side.

Doing your best to grapple her body, you kick your feet and pull the woman back to shore. The tide's added assistance gives you both the momentum needed to propel you toward the beach. As soon as you are able to stand, you turn and haul her body the rest of the way out of the ocean. 

Gently you lay her on a patch of dry sand as you take a moment to catch your breath. Your chest repeatedly rises and falls, your lungs straining for more oxygen. Staring at her now, you feel your heart nearly pounding out of your chest as the rest of her body turns the same shade of blue as her face. You shake your head as you fight back both your fear and curiosity. Whatever the woman's origins, tending to her wounds is your main priority. Help her now, and ask questions later.

Still unconscious, you reach up to remove the apparatus over her face, preparing to administer CPR. Suddenly, her arm shoots out and grasps your wrist, scaring the shit out of you. With unbelievable strength, she restrains any movement your hand could possibly make. Her eyes are wide and intense, pupils dilated.

"Okay, okay, I won't mess with it!" You promise. Her grip slackens as her eyes roll to the back of her head, losing consciousness again.

You rub your wrist, the bruise already forming. Deciding it would be best to move her from behind, you link yourself under her arms and pull her towards your home, unwittingly leaving a trail of sand and blood behind you. 

Making it to the bungalow, you manage to get the woman inside and onto your kitchen table. She's breathing, but it's shallow. Quickly, you grab all the first aid and sewing supplies you can scrounge out of the cabinets. You swipe a bottle of tequila from the shelf above the sink for good measure. Then you get to work to patch her up the best you can.

You clean the wound on her abdomen first, as that's where the bleeding is most prominent. Disinfecting it, applying pressure, then sewing it up, you focus meticulously on the needle in your hand, threading it back and forth through her skin. Once you finish, you fashion a bandage to soak up the excess blood.

The sky is dark as you move on to her shoulder to do the same. It feels like hours have gone by as you continue dressing the woman's wounds. It’s well into the night now, and the only light reflecting off the ocean for miles is from the moon and the lanterns of your home.

That's when he finds you.

A dark figure emerges from the water. He surveys the scene in front of him, eyes filling with rage as his focus dials in on the bloody trail leading up to your door. Spear in hand and body seething with anger, he marches towards your little house. 

Just as you clip the thread used to sew up the woman's shoulder and begin to apply another bandage, you're startled by a deafening CRASH!

Behind you, your front door gets obliterated. Through it, storms a man who quickly steps over the wooden debris that now litters the floor. His presence swallows the room as water drips off of his body. His eyes lock on to yours. 

"Holy shit!" You exclaim in terror. Before you know what is happening, he has made his way over to you, aggressively backing you up against the kitchen cabinets. 

Face-to-face with you now, he holds the tip of his spear to your throat, grazing your skin with it threateningly. He leans in so close you smell the salty ocean spray that covers his dark skin and can practically see your reflection in the cold piece of jade pierced through his septum. His breath is steady, but his glare is wild and ferocious. You raise your hands, attempting to show you mean no harm, only you don't account for the fact that your arms are covered in the woman's blood. His look becomes more menacing. 

"What have you done?" He growls, his voice low and dangerous. A fire is burning in his eyes as they widen with rage. 

"I'm helping her! I'm helping her!" is all you manage to say as you plead your case to the mysterious, hostile stranger. 

His stare remains intense as you feel the growing pressure of the cold metal spear against your throat. Everything inside you is screaming, telling you to close your eyes and that one way or another it will all be over soon. But you don't - you hold your ground and hold his gaze, searching his face for any shred of hope that he will spare your life.

The man's eyes flick over to the woman on the table, taking in more of the scene. As his head turns, you notice his pointed ears and beautifully hand-carved gauges made of jade. He turns his head slowly back to you, looking at you this time as if deliberating in his mind whether or not you are telling the truth. 

Again he leans in close, and you hold your breath as you await his final verdict. 

"You will speak of this to no one." It's not a question. It's a command.

You nod, willing to agree to anything at this point if it means not having your jugular sliced open.

"You will forget this night, and what you have seen."

Again you nod.

He keeps the spear pointed at your throat while carefully backing away toward the table. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as adrenaline pumps through your veins. You don't dare move a muscle.

The man retreats, withdrawing his spear and scooping up the woman who looks so petite in his arms. He carries her through the doorway but stops to look back at you. He says nothing, but his eyes are deadlocked on yours. You can’t describe or decipher the electric sensation that runs through your body at that moment, so you chalk it up to being in shock. 

Finally, he turns to leave, seemingly floating down to the shoreline with the woman securely in his arms. You watch as they disappear into the ocean and the night. 

Left alone, surrounded only by silence, the stinging memory of a blade against your neck, and a buzzing in your chest, you look around the empty kitchen. Blood and first aid supplies cover your table; debris that was once your front door now lays scattered across the floor, a draft gliding its way through your home. 

Your mind is still processing everything that has happened. Physically and emotionally, you are exhausted. 

"Screw it," you say out loud, grabbing the tequila still on the table and taking a swig straight from the bottle. "I'm going to bed."

--

You wake up the next morning as the sun is starting to rise and feel just as exhausted as when you had fallen asleep. Your mind is hazy. Your body is sore. You get up and pull on a fresh shirt and some shorts before making your way out of your bedroom. Groggily you shuffle through the entryway and into the kitchen to greet last night's mess. 

Only a few steps into the kitchen, however, you stop. Blinking a few times, you rub your eyes. On the table, where bloodied gauze, cloths, sewing needles, and the works had been scattered, now sits your bag next to a neat pile of the food and supplies you had gathered from yesterday's trip into town. You look down at your feet to discover a clean, debris-less floor. Moving in reverse, you pace a few steps back into the entryway and turn your head. Stunned, you see a new, beautifully carved wooden door in place of where your old one had been kicked down the night before.

You pinch your temples as you try to convince yourself you're not losing your mind. You move closer to inspect the door. Eyes full of wonder and amazement, you run your fingers down its wooden grooves. The surface is smooth as stone, yet the grain in it gives the material a richness that makes your jaw drop as you admire it. 

Before you can even ask yourself how it was possible, you open the door and your breath catches in your throat. The man from last night is sitting there on your front porch, legs hanging off the edge of it, looking out at the softly illuminated horizon. 

"I apologize about the door." He says, still facing the ocean. 

Fear takes over as you find yourself frozen in his presence. He senses your uneasiness and, still seated on the edge of the porch, turns toward you. He raises one hand to the air as a sign of his peaceful intention.

"I promise I am not here to bring harm to you... or your home," he adds, his eyes trailing toward the doorway. You say nothing, equally stunned and confused by his being there. 

"I am sorry for threatening you," he says, his voice turning somber. "I didn't know what you were doing to her."

"Is she okay?" You ask, finally finding your voice. "Your wife?"

He lets out a sharp chuckle. 

"Namora isn't my wife, she's one of my generals -- my best, in fact. And yes, she is okay, thanks to you."

A general. You avert your gaze, feeling foolish for assuming incorrectly. Suddenly the events of last night take on a different tone than what you had perceived.

"We had been searching for her for two days." The man continues to explain, "When I finally traced her whereabouts here and found her with you, I assumed the worst." He looks back out toward the ocean. "History has not typically been kind to my people in these types of situations."

You feel your chest tighten as the weight of his words sinks in. Your eyes wander from the ground up to the stranger. You watch as beads of salt water forge paths on his skin, rolling from his dark slick hair down the toned muscles of his back. 

"Who... are your people, exactly? Who are you?" You find the courage to ask.

He turns back to look at you, raising an eyebrow in your direction as he considers his answers.

"There are some who know me as K’uk’ulkan." He says thoughtfully. "But most know me as Namor." Pushing himself up to a stand, he continues, "As for my people, that is a discussion for another time." 

Namor walks up to you, and once again you find yourself face-to-face with him. Only this time his presence is not menacing, it's hypnotizing. 

"Thank you," he says softly, "for what you did. It will not be forgotten." 

There's a rich sincerity in his voice. Mesmerized by it, all you can muster in response is a nod of your head. A slight smile pulls at the corners of Namor's mouth as he closely studies your face. The light of the morning sun reflects in his eyes, and where you had only seen brooding darkness before, you now see shimmering flecks of gold. Everything about him is beautiful. 

"You are not what I expected." He says warmly, leaning in closer as if the two of you are sharing a secret. He lingers there a moment longer. Then, all too soon, he nods and turns to head down the stairs of your front porch. As he reaches the end of the stone walkway, he stops before stepping out onto the sand. 

"Remember," he says, repeating his instructions from your encounter last night, only gentler. "Speak of this to no one."  

"Will you be back?" You ask earnestly. You don't know what prompts your question, other than the thought of his departure suddenly pulling at your soul in a way you can't explain.

He turns back to look at you and smiles. You return it with a smile of your own. No words are needed for you to know that somehow, someday, you would see him again.

You watch from the porch as Namor strides out into the water and disappears below the surface. The sun glimmers brilliantly across the waves as they engulf him in their deep abyss. 

[mooncleaver]

My Queen, My Sun and My Sea

talokan once had a queen. one who loved her people with all her heart—with the same heart she had given to her k'uk'ulkan for what felt like millennia ago. but they lost her to the hands of the enemy; it was a tragic tale painted on the walls of the king's mural, the pain searing itself onto his heart uninvited. he rules now with a darkened hole in his chest, fueled by the loss of his true love and a force to protect his people even more. after all, only the most broken people can be great leaders.

pairing: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warnings: bpwf spoilers!! death (i was lowkey evil for that), colonizers, inaccurate translations, nawt very proofread lol

El Niño Sin Amor.

That was a name that echoed deep inside Shuri's head, its bitter aftertaste lingering still; a piece of Namor that she'd just uncovered.

He was an enigma; a powerful being who rose from the sea, unannounced with his presence but has always been there, deep in the waters where he and his kingdom have flourished in the city of Talokan. He had just finished recounting about his and his people's origins, how the colonizers brought a disease that left his ancestors to drink a concoction from a vibranium-infused plant found in an underwater cave to save themselves, turning them into water-breathing individuals; the Talokanil.

She turned to Namor with many questions unanswered, only to see him staring at something with a look akin to pain and longing on one of the surfaces on his murals, caressing the painting with a gentleness she had yet to seen from the god.

She shifted to the side quietly, trying to see what he was gazing at. When Namor bowed his head, Shuri saw a painting of a woman beside his serpent, posing regally with what looked like a staff in her hand.

She wore a beautiful jade and gold headpiece, green and brown feathers lining the outer layer, fading in its design as if the light was shining on them. It towered atop her figure, framing her perfectly like she was always meant to be there. She was adorned in jewelry, from the large, circular green jade plugs that hung from her ears to the tessellated necklace that she wore—a striking amalgamation of gleaming silver beads, plated viridescent tiles to carved gold pendants and everything that complemented her beauty. The woman had a tan clothe wrapped around her body, washes of terracotta and hues of sage and cream woven in stripes on the fabric. She was covered in jewels—just like Namor.

One thing for sure, she must have been of royalty in Talokan. Or a goddess, perhaps. The corks in Shuri's head turned as she tried to figure out where the woman in the mural fit in Namor's story.

"Who is that?" Her question seemed to break him out of his reverie. She could see the way his body tensed at her question, and whether it was because she cut him out of his thoughts of because of what she asked, she didn't know.

It took a quiet moment before Namor answered, looking in deep contemplation with his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his eyes growing darker. The next thing he uttered was so full of emotion that it flooded through the sentence, his voice sounding thicker than blood.

"Leti' ka'ach in reina. My queen. In k'iino' ka, in k'áak'náabo'."

(She was my queen. My sun and my sea.)

For a second her words refused to make it out of her mouth. The Wakandan princess' mind didn't wonder to Namor having a queen.

The Namor now wasn't like the Namor she had met in the shores of her land with her mother. The Namor now felt like a broken man who would go the farthest lengths to protect his people. With every counting second of being in this underwater cave, Shuri seemed to discover more and more about the man, slowly laying bare the walls he had built around himself.

"Is she-"

"She was.. she was killed by surface dwellers." The god cut off, as if he couldn't bear to hear the words coming out from someone else's lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and Shuri felt the sea grow quiet for a split second. It was like it remembered their lost queen.

He took a deep breathe before speaking out and if one were to listen closely, they could hear the slight shakiness in his voice, like talking about this particular incident tore his wounds open again. "Years ago the surface dwellers tried to find Talokan. They were told of an underwater city filled with glittering gold and diamonds, with a palace of precious metals whose value exceeds all else."

"They are greedy, always taking and taking what is not theirs—beasts who ravage land with no mind of its consequences. She was there where the land met the waters along with the young ones, and those monsters crossed paths with them." Namor shook his head, disdain present in the way he moved his body and his words.

"The first thing they did they raised their weapons, pointing it at her when all she did was offer them her hands. She tried to speak to them, to negotiate with peace and kindness. But they are blinded with hatred." He spat that word out and Shuri almost flinched at his tone.

"With no mercy they killed her and the children. They took their lives as if it was nothing to them."

"When I emerged to the surface.. she was already dying."

One of your handmaids had been the one to inform him of the situation, barging into his mural room right when he got back from a trip with a growing panic in her eyes as she screamed in anguish, 'Le reina! Le reina!'

"I turned to those murderers and treated them with how they treated my wife and the children; I killed them with no mercy."

The feathered serpent god will never forget the possessing rage he felt when he saw what those killers did to his wife. Without a single doubt in his movements he flew towards them like a strike of lightning and sliced their heads off before they could even scream.

Something that would always haunt his dreams was seeing his beloved die in his arms, unable to do anything, running out of time.

Sometimes, if the K'uk'ulkan thought too much about it, he could still feel the way he held you in his arms, the jarring coldness of your body that surged across his skin like a bloodthirsty frostbite.

Your hair fell in a pool beneath your head, encrusted with blood that he didn't know where it came from. There was too much, too much of it that slithered around your body. With trembling hands he supported the back of your neck, bringing your face closer as he cradled your cheeks in his palms.

"Ma', ma', in puksi'ik'al.. jaap wicho'ob, láayli' ma' jach a súutuko'," he pleaded, heart racing a thousand beats at your weakened state. His fingers stroked your temples, tracing the skin from your eyebrows to the high point of your cheek and you swore you would forever savor the feel of his skin on yours.

(No, no, my heart.. open your eyes, it's not your time yet,)

"It's al-..right, in amado." You choked out, holding the hand that held your face and leaning onto his palms with whatever energy you had left in you. It was getting harder to open your eyes or even speak, the hole in your chest rampaging your body like an unquenched beast.

"In ku. Let go, K'ukulkan. Ts'o'ok in meentik le ba'ax táan des-.. destinado in beetik waye'.. je'el u páajtal in je'elel bejla'e'.."

(They call me. I've done what I was meant to do here.. I can rest now..)

He ignored your terrifying acceptance and gently quieted you, pressing his lips onto your forehead in deep fervor. "Save you words, in yaakunaj-"

Namor's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest when he felt your hand go slightly limp, desperately taking it above the crook of his neck, right where the ends of his jaw met his ears. The king held onto you so tightly, trying to keep you grounded with him in the world of the living as if the warmth of his body would spread life to your decaying one. He saw you smile peacefully, like his touch rejuvenated you for a single beat, slowly yet surely stroking the tip of his pointed ears as you've always done whenever you had the chance to. It was a small act of affection that Namor fell weak to, and he couldn't contain the abrupt cry that fell from his lips at the familiar gesture.

"K'a'as a puksi'ik'al yéetel a-.. a yaakunaj, in ajawo'," but even then your stubborn and insistent nature persevered. You spoke with only him and your love for him in mind, silently telling him that this will not be the end. That despite after all this when you will no longer be there to tell him just how beloved and brave he is, he should still remember what he had learned—what he had taught you. You hoped that it would keep him grounded and true, still fierce but with compassion and empathy.

(Remember your heart and your love, my king,)

"In.. yaakunech," and you let our your final breathe, the light in your eyes no longer shining as you stared up into nothing. At the least you looked content to pass to the afterlife in your husbands arms, a gentle lift on the corner of your lips to signify that you've moved on. But along with your departure you tore apart of Namor that he didn't think could ever be replaced—left him with a half-ripped heart and as a shell of the man he once was.

(I love you)

Now, kneeling on the prickling pearly sand tainted with weeping carmine, he was not a god. He was not the king of a powerful underwater nation, he was not a lethal mutant, a hero, a villain, or a protector. No, he was just a man. A man whose heart had been punctured with a hole in the shape of his beloved.

He screamed at the world with the voice of someone who had just lost everything, scorning the surface dwellers with a burning pit of anger and vengeance in his blackened heart. It echoed around the area, bleeding onto every rock, every blade of grass and every tree with his promise of death. The sea grew restless, mirroring the raging currents in his soul.

Namor choked a cry, closing your eyes as his hands shook with grief and pain, body threatening to collapse under his heartbreak. He brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead against yours while he scrunched his eyes closed, disbelieving and mourning of the loss of his beloved. Because no matter how much he begged, how much he cried for you, you would never come back to him, never blessing him with that delicate smile on your face again. The god stayed there for what felt like hours and days, whispering sweet goodbyes, harrowing sobs and promises to avenge you.

When he carried your cold body to Talokan, the people could only stare in shock and despair over the loss of their darling queen. In their eyes you were one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, not just because of your position, but because of your compassion and your love—something that knew no bounds.

It was a painful and gut-wrenching experience, to bury his own wife. It brought him back to the time where he had to do the same to his own mother, to cover her in clothe and put a piece of maize inside her mouth.

"The surface dwellers have taken so much. Talokan's queen, our home and our freedom. I will not let them do so again." Namor had a scathing look in his eyes, a latent tone of tiredness from facing a world that only took from him.

"She must have been an amazing queen and a strong woman." Shuri could only utter these words with a solemn expression on her face, unable to reply to such vulnerability of someone she had considered a dangerous enemy. Despite that.. there was an underlying empathy between the two. Shuri understood him. She knew the pain of losing someone you love.

"She was." A calm visage eventually spread around his face as he looked up at the glorious mural depicted on the walls of the room. "She had the biggest heart and the kindest soul."

Namor couldn't help but get lost in his memories of his beautiful wife. He speaks no lies when he describes you. You were the people's queen, as what the Talokanil called you. You'd always visit the people, play games with the children and scour the underwater markets that sold all kinds of trinkets and foods. Whenever the people needed you you were always there, willing to help them without a second glance as you opened your heart to them all.

After you death, whenever he would swim around Talokan and talk to his people—laughing and joking around with them—there would be this.. serene melody inside his heart, a gentleness that ran through his veins. Namor would feel the water pulsing on the pads of his skin and he'd always take a moment to close his eyes to relish the feeling. Then a smile would make it onto his face—the kind of smile that you would always tell him to show more often. His people felt it too, like a warm embrace to their soul, as if you were watching over them, still caring about them even when you were gone.

It was not only to Talokan's people, but to the ocean's animals too.

If there was one thing about his queen, it was that you had a deep affinity with the marine animals. Whenever the king couldn't find you anywhere in your room or in the palace halls, Namor would only smile to himself and swim to the clearing of the sea just outside of Talokan, watching his wife croon along the whales and the orcas, taking care of them as if your love spoke a thousand languages.

"In ch'ujuk, ko'oten paakat!" You would shout, gleefully waving your hand up in the air with no care in the world.

(My sweet, come and look!)

Sometimes he would only stay back and watch you with eyes so tender that it looked like he was entirely captivated by you. By your voice, your laughter, your smile; your everything. Other times, Namor would be too taken by you (as he always was), deciding to join you play with the creatures that you'd called 'your babies'. Whirling and chasing them around them felt like dancing in the water and Namor was too in love to ever deny you of your little joy.

Even now whenever the whales would call out to the sea, or when the orcas whistled and clicked along, he could still hear your radiant laughter singing along with them and oh how he longed to hear that sound again, to hear the melody of the ocean in its fullness.

You were simply the glue to Talokan; everyone adored the queen.

Until now, your throne still sat next to his, the jade and vibranium never ceasing to glow. Every time he sat there, watching over his people and celebrating his kingdom with defiant shouts of "L'ik'ik Talokan" he would always remember your face, remember the proud look you had when you would raise your fist to your chest along with everyone. Your memory will never fade in the heart of Talokan, always lingering in the brightest places, comforting during troubling times, because you will always be a precious piece of the kingdom that neither he nor his people would forget.

If he brought the sun to his people, you were the sun to him.

"You and I, we are not so different, princess." He broke his train of thought.

"Those people only see us as threats because they know we are powerful. They will not stop until they have what they want. It is a danger to my kingdom and my people—a threat to your people too."

Finally, Namor turned his head to face Shuri, a determined aura lingering in his voice and in his expression. She felt compelled to stare back straight into his eyes, the conviction in his tone like a true king. "And so I offer you again."

"Join me, and we will never have to see our people suffer, to see our loved ones suffer. We will no longer mourn our losses and bury the dead for unjust cruelty."

"Together, we will watch the world burn."

lawd this man singlehandedly got me out of a writing slump like.. making a fic with angst + namor = too easy 😩💳💥

this is my first time writing for him, so i hope it was okay! im so in love with him and i wanted to contribute my own piece to the fandom.

also, i'm pretty sure the yucatec mayan was not properly translated, so i apologize from my heart for the inaccuracies. please tell me if i have to fix anything!

dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers and @rpinkling

tags: @bloatedandlonly

[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.”

[pinkwright]

if u rlly wanna kiss me | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — bestfriend!shuri x bar singer!y/n

trope — best friends 2 lovers

inspo — ride the dragon by fka twigs

warnings — shuri’s touchy, dom!shuri, fingering (r!receiving), light choking but also not rlly choking, reader is easily embarrassed (a lil projecting yk), they’re best friends, shuri is a lil mean n condescending, verbal kink (?), humiliation kink (again projection my apologies), slight love kink lol, dirty talk but its sweet imo, n i think that’s it.

a/n — completely forgot about taglists but u can send me an ask to be on it ! for now i'm just tagging the inspos n some of my fav accs <3

⟢˚ @rxcently @saintwrld @shurismainbxtch @playgurlxoxo @verachii @dejaonline @mbakuetshurisprincess @ppawmpkin

ஜ

if you really wanna kiss me, kiss me quickly (do it quickly, do it, do it, do it quickly, do it, do it)

“thank you everyone”, you laugh. your voice rings through the area as the claps ring out, cheers echoing through your favourite bar to perform at. a cheeky smile is spreading across your cheeks and your heart is pumping with adrenaline.

your heart races as you make your way down the stairs, looking into the dark eyes of your best friend as she holds her hand out for you to grasp. “brilliant,” she firmly pulls you close. “as always, s’thandwa.” murmuring the words against the shell of your ear.

the blood rushes to your face, shielded by the depths of the tones of your skin as you flash her a quick shy smile and clear your throat, muttering her thanks under your breath. you let her walk you to your dressing room, exchanging greetings with both familiar and unfamiliar faces, as you take to trying to ignore shuri’s warm firm press on the skin of your lower back.

the soft neo-soul track dampens with the soft click of your dressing room door, and you go to gather your belongings, you stop to reapply your lip gloss and lock eyes with shuri in the mirror. she’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed across her torso, and you find she’s watching you like a cat does her prey.

“you’re so devastatingly gifted, you know that?” she sings in that low alluring voice of hers. the beating of your heart rings in your ears as her words settle into a tight ball in the depths of your stomach. you can hear yourself giggle nervously as you avert your eyes, muttering out a weak, “stop”, as you put your lip gloss and the last of your stuff in your bag.

shuri laughs softly with a smirk on her pretty lips, pushing off the door as you approach her, “you never could take a compliment.” the roll of your eyes prompts her to laugh louder as she opens the door for you to make your way to her car. the ignition rumbles into a start then she's reversing into the route to your apartment.

she hums softly, embarrassingly, to your own track and you take the opportunity to admire her. shuri’s and your relationship was hard to describe; while traditionally you were best friends – the pet names, the touches, and the way she spoke to you, not to mention the constant tension, all said something completely different. the logical part of you defined it as shuri’s interest in you but the sensing side of yourself denied that idea vehemently – there was just no way the queen of wakanda, the black panther, and quite frankly, the light of your life was in love with you.

“y/n, baby, you good?”

you snap out of your thoughts and find that you’re parked outside of your building. shuri’s dark eyes are intense as they roam over your seated figure and you smile softly, definitely not into you, “yeah, are you coming up tonight?” you blink at the insinuation in your words. opening the door to jump out and keeping it slightly ajar to hear her hum of agreement.

before you can get pulled into your thoughts, your loft apartment door is closing and you're throwing yourself on your couch with a deep sigh. shuri places herself right next to you, her hand sliding over your thigh as she guides your leg over hers. your foot falls between her man-spread legs and she essentially draws you right against her, inadvertently spreading your legs as your head lulls to rest in the dip of her neck. she sighs as she mindlessly traces patterns on your heated skin, and you try, desperately, to tame the fire growing under your skin.

the silence is filled with a tension you can feel with every expanse of your lungs, every beat of your heart, and every pump of blood through your veins but also carries that familiar comfort and calm that comes with being around shuri. her hand switches from brushing along your inner calf to the muscles of your inner thigh, and your breath hitches as you subconsciously drop your legs open that much more – just enough for her to notice, surely. her hand pauses and you freeze at the chuckle that leaves her lips, moving into her form, as if you could disappear into her if you pressed close enough.

“something you want to say to me, y/n?”

your head draws further into her neck as you stammer out her name, your ribs feeling like cages to the heat overflowing within you, “i think you know.” your voice shakes as you hear her let out a click of disapproval.

“i can’t give you anything if you don’t tell me what i want to hear.” her voice has the condescending lure of a siren disparaging her victim. you whimper, she's being so mean. slowly, you bring yourself to straddle her and drop your gaze to her lips to avoid that look in her eyes, “you’re acting dumb on purpose.” you whine out in utter humiliation.

her hands grip your waist to still your gyrating hips, pressing you into her lap, “i need to hear you say it, angel. can you do that for me?” her lips are brushing your cheekbone, and she's squeezing your skin.

your lips part, wanting to hear more, and feel more, “shuri, please… please i need you.” you're breathless. the words spill out as desperate gasps of air and you're embarassed by how wet that makes you. you felt like you couldn't breathe, the heated atmosphere deliciously suffocating.

you feel her smirk spread as her hands slip down your thighs and play with the hem of your skirt, she hums as one hand makes its way to exactly where you need her. the other wrapping around your neck to bring your gaze to hers, she hates when your eyes aren’t on hers. you exhale a stuttered breath as you look into the intensity of them, she looks like she wants to ruin you. your pussy clenches as your hips buck, every breath shared between the both of you fuelling the pool between your legs.

those slender fingers slip into your panties and immediately slide over your clit, and you're moaning out. shuri's bringing your lips right against her own, not kissing you, just holding you there — breathing air into and stealing the air from your lungs, simultaneously giving you life, and taking it away from you.

“that’s it, my pretty fucking baby, let me feel you.”

her voice is coaxing you towards the ocean of your release and guiding you to rock your hips in time with her fingers. you’re whimpering, pleading with her to give you more, and more – you want everything she has to give. she chuckles, that condescending lilt humiliating you but simultaneously adding to the tightening in your core, she slips a finger into your entrance and you’re crying out into the swell of her lips, “please, please, please… shuri”.

“tell me you love me, s'thandwa, and i'll take you there.”

she starts to circle the swell of your clit with the pad of her thumb, your eyes momentarily shut, and all you can see, hear, and breathe is her. the exchange of breath, the coo of her voice, and suddenly you're insatiable — you need her. if you were more coherent you would have heard the mirrored desperation laced in her tone, like she needed to hear that to continue living, needed you to fuel her existence.

the warmth from the humiliation of feeling so exposed pushes you further, as she gives you a second finger and presses right against your spot. your hips are stuttering as you wetly gasp out her name. “i know, i know angel, that’s my spot, isn’t it? right there hm? that’s where you need me?”

your form twitches at her words, your pussy clenching around her fingers, drawing her deeper into you, wanting her home, “i love you; i love you so much, please shuri, please.” you’re crying out. your hand is gripping the arm working your dripping pussy, your hips canting to the pretty melody of her thrusts, and her eyes are boring into yours as you beg her to bring you over. her grip around your throat tightens slightly, her thumb brushing up and down the tendon, as she curls her fingers to brush your spot, her spot, and you’re stilling.

“ndiphilele s'thandwa sam' (come for me, my love).”

then you’re sobbing out your orgasm, your body is shaking violently, feeling shuri’s sharp intake of breath against your lips as she works and talks you through it. you’re panting into her mouth, tears collecting on the lashes of your shut eyes as you try to breathe through the aftershocks. you feel shuri’s praises rather than hear them, her hands caressing the bare expanse of your ribs, “there you go. breathe for me, nkosazana, come back to me.”

when you come to, shuri’s gazing at you so deeply that you’re forced to slightly pull back and look down at her lips again, “you haven’t kissed me”, you whisper. you roll your lips in embarrassment when she just tilts her head and smirks. “stop," you drag the syllable out, "i literally told you i love you while i was coming on your fingers, nigga. and you still haven’t kissed me.” you whine as you slightly push her shoulder.

“i love you, y/n. ungumoya endiphefumelayo, ungulukhanyo lwam' (you are the air that I breathe, you are [the giver of] my sight). the sole bearer of my soul," she pauses. her hand rises to gently grip yours, and bring it to rest on the beating of her heart, "and look at me. i need you to know that above all of that, uluvuko wam', sthandwa (you are [the cause of] my resurrection, love).”

she looks at you seriously, unrelentingly, wanting her words to sink into the crevices of your skin to carve themselves within your psyche, and your eyes instantly fill with tears as you whisper her name with a tremble.

a squeeze of your waist and she’s leaning in as you shakily exhale and, in a moment, her lips are on yours, moving in synchronicity, melting over yours like the sun into the horizon. shuri’s kissing you like she wants to breathe you in, trapping you in place so you have no choice but to take and take everything she’s giving you.

she loves you.

do it quickly ‘fore the end of the song, waiting a minute for your love.

ஜ

[axailslink]

Dumbass Question

Shuri x FEM reader

Summary: out of boredom you ask Shuri what she considers to be quite an idiotic question.

"Are you cheating on me?" You ask walking down the lab stairs Shuri turns her bright eyes to you. Riri glances at you both before slowly walking up the lab stairs "and that's my cue that's my cue"

Shuri looks at you as if you're crazy "I'm sorry...am I cheating on YOU?" She asks to make sure she heard the words right the first time you nod she blinks a couple of times as if it will help register your words in her mind. "Have you seen yourself? Seriously why would I cheat on you? I'd have to seriously not be in the right mind...you cook for me come and visit me while I'm working and never complain even though I'm always busy you just enjoy the time that we are allowed together. Have you been smoking with Riri or something? Must have thinking crazy thoughts like that I should flick you in your head" you laugh and hug her she looks down at you still confused "would you cheat on me if someone prettier approached you?" She has had enough and slaps the back of your head causing you to wince "what was that for?" She laughs "stupid question number two you got a third?" You look at her and think for a moment she waits prepared to hit you in the head again. "That's what I thought coming in here with stupid thoughts this is a lab not American news" she shakes her head and rubs your shoulder "now move over a bit so I can see if these results match the last ones I just collected." She continues mumbling disbeliefs to herself as you kiss her cheek and walk back up the lab stairs you and Riri catch each other's eyes before bursting into laughter. "I told you not to ask her that dumbass question"

[droopycoquette]

Heat Me Up || Shuri Udaku x Black!Reader

Summary: After Shuri becomes the queen, she needs some love from her lover and you need heat from her.

Warnings: !!!Wakanda Forever Spoilers!!!, black!reader, avenger!reader, power play, top!shuri, smut, oral sex, thigh riding, fluff

Word Count: 2.7k

A/n: I got this fantastic idea from @kram6496 , I edited it a bit so that it would fit a black reader but the inspiration for it came from them <3 Also the picture is from @dirtyduane

Phrases: Inbazana-girl || Sthandwa-my love || Le intombazana izoba kukufa kwam-This girl will be the death of me || gugu’lami-my treasure || ubungangamsha bakho - Your Majesty || Nkosazana-princess || Ndingubani igama lam - what's my name

|*|

You were covered in blankets, animal pelts, and anything else that might bring you some warmth. Life in the Jabari mountains was harsh, you weren’t used to this kind of blistering cold. Even in America, winters were not like this. As a liaison for the Avengers and as princess Shuri’s lover, you had no choice but to stay after Namor’s attack. You wanted nothing more than to remain by the princess’s side, offering your support and love. However, all you could do right now was wait for Shuri, Nakia, and Riri to return to the mountains.

Shuri had begged you to remain in the mountains as a form of protection for her people, reassuring you that if anything were to happen you’d be the first to know. You felt your heart clench at the idea of the synthetic heart-shaped herb doing damage to your lover. There were so many things that could go wrong.

Internal Bleeding, chemical poisoning, blindness, heart failure, the list goes on. And you wouldn’t be there to care for her.

You took a deep breath trying to calm your racing nerves, you relaxed your fist and as the lion’s pelt fell from your shoulders you were met with a bone-chilling breeze that made your teeth chatter and your nipples pebble against your shirt. You found yourself missing the warm bed that you and Shuri shared, although the Jabari tribe did everything to make sure you were comfortable the bed lacked Shuri’s smell of jasmine and cacao butter.

“Damn you M’baku,” you muttered under your breath racing to grab the pelt. “Who in their right mind would stay here willingly.”

“Aww is my little American cold,” a voice giggled.

“Shuri,” you gasped running to her, forgetting the teeth-chattering temperature. “You’re okay! Thank god.”

“Yes, I told you. You should have more faith in me, my love.”

As you clashed with her, you failed to notice the black suit. You were hit with small knife-like, icy pains as your skin came into contact with her.

“What the-”

You finally noticed what she was wearing: a skin-tight vibranium suit outlining her thin, muscular frame. You also took in what was paining you, her suit was littered with metal, metal that was cold to the touch.

“Can you take that thing off so I can hug you properly,” you huffed.

She smirked, licking her lips, “I would think that you would enjoy feeling me in this.”

Her hands found your waist and her newfound strength didn’t miss you. Her grip was, not painful, but stronger. You doubt she even noticed. You moved your hands from her chest to her neck, placing a small peck on her cheek, one that she leaned into, unconsciously seeking you.

“My love, in any other situation I would pounce on you but I’m freezing. Do you see how ashy I am? No matter how much lotion I put on this cold fights against,” you complained. “On top of that-”

“So your cold,” she deadpanned lovingly with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m fucking freezing,” you whined, jumping up and down.

She sighed and in the blink of an eye, her suit disappeared, leaving her in skin-tight, black performance gear. She could now feel your pebbled nipples against her body, she could feel the goosebumps littering your skin, and she could also properly feel your ass.

“My poor little princess,” she pouted sarcastically, groping and kneading you, before placing a kiss on your forehead and trailing down to kiss your neck, her hands coming up to hold your upper back.

“Perhaps there’s a way we can heat each other up,” she smirked before walking toward the bed.

Her hips swayed in a newfound grace and the skin-tight clothing allowed you to follow her frame perfectly. You followed behind dutifully, taking off your shirt and bonnet as you approached her. Your chest began to rise and fall quicker following the increased speed of your heart and, despite the frigid temperatures, you felt a familiar heat enter your abdomen.

“Come on my princess,” the new queen commanded as she sat on the bed with her back against the wall.

Her eyes never left you and as you crawled to her, placing yourself on her lap, you couldn’t help but shiver. Before, you were stronger, physically at least. Now, with the strength of the Black Panther, Shuri matched you, possibly even beat you, in pure strength and that made the tingles spread from your spine to your core faster than ever.

You felt her hands run through your hair, forcing you to kiss her. Your tongues clashed and you could practically taste the coffee she drinks every day. You could feel her curls against your forehead, tickling your skin and comforting you, reminding you that this was yours. She was yours. Her tongue continued to twirl around yours, hungrily searching for something. While the heat rose and the breaths quickened, the warmth from your mouths created small clouds of condensation that made Shuri’s heart quicken in anticipation. The smell of cocoa butter and jasmine filled your nose and as saliva dribbled down your chin, your hands reached down in between you, trying to find the hem of her shirt.

“Shit,” you whimpered, as her left hand gripped your braids and pulled.

“What do you think you’re doing,” she panted, catching her breath. “Hmm?”

Her left hand stayed in your hair while the right one caressed your waist. Holding you close, breathing in your scent, while feeling your chest rise and fall against her was one of the queen’s favorite things.

“I want to see you,” you groaned, your hands still on her waist, too scared to move them.

“Mmm,” she groaned, kissing your neck. “You know what I want, sthandwa?”

“What,” you gasped, as you felt her flick your nipples.

“I want to see you fall apart on my thigh.”

Sealing her request, she placed you on her thigh and leaned against the wall, relaxing. When you stayed still in bewilderment the new Black Panther grew impatient, smacking your ass. As it jiggled against her thigh Shuri felt a wave of pleasure shoot through her.

“Fuck,” you whined, feeling the slick, expensive polyester against your silk shorts as you moved.

“Come on,” Shuri groaned. “You know how I like it, baby.”

She gripped your hips, clawing at your thin pants.

“Bast help me. Dressing like a whore and wondering why you’re so fucking cold,” she gritted out before allowing her mouth to grab ahold of one of your nipples.

“Shuri,” you gasped, hips stilling to arch your back.

“What’s my name,” she growled, pulling your hair once more. “Move your hips baby.”

Your slick seeped through your pants as the coil in your stomach began building. Your hips whined into her thigh and your hands dug into her shoulders, searching for support. You felt her hands rubbing up and down your sides as she whispered Xhosa into your ear. Fire began to spread through your fingertips and your toes, slowly creeping up toward your spine. Your palms dug into Shuri’s shoulders before your nails curled and began digging too.

"Ndingubani igama lam," she whispered, her grip on your braids tightening even more.

“My queen,” you whimpered, feeling your eyes roll back.

Shuri relished in watching you get off. She loved how your nipples stuck out when you arched your back, she loved how breathy your whines got when you were about to cum, and she loved how frustrated and pouty you became when she decided to be mean. Most importantly she loved that all this came from her, every sensation you relished couldn’t be felt without her being there, without her holding you. She gazed at your erotic figure and felt her stomach tighten in bliss.

“I want you. I want to taste you. Fuck,” you begged, the feeling of her body making you high. “Please. Please let me taste it.”

Shuri hissed at your words. With her hands on your waist, she could feel your muscles contracting and relaxing, trying to get a release. Your gasps and moans went straight from her ears to her core. She watched, arms holding you close, as your head tipped back, your stomach quivering, breath leaving your lips in small puffs of steam. She listened while your moans got louder, hearing her name get whinier, her breathing becoming faster as if syncing with your body. She felt you as your muscles moved, as your delightful juices seeped through her pants, watching while your breasts jiggled in front of her.

“Come on baby,” she pushed, wrapping her hands around your neck, bringing you closer so she could whisper in your ear. “Give me one, I know you can do that for me. You want to taste me, don’t you? You want my pussy in your mouth? Then cum all pretty for me, intombazana.”

Red hot explosions entered your bloodstream and coursed throughout your body at her words. Shuri always knew how to get you over the edge, her beautiful accent winding you up and breaking you down in the most pleasurable ways.

“That’s it,” she whimpered. “Fuck.”

Your hips stilled finally and you felt a thankfulness enter your chest as Shuri allowed you to catch your breath. Time slowed as she looked at you, fucked out and pleasured by her. You didn’t realize she was staring until you felt her lips on yours.

Your tongues were locked once again, sucking and twirling around each other. Your fingers worked quickly, finding the hem of her shirt and pulling up, careful not to let it catch on her earrings. As you pulled up, your knuckles grazed her silky smooth skin, luxuriously cared for with body butters and oils only royalty could buy. You wasted no time in attaching yourself to one of her nipples causing her to arch her back into you. Your tongue flicked and swirled around her perky bud while teasing the other one with your fingers.

“Le intombazana izoba kukufa kwam,” she breathed out repeatedly as her hips rolled, trying to find some friction.

She gripped your waist once again and pushed herself down, laying against the pillows. As she moved, her thigh grazed your core once more making your abdomen clench at the sudden overstimulation.

“Pleasure your queen, gugu’lami” Shuri groaned, watching you with hooded eyes.

Your heart fluttered at her command, wanting nothing more than to see her relaxed. You moved in between her legs, gripping her pants and placing a kiss above her belly button before quickly stripping her. 

“I would want nothing more, ubungangamsha bakho,” you grinned, kissing her right ankle.

As you looked down at her you could see her hazy eyes, gazing up at you through her beautiful curly hair. A simple, silver anklet you had gotten her lay loose around her ankle, shocking your lips with the coolness of it. 

Coming down and kissing her through her underwear, you licked and nipped at the flesh hiding underneath the fabric, smiling when you felt her legs on your shoulders.

“I want to hear you speak Xhosa more often, my love,” the young queen preened as she arched her back. “You coul- fuck!”

You pushed her underwear to the side and made direct contact with her core, placing an open mouth kiss on her slit. 

“I could what, baby,” you smirked softly before licking her clit, feeling yourself salivate at the taste, before you wrapped your hand around her right thigh.

Shuri jumped at the cold rings on your finger, the thin bands providing a small shock to her system. She could feel the promise ring she had given you dig into her flesh, making her see stars. Her Majesty couldn’t finish her sentence even if she tried, the words lost in her brain. No matter how brilliant or smart she is, you had a way of making her go dumb.

She could feel the pleasure building up at the base of her spine and, as you looked up, you could see the steam leaving her mouth, her chest rising then falling in short bursts. Her head was tipped back and her hands gripped the pillows beside her while her toes curled against your back. Her juices and your saliva began to run down your chin and onto the bed, creating a vulgar wet spot between her legs.

“What would people think,” you started. “If they saw that I could taste the glorious Black Panther. How lucky would they think I am.”

You got high off of the thought. That you: a young black-American woman, got to see the Queen of Wakanda at her most vulnerable. That you got to have her cum dripping from your mouth. That you had her heart.

You could feel Shuri’s legs begin to flex, her newfound strength allowing her to truly suffocate you. Small whines left her lips as you continued to lap at her clit, fingers gripping your braids in an attempt to force you closer to her.

“Don’t be a brat today, Nkosazana. I swear, my love if you stop right now,” she paused to whine when you finally pushed your fingers into her. “I won’t let you cum till your fucking American holiday about - hah.”

Your fingers dug into her g-spot with laser precision, the idea of being a brat and edging her had crossed your mind but, the idea of her falling apart after so much stress had you biting your lip and crossing your legs.

Her hips began to roll into your tongue, legs spreading farther, her hands buried in your hair, trying to get her release faster.

The feeling of her using you like this had your clit throbbing and your heart beating.

Use me. Use me! USE ME!

It was all you could think as she rode your face to completion.

Shuri’s pleasure increased tenfold when she saw your face. She knew what you were thinking the moment your eyes rolled back, the moment you gripped her thighs to pull her closer to your face. The pleasure in her abdomen burned and simmered as she watched you, before boiling over into her arteries. Heat shot to her brain and made her legs close around your face. She came without warning. Your hands tightened around her thighs as you watched her face. Mouth open and eyes closed, hair draped on her forehead, mixing with her eyelashes. Drool began to leave the corners of her mouth before she closed it and swallowed. Hard.

Your eyes followed her throat before returning to look at her face.

“Get up here, gugu’lami,” Shuri smiled, before it quickly become a frown. “Wai-ah!”

Your mouth returned to her slit, lapping up the juices that leaked, evidence of her orgasm. You licked until you were sure that it was all gone and none was wasted, before coming up for air.

“You brat,” she glared at you, still between her legs, arms now resting on her stomach.

The small, cool-toned light that made it into the room, hit Shuri’s skin beautifully, giving it a shine like silver. Her lips, slightly parted, were lustfully swollen, proof of your lips on hers.  You were so busy drinking in her beauty that you didn’t notice the way she was looking at you. Love shone in her eyes as she found comfort in your warmth.

“I had to make sure it was all gone, would you have left any,” you glared back playfully, placing a kiss on her torso.

Shuri’s fingers wandered into your hair as she continued to gaze at you lovingly. Watching how content you looked with just being with her. It was in these moments when Shuri was reminded how much you meant to her, how much she loves you.

“When this is all done,” Shuri swallowed. “I’m gonna marry you.”

|*|

A/n: Please leave me feedback, I really want to improve so tell me something you liked or something that could be worked on <3

[jeromeswife]

namor’s favorite sleeping positions

With you, Namor would change his sleeping positions depending on his mood and day. But he’d usually be the big spoon because he loves pressing his chest against your pack, preferably when your shirt is off

He loves being the big spoon because he is so damn protective of you. If anything happened to you, he would wage war on whoever he pleased to. Even end up taking on the entire world for you.

If you guys were in the cave or in a hut on the beach, he would get into the pretzel position. The feeling of your soft breaths and and lips gently touching his pecks. Oh god, that made him feel satisfied and happy. He would love to do it when it’s raining.

Namor just loves cuddling with you, especially since he was without love his whole life until he found you. You brought love and light back into his life. And he was gonna protect it no matter what.

[syrma-sensei]

→ Love Underwater.

gif credit.

pairing: namor of talokan x queen!reader.

rating: fluff.

warning: spoilers for black panther: wakanda forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[haechvn]

Dating Shuri Udaku Headcanons

Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader

Warning: Fluff, Angst and Smutteroni

Summary/Request: pls do something that has to do with how it’s like to date shuri ! it can include fluff, angst, smut ( if you’re comfortable w that ), etc. with fem!reader <3 thank u for doing gods work !!!

Word Count: 0.87k

Author’s Note: Thank you for the request Anon! Working on multiple request simultaneously so here's one that's short and sweet. I want Shuri to be my girlfriend ong

Taglist :  @melodykissess, @blackhottie25, @tonakings, @coalmistyy, @szalipcombo, @prettyluhlaiiii, @yelenabelovasgff, @callmeoncette, @clqrosmgc

Fluff

Constantly staring in your eyes as a way to let you know that she is always there and present with you. 

whenever you walk into a room, she’ll grab your hands and kiss all of your knuckles will she stares into your eyes 

Never lets anyone talk to you in a disrespectful manner

Puts you before anything and anybody bc you are all that she has left. You have been with her through thick and thin and she feels like her owns you all the best parts of herself

Names science experiment after you and your name nicknames she gives you

Speaking of, she loves to call you princess, my love and lover

melts when you call her kitten, i wonder why

Devote as much time as she can reminding you of your gorgeous looks on a daily basis because “Bast, how did I get so lucky with such a beauty like you. I just wanna eat you up!” Then she does. 

NECK KISSES. CHEEK KISSES. SHOULDER KISSES. HAND KISSES.

She enjoys kissing you more than breathing no cap.

Loves tickling you from behind so she can kiss your neck and feel that ass on her–

Always flying you out when you feel upset or down or just because.

five star hotels, exquisite cuisine from all around the world and anything designer is yours

Shuri may be a Princess but she is definitely you sugar mommy holyshit

if you cry for any reason at all, sends $200k and spends the rest of the day with you so you can feel better

Treats you with the utmost respect and loyalty.

never has wandering eye, not that anyone else could ever get her attention

Lets you in on who she is fully and trusts you with every fiber of her being

Never puts you in harm’s way and is always by your side when you need it.

She is very precious and gentle with you. Her love feel like a warm cup of tea honestly

Dating Shuri is so fun and it’s like hanging out with your best friend all the time

Angst

Constantly having to have conversations with Shuri about how she can’t live her life in her lab if she truly values your companionship.

“Babe, I get that you need to figure out the molecular level of whatever you just said but if you miss one more date with me, you’ll have to miss me.”

which follow with her trying to argue back before realizing her faults and preceding to shower you in gift, money and that DI-

Tends to close herself when she thinks about her family for too long

Buries herself in work whenever she questions her scientific skills to try and proves herself wrong 

usually leads to her forgetting to contact you to let you know how she’s doing or what she may be up to. 

Punches herself if she makes you upset but she has learned a lot recently about dealing with other and has formed more mature and effective forms of communication so it’s not a big issues for the two of you

Overall pretty healthy relationship so there aren’t any actual problems that you don’t talk through

Smut

Shuri is a scientist. Which means she is always building sex toys for the two of you from scratch

She made you your own black panther suit bc she’s a horny fuck and thinks the suit would look so sexy on you.

Fucks your face with her pretty kitty until she has cum at least twice

likes making you eat her out on places that make you nervous so she can watch you freak out while your face is stuffed between her legs

She also love fucking you in her black panther suit

the same way her helmet can disappear, so does the part of her suit that hides her pussy and something about tribbing you in her suit drives her crazy

she can also sync the vibranium strap to her suit and fuck you that way if she wants as well

Off rip, the two of you would make such a sexy couple so there’s do denying that you won’t be able to keep your hands off of each other.

I feel like during sex is when she tends to use a lot of her leadership skills on you

She looking to see you shake and quiver under her just by the slightest touch

She could eat your pussy 24/7 everyday in the week. And she definitely tries to 

Loves choking you but ALSO LOVES BEING CHOKED ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU ARE TOP AND RIDING SHE WANTS YOU TO TAKE CONTROL AND BE THE HERO

HAS A KINK FOR YOU CALLING HER QUEEN/HIGHNESS (that’s why she gives off daddy vibes yall!)

Would be drilling your pussy from the side almost every morning before sunrise since it is a part of her morning “Queenly duties”.

Shoves her soaking panties in your mouth if you are being too loud and she doesn't want people to come by to wake her up early

Loves spitting in your ass/pussy before devouring you then spitting it back in your mouth so you can taste the reason why she’s in love with you

Adores fucking you outside on her bedroom balcony at 3 am because it’s just you, her and the stars

[firemenenthusiast]

i could only imagine how beautiful and magical wedding in talokan would be (especially royal wedding iykwim *wink* *wink*)

[revrover]

The Stranger - Pt. 2

Part One: The Stranger

Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 8k (lol whoops)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, PLOT

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

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

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

There is a growing unrest inside you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man's left eye slowly squints open.

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

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

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

"King. Serpent. God. Monster."

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

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

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

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

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

King. Serpent. God. Monster.

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

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

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

There is someone inside.

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

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

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

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

“Sir,” the man behind you bellows.

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t move a muscle.

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

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

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

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

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

She. He is looking for Namora.

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

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

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

Barrett sighs and gives you a disappointed smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His implication is obvious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zzzzziiinnng!

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

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

Namor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep moving, you tell yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come,” she insists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A god. A monster.

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

"No." She whispers fiercely.

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

——

Your feet drag through the cool sand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

You only nod, afraid to say too much.

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" He asks through a clenched jaw.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His face is stoic as he listens to your answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's beautiful." You say reverently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A version of me." He answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- -- -- 

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

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N, dressed in the Gold Jaguar outfit, rescues Shuri…

Shuri: thank you, baby

Y/N: my queen, you can thank me with a cuddle session later (winks)

Okoye: what? How?

Shuri: Y/N’s my superhero lover

Okoye: and you were going to tell us when? After you got married?

Y/N: do you want to be the maid of honor?

Okoye: y-yes please

For @konstantin609

[thegreatestsandwich]

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

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

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 1.5k

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

Warning: Prepare yourself to be attacked with fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so it began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

Near the corals, she had said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rocks.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not.” He whispered, “Please.”

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

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

You sighed.

[pinkwright]

baby, let me know if u wanna roll | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — panther!shuri x partygirl!y/n

trope — bestfriends 2 lovers

inspo — hip hop star by beyoncé feat. (big boi & sleepy brown)

warnings — fingering (both receiving), cunnilingus (reader receiving), possessive!shuri. enhanced!shuri as in the panther spirit inside her is almost personified (??) (idk how to describe it), confident reader, sub!reader, soft dom!shuri, handsy!shuri, overstimulation. dirty talk, humiliation kink, needy!shuri, jealous!shuri but literally so slight like just blink n you'll miss it, the alarm in the beginning is an alarm for five mins before midnight, n yeah.

a/n — if theres errors thats my bad, hope u enjoy ! <3

⟢˚ @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @shurismainbxtch @verachii @rxcently @shuriszn

ஜ

bad boots on, pants down low. i’m a rockstar. baby, let me know if u wanna ride with a hip hop star.

the swing of your hips is entrancing, the heavy bass guiding the silky whining of your waist as you let the music flow through you. the hem of your skirt is sitting dangerously high on your thighs, the length of your legs glistening under the flashing lights when, suddenly, the vibration of your phone jolts in your hand, which makes a smile break through your lips before you spin on your heels to gaze up at the elevated platform ahead.

the familiar figure leaning over the railing already has her eyes on you, her fingers stroking her chin as she lets her eyes slide down your figure, and the smirk she flashes you sends you reeling. your smile widens before you lift your arm and gesture to your wrist with the pointer finger of your opposite hand, the drink in your hand sloshing in your excitement, as you make a rapid cue to your imaginary watch.

shuri raises her eyebrow in amusement before slightly jerking her head back, calling you to come to her while her hands move to adjust the silk over her torso. the click of your heels washes away with the volume of the lively club, the smile on your face light as you make your way through the bodies of the familiar faces you had invited to tonight’s event, offering short but friendly greetings.

you dance your way through the crowd, ever the party girl, making your way up the stairs that lead to where shuri was, the entrance to the platform secluded from the chaos that was the heart of the club, and you glide through the hanging crystal curtain that acted as a makeshift door, quickly glancing at your phone, seeing the time switch to midnight, then you’re lifting your gaze to sweep over the space, your sight quickly landing on her.

the smile that hasn’t left your face widens as you make your way towards her, quickly placing your drink on the centre table as you walk before you take to sweeping your gaze over her, she is turned toward you, and her back is pressed against the railing that overlooks the dance floor. you lean yourself between her spread legs, bringing your arms around her neck as you heavily press into the warmth of her body, and the squeal that escapes from you brushes against her neck, making her chuckle lowly.

her own hands place themselves on your hips before sliding up along your waist, her tall frame leaning forward into the gentle pull of your arms, and as she brings her touch to the bare skin of your upper back, she firmly presses you into her, “happy birthday, babe.” your hands are trailing along her strong shoulders as you pull back from the dip of her neck to press a kiss against the skin of her cheek, “the mighty panther’s finally the big twenty-two.”

a heavy laugh crawls from your chest as you jerk in her hold, her hands dropping to squeeze your waist as she rolls her eyes at your teasing, a smile pulling at her lips as she looks down at you. there’s a loud call of her name that has her eyes reluctantly pulling away from yours, your body detaching from hers as there’s soon a multitude of birthday greetings flooding shuri, a genuine smile lighting up her face as she happily receives the warm cheers and hugs.

the music is cutting off, the flashing lights dimming, just as you planned, before the double-tier cake is brought into the room and placed on the big table in the centre, the cheers from the club are steady as you go to grab shuri’s hand, pulling her to take her seat in front of the cake as you stand beside her seated figure.

a bashful smile spreads across her lips when everyone starts singing for her, her arm shooting out towards you at the giggle you let out at the sight, pulling you to sit on her lap before her warm hands slide up the skin of your thighs, coming to rest heavily just before the hem of your skirt, her long fingers falling between the crevice of your legs as if they belonged there.

⤠

shuri’s the life of the party, the crowd circled around her as she dances, the people moving with her, and her energy is plausible, raising the energy of the crowd around her to where everyone was having an unforgettable time alongside their queen. you smile fondly, shifting slightly on the barstool before lifting the sweet cocktail to your lips, sliding your eyes to the busy bartender to resume the conversation you were having with him, a light laugh slipping through you at his joking words.

five minutes of back and forth chatting pass before strong arms circle around your waist, shuri’s head coming to rest along your shoulder before she hums, using her strength to firmly pull you off your seat, your hand coming to rest over hers as you startle, your drink forgotten on the bar. her sharp eyes, unbeknownst to you, cut harshly at the man before you, the sheer authority flowing through her causing his gaze to lower as he clears his throat.

“dance with me, my love.”

she’s already pulling you towards the dance floor, the crowd parting for her as she walks with you in tow, choosing a darker spot in the space before she spins you around, letting go of your hand to slide both her hands under the loose fit of your top and settle them on the heated skin of your waist. her head dips to where her curls skim over your neck as she pulls you closer, pressing your hips against her, then her hands are guiding you to whine against her slowly but firmly, your breath catching at the way she manhandled you as if she owned you.

the thought makes you chastise yourself, you were friends, that’s it, but it doesn’t stop the clenching of your thighs when her wandering hands travel your moving form; the right sliding further up to rest just below the band of your bra, the entirety of her palm pressing over the rise of your heaving ribs while the left hand slid down the front of you, over the top of your thigh, where it pauses over your skirt, the firm press causing the hem to rise.

the placement makes you gasp, and shuri feels it under her grip, feels you, and it tempts her, you tempt her. she shifts her hanging head to where her lips can skim over your sweet skin, her mouth parting against your exposed collarbone causing your head to tilt, wanting more of her. that makes the taller girl insatiable, and calls forward the predator within her, she can hear the depth of your breath, feel the pump of your blood under her fingertips, smell the desire you have for her, and it makes the panther purr in response.

and before you can blink, shuri’s pulling you through the crowd and out of the club. when you come out of the daze she spun you into, you’re already seated in the passenger seat of her car, and your jaw is dropping in disbelief, as she drives off. “shuri!” you screech, “you can’t just leave your own fucking party like that!” and the sound makes her laugh, and shake her head before she responds, her voice cocky and low.

“i do what i want, s’thandwa.”

the words dry up your throat, the effortless air of dominance surrounding her permeating your skin, unconsciously coaxing you to submit to her, and you let your lips part before letting out an awkward chuckle. the heat inside of you scratches at your lungs, making it hard for you to breathe, shuri smirks before she parks in front of the palace, seeing a second car pull up beside them that she ignores; stepping out to pull you towards her chambers.

“ayo and aneka, you’re dismissed for the night. y/n will be retiring with me.” she calls the words over her shoulder, using what you always tease as her 'queen voice'.

the heat rushes to your face as you continue your journey, your sleeping with her wasn’t uncommon nor was it new, but the implications of the words always embarrassed you, because all you ever did was sleep. to foreign ears though, it sounded like she was on her way to tear you apart, to completely ravage you in the time you spent together behind those closed doors.

your train of thought is interrupted when shuri’s bedroom door clicks closed behind you, the girl kicking off her shoes before kneeling to slide off yours, her hands gentle as she manoeuvres you by your calves, her fingers working to slide the shoes off and you place your hand on her shoulder to steady yourself.

when she rises, she makes sure to follow the length of your legs, a gasp cutting through the atmosphere as the movement of her hands causes a slight lift of your skirt before it drops again when her hands come to hold your triceps, and she’s standing upright. she’s not letting your gaze leave hers as she walks you by your arms to her bed, and you follow, follow her like a lost puppy. the pulse between your legs intensifies when she gently pushes you onto her soft silk sheets.

you’re giggling lightly at her cheeky smile, her lithe figure throwing itself atop you before her arms come to split your legs as she settles between them. her head is against your chest as you lift your hands to the soft coils of her hair, and shuri lets out a satisfied sigh. the atmosphere is comfortable as you play with her hair, her head is laid sideward on your chest so shuri can listen to the steady beat of your heart, and she finds herself quickly agreeing with the panther inside her when she deems it to be the sound of their home.

although, as time passes shuri begins to get restless, so words flow out of her mouth to distract herself, “thank you for tonight, s’thandwa, you know you didn’t have to go all out like that for me.” her hands tighten their hold on you in gratitude, bast, what would she do without you. your chest shakes lightly in a fond giggle, your lips parting in protest, “nuh-uh, i had to go all out for the person i love, please be so serious, and don't thank me, babe.” when your laugh quietens down, you fondly add to your tender words.

 “anything for the birthday girl.”

and the words jar her, suddenly, the heat of your body against her, the thrum of your heart in her ears, and the softness of your skin underneath her has her feeling absolutely primal, itching to claim you. she exhales as she slides up against you bringing her face to rest in the dip of your neck as she breathes you in, the action making you gasp lightly causing your hand to slide gently to hold the back of her neck, the other dropping to hold your rising skirt down.

there’s a pause before she’s humming, “you smell good.” another pause, then her lips are sliding across your skin, her mouth parting so she can taste you, murmuring into your skin, “so fucking good, baby.”

the gasp of her name is loud, and you’re instinctively bringing your two hands to grip her shoulders tightly, trying to ignore the heat of her coiling muscles under her thin shirt, your legs clenching around her hips, “we shouldn’t, shuri.”

your words are breathy, unconvincing even to yourself and the dripping wetness between your legs. her lips continue their trail against your neck, your head tilted to allow her to continue, and her rough hands tighten around your thighs, spreading you further open for her before her words seep into your pliant body.

“it’s my birthday, baby.” the words ignite the heat inside you. “you gonna let me touch my pretty girl?” and it has your mind spinning, your nails digging into the silk of her shirt as she sucks your skin into her mouth, “let me, baby, please?” the raw need in her voice has your head nodding aggressively, your hips bucking up into her as you whimper.

she pulls her face back to look into your eyes and her face is serious as she stares into you, “need you to use those words for me, baby.” you’re gasping out pleas that make her hum, before she's sliding her hands down your quivering thighs, her torso lifting off of you as she grips under your knees to gaze at the soaking lace between your thighs, letting out a deep groan at the sight.

“that’s my good fucking girl.”

you shy away as she looks at you, she’s soaking up the sight of you so deeply that it forces you to shut your eyes as you whine, long and needy, your head turning to bury your face in the sheets that smell like her, your legs failing to close around the grip she has on you.

the sight of her stubborn, headstrong, and independent friend whom she’s, quite frankly, in love with, being so meek and pliant under her has shuri’s own core clenching, a taunting laugh escaping her lips as she finally slides down the bed to lay on her stomach, her head between your legs.

“look at me, y/n.”

her hands rip the dainty material around your hips, and it makes you momentarily clench your eyes even tighter, fisting the sheets beside your head before you reluctantly flutter your eyes open, your hips bucking when you catch the sight of shuri between your legs. she's gazing at you so erotically it makes your cheeks burn with blood, your body clenching tightly with embarrassment as you force yourself to breathe deeply.

“want you to watch me while i eat my pretty baby’s pussy for my birthday, okay?”

the words make you moan, your thighs are straining against her hands that press on either side of your exposed heat, and she’s holding your thighs open as she licks her lips, the action making you burn, and you’re crumbling under the humiliation coursing through you. your eyes are stuck on hers as if you’re in a trance, her tongue sliding out before she glides the muscle across the entirety of your pussy, letting out a tortured groan that has you clenching hard, a loud moan punching through your chest.

your hips are jerking into her tongue as she works through your seeping folds, devouring you tirelessly, and it makes it difficult for you to breathe. your stomach clenching tight as you bring your hands to her hair, your head dropping back as you arch further into her mouth, murmuring incoherently.

“please, please, oh my god, please.”

your hips are canting against her lips, her tongue sliding over your clit making you cry out loudly, the coil in your lower stomach tightening as you gasp wetly, then shuri’s pulling her mouth away from you, her arm coming to press your hips into the mattress when they chase her, halting your movements.

“i thought i told you to keep your eyes on me, princess?”

her words are warning, slicing through your dazed state as you snap your head up quickly finding her eyes on you, “there we go.” she coos the words out, her hand sliding over your clit before circling the ring of your clenching entrance and you’re begging her to touch you and it makes feel shuri high, feeds her alter’s predatory nature.

she slides her long fingers into you, her pace hard but controlled as she thrusts in and out of your warm walls, groaning before she sinks back down to wrap her pretty lips around your pulsing clit, and the action has your breath stuttering. your body tightens again before shuri brushes roughly against your spot, her lips suckling your bud as she hums into you, and you’re crying out as you orgasm, your legs trembling as you arch your back.

shuri’s whispering praises into your spasming pussy, her fingers still slowly pushing through you, carving her place inside you, inside her pussy and the thought makes her purr, her pace slowly picking up, and you whimper. your hips chasing her fingers and she chuckles at how needy you were being, “can’t, c-can’t, please.” your voice is wet with tears, and her voice is soft as she coos at you lovingly.

“thought you said anything for the birthday girl, baby?”

your hips desperately chase her now still fingers, unconsciously using them to pleasure yourself and shuri’s grunting as she slides her eyes along your figure, “fuck, that’s right, use my fingers to make my greedy pussy come, s’thandwa.”

her words spur you on, the tears trailing down your cheeks as you chase another release, your thighs trembling violently as shuri just watches you, watches how you use her and her eyes are sharp, glaring at your dripping cunt as you clench around her. she sighs before lifting her free hand to press against your lower stomach, then her fingers are unrelenting, ruthlessly dragging against your sensitive walls, hitting the tissue inside you over and over again.

“i’m coming, i’m coming, shuri, please, don’t stop.”

your voice breaks around the words as you sob out, the ball in your stomach releasing so heavily that your body jerks aggressively, your breathing heavy as shuri soothes your cries, dropping gentle kisses along your quivering thighs, squeezing your skin to bring you back to her. she lifts herself to peck your parted lips, her teeth digging repeatedly into the soft pillow of your bottom lip as she waits for you to calm down, humming at the taste of you, and the slight pinches of pain make you whimper softly.

“bast, baby, you make me so wet.”

her words are breathed into your mouth, and they make you so warm, the idea that someone so powerful was dripping because of you, when you hadn’t even touched her, the notion makes you gasp. “can i touch you?” your voice is shaky, and so needy, that it makes shuri exhale heavily before she rolls to lie beside you, her hand reaching for the thigh of your leg furthest from her, to bend it across her lap, pulling you to press against her side.

your heart is pounding as she reaches for your hand, guiding it down her tense stomach before she lowly orders you to unbutton her pants, your trembling fingers comply before she grabs your wrist gently and slips it past the band of her underwear to rest directly on her wet pussy. and you gasp so hard, your body bucking against her when you feel just how wet she was for you. the lithe girl lets out a soft sigh as she brings her head to your neck, her breath fanning against your ear as she guides your fingers through her.

“just like that, baby.”

her voice is breathy, low, and so soft, that it makes you clench, your fingers slipping to circle her clit, desperate to hear more from her and she moans out in response, her hand just gripping your wrist, no longer guiding you. she’s breathing heavily into your neck as you increase your pace, drawing tight figure eights along her, the sweet, breathy noises falling from her prompting you to slide your fingers to her entrance and she stills when you press against her opening. your voice is soft as you shyly ask her, “is this okay?”

in response, shuri’s hips buck against your fingers, and her words are needy in your ears, “please, baby.”

the fire in your chest burns brighter before you’re slipping your digits into her warmth in response to her breathy plea, her walls clenching around you when you go to thrust gently in and out of her and shuri’s moaning out, her slim hips canting to the steady rhythm of your thrusts and the sight makes you unbelievably horny.

when you add another finger and angle them upwards, the panther’s hips stutter as she wetly gasps around your name. her head lifting as she brings her stagnant hand to curl around your throat, bringing your gaze to hers as she pants against your parted lips.

“that’s it, make me come, baby, please.”

shuri’s pleads are light, breathed softly into the air but still commanding, and it makes your aching pussy clench, how was someone so deadly so soft against you, bathing in the throes of her pleasure so gently. you increase your pace, making sure to graze her soft spot with each deep stroke you give, and then her body is stilling.

her mouth lets out the loudest moan you’ve heard from her, one that contrasts so greatly with the rasp of speech, her voice is deep and heavy as she switches to her native tongue, speaking the words into your mouth, “ndiyaphila, s’thandwa sam’ (i'm coming, my love.).”

her shaking thighs close around your working hand as she shakes through her orgasm and the sight makes you whimper, your hand only stopping when she grunts and tightens her grip on your wrist, sliding your hand out of her pants before clenching her thighs tightly again.

her shut eyes flutter open to gaze intensely at you when you’re being too quiet, her mouth dropping open when she sees you bring your fingers to your lips, sucking them clean gently with a hum before releasing them with a soft pop, startingly when you open your eyes and meet her blazing eyes.

the queen’s eyes close to gather the last strands of her self-control before she breathes out heavily, “fuck, you want to kill me, princess.”

then you’re squealing as she throws herself onto you, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist as she pushes your bodies to lay on her bed, pressing you tightly against her as you giggle, shifting to snuggle against her; not worried about your party clothes, nor about the volume of your laughs – just existing with each other and basking in your shared love.

do i blow you away? do i stimulate your mind? would you taste my love, if i gave you time?

ஜ

[axailslink]

Shuri is overprotective

Shuri x FEM reader

Shuri has such a friendly personality you know this well she's always been nice and adoring. When it comes to you however she is just completely overprotective she doesn't like when anyone smiles at you for too long and she's quick to call out someone if she notices them being too friendly with you. Shuri is also quick to make someone she knows is attracted to you jealous she'll do whatever it takes just to let it be known that you're hers.

°"Shuri you're staring" you mumble noticing her change in character.

*"Only because she is" she pulls you into a magnetizing kiss sucking on your bottom lip causing you to lose your balance from going weak in the knees you pat her chest as if to let her know you were not prepared for that. "why'd you do that?" You ask almost out of breath she smiles at you "just to prove a point"

That's partially why you're so used to public sex she has no boundaries when it comes to pleasing you especially if it means making some else envious about it.

°"C'mon love don't be shy I'm sure that other woman wishes she could you have all spread out like this"

She loves having you to herself because she knows you two could fight over the biggest things yet if you or her were to come to the other on the verge tears that past argument wouldn't matter.

Shuri will claim over and over again that she isn't a jealous person but she is though she never takes that out on you.

*"she keeps staring at what's mine" you smile at her and peck her lips to take her mind off of the random woman "yep what's yours too bad she can't handle me as well you do" she smiles at you "and how well can I handle you?" You laugh "let's not get into that conversation here"

Long story short she is a jealous bitch and we love her for that.

[inmyheadimobsessed]

Aftermaths

pairing: shuri ✘ plussize!black!fem!reader

summary: shuri takes care of you in the ways she knows how; truths and feelings surface.

word count: 5.9k

contains: mild sexual behavior & suggestive stuff (18+), fluff, aftercare, body worship, vulnerable!reader, slight cocky!shuri, jealous!shuri, vulnerable!shuri, possessive!shuri, riri knows how to mind her business, love confessions, lesbians lesbianing (they're kinda just made for each other tbh), shuri's pockets are very deep, shuri being dramatic and sappy and in love, light chocking

tags: @verachii @venusdraco @vixentheplanet @quintessencewrites @cjariot @widowmakker @blackgcomica @n7cje @dejaonline @shinsousliya @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @pinkwright @saintwrld @axailslink @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @6-noir @cuddl3s4shur1 @percsane @chidinma @shuriszn @lppriceisright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @abenomeiiii @marsolgy @prettymrswright @shurisjournal @marsolgy @shurismainbxtch @shurisbbymama @shuriri4life @cafehyunji @ventingfanfics @yunhofingers @yamsthoughts @iseebeautyinwords @ihearttish @vampzxi @oceean @sapphicvqmpires

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: me writing something that isn't over 10k words??? a collective gasp resounded around the room! anyway, this is the aftercare/morning after scene for "lies bout how i hate you." this just something real cute and fun for the girls until me and the outline for part two stop fighting. if y'all was to see how she look rn... chile, just a ghetto mess. if this don't hold y'all over until then, idk what to tell you, it's above me! hope you lot enjoy, mwah, mwah!!

↬ lies bout how i hate you

A greedy mouth imprinted your flesh, nipping harshly at your sore neck before parting along it, and you hissed, absorbing the heated air rushing the pretty bruises on your skin. You felt it stretch, dragging into a smirk against your blazing body as you lay there, stiff and weary. This was to be a game, you discerned immediately, one designed with your losing in mind.

The pillowy lips abusing the space below your chin performed with purpose, seeking to remind you of their involvement in the creation of those decorative marks. They encased each blemish, pecking, sucking, licking hungrily at your throat, undoubtedly deepening the bold violet hue existing there already.

Waking you, the goal of the game, but you disregarded this, keeping your eyes tight as you resisted the urge to shuffle ever so slightly in the bed. You could play too, or at the very least, you could attempt.

“I know you're awake, entle.” Seduction lived in her words; in her accent; it coated every breath she expired. Her voice was a hot crackle in the air once it reached your skin, alerting you of your foreseen defeat within seconds of impact.

And thus began your body's habitual response to her sultry call. You felt the sharp edges of Shuri's bare teeth grazing your neck again, her head tucked perfectly inside the crook as she inhaled you, making you twitch in her arms. Her jaw widened ahead of a stinging bite, and you whimpered through the pain, the sound melding with her chuckle. “Open those pretty eyes, I want to see them.”

“Ion wanna be awake. Let me sleep.” It hurt to speak, and the sound of your own voice straining in protest ignited a flare of irritation in your chest, so you kept your eyes closed, wanting to deny her the visual of their sparkle in retaliation.

Shuri laughed again, its vibration racing through you at the mirroring speed of your heartbeat. She drew you in closer, humming in sync with the anticipated groan you expelled. “I have to clean you up baby, you're filthy.”

Your annoyance grew fiercer at the drawl of her sentence, compelling you to finally open your eyes. “Cause yo ass was doing too much.”

“When we fuck,” Shuri removed her curls from their hiding place beneath your chin, smile smug as her still-blown pupils latched onto yours in the dimness surrounding you both. So breathtaking, so beautiful; you couldn't forbid your eyes from softening. “It gets messy. Did you forget that while you were busy with um… What's her name again?”

Naci.

The mere mention of her soared your temperature. Crawling into a hole crossed your mind; you couldn't retreat then, but maybe curling in on yourself now could become an option. You were mortified, recollecting her face and its contortion. Every nook colored in dismay, painted in disappointment, in disgust. But, your aching body couldn't fathom the notion of crawling, and concealing your growing smile proved impossible with Shuri's tired eyes boring into yours as they did now.

She too was sleepy, but she fought it, centering her focus on getting you to comply.

You bit your lip, aware that you were gaping at her pretty face in adoration, but you ceased to care. “You ain't have to do that poor girl like that, Shuri. That was just trifling. Even for you.”

“I would believe your remorse to be genuine if you weren't grinning at me right now. You're beaming, Ntomb'am.” (my girl)

You smacked her, admonishing the arrogance lacing her words. “It is. She's a nice girl.”

“And therein lies her problem.”

“Fuck you.” You tried rolling over in the soiled bedding, but her strength kept you in place. Shuri’s fingers melted into your cupped jaw, delicate as ever. She knew the action would get you; you chased her softer side more so than the one she presented regularly, and it was her favorite thing to manipulate.

She scanned your smiling face, confidence lodged in the deepest parts of her brown globes. Fuck she was good, uttering nothing, yet still possessing the skill to make you squirm beneath her destructive stare; Shuri reduced the little fight you had left in you to ruins, coercing your surrender.

She pinched your cheek, making you scrunch your face. “I don't like repeating myself, so I won't.”

You could pout, resist, but what was the use? Shuri always got her way, and it would be illogical to protest against being pampered just to simply spite her.

She placed a peck on your forehead before releasing you and climbing out of the bed. Shuri made her way to your side, slowly guiding your back off the mattress to help you sit up. “I'm guessing you want to go to your bathroom?”

Your response was a wordless nod, and she scooped you up. Whilst in her arms, you tied those aching thighs of yours snugly around her slender waist on the trot to the bathroom, passing Riri on the couch. She said nothing, neither did you and Shuri, but your heated blush crept up anyway. Because you knew what she was thinking, her telling smirk and amused eyes speaking what her lips refrained.

“Shower.” Shuri sat you on the edge of the sink, tilting her head at your singular word. “I know you wanna put me in the tub, but Ion want that. I need a shower, not a bath.”

She hummed, “Can you even stand right now?”

God could she thin your patience. You narrowed your eyes at her, clearly agitated, but of course, Shuri found hilarity in your mood. She chuckled, the sound low in her bosom as she deviously sank the pads of her digits into your tender, fleshy hips, eyebrow cocked daringly. “Ouch! Ouch! Shuri! What the fuck?!”

“Exactly. You're getting in that tub.”

This time you did pout; you crossed your arms in frustration, and your big doe eyes toyed with her commanding attitude. “You the reason I’m all sore and shit. Just lemme have my shower, it’s the least you could do.”

Her palms rested on either side of the counter as she leaned forward, caging you in, stern eyes searching for something across your upturned face. “That's the fourth time you've used profanity with me in the past ten minutes.”

“Ugh, of course your annoying as– self is counting,” Shuri grinned at your correction, pleased by the way you so easily fell in line for her. You rolled your eyes when you noted her satisfaction. Fuck her, and fuck your perpetual cycle of constantly adhering to her.

She laughed, pecking your lips. “Hmm… I guess I can let you have your shower. But the second I sense being on your feet is becoming too much, I’m running you a bath. Yeva?” (are we clear)

“Okay.” A sheepish smile chiseled into your face, exposing your deep dimples as she kissed you again. Her mouth was plush against yours, coaxing a desperate little whine out from your stomach, and when she pulled away, your lips ran after hers.

“Always so greedy for me, pretty girl.”

Shuri tugged your T-shirt off, careful not to brush the spot where her teeth incised your shoulder, and she smirked. Your skin heated watching Shuri become enraptured with every abrasion she sketched into your flesh; some bolder than others; deeper, but none soon to disappear.

She drank in your nakedness with glossy eyes, bottom lip sucked tight between her canines. “You're so gorgeous with my marks all over your beautiful body.”

You dipped your head, seizing the opportunity to exhale when she stepped away to turn the shower on. “Thanks...”

“Mhmm. Now let me hear you say it.” She lifted you once again, sliding you off the counter and onto your feet before making you face the mirror. It was like your legs forgot what it meant to stand, because you wobbled, and if you were gazing into the glass ahead of you, you'd witness the conceited smile covering Shuri's lips at the sight of your stumble.

“Shuri, you wasting my water, can I just get in the damn–” You avoided the image of your bare skin in the mirror at all costs; there was too much shame existing in your reflection.

But as always, whenever you decided on a course of action, Shuri made sure her’s differed vastly, “Haven't I warned you about your choice of words already?”

“Whatever.”

Shuri snaked your throat, pressing her exposed front into your back, her fingers squeezing and lifting your head so you could behold the remnants of her claim on your body. “Tell me how gorgeous you are.”

She seemed elated by your throaty gasp when you finally took yourself in, the corners of her mouth twitching briefly at your awe. A trail of hickeys and bite marks lined your neck, traveling along your chest, before stopping below your left breast, each one deliberately placed. Their vibrance made them beautiful, reinforcing what you always knew to be true. You were the Panther’s prey — her prize at the end of her hunt — these lacerations were testimony to that.

“So gorgeous. Now can I please have my shower?” Your eyes rolled as you tried wrapping your mind around what the reflection staring back at you would mean, in this moment, in the morning, in the near future. The reality of this thought soured the bliss you almost let yourself taste, dropping your mood entirely.

A power imbalance would forever exist between you and Shuri; it existed now, and it was certainly present when you confessed your true feelings to her. She hadn't reciprocated your declaration, not in the way you'd hoped, not with her words. She wished to say it, this was made evident by her somber eyes holding yours in the mirror. But she would make you wait, she wanted you desperate for those three words, because who would your Panther be if she didn't opt for control over vulnerability?

Shuri’s fingers dove deeper into your throat, compressing your windpipe in her palm as she watched you wince under the pressure and pain, “Say it like you mean it.”

“I'm s-so f-fucking gorgeous.” A choked response, but you smiled anyway, marveling at your naked frame in the reflective surface before shower steam fogged the glass. You did mean it; you believed it.

“Yes, you are.” She kissed your neck after releasing you, allowing you to inhale.

Without a word, she was pulling your hair into a high ponytail, unable to resist pressing another kiss to your nape. She breathed you in with a loud sigh before spinning you to face her. “Now come on.”

Her eyes were practically melted balls of brown peering down at you, the softest she'd permitted them to be in weeks, and you appreciated it wholeheartedly. Electricity thrilled through both of your bodies when she laced your hands together, and she shot you a knowing wink that rocketed your heart’s pumping.

Shuri pulled the misty shower door open, stepping in first to stable you. “Easy, baby.”

Her arms were looped around your waist the second you stood under the streaming water, and Shuri was reeling you in against her chest, supple lips finding your earlobe. “I'm letting you have your shower, why are you still angry with me?”

You sighed. You supposed your uncertainty could be misinterpreted as anger; it was quite palpable, and being confined to these shatterable walls could certainly increase the pressure your emotions emitted. “Not angry with you.”

Shuri moved mechanically for your washcloth and favorite mango-lime body wash, her lengthy inhale audible when she popped the cap behind you. “Okay. But you are upset about something, no?”

“Why do you think that?”

She swiped the lathered rag across your sore back, massaging your tired muscles with sensuous force. Your body cautioned you against the building moans creeping up the back of your throat, but at the moment, you couldn't care, their blare would just have to come forth. Shuri's hands all over you as she scrubbed you clean, the permeating aroma of your fruity soap, and damn, the drumming droplets of tepid water beating down on your chest were much too pleasurable to swallow any sound wishing to escape you.

Suds trickled down your shoulders, running over your bitten breasts, tickling you as you stalked the white foam on its race down your stomach with a smile.

“Because, I know you best…” You could hear the smirk in her delayed reply, and it took the remainder of your strength not to scoff.

She turned you without effort, seizing hold of your gentle eyes. Shuri’s face showcased genuine concern as she stripped your bones bare with the pretty twinkle in her stare. Her lips met your collarbone, wiping little kisses into your wet skin with her gaze still on yours. “And I always know when something is feeding on your mind.”

She dabbed the cloth between your boobs, beneath them, and your neck launched backward with a deep hum. The shower head stormed your flexing shoulder blades while Shuri ran the rag through your rolls, atop your curves, waking a broken whine when she sponged your tender hip a little too hard.

“If you know me s-so well, then you should know exactly what's on my mind, right Princess?”

Her eyes became slits in front of yours, and you watched a slow grin creep across her perfect face. “Sit. I need to wash your legs.”

“I can do that myself.” You objected just because; you knew Shuri would never allow it.

“I said sit.”

You did as you were told, easing yourself onto the built-in seat in the corner, eyeing her ass as she moved for the detachable shower head. “Thought you didn't like to repeat yourself.”

Your giggle made her shake her head, but her smirk existed there, on her pretty plump lips. Shuri kneeled, using the hoes to spray you with water. The heated spritz dissolved the suds sitting on you, and you relaxed, flattening your back against the wall with your legs spread wide.

She moved lower with the water, wetting your core carefully, stopping when you hissed under the sensation. “Is that too much?”

“S'okay.” You nodded. “Not you on your knees for me, Princess.”

Shuri grinned, replacing the shower head with the soaked washcloth before waving the soft material down your legs. “The view is perfect from down here.”

“Mmm.”

“Have I told you how much I love these?” Her hot mouth meshed with the thick expanse of your large thighs, pecking and licking your skin.

“Can't remember.”

She grabbed your shin, stretching your entire leg out and cupping it in her delicate palm, allowing her lips to wander. “Guess I must refresh your memory then, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“I love your thighs,” An open mouth kiss burrowed into your legs, and Shuri hummed into your skin. “So beautiful, so perfect.”

Her tongue was on the climb, purling the beads of water covering you like a thirsty feline. She suckled the insides of your sprawled thighs, inching closer and closer to your throbbing heat, causing you to whimper aloud; you wouldn't even stop her if she decided it was to be her final destination.

You could tell she sensed your willingness, despite how used you felt already, and just like your uncertainty, her pride blossomed fervently in the fog. But, her mouth skipped your center entirely, drifting shamelessly to your waist. “These hips, this waist, sthandwa, Bast, if only you knew what they do to me.”

“Tell me.” Your desperation enticed her.

“I love every dip in your skin, every dent, every dimple. Being allowed to feel your wonderful curves increases my heart rate, especially now, after all the time we've spent apart. I’m hardly even worthy of this pleasure.” Shuri whispered her convictions into your cellulite.

You enjoyed when she got like this, lost in you, and in your body; you missed it. “Damn Princess, I got you like that for real?”

Shuri's lips shifted to your cushioning tummy, her teeth nibbling on your stretch marks long enough to quell her insatiable hunger for you. “You're the only person able to make me feel the things I do. You create storms inside of me, baby, fierce storms.”

“That's crazy.” You were cheesing, staring beyond the beauty of her soul as her mouth ascended to the valley of your breast: one peck, two pecks, three.

“Fuck, I love your beautiful breasts. I’m sure you know this already, hmm?” Her eager mouth latched onto your perky right nipple, swirling around the erect little nub with devotion. “Don't you know this?”

Shuri switched to the left ahead of the answer she sought as an award, distributing an equal amount of care to this bud as well. She watched you thrash from the ecstasy she brought on, listened for your small cries above her with a pleasant smile. “Every sound I elicit from you is like a symphony, pretty girl. I love it all.”

“Look at these, sthandwa.” Just like earlier, she paid special attention to the pigmented love bites staining your heaving chest. “I think I outdid myself with these.”

Shuri slid her tongue over your shoulder, sucking and kissing the divots forged by her canines; this one she took her time admiring. “Mmm, my favorite one. This isn't going away anytime soon.”

“You like marking me up.”

She stood, towering over you with lustful eyes, leaning in to capture your parted mouth. “I love marking you up. You're beautiful.”

Although she placed you peacefully on cloud nine, your mistrust remained. Shuri loved your thighs. Shuri loved your hips, your curves, your breasts; spitting out these confessions bred no hardship for her, yet still, she withheld the sole confession you craved.

“All done?” She questioned tauntingly with a smirk, and you nodded, waiting in your spot for her to finish her own shower before the raining water came to an abrupt halt.

“Hand.” You wasted not a second giving her your fingers to hold, and she steadied you on your feet. She swaddled you in your fuzzy towel once outside, trapping your wet mouth between hers for a long kiss, and like clockwork, you moaned into her accepting throat. It was then that she pulled away, matching your simper for a few beats before you shied away. “Let's get my lovely girl dressed, hmm?”

“Okay.”

•••

“Shuri that tickles, oh my god!” Your little giggles egged her on; the Princess found herself on her knees for you once again as she smoothed your fragrant cocoa butter into your rich skin, taking to the way the lotion dissolved into your feet with enlarged pupils.

“Yeah?” She smiled, biting her lip. Shuri was prettiest like this, with her guards lowered, doing the thing she loved more than her lab excursions: tending to you. “Do you want me to stop, entle?”

You shook your head, exposing the depths of your dimples to the striking woman kneeling for you, relinquishing yourself to her, and her gratifying touch. Shuri kneaded your legs expertly and intentionally, working out the tension birthed from her nefarious behavior. And it came quickly, the pleasure rush prompted to loosen your tight muscles. Her fingers were magic; she was magic.

Your sensual keens carried, filling the air as Shuri’s stimulating hands took care of you. “You're okay, right baby?”

“Mhmm.” You sucked in a sharp breath.

“And you’d tell me if it gets to be too much?”

You were panting, your body becoming a pool of limp limbs around the building pressure. “It's perfect. I-I promise.”

“Good. You deserve nothing less.”

She concluded the massage with a string of kisses on each glossy thigh to cement her obsession into your flesh. Shuri then assisted you in getting ready for bed. She helped you into your silk, lace-trimmed nightgown whispering sweet praises into your neck, the warmth of her words bristling your stray curls. “I'm so proud of you. You did so well for me tonight. From start to finish baby, you were perfect.”

She secured your headscarf neatly on your head, “Not too tight?”

“No.”

And then she tucked you into your sheets before nestling in beside you; a practiced routine ingrained in her.

You lay facing Shuri, fingers trailing her face as she watched you in the dark. Her beauty could be deemed unsettling; you did deem it so. So much of it consumed you, but you could never tire of the sense of serenity that overcame you when you stared into her sunken brown eyes. Shuri's beauty could very well be enough to make you forget that this time with her wasn't forever promised. “You're so pretty, Shuri.”

“I know.”

There lived something else on her tongue, but voicing it proved to be challenging. “Say what you're thinking, Princess.”

“I-I missed your sheets. Missed how the scent of your laundry detergent always clings to me after I lay beside you in them.”

You hummed lowly; this may have been a truth, but it was not the one gnawing at her brain. Rarely did your Panther get choked up, so it was fair to say Shuri fought her words now, out of stubbornness. The two of you knew what she wanted to say, and you knew she hoped your awareness would suffice, but you refused to let her get off so easily, not after tonight, not after everything.

“Shuri.”

She kissed your cheek before engulfing you and rooting her curls into your beating heart. “I know.”

“Then say it.”

“I will.” Shuri pressed her lips into your sternum, the action barring you from fighting your slumber any longer. Her warmth lulled your aching bones, your tender flesh, and you let those tired eyes of yours flutter shut, capturing one last image of her cuddling you before allowing yourself to dive.

•••

Sun rays woke you up, making you roll on your side to dodge the light spilling through your curtains. Ultimately the wrong move, because you ached still. You let weak fingers course your sides, slowly, gently, flinching when they swept a particularly sore spot. “Fuck you, Shuri.”

As the quiet mumble left your mouth, you realized, her side of the mattress was barren. The only proof that she'd lain with you being the dent she left in her wake, one that had now run cold. Her departure wasn't the least bit surprising though, it was predictable if anything.

You weren't hurt by it either, what you felt now was disappointment, and in yourself nonetheless. Because you’d fallen right back into Shuri. And for a fleeting moment, when she tangled herself into you last night, you did away with your doubt and permitted belief. Belief that you’d wake up in her embrace, belief that just maybe, the sex could spawn some sort of new beginning for the two of you. A silly thought apparently.

You rolled your eyes with a groan. Attempting to sit up was a bust, your back stung at the movement, and gravity sank her claws into you pulling you right back into your bed.

“Did you just attempt to get up?” Fuck. It should be embarrassing. You should be embarrassed at the way you responded to that amused accent wafting through the air. It yanked you forward with a quickness, forcing you to ignore your tired muscles screaming for you to lay back down.

Shuri sauntered closer to you, a tower of identifiable boxes filling her fists. When she reached the velvet ottoman perched in front of your bed, she sat them down, eyeing you brazenly.

Her smirk, another thing recognizable; Shuri revered the way you fought your pain just to look at her.

You scolded yourself, but ultimately in vain because once she beckoned you forth with that finger, you were crawling, making your way to the foot of the bed amidst the protests of your tendons.

She strangled your jaw, tilting your head upwards so your eyes would connect. “So good for me.”

You nodded, hoping she'd notice your puckered lips coated in and dripping desperation. “Aww, would my good girl like a kiss?”

“Yes.”

Shuri’s fingers tunneled into your cheeks, adding to the entire body ache you were suffering through, but you couldn't care if you tried. It was worth it; a kiss from those lips could mend it all. “Okay.”

She blew the word into your mouth as she leaned in, weaving her soft lips into your anxious ones passionately. You whimpered, realizing you were right — Shuri's kiss did hold the power to alleviate your pain.

The longer she kept her tongue in your mouth, the looser you felt, akin to the sea, and its shapelessness, just simply flowing. But, your euphoria only lasted for so long. Your steady tides were submersive, and she could no longer breathe, so she pulled away, breaking the kiss and earning a whine from you as she came up for air.

“You're insatiable.” She mocked, admiring your pout.

You huffed, allowing your eyes to meander away from hers and down to the boxes she brought in. “What are these?”

“Peace offerings.”

Your dimples popped out, and you gasped. “For me?”

“No, for Riri.” Shuri sat on the ottoman, glancing over her shoulder at you playfully with a sarcastic chuckle. “Of course they're for you, baby. Now are you going to open them?”

You reached for one of the boxes, positioning it in front of you, excitement brewing in your chest as you undid the ribbon, “When did you have time to get these anyway?”

“Does that matter?”

Your grumble was hardly disguised, but you refused to let her snark get to you now, not when there was a cloaked Chanel resting atop your comforter, and another two designer bags just centimeters away. When you lifted the box’s lid, you became acquainted with the familiar pearl-shaded wrapping paper that bundled the purse, unfolding it carefully so as to not rip it.

The paper crinkled in your fingers, falling away from the dust bag housing your anticipated prize. You sensed Shuri’s anxious eyes on your hands, their restlessness strengthening the longer you took to unravel the luxury purse laying dormant inside its packaging. It was quite cute, to say the least, the way she seemed eager for your approval of her choice, and it made you giggle.

You slipped the handbag out finally, allowing your fingers to dawdle across the light blue lambskin leather, fascination guiding their touch. It was a beautiful piece, though you expected nothing less. The gold hardware held most of your attention as you grazed it with your thumb, inspecting the chain, and reminiscing on last night's car ride, a reminder still engraving your wrists.

“Well?”

You smiled at her, getting lost in her frenzied brown eyes, “It's very pretty.”

“And do you like it?” She pressed.

You dipped your head, “I do.”

“Good. Now open the others please.”

Shuri observed as you unboxed the other two purses she bought with a delighted little grin; she was always proud of herself when her gifts made you happy. The second one was a sand-colored Cannage Lambskin Lady Dior Bag, and the last a YSL Sunset Chain Bag in the shade Noir. She also tossed in two pairs of Prada sunglasses you'd been eyeing, how she found out about them was beyond you.

“Shuri,” You were deep in thought before you raised your head from her chest. “How much did all that shit cost?” The two of you had been cuddling in your bed for over thirty minutes, and you just couldn't get the calculations off your mind.

She laughed a little, peering into your curious eyes, “Why? You've never cared about a price tag before.”

She was right, you were never one to worry about prices when purchasing any item, and you certainly never cared when it was Shuri’s pockets being emptied. But, a singular medium Chanel classic flap was well over ten thousand dollars... “What's the occasion?”

“Does there need to be one?” She laughed again, noting your annoyance through your slanted eyes. “Consider them an apology, for the one I broke last night. I was saving them for your birthday, but giving them to you now seemed more appropriate.”

“And I'm post to consider them that ‘I love you’ I been waiting on too?” At this point, you were over her little game of dangling what you wanted right in your face without ever letting you actually have it, and a few purses couldn't make that vexation disappear.

God, she was so fucking patronizing with that stupid smirk. You wanted to peel yourself from the wicked way she enveloped your sensitive skin, to slip her caressing hand from underneath your nightgown where she stroked circles into your back; you wanted to scream in her face, but you didn't, because you couldn't, and you grew even more agitated by your own weakness.

“Impatient girl.”

Your eyes rolled when her lips landed on your forehead, “How much longer I gotta wait for you to say it Shuri? If this ain't what I think it is,” You gestured between the two of you, “You gotta let me know now. Ion wanna embarrass myself more than I already did.”

“And what do you think this is? What do you think we are?”

“Don't fuck–” She tutted as a warning, but this time you refused to heed it. “Don't fucking play with me Shuri. Be serious for like two seconds, I know that's some challenging shit for you, but just try, humor me.”

She sighed, pulling you back to her chest after you tried pushing away, “You know the entire reason I came here was because I missed you.” She blew a light laugh before continuing. “I didn't think I would, because I didn't think I'd even get the chance to. I figured maybe you'd last a few days, a week at most, before you were back in my bed. But damn it, pretty girl, you don't fucking play fair.”

“Shuri…”

“Hush baby, I need to say this.” You nodded for her to carry on. “Three months. You made me go three months without your smile, without your laugh, your touch. Fuck, three whole months without your smell, sthandwa. Waking up and not having my eyes land on you in my sheets was excruciating. It was also very humbling to say the least. And then I show up here to win you back, only to see you were moving on, with her. Bast I fucking hated that, I hated seeing her touch what was mine.”

You listened wordlessly to Shuri’s monologue, eyes wide, bulging, brimming. “I loathed the way you would giggle for her, because I can tell when you're really laughing. And you always were with her, every night she walked you to the front door, I heard the authenticity in it. I used to make you laugh that way, I used to be the only one able to. And that day I came home to the sight of her… i-inside of you, I quite literally wanted to die right there. The visual of that, it cut me so fucking deep, and I knew I was done letting you slip further away from me.”

You chewed your lip, ingesting Shuri's words for a moment before offering up some of your own, “Do you know why I broke up with you, Shuri?”

“Because I'm an asshole. Because I'm selfish. Because I won't ever change. And you were tired of me not realizing how much the shit I do affects you.” She spoke it with a cocky smile that should churn your stomach, but everything she did and said just had to be sexy. Fuck her.

She did a pretty good job of understating the speech you spewed the day you ended things, leaving out the part where you tossed your Kimoyo beads at her head. “That's not it.”

“It's not?”

You shook your head, “I wanted that to be the reason, but I knew deep down that it wasn't.”

Her hot palm rubbing your back stuttered for a second before continuing, “Then what was?”

“You are an asshole, but I was lying to you and to myself when I said I cared about that. I knew I should've, but I didn't, and I don't. I don't give a damn about how you treat people who aren't me, Shuri. I love knowing that my feelings are the only ones that matter to you. I love knowing that I’m your world. I know that makes me selfish, but I don't care about that either.”

Her hand stopped completely after your admission, and she gazed down at you, perplexed, “So… you broke up with me because you didn't like who I was turning you into?”

“But that's the thing Shuri, you didn't turn me into anyone who I wasn't already. And I guess breaking up with you was my stupid way of trying to run from that realization. How could I blame you for being who you were when your entire personality was the main reason I was drawn to you when we first met? You saw how fast I left my ex for you.”

Her chuckle reverberated through your entire body, “Wow. And I had to fuck your pretty little brains out in front of what's her name for you to finally admit this?”

“Oh my god, you're so unserious. The only things I'm admitting to are still loving you, and still wanting to b-be with you.” You stammered a little, you hadn't wanted to repeat the L word before you heard it leave her lips first, but you were practicing vulnerability now, the very thing you accused Shuri of not expressing, so it was out.

“You're mine,” Shuri reached beside her on your side table, retrieving a flat beige box you seemed to have missed amongst the others. “You know that?”

You nodded your head against her racing heart, “You belong to me, solely mine. And I am yours, I will belong to you for as long as I am able to draw breath. These are indubitable truths, thando-iwam.” (my love)

“Damn Shuri, all I wanted was a lil ‘I love you too’ or something, yo dramatic ass always doing too fucking much.” You giggled, choking back a sob.

She pushed the top open, revealing the Kimoyo bead bracelet that once adorned your wrist, and you shook your head at her ironic nature. “I do love you,” She lifted your wrist that lined her torso, attaching her watering mouth to the eye-catching lilac bruise dwelling on the spot for a few seconds, and then, she slid her creation around it, appreciating the fact that the bracelet was now back where it belonged. “What I don't love is that vulgar mouth of yours.”

“Whatever.”

“Sit up and look at me.” When your eyes fastened to hers, she clasped your face in her palms tenderly. “I love you. I exist for you. Understand?”

“Yes.”

She leaned in, this kiss sheltering a whirlwind of emotions, a whirlwind of want, and the sweetest hint of evanescence. But you knew, and Shuri knew, that the feelings disbursed between the pair of you were not the kind to ever vanish.

“So, what's this I hear about a birthday trip?” Her lips curved ever so slightly in her whisper, making you laugh.

“How do you know about that?”

“Doesn't matter how I know, what concerns me is the invitation I didn't receive. But, I'm willing to move past this transgression. I know you had sooo much going on these past three weeks, I could never blame you for forgetting me.” She bit her lip with that daring look in her eyes, making you scoff at her boldness.

You settled into Shuri's chest again, with her hand slithering its way back under your silk sleepwear, eager to perform against your blazing skin once more. “You're so damn aggravating.”

“Yeah, I know. Now tell me, on which tropical island will you be allowing me to do even more sinful things to your perfect body?”