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itaintenough · 1 year
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He had no business looking this hot from the back 😮‍💨
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creds to @unicornspwnall
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inklore · 1 year
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no thoughts just this 😵‍💫
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artaxerxesthegreat · 1 year
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I FINALLY KNOW K’UK’ULKAN’S NAME!!!!!!!
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ITS CH’AH TOH ALMEHEN!!!!!!!
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meideixx · 1 year
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Namor
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natashowlet · 1 year
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namor icons
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Me, a Filipino, watching Namor burn the Spanish colonizers to the ground:
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lena-after-dark · 1 year
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Pairing: Dark!Namor x Reader
Prompt: "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I'll catch you."
Requested By: Anon
Warnings: Stalking, obsessive behavior, obsession at first sight.
You were on vacation the first time you felt him near. Of course then you didn't know what it was that haunted you through the waters.
The warm waves of the Atlantic washed all around you as you swam from the beach. You went as far as you felt safe to go, pausing to enjoy the sunshine and to sneak a peak at the marine life below. You were unsure how long you were in the water before you felt it. You knew there was a presence near you. You felt the pressure shift in the water, closing around you. Upon inspection, you saw nothing that would cause such a disturbance. But each time you stepped into the sea, you had the feeling that something was there - watching you.
That looming feeling of eyes upon you didn't let up, even after you were home. Though it was gone for a while, it came rushing back one rainy evening. It was enough to make you double check the locks on every door and window in your home. You peered outside and saw nothing. Always nothing. Except when the lightning flashed and there was a figure seemingly floating in the air. You only saw it once, and shrugged it off as your imagination.
Always when it was raining. That's when you'd feel it. That's when you'd see things. It was maddening. The figure only appeared when you were home - and when it was dark. Never when you could find proof that something was there.
Until you started receiving gifts, that was. Handcrafted jewelry and ornate shells appeared at your doorstep. And once on your windowsill - inside. That was enough to make you leave your home. And once again, the occurrences halted - for a time. Then you saw it again, not long after you'd moved. The figure floating in air. The shape of a man. You tried to capture an image, but it was gone before you could.
You had to get out of town again. This time to the mountains. The snow was a welcome distraction.
"Beautiful evening, isn't it?"
You were alone on the balcony of the lodge - sipping a hot drink and enjoying the setting sun. Something about him seemed familiar, though you didn't think you'd met him before. The glare of the sun obscured your view slightly.
"Yeah, it is. You're staying here as well?"
"Not exactly." The rich timbre of his voice was soothing. And yet something felt off. "Just visiting. It's very quiet around this lodge. You're the first person I've seen. Forgive my intrusion. I'm... Namor. May I ask your name?"
You told him your name out of compulsory politeness. He turned to face you, repeating your name with a smile. You could see him clearly now. He looked out of place - as if he were uncomfortable in the clothing he was wearing. Nothing in the style of his sweater or hat matched his earrings - and they unnerved you at the sight of them. They looked to be the same craftsmanship of the jewelry you'd been receiving. Or perhaps it was just a coincidence. You complimented them, testing the waters.
"You like them? Perhaps I'll have to get you a pair." You let out a nervous chuckle. It was time to leave. You made up a quick lie about needing to go and stood, noticing that he wasn't wearing any shoes.
"I'll see you again soon," he said as a goodbye. He sounded so charming. But there was something dark in the phrase. It was a promise. You dared a last glance at him and saw that he hadn't taken his eyes off of you. That familiar feeling was back tenfold.
Namor kept his promise. When you returned home, a pair of green earrings was waiting inside. You weren't delusional. This man - or whatever he was - was following you. Could he fly? What was he? There were so many questions, and no answers to any of them. And now that he'd appeared before you, certainly things were going to escalate. You had to leave again. You moved only when it was bright and dry as a bone outside. You were careful - leaving no trace of where you might've gone. You installed a camera, extra locks, everything you could think of.
You thought you were rid of him. Through stormy nights you didn't see or feel anything out of the ordinary. No gifts were left for you to find. No figure floating outside your window.
Apparently he just needed time to find you.
Your face to face meeting had made him bolder. You saw him again - hovering outside your window as the rain fell. This time he didn't disappear. This time he flew to the glass, placing his hand against it as he looked inside at you.
You scrambled away, trying to alert the authorities. It didn't matter if they didn't believe you. You needed to know someone was on the way to you.
Namor was inside before you could give dispatch your address. He was behind you with his hand wrapped around yours, pulling the phone from your ear and ending the call. The other was around your mouth, preventing you from yelling. He shushed you when you yelled into his hand - as if he were attempting to soothe you.
"I have to admit, I am enjoying our game of cat and mouse."
You pulled away from him, and he let you. When you faced him, a grin had spread across his lips.
"Did you like the earrings," he ended his question with something in a language you didn't understand. Most likely a term of endearment.
"Get out. Now. The cops will be here any moment." He chuckled at that, and paid the thin threat no mind.
"I think I'll keep our game going a little longer," he said as he stepped closer. You instinctively stepped back, and he continued forward until you were against a piece of furniture and couldn't retreat any further. He reached his hand out and ran his knuckles against the side of your arm. The touch sent shivers down your spine.
"I'll give you two weeks this time before I look for you again."
No matter what you said, or what questions you asked, he had no interest in elaborating. Whatever his intentions were in the end, he kept them from you. He wouldn't tell you why he was there, what he wanted from you, nothing.
“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.” 
He left through the window, flying into the darkness so quickly that he barely looked like a shadow across the sky.
Buy Me a Coffee?
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murdrdocs · 1 year
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namor is a cuddle fucker and you can’t convince me otherwise. 16+
EDIT: ignore the fact that i call him ‘amor’ in this, i have now realized the flaws in such a nickname. however, i am still too lazy to go back and change it so.
when the warmth of the sun is steadily disappearing and the chill of the night makes itself known, he’s holding you close to his chest.
the ocean’s waves are inching closer to the two of you, attempting to call namor home, but he ignores them for just a little longer.
they’ve yet to reach dangerous territory. yet to pull you both away from your comfort. and until then, namor won’t pull away from you.
his lips are kissing at your shoulder and his hand is rubbing at the fabric covering your hips and waist and stomach. your legs are slotted together, and his chest is against your back so that you can feel the steady thrum of his heart shielded by his rib cage. even so, you feel it as if it’s guarded by nothing.
because that’s what namor’s like with you. letting down all of his inhibitions, allowing himself to be free from his past and present. just so he could be with you. so he can let that feeling deep inside of him come to the surface.
amor.
it’s what you call him as his lips sneak up the side of your neck.
long ago, when you were both getting to know each other, the name sounded almost foreign on your tongue. you hesitated when you spoke it, even though you meant it, and the hesitation made the syllables sound uncomfortable coming from your mouth.
but now you say his name with the same comfort of prayers and wishes and hopes.
now, in this mundane and comforting moment, his name sounds warning from your mouth.
he hears it, yet he hums as if he doesn’t.
although you’d called him as if you were going to continue speaking, you don’t. at least, not right away.
you sigh, and your eyelids close, and you push your hips further back against his. then, when his lips have made their way behind your earlobe, you speak up.
“again?” you ask, referring to the many times you’d been in a position similar to this one today alone.
“if you’re able to,” he murmurs into your skin. “if you’ll have me.”
he bares his teeth and your sigh is more of a whine when the bones nip down onto your earlobe.
“will you have me?” your name ends the request, and you’re sure that the way that he says it hypnotizes you and makes you agree. but that’s just you refusing to own up and acknowledge the way namor could always rile you up.
you’re not sure if you’ll be much help this time, and he senses this.
“i’ll do the work. let me make you feel good.” and you don’t have to be told twice.
your soft “okay” is lost in the wind and carried to the sea.
namor doesn’t waste any time.
you’re both aware of the salty water creeping closer and closer to your feet with each wave, an alarm clock inching towards it’s designated time, a time where you’ll both be pulled from this dream-like state and brought back to the reality of your responsibilities.
you try not to think about that as namor pushes your flimsy dress up to rest on your hip.
there’s a moment where his hands aren’t on you, and it lasts longer than you would’ve preferred. when his hands find your skin again, you involuntarily jump and his teasing chuckle makes your neck burn.
“it’s just me, my love. i’m right here.”
the head of his dick tickles you as namor urges your thigh forward. you’re bare, and still wet from the times before, so it’s embarrassingly easy for him to slide right in.
his rocks start slow as if he wishes to treasure the limited time you both have left with each other for a few weeks. but then he speeds up almost all at once. his warm, soft palm slides under the dress and rests under your breasts. his hold is firm, yet he’s also pulling you back, holding you tight against him so you’re able to hear the groans coming from his lips.
“still feel so good, my love. holding me just right. you were made for me, weren’t you?” you’re nodding, frantically, the movement hurting a bit with the stiff ferocity of it. he laughs again, and it’s equal amounts condescending and adoring, if possible.
“i waited all those years for someone to call ‘mine’ and it was so, so worth it, baby.” you’re swearing under your breath at this point. your legs are spreading, too. your thigh is lifting and your back is arching as you try to get him even deeper. it’s not working and you’re whining frustratedly. namor shushes you gently.
“it’s okay. i’ve got you. let me take care of you.” he does, of course. his free hand grips your hip forcefully, and he uses it to pull your cunt down onto his cock with each thrust.
you shouldn’t be so close already, but you are. and you’re upset about it. because cumming means that namor has to leave you. you’re trying to hold off, biting down onto your lip and tensing your muscles. and like he does with everything else, namor notices.
“don’t hold off, sweetheart. it’s okay. this isn’t the end, you know that. i’ll be back. i always come back.” and he does. he never leaves you alone and empty and cold for too long. there’s no reason for you to hold off or worry.
you let go.
your moans are covered by the other sounds around you but it wouldn’t matter anyway. you’re secluded, and no one could hear it. no one except your lover.
he’s reaching his own high, thrusts turning sloppy and his groans powerful and assertive in your ears.
your hand reaches down to rest over top his and you turn your head to get as close of a look at him as you can. his eyes are pinched shut, his skin is glowing in the moonlight, his curls are formed and frame his face perfectly.
without much thought to it, you push your lips to his. he reciprocates your kiss easily, a mess of teeth and tongue and spit swapping with your mirrored desperation.
“where do you want it?” he asks against your lips.
“inside, mi amor. please.” there’s no reason to beg because namor’s answering your request in just a few moments.
his forehead presses to yours and his hips stutter once more and then he’s shooting warm seed into your walls. you twitch with the newly added warmth, and your eyes flutter shut contently.
namor’s lips pepper kisses along your face as you come down and it takes him a while to slip out of you. even when he does, he doesn’t separate from you. you want to tell him that he needs to go. that he should return to his kingdom.
but for now, you let your body relax, and your eyes stay shut, and you remain in the moment.
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iseathegalaxy · 1 year
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ES POR ESTO QUE LA REPRESENTACIÓN ES IMPORTANTE
THIS IS WHY REPRESENTATION MATTERS
[trans]
Interviewer: Your speech and your mission have always been worthy representation and respect above all. Especially about equal opportunities for the "moreno" (brown) people, for racialised people, not only from Mexico but from all of Latin America, from all over the world. And now you're here. You're K'uk'ulkaan, you're Namor, you're a Funko (toy). You're all that.
Tenoch: Ah, huevo! (kinda like "oh, god" / "oh, yeah", happily)
Interviewer: So, what do you think it'll mean for representation in Latin America and Mexico, for all of us who are getting this important message?
Tenoch: The only thing I want is that the next time boys and girls look at themselves in the mirror they feel proud of that reflection. That they see there was never anything wrong with them but rather with the eyes that judged them. If that happens, I've made it.
Interviewer: Thank you so much.
(They hug. The interviewer's been rather emotional the whole time but now they start to really cry.)
Tenoch: It hurts, dude, doesn't it? But we're going to begin healing. (He gives the interviewer a kiss on the forehead)
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mikazure · 1 year
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we finally found it folks, the biggest benefit to being a marine biologist
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tittiesnletitia · 1 year
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TENOCH HUERTA
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itaintenough · 1 year
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I need a scientific explanation on how ONE CAN LOOK SO GOOD after running his fingers through his wet hair
creds to: @unicornspwnall
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inklore · 1 year
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listen as a namor whore (namwhore?) i think that he loves marking you as his like man would go nuts with the hickeys and bruises (and bite marks too). on the off chance he lets you return the favor he’s surprised by how much he loves seeing the love bites and bruises on his own godly self >:)
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pairing: namor x princess!reader
word count: 962
warnings: eighteen+ content, mentions of p in v but not shown, teasing, bites and marking, established forbidden relationship.
note: ok see i love this concept, this take, this thot!! but i fear he’s not completely into you returning the favor because for him it’d be more of a ‘i want everyone to see and be reminded who you worship to’. and i think he likes to stay looking proper to his people, but he does let you get away with bites left under the shorts!!
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You were supposed to have left your room and met your mother and the council minutes ago—almost an hour ago you now see as the clock on your bedside reflects back to you in the mirror you’re standing at. Trying to right yourself back into looking presentable, kept, like you’re not running late because the man at the foot of your bed used his sweet siren song of pretty compliments, and words that had you out of your dress just as fast as his fingers had torn at the undergarments underneath it.
Leaving your balcony door open for him was seeming more and more like a curse than a blessing.
Letting him come and go as he pleased, when he cared to visit you after days of being MIA. Sometimes only noting his presence with a saltwater covered gift he’d leave at your doorway, when you’d stayed up as long as your body would allow to. As you waited to see if he would come to you; or when duties like council meetings and required dinners were demanded of you—events a Princess was supposedly meant to attend.
You’re surprised your mother hasn’t sent someone to fetch you. You expect it anytime now, ever the punctual woman your mother was. Being tardy was surely going to get you a stern look and deep questioning.
“Jats'uts,” he mumbles against your shoulder.
Beautiful.
Pretty.
Your heart soars, fingers only wavering a little as you do your best to right the necklaces adorning your neck. Your body having just been molded pudy in his hands mere seconds ago. Your thighs still sticky from having his mouth and cock between them. Your legs still feel that heady wobble from post orgasm. Your mind and body still coming off of that beautiful precipice of want and desire, of falling against his body like you couldn’t stand up straight, or function properly, without him being there to sink into—or onto on most nights.
You had told him how urgent it was that you make it to this meeting. How he needed to turn around and make his way back to his beloved ocean before someone saw him, and your mother had both of you locked away.
A threat he laughed at. A threat you knew meant nothing to someone as powerful as him; a God.
“If this were Talokan I’d make our people come to you. You’d never have to lift a finger, princess.”
Our people.
As if there were some alternate reality in which that could come to formation. Where the two of you would rule as equals and not something forbidden, and secretive.
There had been too much death and destruction on both sides, from both of your people, for either groups to be happy to be ruled by the both of you.
But the fantasy was nice to dream about—get lost in the idea of actually being able to flaunt your love instead of hiding it.
When his arm wraps around your waist your body works on instinct, on knowing the hands and warmth of the man that’s touching it. Guiding it into his chest to lean and rest against. His lips brushing at the side of your neck, mustache burning your skin.
“Or you could stay naked, spread out for me. Waiting for my return while I handled everything.”
“Mm.” You let your eyes close as you grin, “no responsibilities other than pleasing my king.”
“Precisely.” His teeth take a hold of your sensitive skin, his tongue following after the sting like a salve. Making your body tremble against him, a gasp falling from your lips. “You’d never want for anything. I would have it brought to you. Made for you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to you, princess.” His mouth repeats it’s actions against your neck, his hand creeping lower to the start of your thigh.
That ache between your legs quickly making a home once more at your swollen clit.
“K’uk’ulkan,” his name falls from your lips, practiced, known, worshiped—as you moan softly. As you let him suck and bite at your skin, letting his words coax you into that fantasy world you want so badly.
You don’t come back to reality until you feel his fingers start to pull up the bottom of your dress, the cool air against your damp underwear bringing you back down from that building high.
“Nononono,” you pull away from him. Untangling his arms from your body and sending him a scowl at the way he’s smirking at you. “I’m already late because of you!”
“My apologies, princess.” His hand waves towards the door, “don’t keep your people waiting any longer.”
“I won’t! You-” your quick movements stop abruptly when you see it, when the deep hue catches your eye in the mirror. And maybe it’s half your own fault for not stopping him, for once again falling victim to the hot-tease of manipulation of his beautiful words.
There’s words of anger and disbelief in the back of your throat, ready to come up and spill over at the man whose eyes are locked onto yours in the mirror. Who is still wearing that signature cool as can be expression, that you really want to slap off of him.
Your mother was going to kill you.
String you up as a pariah!
“My mother–”
“Will not be pleased, no.” He finishes for you. Steps back into that space behind you, returning his heat to your back. His thumb runs along the bruised area, eyes gleaming at his creation before flashing back to yours. “But now everyone will know you belong to someone.”
You belong to me.
Unspoken in words but not in the way he presses a kiss to the love mark, lips soft and endearingly sensual.
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phyroblue · 1 year
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namor
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eunsuri · 1 year
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Sanctuary
Pairing: Namor x Reader
Summary: While spending time in your sanctuary, Namor's latest artwork captures your attention.
Word Count: 1287
A/N: I just can't get this beautiful, stunning, gorgeous man out of my mind so I had to write this. This was meant to be a lot longer, but I hated the flashback so I cut it down to something cute and sweet for now hehe hope y'all enjoyyy! Let ya girl know what you think 🤍
For those who prefer to read on AO3, I’ve also posted it there! 🤍
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Sanctuary; protection or a safe place. That’s what Namor’s cavern had become to you over the years. Your sanctuary.
Talokan was beautiful, it was almost unbelievable to see an entire nation built underwater, a sun made of vibranium glowing above Namor’s gilded throne, bringing light to the depths of the ocean. You would gladly spend hours on end just exploring the kingdom, and speaking to locals who initially gawked at you, a surface dweller, swimming through their cities. But this cavern was your safe haven.
A relaxed sigh slipped through your lips, tilting your head back to take in the magnificent art in front of you.  You would often find Namor there, painting stories intricately across the walls, splashes of vibrant colors melted together to create a visual history of his world. It was his sanctuary too.
You gently tugged his cloak closer over your shoulders as you stood, stepping closer to the wall and tracing your fingers over the figure which depicted himself, along with the Black Panther, telling the story of the alliance formed with Wakanda. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips, your eyes trailing to the left where you discovered a more recent painting, a familiar figure decorating the wall.
It was your story. 
Your escape from the research facility, the crash landing into the large cave, your near death at Namor’s hand. You were a surface dweller with strange power he had not seen in all the centuries he’d lived, trapped in a research facility, as scientists attempted to take your power and reproduce it to create more enhanced individuals. 
In your escape, you’d found yourself sent crashing into the waters of Yucatán, where you’d awakened in a large cave with a destroyed ship and surrounded by Talokanil warriors. Namor would have killed you that day for endangering his people, knowing your escape could lead more surface dwellers to Talokan. 
“Do you know what they would do to my people?” He’d spoken dangerously into your ear, gripping your jaw in his hand. “You are too dangerous to be kept alive here.”
And yet, when they came for you, the two of you fought side by side along with the Talokanil army. The agents were slain before they could even reach the water, wiping any trace of your location from the organization. 
When he saw how you cared for his people, aiding any of the wounded that you could and shielding his underwater lands, Namor offered you protection. So long as you remained in Talokan, keeping their nation hidden and protected, you would be safe from the clutches of the surface world.
This was your home now, your safe haven; where you were free to live as you were, in the depths of the ocean, hidden in underwater caverns. 
Your heart swelled at the memories, the lingering scent of Namor wrapped around your shoulders, his cloak warming your skin. The paint was still fresh on the mural, his tools strewn about on the rocky table behind you, waiting to be cleansed for his next piece. 
Namor was a magnificent storyteller, through both his words and his art. His words rung through your ears, memories from when he’d told you the story of how Talokan came to be, about his mother. It was heart-wrenching to hear how his people had fallen victim to the death and diseases brought by Spanish invaders, how they had to leave their lives on the surface and begin anew underwater.
"He called me, 'El Niño sin Amor', 'the child without love'. And I took my name from there. Namor. Because I have no love for the surface world."
It was strange to hear, for a man who was filled with so much love for his people, his nation, the world they’d created for themselves where they could survive without the threat of the death and diseases brought by the surface. He had no love for the surface world or its people, and he would do anything to protect his home from being ravaged again. Yet, he’d found love in a surface dweller.
Rippling water behind you broke you from your thoughts, the sound of jewelry lightly clicking and wings fluttering, causing your heart to skip a beat at his presence. His footsteps were light as he made his way to your side, his figure towering to your right, the golden bands on his wrists glimmering in the corner of your eye. You couldn’t restrain the smile that tugged at your lips, turning silently to face him. 
“My love,” you greeted, before reaching for his hair, pushing it back to reveal more of his face. Namor’s hair was thick between your fingers, it soaked your skin with water as it folded into place.
He was beautiful. From his pointed ears, to the curve of his nose, and his wet lips, which curved into a smile of his own, while his eyes trailed down your cloaked body.
“It suits you,” he complimented, running his hands over your shoulders where the cloak hung and down your arms. “I could have one made for you, as my queen.”
You shook your head, lowering your gaze with a light laugh as a warmth spread across your cheeks. It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested something like this, but it could never be that simple.
“Please, amor. A surface dweller as queen? There would be an outrage.” You chuckled at the idea, lifting your head while he tugged you closer to the warmth of his body. 
“Well, yes.” He nodded, shrugging his adorned shoulders, the stunning jewelry around his neck clicking as it shifted. “But your home is here now. You are no longer a surface dweller, an outsider.”
“And yet, some still look at me as one.” You pressed back softly and shook your head once more. 
You both knew such a prospect could divide the Talokanil, though they loved and revered Namor as K'uk'ulkan, the fear and hatred for the surface world burned in many of their hearts. To see an outsider from the surface take a throne alongside their leader would cause confusion and go against the beliefs of many. While the people showed kindness and respect to you for the work you had done to protect them, some remained wary of your presence. The risk was too high.
Tearing yourself away from the idea, you nodded towards the mural on the wall with his latest creation. “It’s beautiful.”
The warmth of his hand cupped your cheek, bringing comfort to your mind as he regarded you with those deep eyes. The eyes that once glared at you threateningly, ready to kill you, now gazed at you with an adoration that made your heart swell and your stomach flutter. His touch brought you peace and safety. A breath you didn’t know you were holding in escaping quietly through your lips.
“Thank you, for protecting me.” You spoke softly, placing your hand over his and leaning into the comfort of his warmth with a light kiss to his palm.
Namor brought you forward, lowering his forehead to your own. “I’ve waited centuries for you, In yakunaj.” My love. The cool surface of his jewelry tickled at your skin. “You are mine now, and I will always protect you, as long as I live.” 
“In k’áatech.” I love you. You knew he loved it when you spoke his tongue, rewarded with an affectionate smile. “And I will be by your side, always.”
He closed the distance between your lips and you melted into the kiss, feeling all your love pour into him as he drowned you with his own. “In k’áatech.”
He was everything. He was your love, your home, and your sanctuary.
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rennebright · 7 days
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大いなる風 by あさ光/asamitsu [Twitter/X] ※Illustration shared with permission from the artist. If you like this artwork please support the artist by visiting the source.
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