#namor x ofc

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Superstition Teaser

(Chapter One Now Live HERE! Thank you <3)

They said women of her kind should never touch the sea before falling in love, that they’d lose their hearts to the waves. A forfeit to destiny or some such shit.

It was an old wives’ tale. A superstition.

But as the car careened towards the edge of the pier, rocketing over splintered wood without a hope of stopping before it hit the water, she kinda wondered if it was true. Just a little bit. The idea popped into her head like a bubble in a fountain drink, random association as her brain fizzled through shock. Pain. Panic.

A bullet caught the driver’s side window, and it exploded in a rain of glass. Flinching away with closed eyes, she instinctively threw an arm across the wheezing, blue-skinned child in the passenger seat. The wheel jerked with the motion, and the car went over the side of the pier.

Freefall stole her belly, her sense of time, her understanding of gravity.

She had a suspended moment of clarity to reflect on her life choices, on her chances of surviving all this. In summary: she was an idiot, she missed her brothers, and she would not be seeing this adventure to its end.

None of it mattered. She had to escape, and she wasn’t about to leave the little girl with her big, terrified eyes floating in the tank beside her cell. Fuck that. The car, the pursuit, and the bullets were probably inevitable, anyway. At least she’d get the kid back somewhere she could breathe.

One of them would make it out alive.

And she’d rather bleed out from the bullet she’d caught than end her days in that cage. Or under a curious surgeon’s knife.

Better to give the ocean her heart.

They hit the water, and all was pain again. Saltwater gushed through the broken window, and the waterline climbed up the windshield much faster than she’d anticipated. But the kid looked better already. Less blue where the water swallowed her legs and chest.

Unlocking the girl’s seatbelt, she grabbed her by the arm, dragged her across her lap, and started stuffing her out the window. Hopefully she wouldn’t cut herself on the glass, but she needed to be out of the vehicle and on her way out to sea before the men with guns left their cars and started spraying the water.

“Go. Go on.” The water lapped up to kiss her chin, and ominous bubbles billowed from under the hood. She only had a few more good breaths before the car went under. “Get out of here, go.”

The kid reached through the window, pulling her arm, like she could return the favor. Scrambling to unlock her own seatbelt, she shook her head, trying to push the girl away. “I’m fine! Go!”

But as she tried to work the seatbelt free, she realized with dawning horror that the button wasn’t working. The mechanism must’ve jammed in the crash. She was anchored to her seat, and it was sinking fast.

“Fuck.”

She tipped her head back, neck straining as the surface moved up, and up, and over her face. Salt burned her eyes, and she barely saw anything beyond vague shapes in the dark water. The only light came from the full moon, and that was dwindling fast as gravity pulled her deeper. She ran her hands over the console, along the side of her seat, and along the edge of the window, looking for a shard large enough to cut herself free. But the window had shattered into diamond-sized fragments. Nothing big enough to save her.

The pressure roared in her ears, the ache bad enough to draw tears – not that she or anyone else could recognize them in this salty hell.

By the time car settled on the seafloor, about a dozen yards below the surface, she could see a faint cloud of red leaking from her side, and her brother’s taunting voice rang in her memory. “Don’t go swimming with a papercut or the water will get in, and it will get infected, and you will die.”

Well. This was no papercut, and she probably wouldn’t live long enough to get an infection, but she probably would die.

Wouldn’t he be so pleased to have been right?

She wanted him. She wanted all of her brothers. If any of the bastards shook her awake and laughed at her for being a big baby crying in her sleep she’d hug them, thank them, and never run off alone again. Or. She’d at least try. She’d really, really try.

She’d do anything.

Danu.

She didn’t want to die alone.

Thrashing in her seat, pinned as the burn in her lungs turned into frantic spasms, she clawed at the safety belt poised to end her life. Her chest was on fire. Her head felt like it might explode. How long before she broke? Before she had to breathe anything at all, even water?

Little hands clamped around her wrist, tugging.

And the damn fish kid still hadn’t left.

Fucking fuck.

The child was trying to say something. Her voice carried through the water, but she didn’t recognize the language, and it wasn’t like she could answer. Bubbles crept out her nose and she gestured out, away, towards deep water where the kid could escape their pursuers.

Shadows interrupted the moonbeams dancing over the wreck.

Gunfire, muted by the water, just barely cut through the thump of her heartbeat in her ears.

Another good tug on the seatbelt. Nothing.

And then...

She didn’t mean to open her mouth.

But she did. And the last of her air rose to stick on the roof of the sunken car in uneven bubbles. Her diaphragm jerked, inviting the sea into her lungs. It didn’t feel like water. It coursed through her like lava, an alien pressure with the soothing touch of an electrical burn.

Every limb took on a life of its own, a last ditch animal reaction to scramble for oxygen. A slow-motion blur of terror and agony as her brain shut down.

The last thing she felt was the seat belt’s sudden release, weightlessness, and hands on her shoulders.

Hands much too large to be a child’s.

Don't worry, regulars, Hello, Mr. Monster is next on the docket.

If you all can wait, like, a week and a half, I will be spending a week on the ocean, will have lots of writing time, and ample motivation to spin this into a splendorous fic.

Let me know if this is something you'd like more of, and your Cuckoo will provide. Ta, dears!

#namor x reader #namor x oc #namor x ofc

[whollyhapa]

Mutant--A Namor Fanfiction Ch. 5

Summary: You test your wings again, and Namor tests you.

Notes: Up on Ao3!! This one is a doozy of dialogue. Please enjoy if you would loveee

You really meant it before—that flying surpassed any drug in existence. No matter how many times you were strapped down, cut open, sewed up, and shipped back out on your next mission, it was something no shitty scientist holding a clipboard and a taser could revoke from you—that exhilarating high that takes hold, cradling your small body like the world’s warmest blanket in a vast expanse of pillowy sky. Each time you slunk back to base post-mission, your dirty work done, armed personnel shoving you back into a cage—each time you curled up in your little cell, eyes glinting at the thought of your next fix of fresh air miles above the heads of the people who could only hurt you on the ground. Flight was everything where you had nothing.

And it’s hard to describe; but when the urge for flight latches on, it becomes a ruthless itch that fills your hollow bones and drags like needles across every square inch of your limbs. Like poison ivy, but seated deep, deep within your musculature, like every cell in your body is screaming that your feet need to be off the ground now.

You feel that same itch start to take hold now, as you rip the nauseating dress off back in your quarters, and you decide to listen to the call. The jewelry and adornments are dumped unceremoniously at your bedside, sandals kicked off and shiny hair back in its topknot home, braids and all. You step back into loose tapered pants from the modest wardrobe Shuri had graciously provided you during your stay, and a thin undershirt follows. Plucking a long red sash from your closet, you wind it tight around your waist, knotting it at your hip. It’s more out of habit than anything else—you have no weapons to conceal beneath it anyway.

You pause when your fingers linger on the latch binding the gleaming braces to your wings. You peer at yourself in the mirror from your peripheral, turning long and slow. They don’t glamorize your forbidden limbs so much as they accentuate them, you think, and if you were promised flight while wearing them…

You shed them anyway, embarrassed at the thought. They’re a crest to which you don’t belong.

Padding through the royal corridors barefoot, practically trembling with excitement, you finally reach your destination: the capital’s vast concrete aircraft landing base. Giant sleek futuristic airships line the stretch of pathway you stand on, which lead a few hundred feet to the edge of a sheer drop of cliff. The air is cool and clear, and the last of the sun is sinking below the horizon, melding orange on one side with a creeping violet on the other.

You don’t think twice. You’re speedwalking toward the brink, then you’re jogging, and then suddenly you find your bare feet are pounding on pavement—legs and arms pumping, heart racing, the itch getting stronger and stronger the longer your body recognizes it’s still on solid ground. Your powerful legs cross the stretch of asphalt in mere seconds, and the drop is getting closer and closer, and suddenly you’re looking down and the plunge is right below you, and you jump.

You freefall for a moment, tasting the air screaming past you, then twist in midair and unfurl your wings. Twelve feet of white wingspan catch the air instantly and you grunt at the yank upwards. You push down, hard, feeling your shoulder muscles flex with the movement. Then back up, then back down, and before you know it you’re in flight again, surging upward, higher and higher. Cool gusts race over your arms, igniting goosebumps, and the wind sings a holy psalm in your ears. The rush is so intense you can’t help but whoop into the wind as you soar toward the disintegrating sun, the cityscape shrinking rapidly below you.

If you ever had a place to call home, this. This would be the closest thing.

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One hour and approximately one hundred fifty clicks later, you’ve nestled yourself in the branches of a tree lodged in the side of a rocky precipice overlooking a large lake. Birin Zana and its stunning skyline are out of sight and out of mind, along with its endless noise and political folly—if you zone out hard enough, it almost feels like you dreamed the previous week of new bearings.

It’s night by now, though the hour felt like nothing; You could nearly cross the Atlantic in your sleep with your engineered stamina. But your week’s rest and recovery had left your wings stiff, and after the hour’s warm up your wings are still singing with renewed fervor and you’re still relishing the adrenaline coursing through your body.

It’s just you, in a tree, fifty feet up, swinging your bare feet while your wings dangle behind you. It always turns out to be a tree, you think absently, gripping onto the branch on either side of your legs. Must be the bird in you—that two percent avian DNA definitely had an impact. You close your eyes and feel like a youngling again while you savor the quiet, and you ride the lasting high of your short flight, eyes closed in tranquil comfort.

Something stops you from anticipating the peace to last very long, though. Before yet another awkward departure, Namor had told you he’d hoped to find you in the skies tonight; his eyes had told you he would regardless.

You won’t get rid of me so swiftly.

At this point, you didn’t doubt his resolve—by now you could tell he was a little like you: a bit too, well, relentless, when a stark fixation took hold. Something a bit below sanity, something bordering on ruthless. Locked, like a bloodhound on a scent. The similarity you identify makes you frown as you lean against the column of tree trunk you’re situated against. You think?---You’ve flown far enough away to avoid him? God knows. He did tell you he felt a pull to find you the first time, and you don’t even want to begin to consider that notion. You stare down at your hands, sending a prayer to a deity you can’t name that you’re out of reach.

The devil, apparently, answers, of course, because suddenly every muscle in your body tenses and you receive the all-too-familiar sensation of being watched—like plasma bolting through your blood. Sure enough, something catches your peripheral and you whip your head up to stare out at the middle of the still black lake. If you weren’t so busy cursing yourself for settling near yet another body of water, you’d acknowledge the fluttering deja vu in your chest.

There. A silhouette. It’s rising, up, out of the water, and small. But getting bigger, fast. A second later and you make out a body—bronze torso, wet hair, glinting gems, hurtling straight at you—

You lean back in your tree-branch seat, your sagged shoulders going rigid again.Prayed to the wrong god.

At a hundred feet of distance Namor kicks out his legs, counterbalancing to stop the swift advancement, then leans forward again, floating over to you at a moderate pace. You can see him clearly now, in all his saturated glory, ankled wings moving so fast they’re a humming blur to support his mass. He kicks out again and stops just five feet from your perch, head level at your sitting height, eyes yet again settled, unmoving, on yours.

You will your shoulders and wings to untense—whether to actually relax or to seem more relaxed to the king, you’re not exactly sure. Letting your legs swing again to distract from the way your clutch is knuckle-white on your roost, you tilt your head to the side and decide to come in swinging. He is interrupting and-slowly-killing your private flight-induced high, in any case. Your tone is dry when you speak.

“Should’ve guessed you’d fly like a hummingbird. How dainty.”

Namor’s lips twitch, and he’s quick with a low response as he flutters in midair. “Precise, I would call it.”

“Yeah, well.” You lean forward, realizing the last of the fading intemperance is making your tongue loose. “You look like a bumblebee. Poor things look like they’re in overdrive.”

He raises a knee, wings still a-flutter, and tilts his head down, controlled and level with you. “Like I said—strong. Help to balance. Quicker.”

“Doubt it.” The words slur together and slip from your lips before you can rescind the previously-closed invitation.

Namor’s quirks a strong brow, looking like he’s finally gotten you right where he wants. “So you can prov—”

“I fly alone,” you interrupt the king flatly.

He looks slightly miffed at the surly interruption, but seems to shake it off, his voice light. “Strong words coming from a girl who crash-landed in the water. Seems you still need some assistance in the air.”

He hits home instantly, and you bristle, saying nothing. You keep your legs swinging as you let the silence sit heavy, a warning that he isn’t improving the night’s company.

Some part of Namor decides to relent, because then he’s rising and his wings whir to your side as he settles on your same perch some three feet away from you. The hum of his wings dies, and the branch groans with his massive weight; if you weren’t so tense all over again you’d snicker at the creaking wood and consider the awkwardness of his colossal body dangling in a literal tree. He was much more graceful in the water.

“How did you fall?” His voice holds more caution now as he shifts his burly thighs on the bough, forcing your distance from three feet to two and still proceeding to agitate you to no end.

Once again, you deliver more honesty than you’d like—if not to appease him, then to regale the sub-par night yourself. You look down at your lap and stare at the knot in your sash, feeling his gaze burning a small hole in your temple. “Dunno. Head started hurting and I blacked out. Never happened before.” You cock your head at him. “Won’t happen again.”

Namor hmms. Sure, kid, sure.

Another episode of silence ensues, and you can tell he’s trying to choose his next words carefully. His accent is thick when he speaks again.

“The queen…did not give me much insight into your past.”

You’re sharp with the tone in your counter. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you violating treaties left and right, does it?”

The king discounts your fighting words readily. “Tell me how you ended up over Wakanda’s lands.” It’s cool, collected—but a demand nonetheless.

“Why.”

Namor shrugs. “You are like me. I would like to know about you.”

You glare out at the spot in the lake where Namor had emerged to bother you, pushing down the growing longing to give him what he wants—if only so he’d stop asking questions that make your bones itch. “You’re not like me. And my story’s not worth retelling.”

“I doubt that, in alada.”

He’s goading you now. Bloodhound on a scent. Waiting for your response, sniffing out a viable in.

This could go on forever. Expectant silence as an interrogation tactic is new to you and you’re not liking it. You could be an asshole, could leap off the branch and soar off, but who’s to say he doesn’t up and follow you, and then where’d you be? Certainly not flying alone.

Parts of you had begun to cherish living as a mysterious nobody, stealing solace in a tiny country swathed in mystery, for however long it’d have lasted. But a beast of a king sits before you, boxing you in—willing you to come to terms with him, and with yourself, and where the week has landed you. The truth sits heavy on your tongue, and you swirl it around your gums before you confront it.

“It was…an assignment in Somalia. They’d sent me flying south. Eliminate a couple senators in parliament, set up a banner, pin it on a revolutionary group, start the uproot—the works. Get in, get out.”

“The people that held you?” Namor’s voice is gentle now, deep and serious and immersed in the words slowly peeling off of you.

“Same ones that made me, yeah. In the early sixties.” You try to be casual about it, like you’re not just explaining your whole life’s origin away to a pointed-eared man prodding you to open up. “Couple of shitbags with bloodmoney developed an obsession for gene editing and human experimentation, and I was the outcome. Most other experiments failed---lived short, painful lives. I was their crown jewel.” Turning to the king, you peer up at him through your lashes. “You don’t look like the man-made type of freak, though. You eat a weird fruit or something?”

Namor waves the comment off, unfazed. “Another time. We are talking about you.”

Veering away was worth a shot. You sigh, turning to stare back out at the lake. “Well, leading up to the mission—I noticed safety measures were getting sloppy. They were getting too comfortable with me. Forgot to lock shit, left open documents they shouldn’t’. I never knew how they were tracking me every mission until I caught this glimpse of an MRI scan they’d done, and it was here,” you bring your hand up and run a finger behind your right ear, just beneath the hollow of your skull. Namor’s eyes follow your movements. “The chip was here, the entire time. Feeding them vitals, location, everything.” You bring your hand back down, and the rest of the words surge out with a harsh exhale. “So I flew down to Mogadishu, did the job to buy some time, carved it out of my head right after. Then tried fleeing northwest, toward the Congolian forest—to lay low for a while. Clearly I didn’t get that far.”

You know you’re regaling things you’ve already told Shuri, albeit in less detail; but for some reason, the thoroughness with which the king has to wrestle the information from you leaves your voice cracking by the end of the sentence. You weren’t telling him all this to diffuse a bomb strapped to your chest anymore—you were telling him simply because he was interested in knowing. Interested in you.

When you turn to look back at him, legs no longer swinging, Namor has finally torn his gaze from you to settle somewhere on the black earth below you both. His side profile is strong and begrudgingly handsome in the blooming moonlight, jewelry on every part of him reflecting celestial bodies in the relative dark. He keeps his face stoic, but you don’t miss the way his jaw twitches, like he’s clamping down on something scathing.

“And what of your head?” he asks, steadfast as he continues to press you.

You yield to his nudges again, like he’d poured a truth serum down your throat before inviting himself next to you. “Haven’t felt any different since my fall,” you return slowly. “Guessing I pushed myself to fly west too early, after my little—uh. Removal procedure.” You stop yourself before you voice your heaviest premonition, not wanting to draw a comprehensive line between the chip absent in your mastoid and the brief, harrowing pain you’d endured in the sky over a week ago. You absentmindedly brush the skin behind your ear again anyway.

“And your safety?”

At that, you shrug. Weird thing to ask. “I’m in the world’s most impenetrable nation. Second maybe to yours. I mean, my makers, the organization—they have good money and technology, but they’re not sitting on a mountain’s worth of vibranium. Just hoping they only stuck one tracker in me.” Turning again to offer Namor a humorless smile, you find his gaze now down and to the side, on your hand gripped tight to the branch below. His expression is more taut now, low-lidded, bordering on placid disgust at your situation. In the brink of your vision you catch his muscles tense and untense.

“The surface world’s evil is never lost on me.” His voice drops a register, low and lulling and careful as he continues speaking. “Savages. Creating miracles to enslave them, invading and demolishing everything in sight.” You watch Namor warily as his dark eyes start raking up your arm, up over your bare shoulder, until they meet yours—and you recognize, you know the broiling hatred and damage in them. They’ve been simmering in it longer, way longer, give or take four hundred years. Your demons were different, but your transgressors were one and the same. You could at least concede to that.

“I am deeply familiar with the treatment of our kind, alada.” Namor continues bitterly. “Those made out to be…different. It does not bode well—to be born extraordinary amongst the despicable.” He leans forward, the fire in his eyes dimming as he searches your face for the absorption of the words he’s giving you. “It is our gift and our curse.”

You scoff and avert his gaze—more so to extinguish the heat creeping up your neck than to actually disagree with what he’s saying. He’s right, more right than you’d let on. People were fucked up; it seemed only natural to expect abuse at the hands of those who knew you were different. The wings behind you shudder involuntarily, so aggressively you know Namor sees.

Extraordinary.

Instead of offering another talking point about detesting humankind, you look down to pick at the seam along your pants. “Pretty sure I’m just a bird-girl with a vendetta and a twinge of Stockholm syndrome.”

Namor shakes his head, insistent. “You endured. Survived, and triumphed. You were stronger, and smarter.”

“I know.” You let the following silence linger. You’re as accustomed to sickly praise as you are to the abuse—but the way the heat creeps over the column of your neck and rushes to your cheeks informs you that the praise feels different this time. There were worse sensations to behold.

After another beat of quiet, Namor opens his mouth again, and you find yourself bracing less for the discomfort of his comments than before. One might even call it ease, in the king’s company. You still preferred to call it defeat.

“I appreciate that you shared what you were willing, alada,” Namor tells you gently. “I understand now why you hate the word. I think you are conflicted—about who and what you know yourself to be.”

And there it is. The comfort, the ease, the relaxation, all waltzing out the fucking door. Suddenly you’re beyond irked again, and you kick yourself for…you don’t even know what for. This guy thinks he fucking knows you. It wasn’t the same as finding similarities.

A combination of indignance and searing vulnerability lick white-hot up your spine. Instantly you hoist yourself to your feet, balancing on the bough holding both your weights. “This conversation is over.” You mean to sound cold and detached, but the sentence comes out more like a snarl.

Namor’s still staring up at you, eyes carrying a vague mischief of all things now. He’s not fazed, and it makes you even angrier. You don’t give him the chance to open his stupid mouth again—you step a foot out and let yourself drop from your perch, plunging thirty feet before snapping your wings out hard and letting the night’s currents coast you out toward the lake. Once you’re out of the foliage, you beat your wings even harder, and in a few seconds you’re zipping away from yet another mess of a conversation with a man, a king—a fellow freak---that turns your stomach and leaves your brain in absolute and utter disarray.

Even with the wind yelling in your ears, your sensitive ears pick up a distant fluttering hum.

You know he’s already following after you. You don’t have to look back to check.

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Ppl asking to be tagged <3 Thank you so so much for reading the words coming out of my brain.

@gamorxa @gardenof-venus @helloabominacion @violet-19999 @ethereal-athalia @hell-is-mine098 @omgsuperstarg @helios-dios-del-sol

#Namor x reader #namor x you #namor fanfiction #black panther 2 #black panther wakanda forever #eventual smut #wakanda forever spoilers #namor x ofc #Namor #namor of talokan #smut #namor and reader are two sides of the same idiotic sun

[of-house-atreides]

Namor x OFC fic idea

Obviously spoilers for BPWF

About 15 to 20 years before the events of BPWF Namor kills a couple of scientists / marine biologists who are getting too close to Talokan but turns out they had a toddler, a girl, and he doesn’t have the heart to kill her so he adopts her.

When Nakia comes to rescue Riri and Shuri she goes with them because she feels trapped as Namor doesn’t let her leave from the cave and with Shuri’s help she finds out who she really is and what happened to her parents so when Namor comes to Wakanda to get her back, among other things, she refuses to go and tells him she hates him.

In the end would she stop Shuri from killing him or would she help her? 🤔

#black Panther wakanda forever #black Panther #spoilers #Namor #Namor x ofc #Namor x reader #fanfiction #imagine #fanfic #marvel #oc #mcu #reader #Namor x oc

[elephantsneedwater]

Is there a Namor discord because I very much so am in love with Namor and am itching to write a story and would love to talk about that man!

#namor #black panther wakanda forever #black panther namor #namor discord #Namor X ofc

[thelastharbinger]

Tenoch Huerta on why the idea that “hard work always reaps its rewards” isn’t true. Talent and hard work alone doesn’t guarantee entry into certain spaces (you’ll always be sidelined even when you’re included), but it will determine your longevity once you force your way in.

#so yeah there are a bunch of tiktok recordings of tenoch speaking his business and doing the lord's work but alot of it is w/o translations #essentially i am here to provide my services and share the wealth. happy holidays this is your gift from me #also this feels like a full circle moment for him bc he never auditioned for the role of namor- he was handpicked based off certain critera #and ofc his acting. my dude has nearly 70 acting credits so there's no doubt about his abillity #sigh i continue to love him #tenoch huerta #namor #k'uk'ulkan #namor the sub mariner #liik'k talokan #bpwf #black panther 2 #wakanda foreve #black panther #marvel #mcu #namor x shuri #nashuri #activism #loml

[helloabominacion]

QUERENCIA. (N) a place from which one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home, the place where you are your most authentic self.

Paring ⇀ kukulkan, Namor x Alien!reader Summary ⇀ Something told you that this primitive planet could be the new start after your unfortunate past. But after living three years among humans who were distrustful and aggressive toward you, hopes were crushed like stepping on a snail. But after meeting a dangerous mythological legend and a girl obsessed with jewelry and marine animals, you thought this couldn't get worse.

A/N ⇀ i'm excited for this one cause it's gonna be multiple chapters instead of one shots fics. also i don't use the ' y/n 'e. my native language is not english so there might be some grammar errors! feel free to let me know if you see any! :)

«… 🌟 … »

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Everyone has a childhood memory that will come back to them. It doesn't matter if it was happy, sad, uncomfortable, or traumatic. You will never forget it, and your memory that, despite not being joyful, your conscious will remind you of it in difficult moments. You don't know if it's a cruel way of your brain to make you recall bitter memories, and it always does it out of the blue. You wish you could restart your brain sometimes, but that would require going to a hospital full of locals who are not very friendly with you.

You can't blame them, and you cannot hold ill feelings toward the local's villagers, with infinite beliefs that this world could offer you. You learned them when you discovered this planet. Similar to your home, with different structures and weather but an identical society. Although a bit primitive, how can planet Earth's habitants assume they are the only ones in space? With so many galaxies in space and massive planets, that cannot be compared to the sun. Oh, that splendid sun that your skin loved on the first day you arrived. Bathing in its warm rays, you were fascinated by its captivating sunsets and sunrises. You never got tired of those.

Your planet was not like this, covered by immense clouds that did not allow the sky to show, immense oceans but not as deep as the earth, and mountains. Your planet was known for using the minerals of the mountains and active volcanoes, using their energy to create life, and cultivating a beautiful culture that, from generation to generation, has passed through several decades.

Only to be eradicated by a madman.

A gloomy shadow fell on your gaze, a heavy exhalation flew from your nose, slumping against the hammock. A nightmare woke you up before your alarm went off, and you couldn't catch up on sleep afterward. So now you were gazing at the ocean, waiting for the sun to rise. Your hut was constructed out of the materials of your fallen ship and natural resources. Of course, you were inspired by the designs of the local Yucatecans.  

Three years have passed since you crashed on this planet, keeping a safe distance from civilization, although humans have their mutants, superheroes, and 'gods.' But with you, it was different. You still kept receiving indifferent looks, with fear or disgust. You weren't going to hide your body, it was impossible to conceal your pointy ears, and the idea of hiding your precious tail with some pants was ridiculous.

Your people do not hide.

With the first rays of the sun, you stood up from the hammock, ready to go to the town and work. Wearing an old red tank top, green cargo shorts up to the knee, and a pair of sandals. You don't need them, but they were a gift from a mother who saw you all barefooted in the streets, insisting and almost scolding you for not wearing footwear.

Your people don’t need to wear ‘shoes’, their feet were stronger and made to run in the forest and climb mountains. With your backpack prepared with your supplies and lunch, you headed to Progreso, starting another mundane cycle again with the humans.

With a glance over your shoulder, the soft breeze swayed the palms surrounding the hut, your home, which you glared at it. How can it be home to you if it's always empty? You prayed that would change soon.

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🌟

.

The streets of Progreso were boasted with locals and tourists, excited to begin a new day to either work or explore. You marched the same road to avoid stares and strangers who dared to ask why you have a tail. You can handle children with sticky hands who are overcurious about your tail, but grown adults trying to touch your ears? That's a big no-no.

You work in a popular restaurant name El Pargo, but you were not a cook, a waitress, or a barista. None of that, you work in the back, receiving heavy cargo that no human could get off the delivery trucks. Sometimes the manager would send you to the dock to ensure their deliveries were safe, which confounded you. Did someone wanted to steal their shrimp and lobster?

Crime was common here, too common because people didn't seem bothered if someone was killed in the streets or kidnapped. Your people had their rules too, if you steal they cut off your hand, but those were radical times. You were wondering if that could help them. You took another bite of your guava, the juices dripping onto your handkerchief. It was your first break of the day, and you were observing the people go by the restaurant, families enjoying the sun and their sweets, and couples holding hands as they looked at each other in love. Some of your coworkers have pointed out and teased why you were observing like a hawk. Perhaps you like to analyze and imagine what if it was you walking in those shoes.

“Xola!”

You beamed at the nickname and turned around to lock eyes with the owner, Maritza, with a vulgar mouth but a nurturing woman who likes to smoke those cigarettes twice a day. Throwing the rest of the fruit in a trash can and wiping your hands on the handkerchief, you asked what you can do for her.

“I need you to go the dock, el Peter y Chucho no vinieron andas crudos,” Maritza huffs as she texted her smartphone.  “Can you go there and give them a hand, Mija?   Shows those lazy bums some muscles, si?” Peter and Chucho have a hangover.

You nodded as you followed her to the back room to get your phone. “What are we receiving today?”

“Octopus, lobster y una cajota de huachinangos como te gustan!” Maritza winked in your direction as you tried to prevent those purple-manicured nails from poking your ribs, but you did beam at the idea of those delicious red fishes. They tasted so great with lemon, white rice, and boiled vegetables. It was the perfect meal.

“Andale, take the bike so you can get there faster, vamonos Shu!”

You caught the keys in midair, tail wagging as you grinned at her, nodded gratefully, and exited the half-full establishment. Maritza was in a good mood, allowing you to drive her motorcycle only happens once a year.  Your first time driving a bike, you almost drowned in the ocean along with it.  The engine's purr vibrated between your legs when you ignited the vehicle, and you started to drive on the poorly fixed street.  Trusting in your driving skills, it took about twenty minutes to get to where the local boats unload and where sometimes people liked to fish and release.

“What’re you doing here, fenomeno?” freak

“Can I at least remove the helmet?” You deadpan as you get off the bike muttering in your native language, ‘annoying little shit’

“What did you say?” Jose question with a glare.

Finally you paid attention to Maritza's son, the proclaimed future owner of the restaurant, scowled at you with disdain. He is a pubescent boy who hardly knows about the world, that's what Maritza told you, but you knew the boy had a hatred towards you, perhaps due to the lack of a father figure in his young life.

“I said, hi Jose, how are you today?” You smirked at him as you left the helmet on one of the handles. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Because I’m already handling it, so I don’t need your help.”

“That’s not what your mother told me.” But before you could approach the dock steps, Jose stepped in the way.

“Como te lo dije fenomeno, I don’t need your help. So go the fuck away.” like I said freak.

Your pointy ears fold back, feeling the anger in your throat with the urge to smack him on the head. Insults never dishearten you. You've heard worse, but the resentment towards you. What did you do to deserve such treatment? When you took a threatening step and invaded his space, delight passed when you saw Jose shrink and your vibrant eyes scowled him down.

“If you don’t move, you’re going to force me to move you, boy.” You snarled quietly as your cat eyes like glared at him. Jose gulped and smirked nervously.

“If- if you touch me, I’ll call on you the police.”

 The weak threat made you huffed amusedly as you side-step him.  “As if anyone wants to touch your disgusting human body. I do not respond to threats, Jose. I make them. So, I suggest you change your attitude before something happens.”

And right away you went up the stairs, ignoring the angry words of Jose, who followed you, trying to have the last word. The waters of the pier were deep, and where no one dared to swim since there was no sand to step on. Your eyes found the boat with the restaurant logo, and you greeted some workers, some greeted you, and others gave a look that you didn't even care about and began to help them disembark. Quickly picking the heaviest box and putting it on the hand truck.

But how were you going to work with someone yapping down your neck?

“I could tell my mom that you said that to me! ¡Te despedirá si se lo digo!”

“Go for it.”

You hoped the impassive glare you sent over your shoulder could make him walk away, but he continued to complain. And you felt second-hand embarrassment since other bystanders were glancing at the young adult as if he was a nutcase, and he is, but Jose couldn’t care less. He wanted to speak his piece of mind.

“I will! And then you can get the fuck away from my home.”

“I didn’t know you own the whole state.”

“You know what I mean, pinche fenomeno!” fucking freak

Workers who watched the interaction shook their heads in disbelief, used to these childish tantrums from the young boy you believed. Finally, with the last heavy package set, a guy took away the hand truck to load on the car waiting at the end of the pier. The other male workers took this as a sign to breathe and sit on the boat while waiting for another hand truck.

“Ya dejala en paz Jose, estamos trabajando aquí.” Leave it alone Jose, we are working here

“Ya chamaco vete a perder a otra parte.” Alright kid, get lost somwehre else

Jose scowled at the workers in disbelief.  “Why are you letting this alien work with us? She doesn’t belong here!”

“Am I a freak or an alien? Pick up your damn mind.”  Your remark got a few chuckles from behind you as you faced Jose, tail wagging left and right, frustration bubbling to a fit of anger you might not be able to contain.

“You know what you are,” Jose sneered. “A fucking – “

“DEMONIO!”  Demon

Everyone jerked at the loud shout from the other side of the pier, and they saw an older man struggling with his fishing rod, as if something was trying to pull him down.

“¿Señor, está bien?”  Someone asks him from the boat.  Sir, are you alright?

“Hay un demonio en el agua! Un demonio.”  There is a demon in the water! A demon"

Two men quickly approached, helping the man try to pull the catch, and you also drew near to the edge of the pier. Why would he scream demon? Could it be one of those monster fish you sometimes see in the magazine? A frown pulls your brows as you scrutinize the turbid water trashed around where the line was disappearing.  But when you crouched down to get a better look at what it could be, your eyes widened in bemused, briefly between the men’s pulling back and forward. You briefly caught two small hands pulling the thread of the fishing rod. It wasn't a demon, that was a child!

“Stop, stop! That is not a demon, that is a kid!”

But none of them listened to you as they were on the verge of collapsing, whatever it was down there, it was strong and didn't seem to budge. Someone lost their grip with the water thrashing and splashing on the slippery wooden pier, and the older man was yanked down.  And you dive in, ignoring the scared protest from your coworkers.

Your eyes adjusted to the murky ocean water as you swam down, trying to locate the man with the white shirt, but the salt water was stinging your eyes, but you kept kicking your legs. Sinking even further, relief flooded you as you located the man a few feet away from you, floating unconscious. You swam over to him, and before you could even grabbed him by the bicep, something from down below floated to you, and you almost lost all the air as you gasped dumbfounded.

A child, there was a child glaring at you. But your keen eye catches the big gash on her forearm, blood flowing as the kid cradles her arm near her, and with a last mad glare she sent you, she swam down and disappeared into the dark water.

Who are you? What are you? Where do you come from? So many questions but limited time for your lungs. Remember you’re not like your other distant relative who are design to breathe underwater. Desperately you grasped the man's arm and swam up with all your might, lungs starting to burn inside your chest. Sweet relief filled your lungs the instant you broke out from the surface. A long stick appears in your line of vision, and you grip it, letting the man pulling you to the pier. A pair of hands hold you from your biceps and pull you up, clothes clinging to your soaking wet body.

The paramedics immediately took the unconscious man to the hospital, one of them gave you a thick blanket to cover yourself with, and you accepted it. They applauded you for your brave action, patting your back as you smiled at them, but your mind was elsewhere. Who was that child in the ocean? It wasn't your imagination, perhaps a mutant you sometimes saw on the news.

“Oye Xola, que vio esa viejo en el agua? Was it a demon? Did you saw it too?” One of the fishermen asked you, all of them gazing at you with morbid curiosity.   Should you tell the truth?  Lying was against the law on your planet, but then again, this is not your planet, so you shrugged. Hey Xola, what did that old man see in the water?

“No, it wasn’t a demon. I think it was a small shark or something else, but I couldn’t see it clearly.”

Humans speculate among themselves. A shark, a sea monster, or an older man should search for another age-appropriate hobby. And before you reached the stairs from the pier, you gave one last look where you jumped into the water. The soft waves moved the water in a rhythm that prevented you from observing its depths.

It's settled. You are going to explore more about the depth of the ocean.

Everyone went about their day, prepared to share what had happened on the pier with their friends, family, and others. Maritza lent you one of her clothes, and she was excited to see you in them. Your closet includes shirts that expose your shoulders, shorts, or long skirts to comfort your bottom.  The white crop top with no sleeves was a beautiful local white stitching, and the long flowy green skirt was perfect for your tail, with free mobility.

You said goodbye to Maritza with a wave and a smile, promising you would bring her clothes back tomorrow. All day you were thinking about how you're going to investigate your little encounter. The public library was 1 hour from the city, and you needed more energy to use public transportation. The internet could help, with its infinite knowledge of the world, surely there will be something about children capable of breathing in water and stronger than an adult. Your feet wandered through the streets while you savored a large bowl of fruit full of hot sauce and other sweets that the vendor prepared for you. But someone drew your attention, and a happy grin pulled your cheeks.

“Abuela Aurora!” You called out to the elderly woman ahead of you and trotted towards her. Her wrinkled brows rose in surprise, then fondness at the sight of you, and open her arms to embrace you in a gentle hug.  The smell of marzipan and roses filled your nose, enjoying the warm contact from her purple and pink shawl.

“Mi dulce Xola, como te fue hoy? Cuéntame.” My sweet Xola, how was your day today? Tell me.

You related your day, every detail you did, every thought, and every word you had with someone new. And you pause, unsure if it would be a good idea if you tell your encounter with the child to the grandmother. Would it scare her? Alarm her? Then again, she always gave you good advice. She always did when you wanted to create a life in Progreso.

“Hubo un accidente en el muelle, un pescador cayo al agua y estaba ahí para rescatarlo.”

“Ay que peligroso, pero mi dulce niña estaba ahí para salvar el día. ¿Qué fue lo que atrapo ese pescador?”

“No era un qué sino un quién…”  The older woman halted and looked at you curiously, waiting for your answer.

“Vi a una niña, vestida en harapos y con collares de dientes en su cuello.”

That innocent curiosity in the brown eyes of the older woman changed to one of affliction, and with a speed that surprised you, Aurora grabbed your hands and stared into your eyes.

“Olvídate de lo que viste.  Tu no viste una niña en el agua, fue tu imaginación.”

“Pero abuela yo –"

“No! ¡Olvídate de eso, es un mito y nada más! ¡Él es un mito!”

You slipped out of the older woman's grip, and uncertainty invaded you as you took a step back and looked at her suspiciously. And without explaining her outburst, the grandma spun around to continue her stroll as if nothing had happened.

🌟

What the fuck just happened? After thirty minutes of wandering all alone with your rambling and perturbed thoughts. You met grandma in a public park, she offered you a taste of one of her empanadas when you admitted that you had never tried them. It was a fact, she knew something about that underwater child. Tomorrow morning you will have to be persistent and get answers. But what if she's protecting you from something? Is he a myth? Who is a myth?

Your pensive gaze rose to see your cabin illuminated, with its decorative lights on the railing, the warm and gentle breeze swaying the palms leaves, making your skin nippy due to the sweat. So peaceful. Nothing disturbed you.

Your tote bag slipped from your shoulder, falling on the sand with a quiet thud. You didn’t left the backyards lights on.  It’s like a ritual to you, turning all the lights before going outside.   Instinct invades you, slits black pupils narrowed, attempting to search for any sign of threat.

There were three classifications among your people who had unique gifts. For example, a group was for the community, healers, and builders. Another group was for working minds to voice the complaints and wishes of the communities to avoid conflict between tribes.

You knelt without breaking contact with your home and grasped a fist of sand, a familiar warmth spread in your right hand, turning the little sand into a glass-looking lance.

Then there's your group, fiercely protecting the community with their lives. Who attack first and asks questions later.  But you gotta be cautious cause this is not your planet; this environment is not filled with humongous beast or neighborhood tribes who wished to raid your hom.

Earth doesn’t have that.

“Come out before I’ll drag you by the throat.”  Your threat was loud, making sure whatever was inside your home could hear it. A rustle from your left was heard, loud and approaching you, bending your knees into a defense position, raising your spear to your shoulder.

“Much ma' in meentik loob…”  Please, don’t hurt me.

Your gaze immediately softened, and you lowered the spear. Your heartbeat delayed its frantic pace, realizing you were not going to fight your life. A huge relief for you because you were wondering how you would hide the body. There was the cause of your inner turmoil.  Giving you the biggest puppy eyes you have ever seen, wet hair still dripping, which indicates she must have been hiding in the water not too long ago, but a whiff of copper made you blink. The little girl was still holding her arm to her chest, there was no bleeding, but the gash on her forearm looked red and angry, needing treatment.

You took a step forward but halted when she quickly took two steps back. Her widened eyes were staring at something, and you looked down, ah right how could you forget the dangerous weapon in your hand. Slowly you kneeled down, keeping eye contact with the girl, dropping the glass weapon, and the second it made contact with the white sand, it returned to its original form.

The little girl gasped with wonder as she walked towards you with new courage, speaking in her mother language you could not understand.

“Teech juntúul k'uj?  K'a'abéet a beel juntúul bey le intia'al, Kukulkán!”  Are you a god?  You must be one like mine, Kukulkan!

 You crouched correctly to her eye level as you raised your hands. “Woah, woah, I – I cannot understand you,”

The girl paused as she heard you speak, frowning.  

“Ah, you don’t understand me, okay….” You muttered to yourself, feeling conflicted about how to communicate with her.  “That nasty wound will get infected if it isn’t treated.”

The girl tilted your head as she blinked at your word. You pointed at her wound. “What happened to you?”

 She glanced at it briefly and shrugged. “  Yaan u ts'akik chúunk'in, le xiibo' estúpido lúub yóok'ol tin yéetel in la'achik.”  It will heal later, that stupid man fell on me and scratched me.

You understood the word stupid, but you could not decipher the rest. However, inside your home, you could use your native technology to help her and be able to translate what she said. You straightened to your height and offered your hand. The little girl stared at it, then at you. Curiosity but caution gleamed in her brown eyes, clearly not trusting you fully.

Using the same hand, you offered you pointed where your heart was. “Xola,” You offered your hand again, hoping the little girl would understand your intentions. You just wanted to help her and perhaps know more about her origins.

It took her seconds to understand you, and a smile pulled her chubby brown cheeks. “Yalit,” Your hands gently grasped the small hands from Yalit and pulled her towards your home, and for the first time, you had a  guest in your lonely home.

#Namor x reader #Black panther WakandaForever #Kukulkan x reader #namor x female reader #hope you like it #reblogging and leaving comments much appreciated #and likes #ofc #tenoch huerta #namor x y/n #mcu #namorxreader series #fanfiction

[justagirlinafandomworld]

Personally, February was quite a year, so please join me in saying good riddance! *waves as February slips on by* Luckily, I was able to keep my reading queue full for most of it. Peruse at your leisure and be sure to gush over the stories you love. If anyone is going to appreciate your excitement, it's the people who typed it up and clicked that publish button. ❤️

This list is alphabetical by fandom (mostly), then by character.

Summaries and warnings are included as provided by the authors.

Happy Reading!

2023 reading list | fic rec masterlist

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

DC

The Other Half series by @youvebeenlivingfictional Bruce Wayne x Reader You glance at the man, then freeze, eyes widening. There’s no way that the goddamn Prince of Gotham is on your counter right now. Luckily for you, he’s focused on the tie clips. Maybe he knows you’re staring and is just ignoring it. Maybe he’s just so used to the sensation that he simply doesn’t register it anymore. Warnings: Canon-typical violence, angst, fluff, explicit sexual content

Marvel

Mafia Ask by @angrythingstarlight Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader ASK: what would be bucky's reaction if malyshka playfully smacked his ass Warnings: Spanking, dom!Bucky, bratty!wife.

Marc thinks the reader loves Steven more by @softlyspector Marc Spector x Reader Prompt: Insecure marc because reader loves Steven more maybe? Warnings: Angst with a happy ending.

Waves of Love by @flordeamatista Namor x Reader When you look into the water, you see the reflection of love. Warnings: poetic fluff, soft smut (fingering), beach soft smut, kisses, ocean love, slight angst but just amor

The Little Things in Life series by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor dark!Steve Rogers x Reader Your suburban life begins to show cracks and your next door neighbour, Steve Rogers, seems intent on shattering what’s left. Warnings: non-consent sex

Lies by @cockslutpadalecki Steve Rogers x Female Reader What is a couple of little white lies between friends? Warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship, oral sex (male receiving), exes being fuck buddies, explicit sexual content, 18+.

Broken Promises by @cockslutpadalecki Steve Rogers x Reader Prompt: “Fuck me like a starved animal or leave.” Warnings: fwb relationship, female masturbation, explicit sexual content, 18+.

I Wish I Had That by @girl-next-door-writes Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader Marc has found himself a girlfriend, and Steven is happy for him, he really is. Problem is, Steven wishes he’d met her first. Warnings: None provided.

Supernatural

Beers & Beef Jerky by @princessmisery666 Dean Winchester x Female Reader Dean’s fantasy may just come true. Warnings: smut.

Push Your Luck by @cockslutpadalecki Dean Winchester x Reader Prompt: “Y’know, I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck.” Warnings: a little bit of teasing, bratty!reader, slight dom!Dean vibes,18+.

Your Way or the Rope by @cockslutpadalecki Demon!Dean x Reader Prompt: “I’ll fuck you for as long as you can stay awake… maybe after that too.” Warnings: bondage, a hint of dub-con, threat of oral sex, multiple orgasms, implications of somnophilia, a little Stockholm Syndrome, 18+.

Two At Once by @hoboal87 Dean Winchester x Reader x HunterCorp!Reader Dean catches you with his doppelgänger. Warnings: Smut, Crack, Threesome, implied open relationship

Trust Me by @carryonmywaywardcaptain MoC!Dean Winchester x Reader Dean’s losing his grip with the Mark, so you offer him a different outlet to work through some of his tension. Warnings: smidge of flangst, implied friends with benefits, implied (rough) future smut

In Living Color by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/N never knew how much color existed in the world till a green-eyed hunter stumbled into her path. Warnings/Explicit 18+: Implied smut. Kissing. Dean's hands very briefly up a skirt. Dean on a motorcycle. Dean in leather. Dean being an absolute 1950s smoke show! Slight AU!Dean. He's still a hunter, but he's a hunter in the '50s.

Don't You Forget It by @rizlowwritessortof Dean Winchester x Reader Prompts: “Listen to me, mister. You’re my knight in shining armor. Don’t you forget it.” & Supernatural episode: Regarding Dean. Warnings: Angst, pining, with a happy ending.

Trying Something New by @sofreddie Sam Winchester x Female Reader Sam and Y/N discuss kinks. Warnings: Pet Play, Discussion of Kinks, Implied Smut

Take It Easy by @there-must-be-a-lock Sam Winchester x Reader Prompt: “I want it to hurt.” Warnings: Discussion of rough sex but nothing on-screen. 300 words, mature.

Riding the Cavaletto Squarciapalle by @kickingitwithkirk Boy King!Sam Winchester x Reader Warnings: BDSM 18+, nudity, punishment, collar/lease, nipple clamps, blindfolds, restraints, foxtail plug, anal beads, wood horse, dildo insertion

Top Gun: Maverick

No One's In The Room series by @princessmisery666 Jake Seresin x Original Female Character (Ryleigh) Jake and Ryleigh find themselves stranded in a remote location when a mission goes sideways. Injured and dependent on his help, she gets a glimpse of the man beneath the façade of ‘The Terminator’. Once they are rescued, the bubble of their personal Vegas bursts, and Jake struggles with new emotions while Ryleigh hopes he will finally see the man she came to know when no one else is in the room. Warnings: enemies to lovers, slow burn, cheating mentioned, bad family relationships, friends with benefits, fluff, angst, asshole!Jake.

RPF

Checkmate series by @jawritter Jensen Ackles x Reader, King!Jensen x Handmaiden!Reader They’re just dreams, very vivid dreams, at least that’s what Jensen first thought when they started happening. Now, after a trip to a therapist office, he learns they might not be dreams after all, but rather memories of a past life that send him searching for an unpredicted turn of events that could effect the future…if he’s lucky, if she exist at all. Series Warnings: Angst, Language, Therapy Sessions, Hypnosis, Past Life Repression Therapy (Yes, it’s a thing), Character Death, Smut, Unprotected Smut, Soul Mates. Individual warnings will be placed over each chapter)

#just a girl reading fics in February 2023 #fic rec masterlist #bruce wayne x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marc spector x reader #steve rogers x reader #steven grant x reader #namor x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #jake seresin x ofc #jensen ackles x reader

[mimiiis]

do yall still want.. the namor fic 😭😭??

#☾☼mims writes #more mims #😢😢 #the fandom/ namor girlies kidna died out #ill still write ofc but i kinda need to know if im gonna publish it or not #namor x reader

[purpleph4se]

Plspslspslpsls write a Namor x f reader with a breeding kink🤭

i made this extra special since ur my first ever request! im sorry if i took to long to write i’ve been busy with uni but tysm for requesting and i hope u like it <3

namor x reader

warnings | smut, fem/afab! reader, dom! namor, BREEDING (ofc), praise, possessiveness, overstimulation

translations | in yakunaj - my love, in k'áatec - i love you

namor’s lips feel so yielding yet passionate against yours, your little sighs mixing and brushing against each other's skin. its been so long since he’s been intimate with you. his duties as the god of his people have kept him away from you, leaving you needy for him.

his tongue licked softly at your lips to part them at the seams, licking some more inside of your mouth to find your tongue. he was breathing so heavily into your mouth, and you returned the same to him. you were starved for each other. all of the oxygen in your lungs being replaced by his might not even be enough to satiate your desire.

namor pulls you into his lap, his arms drawing you against his chest - tight enough that you couldn't possibly get closer. every touch is careful and thought-out, his fingers dancing lightly over your waist because he knows that's your weak spot. "i love you so much," namor sighs deeply into your neck, his own urgent sense of desire taking over his every thought.

his eyes never once leave yours, he wants to see that pretty face you make when he pushes the head of his cock up against your hole. “so wet…all for me..” namor mutters against your lips, his grasp letting your hips start to lower onto his cock. "i’ll take care of you, in yakunaj."

you nod, breathy pants fanning against his gaped lips as your hips press flush against his. you'd forgotten how tense it felt when he was bottomed out like this, a bite of sharp pressure flitting through your spine. "ah—“

"i know," namor whispers through a tense expression, one hand caressing your cheek as the other draws you against his chest. "i know it’s a lot, i’ll be gentle."

the pressure of his thick cock snug in the hilt of your cunt was immense, but you missed it. he always took his time, letting you take control and grind your hips and bounce as much as you could take.

but namor can't help himself, and neither can you - and all in a moment, namor’s hands grasp your waist and help you up and down, up and down on his cock to the point where your shaky breaths become uncontrollable whines.

“oh-oh fuck—!” you stutter out each time you bounce on his hips, your body so easily maneuvered , he just loves taking care of you like this. “just like that, my sweet girl," namor grunts out between shaky breaths, beads of sweat forming on his skin. "you're doing so well. i missed you so much, in yakunaj."

your attempt at a response was futile, your words wrung out in your throat by a whimper at the pleasure. it boils in your gut, seeping through your limbs and buzzing along your skin - you're so close, and namor knows because he is too.

"m’ g-gonna cum-" the words are broken with each bounce, each slap of your hips on his, over and over his throbbing cock driving into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

"i know, i know," namor groans out, his eyebrows furrowed and his face tense and flushed. "i’m here, i’ve got you. let go for me."

and you did just that, spasming underneath him and gripping his cock without mercy. juices gushed out from your core, a white ring of cum covering the base of his length as you bit your tongue to suppress your cries. you cling to namor as he fucked you through your release, his pace never faltering.

"oh, that's my girl," he pants onto your gaped lips that glimmer with a sheen of saliva, fucking up into you faster and faster. "just a little more, and i’ll fill you up, hm?"

tingles shiver through your skin and it's so euphoric when his face tenses up and his head digs itself into the crook of your neck, filling you with every last rope of cum. it spills out around the base of his cock, seeping onto your skin in recognition of how starved the two of you are.

but he wasn’t finished. he needed you full. he had to get it nice and deep inside of you. he holds your back as he lays you down against the sheets, being careful of not pulling out.

“namor—! s’ too m-much!” you keened as he began to move his hips again. he was mesmerized with how perfectly your eager cunt swallowed him. namor pressed his lips against you, lifting his hips up slightly, bucking into you, softly but forcefully.

you cried, slinging your arms around his shoulders as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, hammering into you in quick little thrusts. his balls slapped against your ass obscenely, the snaps of his skin against yours echoing in the air of the room.

"you feel so good around me, like your body was made for me, all mine—all mine." he rambled against your neck in a hushed tone as he thrusted into you, his narrow hips slamming against yours. he kissed the side of your neck as you writhed underneath him, bucking up into him with needy mewls as he fucked you.

"im yours! y-yours, namor—“ you screwed your eyes shut, your hand shooting to the back of his head, pressing him into you as he grazed his teeth against the tender flesh of your neck, "i-i belong to you my king, my g-god—ah!” you cried out as you felt him suck on your neck.

he chuckled, lifting his upper body, not ceasing the thrusting of his hips to take a good look at you underneath him. his hair was a mess, slick with sweat as his wide, muscular chest heaved, little beads of sweat rolling down his defined abdomen and down where your sexes met.

"that’s right, taking your god so well, in yakunaj.” his voice was breathy as he licked his lips, your hands resting on his forearms as you made eye contact, your vision hazy as arousal thrummed in your belly.

with a particularly forceful thrust, namor pressed his hips flush against you and groaned as you let out a little whine, your gummy walls gripping his pulsing length, sucking him in. he swore under his breath.

his lips searingly hot against your own as he captured your mouth with his, fucking you into sheets, sweetly filling you with his thickness, his tongue writhing against yours as he thrusted in and out, in and out, faster, yet still, so tender.

"im going to breed your cunt—make you mine. you would love that wouldn’t you? fill you until your spilling with my children, hm?” namor purred, pressing his forehead against yours, tearing his lips off of yours as he dug his fingers into the sheets beneath you.

“yes! yes, p-please! i need it—need you!” you cried out, feeling his erratic breaths fan over your lips in heated little blasts as he grunted with the effort of fucking you, your legs bouncing in sync with his thrusts.

his grueling pace and the possessive way he bore down on you was enough to fling you over the edge. you came hard, bucking and spasming as your clit throbbed like a heartbeat. you desperately moaned his name over and over.

namor let out a throaty, guttural moan, inside your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip as his hips stuttered and stilled over yours as you felt hot, thick cum flood your cunt, again. he grunted and whined as he snapped his hips forward again and again, shooting his cum deep inside you. his trembling and panting seemed to go on forever before you felt the twitching stop, replaced with the dull throbbing of your own orgasm dying down.

“in k'áatec.”

#namor x reader #namor imagine #my writing

[tonkysexist]

I'm on the record as saying that I never care when white characters get recast as POC (like with Namor and MJ in the MCU); however, there is one distinct exception to that. I believe Charles Xavier has to be white. Hear me out.

I'm approaching this with the characterization of Charles Xavier in the comics (not the Fox films, as it has been so long since I've seen them) and my own interpretation of the politics surrounding his character. I would love to hear some alternate perspectives, provided that it is all polite discussion ofc.

As I alluded to in an older post I see Charles Xavier as a very liberal character. He is always for assimilation and has a tendency to prescribe the "model minority" mindset. He uses his most attractive and human passing mutants as the face of his team. Never in the comics did he publicly identify himself as a mutant- Cassandra Nova was the one controlling his body when he publicly came out as a mutant. Charles' wealth and his whiteness prevents him from seeing the reality of the mutant situation, it is the reason why him and Erik are always at odds. Erik, as a Holocaust survivor, understands the patterns of discrimination and bigotry. He understands that no matter how much the submit to the mold of "well behaved mutants" they will never be treated the same.

Charles, in my mind, encapsulates the liberal fixation on both the aesthetics of bigotry and the individual. Bigotry is bad when people yell slurs and commit hate crimes. Slurs are yelled by individuals, and hate crimes are solitary events perpetuated by individual bigots. Erik was always a character who attacked the system. He wanted to dismantle the systems responsible for the oppression of mutants. Charles is someone who has benefitted from that system, even as a mutant, and on some innate level is afraid of changing that fact. I think being white and wealthy contributes greatly to the philosophy of Charles Xavier. The politics of mutants and the X-Men universe has always been something of great interest to me and this is just the way I see it. But, what do you guys think?

#again I know the movies softened him quite a bit so maybe future movies will keep with that pattern idk #charles xavier #professor x #magneto #erik lehnsherr #marvel comics #marvel #x-men

[dino-fart]

Plan for the Week

Hi Everyone,

Thank you for being so patient and still following despite my lack of content.

I still have requests open and prompts to choose from.

At this moment in my inbox is one request which I will be completing tomorrow.

As for the stories, here is my plan:

In the Dragon’s Lair - Stephen Strange!AU x OFC - Chapter 1

The Swan and the Spider - Sinister Strange!AU x Reader - Chapter 1

The Wendigo Forest - Strange Supreme x Reader - Chapter 2

The Hero’s Doctor - Supreme Strange x Reader - Chapter 1

Siren of the Sea - Defender Strange x Reader - Chapter 1

Favorite Features - Multi Strange x Reader - Chapter 1

In Reina In Waal - Namor x Reader - Chapter 4

The Hunt - Sherlock Holmes x Reader - Chapter 1

The Sith and The Mandalorian - Din Djarin x Reader - Chapter 1

The ‘Miracle’ - Joel Miller x Reader - Chapter 6

The Princess and Her Galaxy - Bo-Katan x Din Djarin x Reader - Chapter 3

Heartbreak and Headaches - Joel Miller!AU x Reader - Chapter 1

The Fall of A Kingdom - Pedro Pascal!OC x Reader - Chapter 1

The Blood Moon - Pedro Pascal!OC x Reader - Chapter 1

Let Me In - Pedro Pascal!OC x Reader - Chapter 1

Dear Sister - Pedro Pascal!OC x Reader - Chapter 1

Like you want to be tagged in one or all of these!

#doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #sinister strange x reader #strange supreme x reader #supreme strange x reader #defender strange x reader #din djarin x reader #joel miller x reader #namor x reader #sherlock x reader #pedro pascal character x reader

[whollyhapa]

Mutant--A Namor Fanfiction Ch. 4

Christ, does this feel unnecessary.

Shuri’s attendants did a number on you. From the heavy bands wrapping your biceps and ankles, to the gold ring curled around your bottom lip, to the swaths of shimmery fabric snaking tightly around your body, to the jeweled sandals clasped snug around your ankles—you can’t decide which part of the outfit you resent more. They couldn’t even leave you your hair—you normally throw the top half up in a topknot, but now it’s down completely, shampooed and brushed and glistening down your back, with two tiny braids trailing down your temples.

You scowl and turn around in the mirror for the fifth time. The white dress is too tight, too gaudy, too exposing along your thighs. The jewelry sits too heavy on your skin. The only thing you can’t seem to form an opinion about are the elegant gold and black braces that wrap around the base of your wings and creep like meshed webbing up your scapular and covert feathers. It had taken some convincing, but the queen’s evil fashion attendants had assured you that the 3D printed vibranium design still allowed for flight, at least. You flap your wings experimentally.

You feel like the competition’s finest show poodle.

And you really, really need to take a moment for some self evaluation. How on God’s green fucking earth did you wind up here again? Now you remembered—you’re about to reencounter the same underwater king that had breached an accord to drag you from a peaceful drowning, and it’s the same man you’re about to strive to avoid for an entire day.

You think about the time you could be spending today testing your wings again, touching clouds again, and you bristle.

—-------------------------------------------------

You’re still seething as you pop a candied grape in your mouth two hours later, crunching slowly as you ponder how you possibly let yourself land in this situation.

You’re several hours late to the banquet; introductions and grand entrances are over already, the food’s been whisked away, and multilingual chatter fills the great hall you stand in. A giant Wakandan flag drapes proudly from the ceiling, decorated with glittering strings of pearls and sea netting. Tall curved windows arc over either side of the giant hall to shed ample light over the scene, and you feel like an ant in a bubble.

You haven’t moved from your shadowy corner nestled to the far right of the hall’s only entrance. Scanning the crowd for a hulking bronze god, you realize you can’t see many people from this angle, but honestly the less people can see you the better.

You crunch down on another grape as your eyes follow a blue figure wearing peculiar guards filled with water over her mouth and traps. A Talokanian. You should be more startled by the fishperson, but you think the freakishness you’ve seen in the pits of Serbia’s black-market science stifles your awe.

You pop the final grape in your mouth. God, they’re really blue, though.

The Talokanian turns suddenly and catches you staring, but instead of looking away, you hold her gaze—and you behold each other for a moment, like neither one of you can decide which of you looks weirder. The Talokanian is the first to lose the staring competition, and she turns and slips back into the crowd of textiles and dresses.

You think you’ve just been compromised.

Still, an hour passes uneventfully, with no sight of Namor. Eventually a group of elegantly dressed performers, some holding large drums, files into the banquet hall and starts setting up the instruments near your little alcove of shadow. You take the opportunity to slip along the wall toward the opposite end of the hall’s doors, where a wide stretch of balcony doors are swung open to let in the waning afternoon sun.

You breathe easier once you’re outside. Orange clouds drift high above a stunning, stretching view of the city below. You lean your stomach against the balcony railing, breathing deeply. The sky plus the peculiar architecture makes for an otherworldly scene, and as you watch two distant birds swoop and dive together over the horizon, fantasies of flight tonight over this magnificent city capture your mind again. So much so, you forget your crucial vigilance for a moment—and it costs you.

“Do they not let you fly, in Alada ?” rumbles a thick voice approximately three fucking feet right behind you.

You whirl around instantly, punching out a curse. Sneak attacks were something you carried out, not something that ever happened to you. “Jesus, you’re quiet,” you hiss at Namor.

You have to crane your neck to look up at the king. If you thought the man was flashy the first time you saw him, what he wears now is sensationally fucking opulent. An elegantly patterned loincloth drapes from his hips below a thick golden belt. Even more bejeweled armor wraps his arms and shins. Wide bands of metal and pearls connect the tapered gold pauldrons resting on either of his shoulders. A shoulder cape of thick ornate fabric sweeps across his chest and drapes down his back, and the headdress he dons is nothing short of spectacular—all feathers and stones crowning out of the head of a golden serpent that encompasses his strong features on all sides. You have to search the shadows of his face to find his eyes.

And there it is. That mile-long relentless amber stare boring directly through your pupils and into the back of your skull. He looks at you like he’s halfway between curiosity and a desire to eat you alive.

He repeats the question. “Does the queen not let you fly?”

You press your wings against the balcony railing and squint at him, deciding to give him some truth. You can’t tell him Shuri is very possibly using you as a political pawn in the upkeep of an alliance, but what can you say? The man is intriguing.

“I can, starting today. Queen rules.”

“Queen rules,” Namor echoes, nodding solemnly. You watch as he raises his right hand up to his face to take a bite of the whole unpeeled mango resting in his fist; it looks miniature in his large slender fingers. He chews for a moment, then closes his eyes and swallows. “I still resent the surface world. All that it stands to destroy.” His eyes open and train on you. “But the fruit of your lands? Sublime. It tastes forbidden.”

You shift on your feet, wondering how the hell to respond to a comment like that, when Namor gestures with a sticky hand behind you. “Your wings. The metal. They look…regal. You will fly today?”

Turning your head to gaze out at the tangerine sky again, you give an affirmative nod. You look back at him as he takes another bite, then down to his sandaled feet. Deciding to venture into reluctantly-polite conversation, you let loose a question. “Do your wings grant you flight? They’re…” you trail off, losing the non-offensive word on your tongue.

Namor flashes a short grin, and as he looks down at his ankles you let yourself relax marginally. “Not quite as big as yours, next to each other now,” he admits. “But yes. They are strong. They help to balance in flight.” His eyes flick back to yours once more—like if he tears his gaze away for too long you might disappear. “Perhaps we will fly together.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile while you weigh the notion in your mind. Flying, flying alone, gave you a personal high unmatched by any drug on earth—and your body unwillingly knows a few. To share the skies with someone else, to coast a wind current alongside another? Nothing short of intimacy—and suddenly this guy seems all-too intrusive again.

“Perhaps,” is all you softly say. This time you hold the eye contact.

Namor must sense the way your eyes have shifted. Or the way you square your shoulders. Or the way you press your wings tighter to your body. Because the bastard furrows his brows and looks directly back at you as he brings his arm up again, parts his mouth, and licks a long stripe up his forearm, collecting the sweet juice spilling down his elbow. You flick your eyes away from his tongue and swallow.

What the fuck?

“Perhaps tonight,” Namor adds, his register low and in the back of his throat. Now you feel heat creeping up your spine, spreading through your winged appendages and shooting up your neck and face. It’s a weird sensation, but it feels closest to rage, so you run with that.

“Slow your roll, cowboy. It’s just pleasantries,” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

Distant cheering and whooping picks up back in the great hall’s interior, and the powerful beat of drums suddenly fills your ears. Even from this distance it vibrates beneath your feet, and you’re briefly thankful for the way the fast cadence masks the thrumming of your heart. It still doesn’t distract enough from the ongoing chokehold of a stare Namor is still fixing on you.

“Wakanda has granted Talokan’s nobility three days to roam its lands in peace, in alada.” Namor speaks slowly, raising his voice over the rhythmic pounding of drums. “You won’t get rid of me so swiftly. Our kind…our kind is isolated. Forsaken.” He tilts his head back, feathers gliding with the headdress as he looks to the heavens, then back down to you.

“I hope to find you in the skies tonight.”

With another low bow, Namor turns and strides away, back towards the stretch of balcony doors. His shoulder cape billows, gliding behind him. The same blue warrior, the one you had a staring match with, waits for him silently at the nearest open entrance; and when he reaches her, they disappear behind the reflection of the glass and into the rhythmic fray inside the hall.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, then shake your wings out of frustration. Something about your second interaction mirrors your first, in the same unsettling, unnerving feeling it leaves you stewing in, deep in your gut. How have you faced relentless torment from such poor excuses for human beings, and yet no living thing has managed to crawl under your skin like this spandexed Hermes?

You think you’ve had enough pleasantries for the evening. That interaction should meet Shuri’s talk-to-a-king quota tonight, right? You hustle off the balcony and once again slip along the sides of the wall to the exit, and as your legs hurriedly transport you back to the privacy of your quarters, you crave a clear sky now more than ever.

I hope to find you in the skies tonight.

Oh, you’ll test your wings again tonight. And leave the man from the Atlantic fluttering in your dust.

#Namor x reader #namor x you #namor fanfiction #black panther 2 #black panther wakanda forever #eventual smut #smut inbound in the next few ch #wakanda forever spoilers #namor x ofc #Namor #namor of talokan

[noona96n]

Everybody screaming about Namor and Attuma falling for Shuri and Okoye, women who kicked their asses, and I raise you this: Riri yeeted Namora back into the ocean hella hard... imagine Namora being down bad for Riri too after that though like oh this lil punk has the audacity to throw me into MY ocean like a sack of potatoes? Okay 🥰 👏👌Bro idk why but my head just SCREAMED 🎶 I can show you the world 🎶 like imagine!?!? Riri holding her, or Namora riding on Riri's back as she flies across the sky showing the beauties of the surface world without having to see colonizers, and then Namora taking Riri on whale rides showing her the beautiful hidden parts of the ocean most people don't know about 😍😍😍

U GET IT!!! ANON U GET IT!!!

i was saying the exact same thing about Namora x Riri!!! Talokanils CANNOT resist women who neat their asses. they are masochists ✨ no printer, just facts~

i can totally see Riri being so goddamn confused bcs why the fck is that fish lady after me, SHURI HELP!!! (she hasn't rebuild her suit yet okay ofc she's helpless) the language barrier doesn't help either and it's just Riri running away from her and Namora going "Why are u running? WHY ARE U RUNNING?"

ofc she comes in the night to woo Riri (stealth mission so she won't expose Talokan ofc can u imagine how sufferable Namor & Attuma will be if she's the one who fcks up after being all condescending abt them and their crushes?) and that doesn't help bcs it's fckn 3am and Riri Williams is screaming her lungs out. it happens for like ten days straight and she gets evicted from her dorm and fck she h8s this fish lady leave me aloneee

it's a romantic comedy, i don't make the rules~

#riri williams #namora #mcu namora #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #black panther 2 #wakanda forever #black panther: wakanda forever #Riri x Namora #noona96n

[namorkawaiiwife]

Hello kitty fruits?🍮⭐

Ok so i thinking about like y/n x namor right.

So think about y/n making cute little foods/fruits like on the photos for namor? He ofc don't know what is hello kitty but when he see what u did he just think it's very cute!

#namor x reader #namor x y/n #namor fluff #namor imagine

[rokuhoku]

ok so i may have decided to make a namor x filipino!reader miniseries!!! writing "a piece of your memory." was so fun and i wanna try my hand at writing more!! the series isnt really linear and follows more of their moments together, and its more of a "reluctant acquaintances to friends ig to ACTUAL friends to lovers" series :DD but ofc when i post the fic of how they met thats technically the "prologue" ig

here are some ideas :DDD

#namor x reader #namor x filipino!reader #namor x y/n #namor x you #namor x filipino reader #namor headcanons #namor headcanon #mcu x filipino!reader

[dapper-zappa]

Ttg pav x indo!reader RIL 🗣🔥 he would love indo culture fr ‼️🙏

Pavitr Prabakhar x Indonesian!Reader HCs!

Pairing: Pavitr Prabakhar x G/N!Indonesian!Reader

A/N: My Indonesian ass is crying bc I barely see Indo!Reader fics so I’ll just write it myself and the last time I read one with an Indo!Reader is one with Namor 😭 ALSO I FEEL LIKE AN IDIOT FOR BEING AN INDO WHO BARELY WATCHES INDO ROMANTIC MOVIES HDUSIHBFRJGHTFG

Ik I said that I don't take requests atm but anon, thanks a lot for the inspo so I'll just dump out my HCs here and I'm writing this from my own experience as an Indonesian living in Indonesia so hai buat kalian para pembaca fanfic yg sesama Indo!!! (hi to my fellow Indo fanfic readers!!!)

I just know for sure that Pav, no matter what would try to get to know your culture when you guys first met.

Let's just say that you moved to Mumbattan from your hometown, and for your information, Indonesia's diverse in a lot of aspects, like religion, ethnic groups and culture, traditions, and all that!

Generally we speak in Bahasa Indonesia here as it's considered to be the main language, but in many areas of my country, there tend to be dialects exclusive to that zone like the Javanese dialect or Sundanese dialect. So if Pav wants to learn your language, I'd say he'd lean into the main language spoken by Indo people here BEHEHHEHEHEH

Usually we Indonesians are pretty close to our families and lemme tell you, I feel like your parents would absolutely love Pav once they get to know him more and think he's such a great partner for you.

Yes he might not be the best at speaking it but HE'S TRYING OK 🥺?? AND HE'S ONLY LEARNING ABT IT

Oh my fucking god. Pav would rock a batik shirt or sarong (worn over a basic tee bc he tried to try it himself during one of his visits to your place) so well.

"Oh my godness, Pav, I- You look good in it!"

"Do you think so? I hope you're not mad at me for snooping in your wardrobe-"

"Are you kidding? Honestly, I think batik suits you so much and I'd love it if you wear them more often."

Bam, you've just combusted because your boyfriend managed to look so damn good in the traditional cloth and he fell in love with you more for liking how good he looked in it!

Don't even start on how many traditional food your country have. And I personally imagine Pav to be a bit of a foodie kind of guy so he'd absolutely love to try your traditional food.

Now here's the fun part. Chai time AND trying your traditional food that your mom had cooked or bought! Ofc you'd also enjoy chai time hehe

Stray cats living in places in my country are pretty common so you and Pav would def bond over petting stray animals in the street! (Tho if you're a Muslim like me, just wanna say that you can still touch dogs but we Muslims usually try to avoid contact with their saliva because dog saliva is considered impure so we must purify ourselves by washing the area seven times, one of which must be done with soil)

Ok maybe to stay safe, let's just say you've always found yourselves being attached to stray cats more than stray dogs even tho you find Pavitr's interactions with stray dogs to be SOO adorable. 🤣

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD YOU AND PAV SITTING SOMEWHERE AND THEN A BUNCH OF STRAY CATS APPROACH YOU BOTH

OR IF A PARTICULAR STRAY CAT KEPT COMING INTO YOUR HOUSE FOR FOOD RIGHT WHEN PAVITR'S VISITING

IT'S THE CUTEST SIGHT EVER BUT PAV THINKS YOU'RE WAY CUTER THAN ALL THOSE CATS

"Meri jaan, if anything, you're way cuter than all of these cats." he booped your nose.

Dude's just gonna be amazed at how diverse your country is, ngl. And the fact he's dating such a wonderful person ;)

Extra A/N: Dear anon and my fellow Indonesians, I hope I did this justice 🏃🏻‍♀️/gen

#smokey answers #smokey writes #atsv fic #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv #spider man atsv #spider man across the spider verse #pavitr prabakhar x you #pavitr prabakhar x reader #pavitr x you #pavitr x reader #indonesian!reader #headcanons