#kukulkan x reader

“We need to request the help of Wakanda. Scoping out the shoreline from a distance isn’t going to cut it.” Attuma boldly suggested. 

“The entire point of finding Le Reina is to have an advantage over the Wakandans. Asking for their help would be useless. We need data on known mutants of the surface world.” Namora contradicted in frustration as the two had begun arguing again. 

K'uk'ulkan shut his eyes tightly and groaned in frustration. He was at his wits end with their arguments. While both his generals had valid points the squabbles and slightly less than professional debates were getting on his nerves. 

Slowly rising from his spot in the room, K'uk'ulkan approached his generals. “You are both correct.” he stated, causing a silence to fall over the room. Both Attuma and Namora nod in acknowledgement and respect, patiently waiting for him to continue. “Attuma is right. We cannot passively assess shorelines as our sole source of scouting. However, I agree with Namora that now is not the time to ask the Wakandans for assistance.” he continued. 

“What do you suggest? K'uk'ulkan.” Namora asked respectfully, but with slight skepticism. 

“It is unfortunate, but I believe we require the assistance of surface dwellers. Although you are skilled, the blue of your skin when on the surface is not something that would go unnoticed, making it difficult to do any reconnaissance by anyone but myself.” he stated. 

“Whom do you suggest?” Attuma asked intrigued. 

“We should start with community leaders, people who were raised with the legends of Talokan. If they have respect for the legends they should be easier to convince to aid us in our search, while maintaining our secrecy. People who access large populations of people that they interact with.” he let his plan hang in the air. 

It was risky to reveal themselves, even to those who would respect and understand their position. K'uk'ulkan saw no other option that didn’t involve the Wakandans. 

Both Namora and Attuma gave a reassuring nod. Satisfied that his generals were finally on the same page, K'uk'ulkan could finally begin his search. 

“Let’s begin. Shall we?” He moves to walk past them out of his main hut.

2 Weeks Prior To Your Move - Sisal, Mexico

It was a little after 9pm. The sun had set a half hour ago and the calm darkness of the night was beginning to set in. The ocean was calm. The waves lightly lapped at the shore of the beach. Aapo was taking his usual nightly walk. The ocean had always given him a sense of peace. Proud of his Mayan heritage, Aapo had grown up  with stories of the lost people of the sea. Now well into his golden years he was a community leader of Sisal, passing on traditions to the generations that follow him with pride. 

As he continued along the beach he paused as the air around him shifted. The bird calls had suddenly ceased. Aapo turned himself toward the open ocean and took two steps towards the surf. Squinting at the water he noticed a shift in the calm beyond the breaking waves. 

Adjusting his eyes at first, Aapo stared in disbelief as three figures emerged from the crashing waves. The first, regal in stance and dress. Adorned with what appeared to be gold and jade. The other two figures were almost as striking. A man and a woman, flanking behind where the first figure stood in what appeared to be traditional warrior garb. 

Aapo gasped and took a few steps back as they drew closer. The two warriors had coverings on their faces which appeared to hold water within them, their skin was blue in color, but the most striking features belonged to the man leading the three. 

Wings on his ankles that were so white they reflected the moonlight, and ears that pointed to the sky. Aapo had grown up with the stories of the serpent god standing before him. It was unmistakable. He stood frozen as the trio came to a stop just past the surf. 

“A wojel mȧax lak’ en.” (You know who I am.) The god stated. Stunned at the address, Aapo took a moment to gather his reeling thoughts. 

“Je’el.” (Yes.)  He barely whispered, eyes boring into the man. It was as if the world stood still, frozen in a moment in time. 

To the left of the god Aapo noticed the male warrior rolling his shoulders, as if to intimidate him. The movement broke his gaze with K'uk'ulkan as Aapo eyed the warrior warily before returning his eyes to the king.

K'uk'ulkan glanced at the warriors, an unspoken order to wait passed between them. He continued up the beach stopping just short of arms length. “You are a spiritual leader amongst your community, no?” 

“I am.” Aapo said, the pride breaking through his voice. The king's eye twitched as he watched the elder man straighten his posture a bit.

“So you understand the gravity of me revealing myself to you.” Aapo nodded in acknowledgment. “I am looking for someone here on the surface. Someone important, whom I need to speak to in a manner of urgency.” Aapo listened intently to the god. “I have reason to believe they are somewhere within your community”

“Do you have a name?” Aapo asked. The king shook his head slightly. 

“Only a description. We seek the woman with the fire in her eyes.” Aapo’s thoughts began to race again. He tried to rack his brain with the women from his community, ones who could match such a vague description. 

“No such woman comes to mind, but it would be an honour to aid in your search.” Aapo gently bowed his head slightly in respect. 

“Attuma!” K'uk'ulkan spoke. Turning his attention to his left hand man. The warrior began to walk forward carrying a large shell. Aapo recognized the shell as a atecocolli. Attuma hands the shell to K'uk'ulkan, who turns it over in his hands before offering it to Aapo. 

“Search your community. When you find her, speak my name into this shell and place it in the ocean. I will make my way to you from there.” The king states as Aapo takes the shell in his hands. He admires the intricate markings and nods. 

“And if I am unable to locate her?” Aapo asked. 

“I will return every three months until I find her.” The king stated. 

With a final nod of acknowledgement Aapo takes a step back and the king turns to walk back into the sea as Aapo turns to begin the start of his journey along the beach back home. 

“Oh and one more thing.” Aapo goes to turn back only to be startled that the god is right in front of him. “Speak of this to no one. I’m sure you know the consequences if you don’t.” K'uk'ulkan looks him up and down with a dangerous smirk. 

Aapo swallows and lets out the breath he had been holding. “Of course." He says with severity. 

In the blink of an eye the god and his companions are gone leaving him alone on the beach. Two thoughts are on his mind, how is he going to find this woman and what will be the true consequences if he doesn’t. 

Present Day - Sisal, Mexico

Today was finally the day you were going to see the school where you will be working for the foreseeable future. Itzel’s parents had continued their welcoming hospitality all week. They had shown you around town, taken you to the local market and helped you and Itzel in securing a new small house to rent just down the road off the school. Now almost a week later you were finally settled in enough to go visit the school. 

You, Itzel and her mother were walking over to the school. You enjoyed the salt breeze that had become a comfortable constant in the lovely seaside town. As you approached the school you could see the outer walls adorned with climbing flowering vines with pink and orange blooms. Passing through the gate you entered the primary courtyard. Facing the entrance was a wall which held a beautiful mural which depicted children playing on a playground. The words Bienvenidos a Todos were written in bubbly calligraphy. 

“Oh Mrs. Kan! This is beautiful!” you exclaimed. 

Itzel’s mother turned to you with a brilliant smile. “Thank you. We take pride in providing a welcoming environment for our students so that they may thrive.” 

You followed her towards the left side of the courtyard. The school walls had beautiful windows that looked into the classrooms. Every few windows there was a door to enter each room. Mrs. Kan stopped in front of a nicely painted yellow door labeled 2A.  

“This one is your classroom.” She said while unlocking the door and opening it. “When our previous English teacher retired we repainted it and installed new white boards. I hope you like blue.” She chuckled as you stepped into the classroom. 

The room was moderated in size with 20 small desks neatly organized in four even rows. A calming shade of sky blue adorned the walls with two white boards at the front of the class room. Just to the left of the boards was a teaching desk with a matching chair. At the back there were two small half book shelves and what looked to be a crafting table with its height adjusted for children. 

“I know it’s a little bare bones but it should do the trick.” Itzel’s mother said while you observed the room.

“It’s perfect. Am I allowed to move the furniture around?” you ask. Already planning to change the rows of desks into learning pods. 

“Of course. Arrange it in a way that works best for your lesson plans.” she replied. “As I mentioned when we spoke about the position this school teaches Kindergarten to Grade 6. Our English program does not start until second grade so you will be working with Grade 2 - Grade 6.” 

“You should totally put a little reading nook right here!” Itzel said with excitement. She gestured over to the back corner which had a particularly large window facing the school's back garden. 

“That’s a great idea!” you smiled over at your friend. “I know you mentioned you had a book budget, and that the community had donated so old children's books I could use.” 

“Yes! The book donation was organized by a good friend of mine, Aapo. He should be dropping them off sometime soon-” Itzel’s mother was interrupted by a gentle knock on the classroom door. 

You turn and see a young man roughly your age in a white t-shirt and cargo shorts. He had a box of what you assume are books on his hip with one arm stabilizing it. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt but my dad and I have these books for the school. Is it okay if we put them in the classrooms for the teachers?” he said while readjusting the box.

“Ah, Balam! We were just speaking about those! Yes, yes come in!” Itzel's mother addresses the man, ushering him inside the classroom. “You can set them on the desks.” 

You smile as the young man gently places the books on a nearby desk. “Thank you.” you say.

“Oh dios, where are my manners! Balam please meet Y/N. She studied at university with Itzel and is here as our new English teacher.” Mrs. Kan said.

“I guess we will be neighbors then! I’m Balam, the second grade teacher. My classroom is just next door.” He introduced himself as the now four of you began to exit the classroom. 

“Where do you want these boxes son?” An older gentleman, whom you assumed is Aapo, approached your small group in the courtyard. 

Balam approached his father and reached over to grab the boxes he was carrying. “I’ve got it Dad. Say hello to our new English teacher Y/N” he said as he adjusted his grip on the boxes. 

Aapo looked from behind the boxes to smile at you and introduce himself but the smile briefly faltered. When you locked eyes with the older gentlemen you could swear he looked like he had seen a ghost, but just as you noticed you saw the boxes slipping out of his hands. 

“Careful dad.” Balam exclaimed. “I didn’t quite have a hold of them.” 

“Sorry son. Not as young as I used to be.” Aapo played off his shock. 

Once Balam had the boxes in hand Aapo reached over to shake your hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Sisal.”

“Oh Aapo! Thank you for helping bring the books!” Itzel’s mother exclaimed. “You must come to dinner tonight as thanks. Y/N and Itzel, you’re expected there too.” She continued on while grabbing onto Aapo’s arm. 

You giggled at her antics as you and Itzel helped Balam place the remaining boxes in the other classrooms. 

To say the day so far was good was an understatement. As you walked back home with Itzel to get ready for family dinner that evening you couldn’t help but smile in anticipation. You already had some great ideas for the students and meeting a fellow teacher before the school year was putting you one step closer to feeling like you belonged. 

-

As Aapo drove home with his son he was quiet. His mind was reeling. There was no mistaking it. You had the fire in your eyes just as the god had described, and now Aapo was trying to get home as quickly as possible. He needed to go to the beach.

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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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was a patient man.

But he also found himself walking along the banks of your home town, hoping and begging for his God so he could see you.

He went, day after day.

He felt stupid now, stupid for telling you to take your time, stupid for saying he can wait even years for an answer.

He wanted to make you feel comfortable and now he was regretting it.

This anxiety was eating him alive.

It distracted him from his duties as the leader of Talokan.

But he wanted you, he needed you. And he needed an answer to his confession.

As it soon got dark, K'uk'ulkan headed back to his home. He didn't sleep but he did manage to rest a little.

The next morning, he did what he had been doing for the past three days.

He dealt with his duties and soon after swam to the beach. He walked out of the water and to his surprise, there you stood.

He noticed the shell he gave you to call him in your hands, your shaking hands.

"I thought I had to place it in the water to call you." you said as you walked over.

"Could you please just... tell me your decision, I beg of you to put me out of my misery."

You smiled a little, he was a man after all, no matter how much he tried to assure you that he could be patient.

"We are very different. You live in the ocean, lead your people, hide from my people. At first, I thought it would be impossible. How could you ever like me to begin with, especially with your hatred towards my people. You said I can decide whether I should call you Namor like your enemies." you watched as his hand moved into a fist, he looked away from you. "And I so decided to call you a different name, neither K'uk'ulkan nor Namor. I wish to call you Amor." his eyes snapped back up at you. He muttered something in his mother tongue, something you couldn't quite understand.

"I thought you were rejecting me."

"I thought about it. Because of our differences. I fear your people will hate me for I am only a surface dweller. I am no Queen as you claimed I could be." he walked over to you as you finally dropped the shell from your hand, his moved to your waist and pulled you in.

"Say it to me, please."

"I wish for you to court me. I wish to be yours. For now, it will be enough."

"And in the future?"

"I could be delusional. I have wishful thinking, but I can see myself by your side, forever. As a partner, a wife, a Queen. As long as you will have me." he let out a shaky breath. One he didn't even know he was holding.

"I came here, day after day in the hopes of seeing you. For you to accept my confession... I'm overjoyed." he smiled.

What a gorgeous smile he had.

"My Handsome King, I truly don't see how you can find me, out of everyone so interesting."

"You are a rare beauty. You are smart and gentle. Kind yet fierce. I need that in my life."

"So, I remind you of your mother."

"Pardon?"

You laughed at his expression.

"Nothing nothing." you laughed a little as his grip on your tightened.

"Is that some joke between... women?"

"You could say that, yes. A joke. Can I ask my King, to take me on a date?"

"What's a date?" you nearly fell over laughing. He loved to hear your laugh.

"I will dress up nicely and we can meet and talk."

"What's wrong with what you are wearing now? It looks nice enough for me."

"Okay, would you like to go somewhere then?"

"I can't really leave the water."

Problem number 1.

You assumed there will be more along the way, but you were sure you can also deal with them and find solutions.

"Then let's stay here? In case you need to leave, you could go back."

"I will give you this." he reached into the water and you noticed something shimmering in there. He pulled out a necklace made of pearls. "I have been making this since I saw you." he then held the medal in the middle of the pears in his palm. "You just have to whisper to this, and I will come to you, wherever you are." he then placed it around your neck. You touched the delicate jade medal and smiled at him.

"Thank you. I wish I could give you something special as well."

"A kiss would be special enough." he smirked as you smiled.

"Very well." you moved your hand to the back of his neck as he let you pull him in, and you placed a kiss on his lips.

"I will come see you again tomorrow, My Love." he said as he finally let go of you, slowly walking into the sea.

"I hate seeing you leave, but I love watching you go." you said which confused him as he turned to give you a look. "I mean you have a nice... backside."

"So do you." he said and you knew he didn't understand your reference but it was okay.

You will teach him many more things about yourself as you will learn more about him.

You never expected to end up with him, but you were not complaining.

If anything, you were looking forward to tomorrow and the days after.

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

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

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

He lets nothing go to waste.

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

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

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

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

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

“I…I don’t know,” you lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already have.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do neither.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted more.

He wanted everything.

And what a creature craving could be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you so afraid of a name?”

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

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

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

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

“Then remind me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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