#mxchismx

Fire surged through the heart of the seas—that where the current threat stood in his pride with his might and musculature bared as if a testament to the kind of power that he wielded within him to wreak havoc into the city, Arthur wasn’t one to back down. Magic. Something infernal. That was enough to keep him on his toes, but even then he took a step into fray as he had his own form come into a flex; brawny muscles sculpted into their own heft and swell with how his surging jump out of the water had him drenched and wet, each cut and curve defined in gleam just as his biceps and forearms threatened to break his armor straps as did his calves and meaty thighs that led up to what could be the skimpiest thong that still bared the pride and culture of Atlantis—all carefully stretched over the plump softness that was the only juxtaposition on him. Yes. Aquaman was all might—rightful King of Atlantis and one of Earth’s greatest defenders. Something infernal—yeah, he too would meet his defeat.

“We don’t take a liking to uninvited guests from far realms,” Arthur growled, arm flexing on as he swung his trident into a poise and a wide stance as he sized the other up. Both of them mighty—but Aquaman was keen on finishing this quickly. “ --------- it’d be best to stand down quietly.”

{†}—Xavier sketched out the rough form of the man sitting across from him on the subway. The Russian teen had headphones in, and only glanced up to get a better look at his artistic subject. He hadn’t realized how often he’d looked up.

    At this point he probably had four or five half-finished sketches of the other when the subway hit a curve and made him drop the sketchbook at the feet of the other man, making him curse in Russian from the slip up.