stuckybarton

[stuckybarton]

Very Brief Guide to [tumblr], for Reddit refugees

Shit You Must Do Right Fucking Now:

Change your profile picture, blog header, and title to something other than the defaults. Do it right now. You will be mistaken for a bot otherwise, and blocked.

Go into Settings -> Dashboard, scroll down to Preferences, and turn off the options in the picture. This will get rid of most of the algorithmic stuff.

Turn off Tumblr Live. You have to snooze it once every 7 days for some stupid reason. It's hosted through another company and will steal your data if you use it.

Go to your blog settings (under the little person menu) and turn off these two settings:

Turn off infinite scroll (lags the site) and turn on timestamps on posts, in the same menu as Preferences.

Basic Features of the Site:

Reblogs drive the entire site. If you'd upvote something on Reddit, you'd reblog it on Tumblr. You can add text, images, or tags to a reblog, but you're not required to.

The dashboard is the equivalent to your Reddit feed, and contains the posts of all the people you follow, with the newest at the top

You can send an ask to someone, and it'll appear in their askbox for them to answer. You can receive them too, or turn off the settings if you don't want.

Tags aren't actually used for finding stuff (search function is dogshit), but are more for categorizing. People also talk in tags. Because Tumblr is weird, you can't use quotation marks (") or commas in them without fucking it up

You can filter both tags and phrases under Account Settings; doing this will put a filter over a post that contains them, which you'll have to click through to see the post itself. Useful for avoiding hate speech or blocking out annoying stuff

You can make polls in posts. Here's one now.

Likes are useless. They literally do fuck-all except send a notification to the OP.

Stuff Tumblr Does That Other Sites Don't:

Very old posts (I'm talking from like 2012) often circulate on this site. There's no such thing as a post being "too old" to reblog

Blocking is highly encouraged; you can block someone for any reason. Even for just being annoying.

If you and someone else are following each other, you are mutuals. Mutuals are fucking awesome and are treasured like friends. Mutuals are a thing on other sites but Tumblr treats em differently.

You can screenshot someone's tags if you like them and add them to a reblog. This is called "peer review"

Sometimes someone will find a blog and go through it and like/reblog a bunch of posts. This is totally fine and not "creepy" like it is seen as on other sites.

Tumblr jokes often rely on Continuing The Bit and a "yes, and?" attitude. Goncharov is probably the best example of this.

We are fucking infested with bots. They will either have totally blank profiles or be filled with porn. Block and report on sight.

Censorship is pretty lax here. I can say "I want to brutally stab Elon Musk to death and watch him bleed out in front of a crowd" and nobody gives a shit.

General Etiquette:

Don't try to do epic clapbacks here, you'll probably just get laughed at or blocked. If someone is bugging you or spouting bigoted bullshit, block them.

Reblog art!!! Artists often struggle to gain traction on here; reblogging will give them a boost.

Not every reblog needs a comment or tag in it

You can go all out with tagging your stuff to organize it, or you can just leave it all blank. Someone might ask "hey, can you tag these posts as [x]?" and you can decide if you want to do that or not. It's generally polite to oblige, but "no" is still reasonable.

Avoid discourse like the plague. Filter it, block people who start it, scroll past it when you see it. Just don't get involved in it. Ever.

Don't put fandom tags or jokes on someone's posts about serious matters or personal shit

You're responsible for curating your own dashboard; if you complain about constantly seeing stuff you don't like, that's probably on you. Don't be afraid to unfollow.

Follower count doesn't matter much here and you don't have to make yours known if you don't want to.

Reblog, don't repost. Reblogging keeps the credit and doesn't "steal" engagement like Twitter retweets.

If someone likes something a LOT, they might reblog it like 30 times in a row. This is normal

Having a post blow up is actually kinda a bad thing, since it floods your notifications. There's a sort of in-joke about how having a big post is awful and people jokingly try to stop their own posts from blowing up, often in vain.

Tips:

Get XKit Rewritten if you're on desktop, it's a really helpful extension

In the little drop-down menu next to the 'Post now' button you can either save a draft, schedule a post, or add it to your queue. The queue lets you post things in order at a certain interval, which you can change. It's good for spreading stuff out over time.

You can use Shift+R to quickly reblog stuff and Shift+Q to queue!

Filter your notifications under Activity - you can also see some neat graphs

Find each other! If you want your old Reddit communities to stick together, seek out other refugees and follow them.

Have fun on [tumblr], everyone!

[stuckybarton]

Dividers ❀

After the last batch got so much positive feedback, I decided to make some more dividers! Like the first batch, reblogs and likes are much appreciated, especially if you use them for any of your works. You can credit me if you want, but you don't have to!

≫ Here's the link to the first batch ≪

The 18+ Category

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The Support Your Creators Category

[stuckybarton]

Heads Under Water XV

Summary: Things come to a head for everyone to see. Character: K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Atlantean Descendant! Filipino! Female Reader. Word Count: 1,317 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Alcohol Consumption. K'uk'ulkan is groveling! A/N: Not yet back, just thought I could post this just for the hell of it. Just gave birth and me and the baby are back home so there is that little reason for me still not being able to be back.

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Join the Library (no longer do taglist you can just turn on notif here)

Part XV

Somehow, the worse decision you have made was drinking. Catching up with your cousins meant sharing a good few beers and array of other alcohol that they could get in a short notice. You’ve consumed a beer too many from the likes of it and after everyone was asleep, you were sitting by the sand, watching the moon.

One hand held onto the remaining can of beer and the other held onto the conch shell K'uk'ulkan had given you before you left Wakanda. It still made you wonder how such an ordinary shell could communicate with the bastard. You had done your best to tinker with the damn shell without damaging it but all leads to the fact that it was an ordinary shell. The bastard must be fucking with you one last time.

“Fuck it.” You muttered downing the remaining beer before taking a deep breath and holding the shell against your lips.

It was midnight and you were certain that no one would be awake at this time so you did was you do best in times of drunken stupor, you cursed in your mother language right at the shell, over and over again, you called the man every choice words in your book for the shit he has placed on you. Making you like him, trusting him, and making you feel the very thing you tried your best to avoid all your life—love.

 “I fucking hate you for making me feel like this. For making feel like I deserve even a sprinkle of love then you all crush it down to hurt me.” You spat before you threw the shell onto the water with a resounding plop.

Wobbling back up, you tried to regain your balance in your drunken state and somehow you felt a little bit lighter for what you’ve done. Taking a deep lungful breath of the cold air, you exhaled and made your way back home. Praying you wouldn’t have to deal with the hangover that was always accompanies your drinking.

Stumbling your way back home, the familiar sensation of someone watching you was ignored as you shut the door behind you and went to bed, the dream of the man with dangerous brown eyes was there to keep you company for the next morning.

It was the fluttering warmth of the morning sun that brought you back to consciousness the following day. Making your way down to the kitchen, you caught sight of your parents in the dinner table. A hearty breakfast and strong coffee freshly brewed was there to welcome you for the morning.

“Morning,” You greeted plopping down besides your father, head resting on his shoulder while you tried to recover from the antics of last night.

“Unang gabi mo sa bahay alak agad inatupag mo kasama mga pinsan mo. (It’s your first night back and the first thing you do is drink with your cousin).” Your father playfully scolded. Hand already going right at work with rubbing your aching forehead. “Uminom ka ng kape para mahimasmasan ka. (Drink your coffee so you could recover).” He continued on.

You did just that. Drinking the kapeng barako with gusto, never minding the scorching heat from it and it did help with the headache a little but it would take you the entire day to recover the rest of it out of your system.

“Ano mga gagawin mo habang nandito ka sa bahay? (What are you planning to do while you’re in the house?)” Your mother inquired, handing you a plate of fried rice, dried fish, and spam.

“Papahinga lang muna ako ngayon siguro. (Maybe I’ll just recover for today).” You pointed out.

“Oo nga pala, Anak. Dumaan pala yung isa mo pang kaibigan. Sinabi ko nagpapahinga ka. (That reminds me, Baby. Another one of your friends stopped by. I told them you were still sleeping).”

The hairs at the back of your head stood at your mother’s words. Looking at her she seemed unfazed by whoever stopped by, but after what had happened from last night—the recollection of your drunken spree, you somehow feared for the worst.

“Sino? (Who?)”

“Namora ata yung pangalan niya? Hindi ko rin matandaan. Basta babae sya na kulay blue. Okay lang bang sabihin ko yun? (I think Namora was her name? I don’t really remember. But she was a blue-colored girl. Is that okay for me to say?)”

They have actually found you.

~ ‘I fucking hate you for making me feel like this. For making feel like I deserve even a sprinkle of love then you all crush it down to hurt me.’

When he had first received your message, he was happy that you eventually did want to talk to him. But what followed was a shrilling scream that almost woke the entire Talokanil population. Then it was an array of foreign words that he didn’t know the full context but caught glimpses here and there that he was for certain were curse words directed at him.

The next thing he had picked up was the slight slur in your words that had worried him for a moment fearing you to be in danger but only realized you were drunk by the hiccups that followed. Then it had ended with a confession that he would have never thought would ever come out of your lips.

Over and over those words had haunted him. It had been a week now since you’ve left, a week of him trying to handle the damage caused by the people of Atlantis, the cleanup had been a nightmare and the worry of his people was something he constantly needed to reassure. He genuinely had his hands tied behind his back and he could not choose to go to you as he is needed by his people first and foremost.

He needed to figure out where the enemy resides before anything else. Before he could truly pursue you in a mission to gain your forgiveness and trust back.

“K'uk'ulkan,”

He didn’t need to look behind him to know who it was. Since that fateful day in his chambers, Namora had tried her best to keep him at arms-length, focusing more on helping with the search, as well as assisting with whatever the people of Talokan would need while they recover. It was the first time in days since they had even spoke to each other.

“Namora,” He turned to acknowledge her, the frown that was now constantly evident in her features shook him still. It was because of him that she felt like so.

Without another word, the familiar shell he had given you a week ago was thrown towards him. The frown that reach his face could not fully express the utter confusion of why Namora had it in her possession. It was supposed to be with you.

“Leti' u ma'alo'ob u u ts'ook le ken estuvo waye'. (She is doing better than the last time she was here).” Namora explained his confusion. “Bey u náachkunta'al Wakanda yéetel Talokan ti' betaji' ba'al ma'alob. (It seems getting away from Wakanda and Talokan had done her some good.).”

He found himself visibly flinch at her words. But he was still, at fault for what had happened to you even throughout the days that you were in his chambers. Try as he might to deny it there was the underlying truth of your captivity in his chambers and the effect it had on your psyche as a result.

“Yaan in meentik le ba'alo'ob ma'alob. K'abéet in meetej ma'alob. (I will make things right. I need to make things right).”

In this moment in time, he was uncertain who he was making such a promise to. If it was to Namora, to you, or to himself. But one way or another, he needed to keep his word even if it means compromising everything else just to make it so.

#k'uk'ulkan x reader #K'uk'ulkan x filipino!reader #K'uk'ulkan smut #K'uk'ulkan series #K'uk'ulkan oneshot #K'uk'ulkan oneshots #K'uk'ulkan angst #K'uk'ulkan fluff #K'uk'ulkan imagines #K'uk'ulkan imagine #namor x reader #namor x filipino!reader #namor smut #namor series #namor oneshot #namor oneshots #namor angst #namor fluff #namor imagines

[stuckybarton]

Lengthy Hiatus

I'm ready to pop the baby in a week or two. I won't be able to post anything for the foreseeable future. Hope you guys understand.

#stuckybarton updates

[stuckybarton]

Maybe like SHIELD agent reader with Namor for #7?

You had been called in from your first day of vacation. You couldn't even get a full day off without SHIELD falling apart it seemed. You hadn't even been briefed properly before you were shuffled onto a jet to an undisclosed location. They had captured a 'person of interest' that seemed to want to speak to you directly. Why you? Who knows, because you didn't.

10 successful missions, working with the next generation of Avengers, and taking down a multidimensional traveler had burnt you out and you were really not in the mood to deal with whatever was waiting at the end of this plane ride. You looked out the window as you tried to wrack your brain in search of who could be a SHIELD asset off the coast of Mexico.

You landed on top of a spartan building and led down deep into the bowels of it. You wondered when SHIELD would have more inconspicuous out postings for their international holdings. You didn't doubt that SHIELD had enough international power to keep this base a secret, but you doubted that the locals felt safe. You reminded again of why you had joined SHIELD in the first place, to change how they operated. Needless to say you hadn't been all that successful so far. You shook your thoughts away as you followed the agents. The depth at which they led you made you nervous. This much security meant that whoever SHIELD had caught was powerful.

You finally made it to what had to be the bottom floor and were led to a set of double doors where Nick Fury stood. He nodded to you, "Sorry to cut your vacation short, but you were summoned specifically by name."

A dry chuckle slipped past your lips, "Short is one way to put it. I hadn't even been gone a full day and my phone was ringing. I knew I should have chucked it into the ocean before I left the base."

"We still would have found you. Maybe a helicopter on your front lawn would be a bit distracting but I'm sure you would come running," Fury deadpanned.

"I'd shoot your pilot if they landed on my roses. So maybe it is better that I kept my phone. Are you going to tell me who is 'summoning' me or are you going to keep me on the edge of my seat?" You prodded as Fury led the way through 4 doors deep of additional security doors.

"You'll see. I'm interested to learn how he knows of you. I was under the impression that only the Wakandans and a select few, not including you, knew he even existed," Fury raised an eyebrow at you. But you weren't paying attention. Your mind was racing trying to connect the dots. Someone only the Wakandans and a few others knew about. Someone that knew you?

The doors parted and your eyes widened as the tanned figure in the glass cage turned. You followed Fury but stopped short while the Agent continued closer to the glass. The doors behind you shut with a hiss as Fury turned to you expectantly. Your eyes were glued to the brown ones of the Talokanil King as he smirked at you.

“This is what I was called for? You?” You said in a hushed disbelieving tone. Namor didn't reply as his eyes roamed your figure from head to toe. You turned to Fury, "You didn't capture him, you know. This wouldn't hold him. He's here willingly."

"I am well aware of that. But it helps the others feel safer when we put on the façade of locking him behind steal. So are you going to explain to me how you know Namor of Talokan or will I have to ask Shorts over here?" Fury crossed his arms.

You didn't speak as you looked between the SHIELD agent and the regal man who was still smirking at you behind the glass.

Fury sighed, "Normally I would be happy to see you so tight lipped. Alright, your majesty, how do you know my agent?"

Namor stepped closer to the glass, still locking eyes with you. "You don't want to tell him do you?"

You didn't reply. Fury glanced between the two of you, starting to get agitated. "What do you want with her, Namor? We all know you are here willingly, but why?"

Namor ignored him and addressed you, "It's time to go home now, wife."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Thank you for playing

#drunken reading #drunken readings #namor

[stuckybarton]

CW: antisemitism, pale of settlement, pogroms, genocide, cultural erasure

I don't think goyim can really conceive of how much Jews actually hold back in our criticism of antisemitism in media, and when you hear us it is often because we see a dangerous message that you don't... Yet.

I have a complicated relationship with Tim Burton's rendition of The Corpse Bride. I love it as a beautiful piece of stop motion art, but it isn't what it should have been, he took a Jewish story from the Pale and with intention stripped it of its Jewish origins. This alone is incredibly antisemitic. The criticism you will hear has probably been "this is a Jewish story, it should have retained its Jewish elements" but have you heard why we feel strongly about this story?

The story of the corpse bride is incredibly important to me and was born from Jewish trauma and Christian violence. Mobs would routinely attack Jewish weddings, they would murder brides and they would bury them in unmarked graves by the roadside still in their wedding clothes, they reasoned that without Jewish wives there are no Jewish mother's. Jews are intrinsic to the story.

It is antisemitism to take our story, about our pain, at the hands of non-jews and strip it for "useful" parts, in fact it is heartbreaking every time.

We are often forced to pick our battles and fighting a battle over a movie that has already been released by a director with a cult following is not worth it, you only hear us speak up in numbers when the antisemitism may lead to another century of violence, because raising our voice means picking a fight, because so many of you already see our pain as inconvenient and it is exhausting to never be heard.

-anyone can reblog

[stuckybarton]

Heads Under Water XIV

Summary: Finally going home was all you needed. Character: K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Atlantean Descendant! Filipino! Female Reader. Word Count: 1,757 Chapter Warnings: None.

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Join the Library (no longer do taglist you can just turn on notif here)

Part XIV

“Ang Anak ko! (My Baby!)”

The sobbing from your mother the moment you landed from the jet by the beach side of your childhood home washed away all of the stress of the constant travel you’ve placed upon yourself for the past twenty-four hours. You were wrapped in her arms and it was all you would have wanted right now—ignoring the pain still lingering from your body.

“I’m here, Mama.” You whispered. Mind going back to the moment where you thought you would never see her again. The resolve to be with her now into fruition after such a long time apart. “And I brought a friend.” You slowly pulled away to where Shuri was now making her way down the jet. A shy smile playing on the younger woman’s face.

“Ay! Hindi mo naman sinabi na may kasama kang kaibigan. Nakapagluto sana ako ng pagkain para sa inyo. (Oh! You didn’t say you would bring your friend. I would have made food for them).”

You watch your mother promptly pull away from you and began hugging Shuri much to her surprise. You tried your best to hide the laughter at the sight of her in such a predicament. It was even more amusing for her to ask in broken English about your whereabouts and what you’ve been doing for the past few years to have you not come home. You could only give Shuri a knowing look that your mother wasn’t aware of her involvement in Wakanda.

“O sya, sasabihin ko na lang sa papa mo na kumuha ng hipon at alimasag sa freezer. Wala naming allergy yung kaibigan mo diba? (Anyways, I’ll tell your father to get some shrimps and crabs from the freezer. You friend doesn’t have any allergies, right?)”

“I don’t.” Shuri reassured with a smile. You blinked in surprise that she could understand, only to realize that she had her AI on the little earpiece she had on. The realization that she had also understood what K'uk'ulkan had now called you was also up in the air. “I hope it’s also alright to overstay our welcome.” She pointed towards the jet that also had Okoye.

Your time in the jet was with Okoye bantering with Shuri about where to park the jet in the beach, and you eventually breaking the argument and reassuring the beachside would be big enough for the aircraft—temporarily. God knows what your neighbors would think when they catch sight of it in the morning.

“No worries.” You reassured them both. “Stay as long as you like.”

For the next few hours, from the feast your mother had given to you and your companions to you showing them around the beach and pointing towards the reinforced rock formation you had created to avoid the tides, they seemed a little more relaxed to be here.

“Now I don’t understand why you wouldn’t come home to this paradise.” Shuri pointed out as you both walked barefoot by the sand.

Okoye had made it her mission to patrol around to avoid any unnecessary eyes around as well as to ensure the both of you had your much needed privacy for a good while.

“It’s home. I wanted something more to do than be here.” You pointed out. “I wanted to make money to give my parents the life they deserve, when I did—I now want to make them proud of the accomplishments I’ve done in my career.”

The waves and winds were calm this time of the day, it was a complete contrast to the thunders of your heart and of your mind. But slowly, the longer you stay home, the slower the thoughts and fears would subside. It was needed, a long time coming for you to finally do. You only wished it was on a much different term than you are right now.

“Will we expect you back in Wakanda?” She inquired.

“I just need to handle some things back in New York, then I’m all yours after.” You reassured her.

You knew in your heart that being in New York no longer felt like an obligation, not with another pending investigation for the things you have not done were waiting for you when you come back. It was now a curse you needed to break before finally having a clean slate in your life.

No longer did the money matter as you’ve have all the money you could ever have and all that could help your parents for as long as they are alive. It was now your morality above everything else.

“Will you be fine in Wakanda even with what happened to Namor?” She continued and you halted, feet curling against the rough sands as you turned your gaze back towards Shuri. It was bound to be acknowledged, one way or another.

“I’ll be fine.” You reassured, having not said anything about what transpired. To this very moment, you refused to be responsible for another war, even if it meant your own demise. “I’ll always be fine.”

~

As the sun has set, Shuri was needed back in Wakanda. Your mother had insisted on giving them a shit ton of coffee they had lying around, as well as some knickknacks they had and a dozen of sweets for their journey back home. Shuri had insisted once again that you were to call her when you decided to come back to Wakanda which you accepted without hesitation and you were now left all on your own back home with your parents to finally catch up about everything that you’ve been doing since you’ve last gotten back home.

“Himala naman at pinayagan ka na ng boss mo na mag bakasyon. (It’s a miracle that your boss finally allowed you a vacation).” Your father pointed out at the dinner table.

One of the many things you have missed about going home was the food. Rice was always a staple, something you did not have laying around in New York, and the food that only your mother was capable of making was just something that made you miss home more and more. The smell of fried fish and fermented shrimp already has your stomach growling.

“Masyado na rin akong na-ooverwork kaya hinayaan na niya kong magbakasyon ng matagal (I’m so overworked that he finally allowed me a long vacation).” You responded, to this day, you still think it was best for them not to know your involvement with Wakanda—or even the people of Talokan for the foreseeable future.

“Aba dapat lang. (As he should).” Your mother pointed out loading your plate with a serving for two at this point but you genuinely would be able to finish and get another serving of. “Ang laki ng pinayat mo hindi na tama yung mga pinag-gagawa sayo ng lalaking yun. (You’ve lost weight, whatever that man is making you do isn’t right anymore).” She continued.

“I know.” You admit, if only she truly knew the extent of it. “Mag-reresign na rin ako sa kanya pagbalik ko. (I’m resigning when I get back).”

There was a beat of silence before your parents shared a look.

“Anak, napag-isipan mo na ba ng maigi to? (Baby, have you thought this through?)” Your father inquired, the same question that had been given to you when you had told them the news that you were quitting your teaching position to fly to New York to work for Tony all those years ago.

You know your father always meant no harm in his words, always wanting the best for you. But it breaks your heart that they still do worry about you still even at your age. You were not getting any younger just as much as they weren’t. You couldn’t live a life where you create and create things with the sole purpose of saving the same people that would have a chance of becoming a casualty. In good conscious, you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Opo, may malilipatan na rin naman ako. Private company na sya kaya iwas na rin sa gulo tulad kay Tony. (Yes, I already have somewhere else I could work for. It’s a Private Company so I could avoid the chaos just like with Tony).”

Technically you were not lying. Wakanda was private still. Secluded form the outside world and the only mess they might find themselves in is when it either involves anyone trying to look for Vibranium or from anyone in Talokan. Both issue you were far certain you could avoid dealing with from now on if you were careful.

“Magiging ligtas ka na ba dyan? (Will you finally be safe there?)” Your mother asked.

In the years of working with Tony, aside from the multiple hearings with US Senators and UN for that matter, you’ve also had your fair shares of near-death experiences from Alien Attacks and other villains’ hell bent on taking over the world. It will never be avoidable wherever you may find yourself working with, Wakanda was no exception to it.

“I will.” You assured your mother still even with it not truly being the truth, but your mother didn’t need to know it. “Baka mas mababa ang sahod, pero alam kong mas makakatulong ako sa nangangailan. (The pay might not be as high but I know I could truly help those in need).”

“Basta kung saan ka masaya, Anak. Nandito lang kami ng Mama mo lagi, proud na proud sayo. (As long as you’re happy, Baby. Me and your mother are always here, proud of you).”

You tried your best not to shed a tear at your father’s words. It weighed so heavily on you to throughout the years. No matter how many times they say it to you, it never felt like it was real. It wasn’t enough. After all you had done, being the center of far too negative news in the past, it didn’t feel like you deserved it at all.

After dinner, for once you had settled into your childhood bed. The array of memorabilia that screamed at you was just a sight to see. The countless awards and recognitions you’ve earned throughout your time at school and University was all placed on one side of the wall. But the one thing that stood out the most was the picture of you and your parents on your college graduation. The beaming smile on both of their faces when they walked besides you when you took your diploma.

For them, you’re making the needed change in your life once and for all.

#k'uk'ulkan x reader #K'uk'ulkan x filipino!reader #K'uk'ulkan smut #K'uk'ulkan series #K'uk'ulkan oneshot #K'uk'ulkan angst #K'uk'ulkan fluff #K'uk'ulkan imagines #K'uk'ulkan imagine #namor x reader #namor x filipino!reader #namor smut #namor series #namor oneshots #namor angst #namor fluff #namor imagines

[stuckybarton]

Drunken Concept pt. 30

“A child, of whatever gender, of whatever state, and of whatever way you could provide them to me and I’ll save your business and give you a million dollars as an added bonus.”

~

Okay hear me out. I have been reading some dumpsterfire stories on wattpad (i mean this in a good way--to some at least). and i've got some banger of an idea for the Babymaker/ Baby Factory trope (which was disturbingly common in the site for some god damn reason). but maybe the reader inherits a diner from her father along with the debt she was not aware about.

she has two options to make the debt go away, sell the diner but lose the last memory she has of her deceased father, or make an arrangement to pay it but forever be locked to the debt that could possibly get her hurt or killed in the process.

but what if, there was a third option? Namor/K'uk'ulkan was a ruthless businessman (maybe mafioso? maybe mobster? maybe the asshole that you owe money too?) and he does not want to be tied down to any women whatsoever, but wanted to ensure his bloodline continues, so maybe he makes an agreement with the reader? A baby or two to ensure the legacy of his business and the debt wiped clean for you.

so what if throughout the process, he falls in love and the child you never truly want in the first place become something you wanted to keep for yourself now.

that's it. that's the idea. lol.

maybe attuma and namora constantly teasing the both of you about your agreement turning into something more and the chaos now begins for everyone to see.

#drunken concept #drunken concepts #namor idea

[stuckybarton]

Bathala and the Forsaken Queen

Summary: He was called by the Spanish as the child without love, but to you, his wife, he was the man that has saved you and your child from the impending death at the hands of the colonials dead-set on killing your entire bloodline. Character: K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Filipino!Queen!Female Reader. OC Daughter (Adlaw) Word Count: 6,388 Warnings: Philippine History Inaccuracy, changed some dates to suit the story. Mention of War and the Atrocities during the Spanish Colonization in the Philippines. Death and mentions of corpses. Angst. Happy Ever After. BPWF spoilers and slight deviation to the plot. Mention of consuming dangerous plants. A/N: A request from @kpopgirlbtssvt, Another banger of a request from you thank you so much for this. Again I did tweak a few things here and there and i hope that's fine with you.

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Bathala and the Forsaken Queen

TALOKAN | PRESENT DAY

Shuri walked into the room where Namor had been spending most of his time painting the murals on the walls. The vibrant colors and intricate details caught her attention as soon as she stepped in.

“Princess.”

Shuri continued to observe the paintings, noticing the different scenes depicting the history of Namor's people. She pointed to one in particular, showing a woman and child, protected by a God-like being from attackers.

“Who is this?” Shuri had inquired. Among the numerous of artworks, there was a certain veneration, a certain care into painting this woman among the rest of the artworks in the murals on the wall.

“She is my wife, my Queen, the mother of Talokan.”

MACTAN, CEBU, PHILIPPINES | 1592

You hold your daughter close to you as you run along the sandy beaches. The wind is whipping at your hair and dress, and you can hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the screams of death of your people, and the sound of the fire enveloping your homes. Your heart was pounding in fear as you glance over your shoulder to see the Spanish Conquistador chasing after you with a sword in hand—blood that you were certain was of your husband, the King’s after the brutal fight. Now you and your child run to avoid becoming the spoils of their victory.

“Keep running,” You urged yourself, holding your infant close to your chest, trying to sound calm despite the terror and anguish in your heart. “We will not let them take us.”

Your daughter coos as if sensing your own dread, her eyes filled with tears as she was looking up at you. You can see the fear in her eyes and it breaks your heart to know that she is experiencing such terror at such a young age. You are the Queen of your people, but in this moment, you feel powerless against the force of the Spanish invasion.

As you run, you see a large rock formation in the distance. It's your only chance to take cover and make a stand against the Conquistador. You pull your daughter towards your chest even more, hoping that it will provide some protection.

As you reach the rocks, you turn to face the Conquistador, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this could be your final stand. The Conquistador approaches, his sword gleaming in the sunlight.

You stand tall, ready to fight for your life and the life of your daughter. You know that the odds are against you, but you will not go down without a fight. You hold your daughter close, feeling her small body tremble with fear. You whisper words of love and comfort to her, trying to give her strength in this dark moment.

The Conquistador approaches, his sword raised high. You close your eyes, ready to face your fate. But before he can strike, the sound of a neck being snapped and the Conquistador falls dead to the sandy ground below you was what now comes to you.

You feel the surge of gratitude and relief wash over you as you turned to face a possible soldier from your people that helped, but the smile that was slowly growing on your face faded just as quick as it had appeared. The man in front of you was no soldier of your people—but a man that exuded power greater than any Gods in your lifetime.

Was this Bathala? Has he finally answered your prayers? You could not think straight out of fear of everything that has transpired, you had pulled your daughter closer to your chest. Protecting her from whatever wrath the God might come for you and your fallen people.

The man speaks, a language that you know nothing about. Fear grew more and the possibility of him being just like the Conquistador but instead of savagery, you were given a small bracelet which he gently slipped onto your shaking wrist.

You approached the man cautiously, your mewling daughter close to your chest and ready to move if the need arises. With his hands held up, you took a look at the man and realizing he was truly no human you had ever seen in your life before.

Pointed ears, same skin as you, his ears, nose, and neck adorned in jewelry but the most shocking part of the man in front of you were the pair of wings on either side of his feet. How only now did you realize that he was not standing on the sand, but was hovering and the sight of the fluttering wings both interested you as much as it did scare you.

With your own shaky hand you slipped off your own gold armband, handing it to the man in a quiet exchange hoping he would understand you were no threat, just simply a mother trying to protect your daughter. You watch him take hold of it, how he had slip the band around his wrist and the smile of reassurance resting on his face.

The fear slowly fading away from your system at a friendly company, but your mind was now washed with the anguish of what was left of your home. Everything that close to ashes at this point. No longer did you hear the sound of cries nor the sound of swords in the distance. It was quite painful to hear the empty silence of what was left of your people because of the Conquistador.

As you turned to finally thank the man that has saved you and your daughter, the man was gone, leaving you and your daughter to tend to yourself from now on.

~

TALOKAN | PRESENT DAY

“She was just like me, but from another country far from our own. Her people and her first husband were killed in the aftermath of the Spanish Conquistador.”

Shuri could only nod, watching as Namor gestured to images of you, who moved and settled to a cave-like home, far from what you were once so accustomed to in your life.

“She had a daughter?” Shuri wondered, looking more into the child that once had the same color of skin in the first image before her skin was now painted blue just like your own now.

“My blessing. She might not have been my blood, but I have treated her just like my own.”

~

MACTAN, CEBU, PHILIPPINES | 1592

It was hard to start from scratch.

The fear of possibly another Conquistador coming for you and your daughter had you on edge and instead of returning to your home, you have decided that it was best to live in a cavern close to your home, but discreet enough to hide you and your daughter from anyone that would place the both of you in harm’s way.

It’s been days since the attack in your home, days since you have ever caught a wink of sleep. In the damp floor with your daughter resting on what was once your lavish robe laid besides you sleeping, you found yourself sobbing. You begin to mourn the death of your husband, who fought valiantly against them in hopes of buying enough time for the both of you to escape. You could remember the way your husband was outnumbered, how in his dying breath he had screamed for you to and your daughter to run for your lives, how he had told you his love and devotion to you, his Queen and his wife. The memory was a burning reminder of everything you have lost because of the invaders.

Your hands had covered your mouth, fearing that you might wake your daughter up because of your despair. You watch your daughter’s chest gently rise and fall and in the image of her, you grew numb for what you knew you needed to do to live, to strive, and to ensure that she would grow up happy and away from whatever danger that was in this world.

In the stillness of what you now call your temporary home, you heard footsteps. The alertness waking you from your sleepless state. You crouch in the dimly-lit cave, your heart racing as you listen for any sound of approaching danger. In your arms you had lifted your daughter up, your six-month-old daughter sleeps peacefully still, oblivious to the turmoil that surrounds her.

You stroke your daughter's soft cheek, marveling at her innocence and her trust. She is your hope and your future, the embodiment of all that you hold dear. You vow to keep her safe, to teach her the ways of your people, and to instill in her the strength and resilience needed to survive in this harsh new world.

As you wait in the darkness, your mind drifts back to happier times, before the arrival of the Spanish. You remember the lush forests and sparkling beaches, the vibrant festivals and colorful ceremonies. You remember the warmth and generosity of your people, the sense of community and belonging that permeated every aspect of your life.

But those memories are tinged with sadness and anger now, as you realize how much has been lost. Your people have been forced to flee their homes, to abandon their farms and fishing boats, to abandon their traditions and beliefs. The invaders have brought disease and death, destruction and despair. They have shattered the very fabric of your society, leaving nothing but chaos and uncertainty in their wake.

Suddenly, you hear a commotion outside the cave grow louder. You can hear the Spanish shouting and cursing, and the sound of horses whinnying in distress. You dare not hope, but perhaps there is a chance that they will not find you. But your hope is short-lived. You hear footsteps approaching the cave, the sound echoing in the darkness. You hold your breath, trying to remain as still as possible. You do not want to give yourself away.

The footsteps stop just outside the cave. You can hear the Spanish muttering to each other in their foreign tongue. You understood what they are saying having insisted to your husband that it was a good thing to learn their language to know their true intentions.

Suddenly, a hand reaches into the cave, groping blindly in the darkness. You shrink back, trying to make yourself as small as possible. But the hand finds you, gripping your arm tightly.  You try to pull away, but the hand is too strong. You feel tears stinging your eyes as you realize that this is the end. You and your daughter are going to be captured, enslaved, or worse.

Turning to the owner of the hand gripping onto you, you saw the same man that had saved you a few days prior. He held up a finger against his lips, requesting for you to keep quiet. He had guided you towards the darker corners of the cave, wrapping a blanket around you before he walks towards the sound of the Conquistadors that you were certain were still after you and your daughter.

You hear the sound of violence, the sound of your savior killing the remaining Spanish soldiers who came to look for you in the cave. You do not want to listen, but you cannot help it. You can hear the brutality of the way he kills each and every single one of them without mercy. You can hear the sound of bones breaking, of swords clashing, and of flesh being torn.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it is over. You hear the man's footsteps approaching, and you brace yourself for his arrival. You do not know what to expect, but you know that it cannot be good. But when he appears, he is different than you expected. He is covered in blood and dirt, his face twisted in rage. But there is also something else there, something that you cannot quite name.

He looks at you and your daughter, and you see the rage in his eyes soften. He approaches you, his hand outstretched. You catch sight of the golden band you had given him wrapped around his wrist. You do not know what to do, but you realize that you must trust him. You take his hand, and he helps you and your daughter to your feet.

He spoke a language you did not understand. You blinked uncertain what you could say or do to understand the man.

“Mi nombre es K'uk'ulkan, aquí no estás a salvo. Hay muchos que todavía te buscarán. (My name is K'uk'ulkan, you are not safe here. There are many that will still look for you).”

You pulled your hand away as he spoke the same language as the Conquistadors. You held your daughter closer to your chest, fearing of what the man might do now or of his intentions with you in this moment.

“No quiero hacer daño. Mi gente es víctima de los conquistadores como la tuya. (I mean no harm. My people are victims of the Conquistadors just like your own).”

You find yourself sadden by his words. You had believed that you and your people were the only victims, only to turn out there were more people like that had suffered so much at the hands of the colonizers. Walking a little closer to the man now, but still the precaution was ever so evident for you.

Standing in a damp and dark cave with your six-month-old daughter in your arms, you can feel her little body trembling as she snuggles closer to you, seeking warmth and comfort. This was not the healthiest environment to have her live. You can have no one else to blame, for you were just as afraid about this circumstance. You know for certain that the Conquistadors would continue to hunt you and your daughter still. As you look around the cave, you see nothing but darkness and silence. You wonder if this is where you will spend the rest of your days, hiding away from the world.

The man, K’uk’ulkan, was a tall and imposing figure, with a regal bearing that genuinely reminds you of the nobles of your own people. He is dressed in a long white cloak with a headdress adorned with shimmering feathers. He looked far too different from the first time you had met him and it didn’t truly give you the benefit of trusting him in this moment. Especially with the blood that still painted his skin and some of on his cloak from his actions against the Conquistadors.

“He venido a ofrecerte santuario en mi propio reino. Es el lugar más seguro para usted y su hija mientras los conquistadores aún los buscan. (I have come to offer you sanctuary in my own kingdom. It is the safest place for you and your daughter to be while the Conquistadors still search for you).”

You stare at the man, uncertain whether you could truly trust him. But the two instances of him saving your life should have been enough for you to at least try. Aside from his abilities to kill the Conquistador with his bare hands, the sight of him with wings and the pointed ears had you cautious of what more he was capable of doing. It was as if you were not truly in the presence of a mere mortal—but something far greater or worse depending on what you decide to do.

"Mi reino está lejos de aquí, pero me aseguraré de que tú y tu hija lleguen a salvo. Puedo ofrecerte protección y un hogar, donde estarás a salvo de cualquier daño. Y prometo que haré todo lo que esté a mi alcance para garantizar que nunca más serás perseguido por los conquistadores. (My kingdom is far from here, but I will ensure that you and your daughter arrive safely. I can offer you protection and a home, where you will be safe from harm. And I promise that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are never hunted by the Conquistadors again)." The man continues, his voice spoke softly.

You consider his words carefully, weighing the risks and the benefits of accepting his offer. You know that the journey to his kingdom will be long and dangerous, but you also know that you have no other choice. The Conquistadors are still searching for you, and they will stop at nothing to capture you.

Finally, you nod your head, accepting K'uk'ulkan's offer of sanctuary. You feel a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that you and your daughter will be safe from harm. As you follow K'uk'ulkan out of the cave, you can't help but feel a sense of trepidation. You know that the road ahead will be long and hard, but you also know that you have made the right decision.

The walk out of the cave was filled with death, you did your best to ignore the bodies laid around and brutalized by the man that walked in front of you. But it filled you with a great sense of fear and reassurance, fear for what he was capable of doing and the reassurance that he will be there to protect you should the need ever arise against the Conquistadors.

As the sunlight begins to beam against your eyes, you tried your best to adjust as the first brush of the wind has brushed against your cheeks and your baby slowly but surely waking from her slumber.

“¿Cuales son tus nombres? (What are your names?)” He asked you waiting by the end of the cave.

You told him your name, of your daughter, Adlaw, a daughter-born under the scorching sun that had ended the long-standing drought in your land. He smiled as you explained your daughter’s name to him. How invested he seemed to be of what was once your people.

“Tu hija le ha dado a tu pueblo la lluvia tan necesaria como yo le he dado a mi propio pueblo el sol. (Your daughter has given your people the much needed rain as I have given my own people the sun).”

You gasped, realizing that the man was truly a God after all.

You continued to walk through the now deserted beaches. The putrid scent of death and burned down husk wafted and it took a lot out of you not to gag from where you stood. As your eyes to one last glance around what you once called your home, you noticed something strange. Warriors that were now closing in on K’uk’ulkan who have blue skin.

You rub your eyes, thinking that perhaps you were seeing things from lack of sleep, but when you open them again, the blue-skinned warriors were still there and meant no harm as they kneeled in front of your savior. Hands helped up in a gesture that was similar to an open flower.

You glance over at K’uk’ulkan, who notice your confusion and apprehension.

"Esta es mi gente, (These are my people)," he explains. "Son los soldados más valientes y leales que he conocido (They are the bravest and most loyal soldiers I have ever known)."

You can't help but stare at them in wonder. You have never seen anything like them before. Their blue skin seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and their eyes are a reassuring shade of black just like your own. Aside from armor that were somewhat similar from that of your own people’s, aside from their skin color, it was the mouthpiece covering their mouths and nose that took you by surprise, made you wonder how they could breathe at such a constrictions. As you walk alongside them, you feel a sense of safety and security that you haven't felt in a long time. These warriors are here to protect you and your daughter, and you can tell that they take their duty very seriously.

But as you continued to walk, you felt uneasy as you walked closer towards the water instead of what you would have expected to be in the forest up above the mountains. You had watched half of the warriors make their way towards the waters, diving in without an ounce of hesitation. Turning towards K’uk’ulkan, he provided a reassuring smile, holding onto your hand.

“¿Confías en mí? (Do you trust me?)” He asked you.

“No. Pero prometiste mantenernos a salvo a mí y a mi hija y cumpliré tu promesa. (I don't. But you promised to keep me and my daughter safe and I'll hold you onto your promise).” You responded right back honestly.

“Y mantendré la promesa mientras viva. (And I will keep the promise for as long as I live).”

Eventually, two of the warriors have come to stand in front of you, the mouthpiece they wore was now handed to you and your daughter and with a small prayer of guidance and remaining bravery after everything that has happened in your lives, you accepted the mouthpiece and with K’uk’ulkan holding you and your daughter made your way further and further towards the water to a life that was not your own anymore, but for the sake of your daughter will be the best thing to happen.

~

TALOKAN | PRESENT DAY

“Yuum!”

The sound of giggling children sounded catching Shuri’s attention. Turning to where the sound began, she had watched the sight of three small children making their way towards the both of them, walking slower after them was two women, spitting image of each other.

“In Reina. In sáasil k'iin.” Namor spoke so tenderly towards the two women. His attention turned towards the three children, peppering each and every single one of them with kisses and endearing words that reminded Shuri so much of her father long before he had passed.

Shuri turning her attention back towards the women, she had come to realize who exactly they were. The similarities and the much more evident jewelry that adorned their necks and ears.

“You are the mother and daughter in the murals.” Shuri spoke.

~

TALOKAN | 1593

“Mama.”

You smiled the slow but sure progress of your one-year-old daughter in a place that you now call as your own. Your daughter was slowly but surely learning the ways of Talokan, of their people without sacrificing the ways of your own people too. You have mourn the death and end of your people for months, being allowed the courtesy by K’uk’ulkan to do a ceremony for your fallen people and of your husband.

But like your daughter, you began to learn about the ways of the people of Talokan, even if you remained in the comforts of K’uk’ulkan’s cavern above the water. Every single day, a teacher would come to visit you and your daughter, teaching you the language of their people and slowly but surely you have stopped using Spanish to converse with the people and began to use their own, in your own end had thought them about the history of your own, of your Gods and of your culture that were somewhat like their own before they had escaped to the waters.

“In chan k'iino'. (My Little Sunshine).”

Turning, you realize you and your daughter were not alone. K’uk’ulkan has returned from his duties. You gave him a smile, it been a year now since you have arrived in Talokan after he had saved you from the Conquistador—twice. He had kept his promise to keep you and your daughter safe away from the Conquistadors and from whatever danger may come lurking in the corner. Upon your arrival to his home, you have learned of his identity—a King and God to the people of Talokan, the first-born of the people of Talokan and a man that gave his people the hope that never truly settled because of the attack of the Spanish.

You watched your daughter make her way towards K’uk’ulkan. It warms your heart how it had been easy for your daughter to trust the man, the people of Talokan, and of the new life that was not of your own. Just as much as it had been hard for you to do the same. The never ending apprehension even with all the kindness his people have given you and your daughter.

“My King.” You spoke greeting the man.

“I thought we have agreed to call each other by our names, In Reina.” He playfully scolded, arms were quick to hold onto your daughter and to lift her up.

You had watch how K’uk’ulkan had a soft spot for her, how he grinned and played along with your daughter and her dangerous curiosity. How he had allowed for your daughter to hold onto the jewelry nestled on his nose even as hard as your daughter would tug at the jade.

“I am no Queen in Talokan.” You spoke, finding yourself now sitting onto the chair, your eyes lingering on the murals that painted the walls—K’uk’ulkan’s creations.

“But you are the Queen of your people, as much as your daughter is still the Princess. It does not change here as long as I would allow it.”

You nodded, knowing it was no use trying to argue with the man, he would always find a way to ensure that he gets his way.

~

TALOKAN | 1598

A year turned into two, then into three, then you have realized that it had now been five years since the fateful day that the man had saved you from the clutches of the Conquistador. Five years of living your life and your daughter’s own under the confinements of the cavern of K’uk’ulkan’s home. You were beyond grateful for everything the man has done for you, for keeping his promise of keeping you and your daughter safe, for stepping into the role of your daughter’s father but always spoke kindly of your late husband and his valiant effort to keep the both of you safe all those years ago, for allowing you to believe that there were still people you could trust and love even after all that you have been through.

It wasn’t sudden, nor did you plan for it to happen but it did. How you found yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the man that loathed the surface world and its people, but had opened his home to you and your daughter. He had promised you a life safe from the terrors in the surface and he gave you the home that was nothing you had ever dreamed possible.

But the most important thing he had ever given you was the choice. A choice to remain as the human you still were or be just like his people, to live in the waters like every single one of the people of Talokan. You know your daughter craves the water, from the instances of her playing with K’uk’ulkan in the shallower parts of the waters, how she had longed to be able to play with the other children of Talokan deep in the waters instead of the confinements of the cavern.

He promised you that he would respect whatever decision you might decide, but he provided the option should you want to finally make a change.

“You want to go back to the surface?” The panic was all so evident in his face when you had made the request one morning. It’s been five years since you took the risk of coming with them and you have yet to truly regret your action. But you needed to have the much needed closure before you open the new chapter in your life.

“I—I want to see my home one last time.” You explained hoping it was enough of an explanation for him. And the nod he had given seemed like it was. He requested for two breathers to be brought for you and your daughter.

It took no time at all when you made the request. No hesitation and no apprehension from the man at your request. How it was easy for him to explain to your daughter about the trip that you were to make up to the surface. How the excitement bubbled in every question that escaped her lips, her eyes twinkling as she continued to ask K’uk’ulkan about the surface world, of the life that you once had before Talokan.

You did not truly have the heart to tell her that this was the closure that you would finally have for the both of you. Your late husband would have wanted just as much, after everything that has happened, it was time to finally move on with your life and with everything it encased.

It took less than an hour for you, your daughter, K’uk’ulkan and a handful of his most trusted warriors to arrive to your home. The shore of what was once your home was a part of the home you missed, of the laughter and fun you had growing up with your siblings, running through the sands and talking about the life you would have hope to have growing up. It was bitter to know that as you stood looking at your feet, that you stood as the last remaining member of your family and of your family’s line and worst part was those dreams of the life you hoped to have no longer viable for you or for your daughter.

“Are you alright, In Reina?” K’uk’ulkan had inquired, he kept his voice low, hoping that your daughter would be unaware of the mental chaos in your mind.

As you approached closer towards the land of your once-beautiful home, you felt your heart racing in anticipation, of the hope that your home was restored and there was still a glimpse of hope of your people even in the years of your disappearance. It has been years since you had last laid eyes on your home, remembering the gore and death that you had run away from and of the smell of fire and blood.

The hope has died further into the pits of your stomach, you were struck by the emptiness and desolation that surrounded you. Your heart sinks, the tears have fallen at the sight that have come before you. Corpses from all those years ago still remained, like trash discarded for the wilderness to take. Homes that was once gave you comfort burn, golds and jewelry robbed and the number of weapons that were discarded, both guns and swords littered the ground.

You look around in disbelief, struggling to make sense of the scene before you. Your beloved home, once filled with your people, now lies abandoned. The trees were stained with blood and ashes. As you move through the land, you heart grows heavier with each step. All around you, evidence of a brutal invasion was evident, after the initial one that you had escaped from. Your once-beautiful gardens have now been trampled and burned.

As you move to where you knew was your hut, your heart grows heavier at the sight that befell you. You were certain of who it was. The putrid smell of death could not waver you as you kneels toward the skeletal remains of your husband. How he still wore the garments from which he had died in. The anger for the Conquistadors for removing his gold jewelry after, of the array of brutality you were certain they had placed on his body after his death, it brought a sob out of your lips.

You whispered a prayer, hoping to the Gods that your husband has finally laid to rest peacefully. Kissing your hand before resting it on his skull, you stood back up and made your way further into your hut, to see that every single jewelry and possession you once had now gone with some of the clothes you had woven for your infant now torn and painted in blood.

You sobbed as you were now facing the truth of the aftermath of the Conquistadors. Everything you had left behind was taken from you. You felt the deep sense of loss. You walked out of your hut to the sight of K’uk’ulkan that was carrying your scared daughter and the number of his people keeping guard while to took one last look at your former home.

The sound of a far too familiar language had you turning to the owner of the voices.

“Kill them.” You ordered the Talokanil warriors.

“In Reina—”

“Kill them and burn everything to the ground.” You ordered to which the warriors bowed towards you before doing such thing.

You stepped towards your daughter that was now shaking in fear at the sight of you tear stricken and the sound of death of the remaining Conquistadors being killed by the Talokanil soldier.

“Hush, little girl. Once we come back home, you’re gonna be able to play with the kids in the water.” You whispered reassuringly towards your daughter, sensing how K’uk’ulkan had tensed at your words.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, cupping your cheek with his free hand, his thumb rubbing away the tears.

“We have nothing else here in the surface to live for, the Conquistador had succeeded in destroying my people. It is only right for us to return back to Talokan as part of your people. Not as a guest, but part of your community.”

“I want you to be my Queen.” He pleaded, pulling you closer to him, his warmth radiating giving you as much as it did your daughter, the reassurance that you did not truly have in the moment of weakness. “Be the mother of my people as much as you are the mother of our daughter.”

Your heart raced, he had always showed his love and affection for your daughter, but this was the first time he had actually acknowledged her as his own. Not by blood, but by circumstance that he made the most out of it. Nicknames might had constantly escaped his lips when it comes to your daughter and your daughter had always called him ‘Yuum’ and your late husband as his Baba but this was the first time that there was a clear indicator of it all from him.

“I have kept my promise of protection and all I want in return in your love for me and for my people.”

Looking, you had realized one of the healers has arrived from the waters, you had realized that he had the idea of you finally making your much needed decision for your sake and for the sake of your daughter. In his grasp was a glowing blue plant and you know that once you’ve made the life altering decision, you will finally live the life that you have never expected but realize was all you needed.

“You always had my love and of my daughter’s.” You whispered smiling as his forehead rested against your own. You held onto your daughter’s hand and as the pain of your past slowly washes away, you could only hope what the present and future would be like for you three as a family.

As you three had walked towards the shore, the sound of the crackling fire echoed the skies, you had accepted the bowl given to you by the healer, you had watched K’uk’ulkan sit on the sand besides your daughter, reassuring her that things will be alright and when she wakes up they could play in the deeper part of the waters from now on.

You watched as K’uk’ulkan had hand fed your daughter the plant, seeing how your daughter was wincing at the bitter taste of the crushed plant but continued on as her eagerness to be in the waters overcame everything else. You took a deep breath as you finally consumed the plant in one go, your teary eyes closed as you tried your best to eat everything that was in the bowl.

You felt your skin grow jelly and with one of the warriors holding you up, you were assisted onto the sand and as you opened your eyes you saw your daughter now unconscious in the arms K’uk’ulkan. The panic never sets in, as the trust on the man had grown a hundreds of folds since the first time he had asked you to trust him to return to his home. You trusted him more than you would have ever believed you could.

“Thank you for giving me this new life, K’uk’ulkan.” You whispered.

“Ch'ah Toh Almehen.” He spoke, moving your head until they rested on his shoulder.

“What?”

“My real name. My people call me K’uk’ulkan, my enemies call me Namor, but I want you to call me by my birth name.”

You nod, your eyes grow heavy as your last words before darkness consumed you was his name, the name that he had entrusted for you to use from now on as you lived a life away from what you once lived for.  No longer were you the Queen Mother of the Raja in Mactan, but now as the last ounce of life in the surface world fades away, you now became the Queen of Talokan, the mother they had always hoped to have in their life and in their community.

You awoke hours later, but instead of the beach from where you had finally made the decision to change, you were in he middle of the water and the first person you had seen was the man that had saved you. A smile on his face as he pointed towards the side and your eyes had caught sight of your daughter, freely playing with the children in the middle of the waters—breathing through the waters just as much as you and K’uk’ulkan did.

You smiled, holding onto the man’s hands and before you know it you pulled him into a kiss—sealing your fate as the Queen of Talokan and eventually the wife of the great King and God of Talokan.

#k'uk'ulkan x reader #K'uk'ulkan oneshot #K'uk'ulkan oneshots #K'uk'ulkan fluff #K'uk'ulkan imagines #K'uk'ulkan imagine #namor x reader #namor oneshot #namor oneshots #namor imagines #namor angst #K'uk'ulkan angst

[stuckybarton]

Happy Birthday, Marc

Pairing: Marc Spector x afab!reader & Steven Grant x afab!reader

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: You think birthdays are something important, a chance to celebrate your favourite person, to give them anything they want and make them feel good. And maybe Marc will look forward to his birthday from now on.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ smut bby, unprotected p in v, fingering, a little manhandling, it's fluffy i'm ngl, use of the nicknames baby & sweetheart

a/n: besties i'm ngl i'm exhausted and i've probabaly missed things in order just to post this cause I started writing it like a week ago and just got the urge to finish it. So i'm sorry if i'm missing tags and stuff, let me know if there's things missing. But I hope you like it anyways, love you, appreciate you and now i'm going to sleep

“Marc,” it comes out in a breathy whisper and your lips are pressed back to his skin before you’re even finished drawing out his name. For once, by some miracle, you’d woken up before your boyfriend so it was only right to wake him in the best way you know how. It was also just coincidentally his birthday and you think today should be all about him and things that make him feel good.

Continuing at your slow pace, you place kisses on his cheek, moving down to his jaw and then his neck. If he was awake he’d call you a tease, especially with the way you’re straddling his waist, and definitely for your choice of clothing—or lack thereof. You’d maybe went online and bought yourself a cute, new underwear set and maybe you’d planned to buy it the week before Marc’s birthday. Now, you just have to hope it will be Marc fronting when he wakes, not that you’d complain if it was Steven or Jake. 

You call his name again, hoping that will somehow unconsciously pull him to front as you gently tug on the neckline of his tshirt so you can press kisses to his collarbone. Your hands move delicately against his skin too, lightly brushing over his arms or holding his face and they sneak under the hem of his shirt to feel the relaxed muscles there.

“Baby.” This time his body stirs a little, a deep, quiet groan escaping him. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you sit back to admire him. He looks so pretty like this, hair all tousled against the pillow and face completely relaxed, the frown lines that seem like a permanent feature faded with sleep. 

Your hands are still resting under his shirt against his stomach, slowly creeping higher before coming back down. His body begins to wriggle every time your featherlight touch runs across his sides and a giggle bubbles in your throat when he half-heartedly swats your hands away. Mercifully you stop your hand's cruel pursuit and go back to pressing tender kisses to his neck. You quietly call out for Marc again between kisses and this time he shifts more, the quiet groans turning more into little whines. The sounds only spur you on more, holding his chin in your hand so you can switch sides. Your ministrations continue until you feel his hands anchor themselves on your hips. He’s pushing you down more into his lap, the contact forcing a whimper out of you. 

You keep his face delicately held in your hand and go back to kissing his cheek. His hands start moving up your sides, shivers running up your spine at the movement. 

“Well this is some way to wake up,” his voice is groggy and any other time you’d smile and egg him on to talk more until the rough tone faded but it’s not the voice you’d hoped for. You physically deflate, your head briefly sinking into the pillow over his shoulder before you sit up again. Fighting the urge to quietly moan when you accidentally grind against him. 

“What’s wrong, love?” The sweet British accent you’d normally swoon for only causes your pout to grow. Upon your withdrawal from him, Steven’s eyes had shot open, the creases between his eyebrows harsh again. 

“I was hoping for Marc,” you sound like a spoilt child. You know that’s not how it works, you can’t just request who you want at that moment. And anyway, you love all of the boys equally so it shouldn't matter. Never do you want one of them to feel inferior to the others but the quiet oh that leaves Steven has you panicked you’ve done just that. “No! I didn’t mean I don’t want you, Steven! I want you, trust me. It’s just… it’s silly. I wanted to do something for Marc because it’s his birthday.” Your voice dies out before you even finish. You’re looking everywhere but into his eyes and suddenly you wish you had more clothes on to cover up. 

“Oh love,” Steven props himself up on his elbows, fingertips just grazing your knees. “You know how Marc feels about his birthday.”

The more seconds that pass the more silly you feel for trying to do anything. 

“I know.” It comes out meekly, your eyes fixed on your hands that pick at the threads of Steven’s old shirt. 

“Hey,” suddenly Steven sits up, his hands soothingly cupping your cheeks and your gaze moves straight to his face, “if this is what you do for Marc’s birthday, well then I can’t wait for mine.”

Your face cracks, the sad exterior fading the longer you look at Steven's cheery features. The man seems to have a way of always making things better. 

“You know,” his eyes flicker to your lips only for a moment, “just because Marc’s not here doesn’t mean you have to stop.” Steven's rare boldness always surprises you, “it’d be a shame to waste all of this.” He leans back just a little so he can rake his eyes over your body, his hands moving down to your waist and pressing you impossibly closer. It causes you both to let out a satisfying sigh.

“You do have a point…” you let your own eyes trail down his body as your hands slowly pull up the hem of his shirt, exposing more of him. You quickly grow impatient with your own actions, tugging his shirt up and instinctively Steven raises his arms so you can pull it off. You’re both moving in the second his shirt is off, lips crashing against one another in a hasty, messy kiss. You’re sinking further into his hold as his hands grip onto you for dear life. It’s completely impulsive when you grind yourself down in his lap. It clearly takes Steven by surprise because his head falls back and a low grunt escapes him. You do it again, this time placing a kiss on his jaw and he holds you down, one of his arms wrapped securely around you. He’s back to looking at you and already he’s wrecked, panting, and disheveled. Still, even in his tight grip you manage to roll your hips, the friction feels so good and you crave more of it. 

“Right, as pretty as this is, take it off now.” He snaps the elastic of your underwear causing you to squeal and jerk in his lap again. It’s ungracious and desperate the way you climb out of his lap and tug your underwear down your legs. It seems Steven’s just as desperate as he awkwardly pulls off the sweatpants he’d slept in until he’s completely naked.

Steven looks into your eyes with pure adoration, his hands touching your thighs delicately as you settle back in his lap. You sit back on his thighs and Steven’s hands curl around to rub your back. He even blushes and has to look away when you hold his face and smile at him, a glimpse at the sweet Steven you’re used to. His head rests on your collarbone and automatically your hand slips around into his hair, gently combing through the wild curls. The soft moment has you relaxing in his hold so much so your body flinches when Steven’s hand unexpectedly grazes the inside of your thigh. Then he has you gasping in seconds, his fingers running through your soaked folds. His movements have your body rising, almost like it’s trying to get away from his touch. The hand in his hair tightens, especially as he begins to circle your clit, and your other hand grips his shoulder so much your fingers ache. The stimulation is enough to have you breathily moaning already then he’s raising his head to look at you with that dopey grin before he pushes two fingers into you, causing your jaw to drop. There’s a welcome sting before your senses are steeped in pleasure. Steven’s fingers build a pace slowly, his thumb now brushing against your clit each time he sinks into you. 

Steven looks at you like you’re the pyramids like you’re some unexplained wonder in the world that very few people get to experience. The eye contact becomes too intense that you have to close your eyes and your head instinctively rolls back. You allow the pleasure to consume you, your hips now grinding against his hand and whimpers of his name filling the room. You’re so lost in the growing feeling of your climax creeping closer that you don’t hear him speak, let alone hear the change in accent or the way his grips got a little tighter. It’s only when you feel a sharp bite to the top of one of your breasts that your head snaps back down with a yelp. 

“Look at me.” That thick Chicago accent is prominent in your ears now. “Keep your eyes right here, sweetheart,” and he smirks when you dumbly nod your head. 

“Marc.” You’re panting now as he moves a little faster and rougher than Steven had. It’s his turn to be impatient, he’s trying desperately to use speed and more force to pull your orgasm out of you quicker. It takes a second for your body to adjust to the change but then you’re crying out for him, begging him to keep going. Your hand's can't stay still, they keep moving to touch him anywhere; his shoulders, his back, his neck, and then they finally rest on his face. Your fingers dig into his cheek and his jaw and you keep your eyes on him like you were told. 

“That’s it,” he hits the perfect spot that has you squeezing around his fingers, “just a little more baby.” Marc keeps his speed steady now, using his arm that's wrapped around you to assist in grinding your hips. Your head’s spinning now, your heart thudding in your chest and you can’t think straight. Now, you’re kissing him or at least trying to between cries of pleasure. Marc chuckles as you gasp and clutch onto his shoulders when he ceases movement of his fingers. He continues to rock your hips and instead moves his thumb faster against your clit. Your forehead is pressed against his, your eyes are screwed shut and you’re climbing higher until you’re plummeting off the edge. 

“Couldn’t miss this,” Marc’s taking advantage of your hazy state, nuzzling himself into your neck, “gods I can’t wait baby. I need you now.”

Your mind is still somewhere in the clouds, not really comprehending what he’s saying but you’re nodding. You trust him enough to let him do anything to you.

Marc’s moving eagerly, his soaked fingers slip out of you which causes a whimper to escape you. You’re pretty much a dead weight, your body feeling too heavy to move but that doesn’t stop Marc. He moves you like you weigh nothing and you let him manhandle you, flipping you over onto your back so he can be on top. 

“I love you so much, baby.” You’re smiling up at him when he says it, head still all floaty. He looks so ethereal like this, his eyes focused on his hand that’s now stroking himself. His toned chest heaving quicker now. “So lucky to have you,” his free hand pushes one of your thighs down, exposing you more to him. Normally you’d hate being this exposed, you’d want to cover up and hide yourself away but Marc looks at you like you’re it. You’re everything he’s ever wanted or needed like he would physically wither away without you.

It’s different from the way Steven looks at you, everything about Steven is gentle and soft but Marc’s more meticulous and complex. Marc’s gazes say more than he thinks he can articulate, his eyes always full of love whenever he looks at you. Only in truly intimate moments like this does he let his guard down enough to be able to share all those feelings that swim around in his head. 

“Need you, baby.” Your eyes fall shut when he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, quiet whimpers flowing past your lips as he slowly pushes himself in. Your hands loosely cling to the sheets and unconsciously you’re bearing down your hips toward him, unexpectedly forcing him deeper. Marc’s hand slams down on the mattress next to you, a curse sharply coming out of him. You open your droopy eyes to see he’s closer now, leaning over you completely with his furrowed brow and tense features. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, Marc seems to have this power to make you feel fuzzy no matter what. 

“Hey,” you’re blinking up at him the second you hear his voice, “look at me.” 

It’s not a command like the last time he said it, no, it’s more like a plea. He wants you to look at him like he’s the only person to ever exist, or that he’s the best person to exist and you do. You look at him as if it’s the last time you could lay your eyes on him, soaking up every detail and trying to portray all of the love you feel for him. 

Your hand moves up to hold his face again, the other finding purchase on his side. You raise your head just enough so you can kiss him, it’s only brief but a smile creeps across his face. Marc lowers himself to rest on his elbow so he can kiss you again, over and over while he slowly starts to rock his hips. The gentle pecks quickly turn fervent as his thrusts pick up their pace. He’s not going too fast but it’s consistent and deliberate. His free hand lovingly rubs the outside of your thigh that’s crept up to encase his hips.

You can feel the familiar tightening warmth already blooming again. The hand that was cupping his face moves into his hair. The messy curls slip through your fingers as you pull him impossibly closer. 

“I-I need-ah-I love-“ you can’t even form a coherent sentence. You want to tell him that you need him, that you love him, that he is truly all you’ll ever want. You’d planned all these things you wanted to say to him, how exactly you wanted to pour out all the good things he makes you feel. You wanted to make him feel loved, to maybe replace some of those bad memories he holds with new happy ones. You were supposed to be the one making him feel good and here you are an intelligible mess because of how well he’s treating you. 

“I know-I know, baby.” He’s breathing so hard, panting from exertion. The hand that’s resting on your thigh holds on a little firmer, a sign he’s found a rhythm that works for him. Marc kisses you again, it’s surprisingly tender for the situation you’re currently in. It is however cut off quickly when he lets up the prettiest sound. His forehead thuds against your shoulder, a mixture of moans and grunts freely falling past his lips. It drives you insane in the best way possible, you think maybe you could get off on that sound alone. 

“Hey-hey, look at me. Look at me.” You’re almost whispering, practically sounding like you’re begging. You tap your fingers against his head to grab his attention more. He’s a sight to be seen when he lifts his head, half-lidded eyes and lips parted and heaving in air. Loose curls flopped against his forehead and the crease between his eyebrows is so prominent now. You don’t care about anything other than the way he looks right now. You don’t care how many times you get to see him like this, you want to memorise every single time. 

Marc stutters on his words, his mind clearly just as muddled as yours. You can tell his body is tiring despite his hips moving faster as he chases his climax. Your body feels frozen pressed against his, you can only cling onto him. You squeak out his name as the hand on your thigh tightens, almost certain there’ll be fingerprints imprinted there for the rest of the week. 

Suddenly, he’s mumbling out the sweet nicknames he calls you, his face screwing up even as he fights to keep his eyes on you. Then it’s sweeping him under, his energy spikes and he thrusts a little harder. His orgasm washes over him completely, you catch his eyes slightly rolling back as they close before his head falls back against your shoulder again. His hips keep moving as he cums, slowing the longer he goes until he just stops moving completely. Your hand moves out of his hair to soothingly rub his back as he comes down from his high. You can feel his breath panting against your collarbone, his chest heaving still. You turn your head so you can press a kiss into his hair, whispering words of love into the dark curls. 

“I’m sorry.” Your face instantly scrunches when you hear the apology, waiting to hear the reason why. “I couldn’t miss this. I needed you so bad.” You laugh once before pausing and doing it again until you’re full-on giggling. Marc lifts his head with that same furrow of his brows for a different reason this time. “What?”

“This was for you,” his eyebrow cocks up a bit at that. His eyes just briefly glancing down at your chest, still covered in the nice-looking lingerie. Your hand slips back to hold his cheek again, your thumb rubbing back and forth lovingly as you look up at him. “I wanted to do something special for your birthday. I know it’s silly and we don’t-“

“Oh we’re doing this every year now,” Marc’s smirking at you now and the insecurity is flushed out of you, “however you’re gonna have to make it up to Steven.”

“Me?!” 

“Poor guy’s a mess, you can’t just leave him in that state sweetheart.” He laughs when you begin protesting that it’s not your fault. Marc’s chuckles die out as he looks down at you smiling up at him. Your heart thumps in your chest still when he looks at you. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together they all still have a way of making you feel giddy with just one look. You push up unexpectedly to kiss him briefly, your head falling back against the pillows so you can look at him again. 

“Happy birthday, Marc.”

#drunken reading #drunken readings #moon boys

[stuckybarton]

🍑: maybe this is overrated but Steven Grant + breeding kink.

steven grant x f!reader

18+

"Yeah, well Steven's got a goddamn breeding kink the size of Europe."

Jake's words come back to you unbidden while you're riding Steven's cock—he'd grumbled them so petulantly the other day when you'd teased him for how quickly he'd opted for the latter choice when you let him pick between fucking your cunt or your ass.

Curiosity piqued at the feeling of Steven's muscles tightening beneath you, his thrusts growing sloppy with his impending orgasm, you whine—

"Want you to fill me up, Steven."

Steven's hips stutter in response, his eyes going wide. "You...you what?"

"Come inside of me," you pant, running a hand through his sweaty curls.

"Yeah?"

He groans as you nod, and with your tits hanging over his face, he cranes his neck in an attempt to get his lips on one of them. You shiver at the feeling of his tongue swiping across a peaked nipple as he continues to push and drag his cock through your slick channel.

Without warning, Steven flips you over, hair brushing across your forehead as he leans over you, something feral in his gaze.

"Gonna fill you with so much cum you're not gonna know what to do with it all, love," he rasps, voice rough, hips snapping into yours so hard the bed frame creaks in protest.

Searing pleasure coils hot and tight in your gut as he cups the side of your face, continuing, "Gonna fuck it right back inside of you when it starts dripping out."

You whimper at the thought of your soaked pussy wetly squelching as Steven plunges back into your hot core, cum pouring down the inside of your sticky thighs and all over the sheets.

"You want me to fuck a baby into you, love?" he asks, voice tinged with desperation.

"Please, Steven."

"Fuck," he pants, chest heaving. "Wanna see your tits all round and swollen with milk."

And fuck if that doesn't send you hurtling over the edge, your cunt clenching down on Steven's throbbing cock as your orgasm punches through your body. He follows moments later, emptying himself inside of you.

#drunken reading #drunken readings #moon boys

[stuckybarton]

A third.

You exhale out a long breath of defeat.

The heat inside this apartment is something you’ve never experienced before.

Even the stone design of the balcony you’re stood on is hot underneath your palms as you lean against it, looking down on the streets of Cairo below.

You’ve stripped down to your undershorts and sports bra and you still feel like it’s not enough.

The shower earlier on only made it worse. 

Like the water from the pipes evaporated a little too quickly and replaced themselves with sweat.

“Urgh, where is he!” the sheer intensity of the heat affecting your mood.

You didn’t want to come here. 

Yes, you moan about the weather back in London but you’d kill for a bit of rain right now. 

Closing your eyes you smile weakly at remembering how different your life was back in England.

Working part time in the museum, the most exciting things that would have happened to you back then was to actually catch your bus home on time!

You laugh at the irony of wishing the grey clouds and rain to disappear almost every day.

That’s when you hear the click of the door opening.

“Finally!” you can’t even hide the frustration on your voice.

“Please tell me we’re leaving this lava pit of a city” you say as you make your way back through the bedroom and into the front hall.

That’s when he sees you, properly sees you.

He’s hardly ever in charge of the body as often as the other two are. 

They constantly switch from one to the other but him, he stays put, waiting in the darkness, until the situation arises, usually dire ones! 

You’re breath taking stood there in front of him, the sweat on your skin glistening in the sun that’s pouring through the bedroom.

Just wearing a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top, he can see your cheeks are flushed by the heat also.

You stop in your tracks as you look at the man in front of you.

Somethings different about him, he has a full on feral look on his face right now. 

“Everything ok?” you ask, but barley make a whisper.

He doesn’t answer you.

“Marc?” …silence.

“Steven??” …silence again.

You know something is up but as you go to ask him again, you spot his injury.

Blood has started to seep out onto his shirt through his lower abdomen.

“YOU’RE HURT!!” you don’t mean to screech but it makes him look down at the hand that is now covered in blood from clutching his wound.

“Mierda!” he curses under his breath. Too quiet for you to hear.

“For gods sake!” you storm over to one of your suitcases, emptying out the clothes you had previously packed and finding the first aid box.

“Honestly! Can nothing just go right for 5 sodding minutes!” you don’t mean to snap at him, he’s injured, so you should be sympathetic but he told you he was grabbing something last min, not going out fighting or whatever it was that caused the injury.

“Can I ask or is there no point?” you don’t even look up at his face knowing he won’t tell you anything.

He’s always been this way, they both have.

You know Steven would tell you everything in a heartbeat but Marc keeps him in line.

Making him promise to keep his mouth shut about the antics they get up to being the avatar of Khonsu.

He uses the excuse of keeping quiet means  protecting you.

“Sit!” you tell him and he does what he’s told.

*Maybe this is Steven, Marc protests a lot more* you think to yourself.

You lift his soaked shirt, slowly as the fabric tries to cling to the bloodied wound, he winces.

“Sorry” you mumble to him.

“Hmmm, I need to clean it up a bit first” you say to him as you rummage around the small medi box.

You’re kneeled on the floor in front of him, the contents of the box spread across at his feet.

Grabbing some gauze you start to dab the wound, cleaning up the blood surrounding it.

“Good news” you say to him, still avoiding the glare he has on you right now, “it’s stopped bleeding, but I’ll need to sew you up”

You feel him shuffle underneath the grip you have on his thigh, his muscles flexing under your touch.

“Kay” is all he musters.

“Lay down” you tell him and he slowly leans back onto the bed.

You straddle his legs, your hips resting either side of his thighs.

He lets out a low grunt, in pain? You can’t work out but you have a feeling that somethings up with your Moonknight, and it’s not just this wound.

You’ve patched him up you don’t know how many times before.

His protection from the god of the moon will make this deep gash leave not even a smidgen of a scar tissue behind but for the first few hours after a hit, you need to be the one healing him.

“You ready?” you ask him, looking up at him for his answer as his eyes he had previously shut now fly open.

“Qué?” he answers but then clears his throat “what?” he corrects himself.

You shrug his answer off and apply a piece of gauze directly over the cut you can now see clearly.

“Argh!” he cries out and grabs you by the waist, his fingers digging into your flesh there.

“Sorry, this one had saline on it” you tell him quickly.

His head falls back onto the pillow with a gasp but he doesn’t let go of you.

You start to chew your bottom lip, working out what the man laid beneath you isn’t telling you.

You’ve been in his life for almost 4 months now. Travelling alongside him for the last 2 months.

You know about his personalities, spending just as much time with each of them.

Laughing with each other, crying with each other or even just fucking each other.

You’ve seen this man in all his glory and his vulnerability countless of times but tonight you feel as if you’ve never seen this version he’s putting on.

He bucks his hips into you the first time you pierce his skin with the needle.

You try to ignore the obvious hardness of him that is straining against the denim of jeans as you get to work stitching up the cut.

Honestly this man could fuck you anywhere and every where, he has no qualms about it when the moment takes him but even you are surprised at him being turned on by what is happening right now.

You tie the last bit of stitches into a knot, it’s not your best work but come sunrise, it’ll disappear alongside the rest of the wounds you’ve tended to on the Moonknight previously.

He was a good patient, laying somewhat still whilst you got to work on him but your mind still raced around how he’s acting towards you tonight.

You place a large sticky pad over the stitch, making it look a bit neater.

“There you go, all done” you say to him, looking up to his face, you notice his eyes are trained on yours.

That same feral look spread across his face that he presented to you when he first walked through the door.

A few loose strands of his hair have fallen on his face, sticking there due to the humidity of the room.

His chest is heaving underneath his bunched up shirt, exposing his muscular stomach and chest to you.

You can’t help but drop your gaze as you trial your fingers along the familiar lines and curves of him he sucks in a breath.

You should be chucking him into a shower of some kind, making sure he’s all cleaned up so he can get into bed and get some rest.

But the familiar butterfly feeling he always causes you down below has started to churn up.

He swallows deeply as your hand finds his waistband and you slip two fingers underneath the clothes, stroking the hair there. 

If he wanted to stop you he would.

He’s always been vocal to you, when a certain job hadn’t gone to plan and he returned to you bloodied and bruised.

A simple patch up as he held onto you and you fell asleep would be what he wanted those nights. 

But he hasn’t protested any of your advances so far.

You unbutton his belt as his eyes don’t leave your face, he notices you biting your lip as your eyes drop to where you pull his hard cock free from the restraints of his clothes.

You shuffle yourself further down the bed, using a hand to pump him a few times before you take him in your mouth.

He curses under his breath again as a hand tangles up into your hair. 

You flick your tongue effortlessly over the tip of his head, tasting the pre cum that had leaked there.

Hollowing your cheeks you take him further into your mouth, almost making it to the base of him, his cock practically hitting the back of your throat in one movement. 

“Fuck!” He rasps out at you. The sound sending signals straight to your core.

You’ve always loved knowing just how hot you can get him.

Both of them.

Marc was always a lot more dominating in bed, you loved nothing more than being fucked deeply into the mattress by him as he’d call you all sorts of lewd names with his hands around your throat. 

But you also enjoyed the pining sounds that came from Steven’s mouth as you rode his cock slowly, sensually, telling him how good he was at filling you up.

That’s what you loved about this whole situation.

You had the best of both worlds in the bedroom.

“Mmm Cariño” he mutters quietly, lost in the feelings of pleasure you’re giving him but you hear it. 

*is he speaking Spanish to you?* 

That’s got to be a first…

You use a hand to stroke the part of his cock that’s just out of reach from your mouth.

He’s the biggest you’ve had.

A mixture of your tongue flicking his sensitive spot and the feeling of your lips moving up and down his shaft is bringing him to his high.

You’ve learned to know his clues as to when he’s close.

His muscles tighten.

The tops of his legs flex as his abs almost ripple in ecstasy. 

You love just how well you know his body.

“No” he whispers out to you but you can’t hear him.

Instead, the wet sounds of your mouth moving over the spit coating his length hit your eardrums.

“Mi angel” he mutters as he grabs either side of your face, pulling you up from your task of pleasuring him.

“Everything ok?” you ask him as you swallow the excess salvia that’s built up in your throat.

He smiles at you, nodding slowly his eyes have now drooped in pleasure, sweat has formed across his forehead, turning his loose curls wet.

“I need to be inside you Cariño” the last word of his sentence rolling off his tongue.

You’re quite liking this new pet name he’s given you. 

His hands fall to the top of your undershorts, the heat of the room has caused them to hug your hips so tightly but the Moonknight has no problem rolling them down, you help him get yourself out of them. 

You’re now naked apart from the sports bra you stripped down to earlier.

Kicking off his own trousers and underwear, he leaves his shirt wrapped around him, fearing too much upper body movement would cause you stitch work to pull open. 

You straddle him once more, your now slick cunt hovering above his cock that’s been lubed up by the workings of your mouth.

He settles his hands back into position on your hips, he wants to dig his fingers in, marking you but he also acts like you’re made of glass, being so gentle with you.

Making it even harder for you to work out which avatar of Khonsu you’re with right now.

You grip your hand around his cock, lining it up with the entrance to your cunt. The first feeling of his tip pushing between your folds always makes you moan.

You sink yourself down lower onto him, taking his full size inside you, he fills you up it no time. 

Nothing but a low rumbles comes from his throat as he bottoms out inside you.

You feel perfect for him, like you’re made for him.

You take a few moments whilst you adjust to his size.

But you soon start roll your hips on top of him, causing the MoonKnight to grunt and groan in pleasure.

His hands move up to your sports bra, pulling the fabric down and exposing your breasts. He doesn’t mean to pull you down towards his chest so quickly as the sharp stinging pain from his wound causes him to curse.

“You ok??” You asked him concerned, your face almost touching his as his arms snake around your body, holding you flush against him.

He doesn’t say a word as he starts to fuck up into you.

His cock touching that soft spot deep inside you with perfection.

Now it’s your turn to moan as you rest your forehead against his.

You want to kiss him so badly but the snapping of his hips into you starts to rock your whole body.

You don’t know if you’re being fucked by either Marc or Steven but you don’t care right now.

You focus on the man laid beneath you as the familiar tightening feeling starts to grow in your stomach.

His face is contorted in pleasure also, moans and curses falling from his lips, that have now become swollen, making them look even more kissable.

You can’t help yourself as your lips come crashing down on his.  Your tongue darts inside, turning the kiss more urgent as the thrusts from his cock hit that sweet spot of yours.

He kisses you back feverishly, like he’s tasting you for the first time.

“Mi amor…fuck…you’re perfecto, so so perfect for me” he moans into your mouth.

Sending you towards your high even quicker.

“Mmm gods!” you cry out as you break away from his kiss.

“I’m gunna, I’m going to…ah” you can’t even string a sentence together right now.

You rest your head in the crook of his neck, kissing, sucking and biting him gently there as his hips start to turn sloppy.

You know he’s close also.

“Cariño…look at me” he says to you as he cups your face, pulling your gaze up towards his. 

“I want you to see your pretty face when you come over my cock” 

This has got to be Marc, you start to think to yourself but the thought disappears as you melt into his eye contact.

The coil he wound up deep inside you reaches its limit, you can’t hold back the moans of pleasure that washes over your body as you orgasm.

He follows quickly behind you.

Coming inside you without a 2nd thought.

Your walls contracting around him, milking his cock.

He never lets go of his grasp on you, you sink onto him, forgetting for a moment that you might be hurting him.

He plants a kiss on top of your forehead, more slick with sweat now after your session.

You smile against his skin. Post sex sleepiness starts to creep in.

You wanted to leave this city tonight but for now, you’re right where you want to be.

He rolls slightly onto his side, needing to relieve some of the pressure on his wound.

He pulls himself out of you, choosing to instead wrap one of your legs across his. 

His arm still snaked around you, pulling you closer to him, not caring for the stickiness of both your skin on each other.

*He really is in the mood for hugs tonight* you smile to yourself.

You’re almost fully asleep now, not even trying hard enough to put together a sentence you just mumble his name out:

“Marc?” he lets out a quiet chuckle to himself.

“No bebe” 

Your eyes try to widen but you’re so close to falling asleep that they don’t quite make more than a flicker.

“Steven?” you manage, surprised that your shy, sweet man had these type of bedroom moves in him. 

“Shhh mi angel, sleep” he says to you as he rubs circles on your back with the palm of your hand. 

You’re definitely snoozing now, you can barely hear anything that’s being said in that room.

Just as well as the man that you’re wrapped around whispers to you:

“Mi nombre es Jake” 

#drunken reading #drunken readings #moon boys

[stuckybarton]

Hi again!! 💜🥰

If it’s okay, can I please request a protective!Namor x fem!human!reader where she’s a single mom with a baby (daughter), and they’re both in danger, running from someone, and Namor saves them both from someone when they’re on the beach (Namor had been close to shore and overheard what was happening, and decided to intervene). He brings them back to his cave, and now Y/n her her daughter are under the protection of the King of Talokan? Y/n and Namor falling in love, and him treating and loving Y/n’s daughter as his own daughter 🥺 Both Y/n and her daughter eventually taking the Vibranium herb to stay in Talokan forever? Y/n being Queen of Talokan now and her daughter being the Princess of Talokan 🤧🤧

i am so sorry that this took so long for a response my ask is broken af, life here is just--ugh. but anyways, as of right now i'm still writing this and doing some finishing touches, but like always here is a small snippet (i'm crying cause i love the ideas you throw at me and it makes me write more and more than i usually do)

Shuri walked into the room where Namor had been spending most of his time painting the murals on the walls. The vibrant colors and intricate details caught her attention as soon as she stepped in.

“Princess.”

Shuri continued to observe the paintings, noticing the different scenes depicting the history of Namor's people. She pointed to one in particular, showing a woman and child, protected by a God-like being from attackers.

“Who is she?” Shuri had inquired. Among the numerous of artworks, there was a certain veneration, a certain care into painting this woman among the rest of the artworks in the murals on the wall.

“She is my wife, my Queen, the mother of Talokan.”

#stuckybarton replies #stuckybarton answers #namor imagines #namor x reader #namor imagine #namor angst

[stuckybarton]

First snow

[stuckybarton]

servitude [1] → black panther [attuma]

Pairings: Attuma x Reader, Wakandan!Reader, T’challa + Shuri Sister!Reader

Series Summary: In the aftermath of The Blip, you and Attuma–warriors turned interim leaders– build an unlikely relationship that evolves overtime as you bond over loss, grief and the weight of two different worlds. 

Meeting each other in secret for the past two years, the peace you’d maintained by having your Kingdoms kept apart is threatened when your Kings and sisters return from oblivion; ready to wage war against each other as they expect you to lead their armies, unaware of the bonds you’d forged in their absence. 

A/N: I was mentioned in a post by @tommymcartney​ (my first ever time being mentioned in a post) who reminded me that my work, while new, is appreciated on this site. Thanks for inspiring me to entertain my new obsession lol.

Servitude  [1] → black panther [attuma]

You lost your siblings during The Blip. 

T’challa had turned to dust right before Okoye, Shuri scattered somewhere out on the battlefield; and a weight unlike any other (the weight only your brother knew) settled around shoulders when the wind did not claim you, too. 

At only seventeen, you had been reduced to an only child by the snap of a Madman’s fingers. Expected to ascend the throne now that your older siblings could not. Not that you would, given your distaste of politics and the UN Embassy in general.

Where T’challa was King and Shuri led your scientific division, you had trained under the tutelage of the Dora Milage. Had become one of the best warriors of the country in spite of your youth, expected to surpass Okoye once you reached her age.  

Your natural skill had fuelled your desire to join the War Dogs before N’Jadaka had come into the picture (as Princess, you could not join the Dora Milaje officially), a dream you had to contribute to the safety of your Kingdom and your brother’s reign under the aloofness of being the youngest child.

In the eyes of the world that remained, however, this was not possible when your existence, your survival, received constant praise by Nations who hungered for someone young and naive to ascend the throne.

To their displeasure, you’d assumed leadership over the secret division of your country instead, entertained by the thought of Colonisers dictating what you did with yourself. Your amusement further peaked as you presented yourself publicly as Wakanda’s Consulate General alongside your natural title as Princess.  

.

With your Mother maintaining the throne and dealing with politics, you’d spent the first three years working diligently to forget your siblings’ absence. Your own grief and shame.

Someone had to stamp out the political unrest in your country, had to re-establish Wakanda’s spy-network in the midst of mounting political tension around the world.

And you had done it all at from seventeen to twenty, held together by the love of your Queen Mother and spurred on by the council of your closest confidants, Okoye, Aneka, Ayo and, surprisingly, the Jabari’s own M’Baku. 

The success of your network around the world had earned you the respect of many, though nothing cemented your legacy more than what happened during the Wakandan three-day-Massacre: 

The Marube Tribe were a relic of time, isolated from the rest of your country when they denounced the advancement of your technology.

Deep in the Mute Lands, they’d practiced old customs and studied even older texts where, in the shadow of Thanos’ terror, they’d turn to ancient techniques to make their warriors strong. Stronger than even the Black Panther. 

Since they could not ingest Vibranium through the heart-shaped herb, a group of their men had etched it into their flesh. Tattooed the raw substance into the planes of their body so they could flow better with nature.

And for a brief time, it worked. The process had given them unnatural durability and strength, the ability to run faster than the wind and yet capable of moving the Earth with a stomp of their foot.

Only, Vibranium itself is radioactive unless tempered with a substance only Shuri and her division knew how to make.

And with your sister and her team gone, ashes in the wind; the Marube tribe, without knowing the consequences, inadvertently kickstarted what might’ve been the doom of your people with the creation of the Madmen. 

As Vibranium had become one with flesh, the radiation did not blister skin nor melt flesh from bone. Instead, it drove the person to madness, to a murderous rage that would not end and was made even worse by the indestructibility of their bodies.

In a single night, the Madmen decimated nearly their entire village before they took to their neighbours. 

When the missive came the following morning, your Queen Mother demanded only for the Dora Milaje to go, for them put an end to the madness before it reached the Golden City.

What she seemed to forget was that the last Madman you fought murdered your siblings, so you could not, would not, simply remain in the Palace.

And so as stealthily as you could for someone who’d learned many tricks from Nakia, you followed your warrior-sisters beyond the throne room, grateful that Okoye turned a blind eye when she caught you amongst their numbers. 

.

The battle against the Madmen had been a ruthless and bloody affair. 

The people who fought with you and against you were your own people; the land you fought on once roamed by your Ancestors; yet no amount of familiarity could diminish the brutality of war as the Madmen slaughtered your people in masses, pushed your team deeper into the battlefield and towards the centre of their ruined Tribe like wolves surrounding sheep.

Just as you thought you had reached your end, had stood back-to-back with Okoye, Aneka and Ayo and readied yourself for death, Bast had smiled on you that day as the survivors of the massacre–women and children who’d hidden themselves beneath the ground–opened a hidden hatch and welcomed your group into their refuge.  

The Marube people may have denounced modern Wakanda; but they were Wakandan all the same.

For almost half an hour, you and the warriors huddled with them in the dark of their underground cave system where you’d grieved and planned, prayed for your Ancestors to see you through another day even when the Madmen waited for you above. 

It had been one of the Elders who survived, a woman named J’Kobe who weakly presented the idea of someone undergoing the same process as the men above to turn the tides of the battle. She who suggested bestowing a great power upon someone, anyone, so that they could end the Madmen’s bloodshed once and for all before madness took them.

It would be a sacrifice, went unsaid. 

As the determination settled on Okoye’s brow and Ayo and Aneka shared a sad, resigned smile (they’d realised too that the Madmen could not be beat as their weapons bent under the pressure of their strength)–you had stepped towards J’Kobe with the memory of your family and your people, the smile of a toddler who bared your brother’s name, as you knelt at her feet and offered yourself before they could.

Your siblings had been gone for three years, and in those three years you’d found no dignified way of joining them until then: …though of course, you didn’t actually die as you thought you would. 

Even now, you could not remember what had happened down in those tunnels, how long your friends had argued against your decision before you laid on your back and then your stomach, the pain immeasurable as they and J’Kobe embedded the Vibranium along different areas of your body. 

Tattooed by your countries most fearsome warriors and one of the last practitioners of old, you did what many thought was impossible when you ascended the tunnels with fresh tattoos that glowed purple and a newfound strength to greet the Madmen as an equal match. 

On the third day of the three-day-Massacre, you gave your people a new protector as you stood over the Madmen who lay at your feet, defeated: 

Olumo, J’Kobe called you. 

Molded by God. 

.

After the battle had been won, and you’d marched with your Warriors and the survivors home to prepare to be put down, to apologise to your Mother one last time before calling Nakia; like the wind that did not claim you when your siblings disappeared, death did not take you in the end, too. 

Because your Father, his Father and so on, ingested Vibranium through the heart-shaped herb, they’d altered their genetics and granted their children and lineage invulnerability to the radiation of Vibranium. 

Meaning you would not be lost to madness from the procedure after all, a stroke of luck for your friends who considered sacrificing themselves. 

Since then, you’d fought many battles as Olumo, the disciple of Ptah and Kokou. Had succeeded in many minor and major battles that helped you carve your own legacy as you fought for True Wakanda, your Vibranium tattoos a symbol of your service and devotion. 

There were days, of course, when the power you’d been bestowed stirred uncomfortably. Days where you felt restless in your own skin, plagued with the undeniable urge to move, run and fight. 

You’d always been a warrior than a leader. 

The Dora Milage, adored as they were, were supportive in this regard; always ready to give you an outlet to rid yourself of this feeling as you fought and sparred them in the safety of your Kingdom. 

Even M’Baku and his warriors, through a rare sight in the Capital, sparred with you when they could. 

It wasn’t until you met him, though, that you felt more alive than you’d felt in the past three years. Felt seen and understood in a way that your friends and Mother could not and would likely ever understand, given the power and responsibilities you now held. 

His name was Attuma, and he called himself the greatest warrior in the underworld. 

_______________________________

This is Part 1 (context; your POV) of a three-part-story. 

Part 2 (snippets of you and him during moments in-between; his POV) will be coming soon. 

Also to note–

Your background is inspired by the BLACK PANTHER #7 (Origins of Vibranium) + BLACK PANTHER #3 (#200 Legacy) 

Ptah the Shaper is considered the god of metal alloys, mainly Vibranium whereas Kokou is considered the Wakandan god of War

#drunken reading #drunken readings #attuma

[stuckybarton]

Heads Under Water XIII

Summary: The aftermath of everything going wrong. Character: K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Atlantean Descendant! Filipino! Female Reader. Word Count: 1,106 Chapter Warnings: None. Maybe K'uk'ulkan's failed attempt at an apology(?)

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Join the Library (no longer do taglist you can just turn on notif here)

Part XIII

“Doctor!”

The relief has slowly washed over your face the moment you had slipped off the suit. Without even thinking twice, you had made your way towards Shuri as she had pulled you in for a hug. A hug you somehow felt you still needed after everything that had happened in the past few hours.

“I thought you had died.” Shuri was close to tears and the guilt of having her worry about someone like you.

“I’m here. I’m okay.” You reassured her before turning your attention to towards your travel companion.

Attuma stood without word all throughout your swim back to the surface. But for someone as formidable and strong as him, he had been gentle with you all throughout. How he had held you to him as the fear of the water was getting too much for you. He powered his way to the surface for your sake above all else.

“Please make sure Namora is safe.” You plead the man to which he only gave a gentle nod before departing with the suit in his grasp.

“What had happened? It’s been a month.” Shuri began to question. “Come, we need to ensure you’re well. We need to have the healer have a look at you.”

Without another word, you allowed her to pull you back into the palace. Everything was going too fast. Numerous people were scrambling at the news of your return, a set of clothes were provided to you as the ones given to you by Talokan clung to your body with how wet it was before you were dutifully checked upon by their physician.

“After the attack on Talokan, the borders were shut down and we had tried our best to look for you—even if it means just your remains. But Talokan themselves were in lockdown while they were looking for the people responsible for the attack.”

All you could do was nod. Wondering about K'uk'ulkan’s words against you and how even after the long hours since he threw you to the water, what he meant by your involvement in whatever attack it was that happened to his people.

“I don’t even know.” You admit to Shuri. “All I want to do right now is go home to my parents.”

“We will have the jet ready when you are. We just need to make sure you are alright and well enough to travel.”

All you could do at the moment was nod, no longer having the will to protest. Fatigue never truly hitting your system until now. It felt like hours, but when the physician had given the green light and some special balm on the visible bruise on your arm, you were allowed to go.

“Where is she?”

You turned your head slowly at the sight of Queen Ramonda. You found yourself bowing at the sight of her, the guilt of almost being responsible for the death of her daughter. It had weighed on you in the days of your isolation in the man’s chambers. You could not live with yourself knowing you were responsible for another lost life all over again.

“Thank you.” The last thing you would have ever expected to happen was for the Queen to pull you in for an embrace. “For everything you have done, for us and especially for my daughter.”

You were left speechless. This was the last thing you would have expected from the Queen herself after everything that has happened. But you accepted the hug and hugged her gently back, not all was lost it may seem. But you grow uncertain if the offer to remain with Wakanda would still be given after what had happened. Would you even go and accept it knowing that the man that had intentionally tried to kill you would be within reach and you could do nothing but watch your back constantly because of it.

“You will now have a home here for everything that you have done for us.” She continued.

All you could do was nod, unable to process what her words truly meant right now.

“I want to go home for now. After everything—I just want to go to my parents and recover from all of this.” You requested as you gently pulled away from the older woman. ~ He had learn about the news of your leaving Wakanda—permanently or temporary he was not certain. Namora and Attuma refused to make him aware at this point in time. But he was persistent that he needed to see you one last time even if it was to say good bye or to simply apologize.

“Namor.”

The name had struck so much fear to the people he intended to strike fear upon, but when it escaped your lips, it was a stab at his heart. He had done this—he had done this to you and there was no other way of excusing it now. How you had physically made yourself smaller where you stood behind one of Dora Milaje.

“In Yakunaj.” He meant it with all his heart now. But it was far too late to convince you otherwise.

“I’m going home, In ajawo.” You spoke, no sense of humor he had grown so used to in your time in his chambers.

“I am here to say my farewell and to make things right.” He continued, grasping onto anything to make you not look at him like you were in this moment.

“I don’t think so.” You whispered, profusely shaking you head in the process.

“Then please take this.” He urged, stepping closer to you even with every single member of the Dora Milaje cautious of his movement, he was uncertain if they were made aware of his mistake. “You whisper anything here, and place it in the waters and I will come to you wherever you are. I hope to make things right with you, whatever it takes.”

You didn’t cower now instead approaching slowly, but never truly coming as close as he would be happy with. But it was progress as you took the conch shell in his grasp. Your hand touched his own for a fraction of a second but it was enough to satiate him for the moment.

“Good bye, Namor.” You whispered, before making your way to the jet with Shuri by the tarmac, arms crossed and dangerous glare pointed right at him.

“I hope to be able to see you again soon.”

“For a different reason instead of what you’ve thrown on to me the last time.” You quipped before turning away further into the jet.

He had hoped it would be so.

#k'uk'ulkan x reader #K'uk'ulkan x filipino!reader #K'uk'ulkan smut #K'uk'ulkan series #K'uk'ulkan oneshot #K'uk'ulkan oneshots #K'uk'ulkan angst #K'uk'ulkan fluff #K'uk'ulkan imagines #K'uk'ulkan imagine #namor x reader #namor x filipino!reader #namor smut #namor series #namor oneshot #namor oneshots #namor angst #namor fluff #namor imagines

[stuckybarton]

that man is offering their version of weed and i love it. 😂😂😂

Definitely need namor with 15 and 16 how couldn’t we

Alright gonna do 15. See here for 16 with Namor

Namor was displeased about this arrangement but he knew it was necessary. He sat in one of the rooms of the Wakandan royal palace as the seamstress took his measurements. He would have preferred to show up to his first UN meeting in full Talokanil regalia, but it was taking place in Norway in the winter. As Princess Shuri had put it, "We can't have your wings freezing off when they have only just grown back."

So now he was being fitted for a custom suit that would combine modern tailor work and Talokanil designs. The seamstress finished her measurements and began draping all manner of fabric on his arms and shoulders, comparing colors and weights. The King eyed her for a moment, feeling as if he recognized her.

"I can give you a picture, it will last longer," she mumbled distractedly before tossing a pile of fabric to the side.

"You look familiar," Namor tilted his head, still raking his mind for a memory.

"I was the one piloting the plane that picked you and Princess Shuri up from the desert," She replied through the pen she had in her mouth.

"The pilot? They why are you doing this? I would think a soldier would be doing something else," The King tried to catch her eye but she shoved him back in place as she compared some embroidery work between the two fabrics that still hung on his body. Namor felt a string from one of the cloths tickling his arm, making him twitch.

"I retired," She said, glaring at him to stop fidgeting.

Namor sighed and returned to facing forward into the mirror. He had to admit the colors of fabric and the type both looked great against his tan skin. She had taste. He eyed his reflection as she settled on an emerald green color that had a nice sheen to it.

"Would you prefer feathers, chains, or pearls?" She asked as she meandered to a table covered in various supplies.

"I will defer to your expertise," Namor replied, his eyes never leaving the woman. The weight of the fabric draped on his shoulder was heavier than what he was used to and it didn't escape him that his normal jewelry may not be the best option.

She turned and approached him again, holding up a few colored plumes as well as bits of gold chain. With a disapproving noise she threw the chains back to the table and started laying the feathers along the fabric. Namor tried once more to catch the artist's eyes but she was stubbornly ignoring him.

Namor was growing bored with the silence, "Do you hate being here with me as much as I hate the idea of wearing such garments?"

Finally she glanced at him, meeting his gaze for a moment, "I do not hate it but I am only here as a favor to the Princess. Your act of terror on Wakandan destroyed my family home. I may dislike you but I will refuse the royal family nothing."

Namor was taken aback by her admittance. His shoulders fell as she continued her work. He could not meet her eyes as he spoke, "I am sorry for taking from you. War is war but that does not mean I do not regret some of what I have done."

He felt her hands pause as she contemplated his words. She sighed and continued her work, speaking softly "I don't have warm words for you or an enthusiastic response but I accept your apology for what it is. Unnecessary but genuine."

Namor couldn't help but chuckle. Her stoicism continued as he tried to engage her in conversation, "I could have my people build you a better house. You can even design it to your heart's content."

She only hmphed in response, concentrating on pinning and draping fabric.

"You're so rigid. That's understandable for a soldier but now that you're retired you should release some tension. We have this plant in Talokan that I feel like you could benefit from." Namor waxed on and on about what he could offer to make up for her loss.

"I think I liked you better when you were on your knees and begging for mercy," she mumbled to herself as she removed the fabric and accessories.

"You spoke again but I missed it. Are you taking up the offer on the plant?" Namor asked as he stepped off the dais.

"Your majesty, please return for your next fitting in a week's time," She responded before ushering him out the door.

"I will bring it next time, just in case," Namor said just as the door was slammed in his face.

~~~~

Thank you for playing.

#drunken reading #drunken readings #namor