Sweet Like Mango

Sweet like mango

Namor x goddess!reader fluff

Summary: You had always remained loyal to your promise to stay ashore, despite a certain god’s best attempts to persuade you otherwise

1.6k words

Warnings: slightly suggestive at some points. Other than that pure fluff

Author’s note- The reader is a woman of color implied to be of a browner skin complexion. The place she rules is a made up country in the Caribbean Sea.

You never grew tired of this.

The long pathways of sand that stretched far around the coast of the island, tucked underneath the shade of many trees. The sleek texture of the leaves beneath your fingers as you foraged for any fruit that would be viable. The feeling of his gaze as you went about your tasks.

It was your job to look after the resources of your people, a people that dwelled on an island safe from the hands of the outside world. One much like the African nation of Wakanda, hidden to all outsiders; though that never stop him from coming. Everyday you’d stroll around the shores of your quaint island and everyday he’d make it a point to see you: It was from him that you even knew what Wakanda was. You weren’t the kind of goddess to meddle in the business of other nations, so a lot of your knowledge about the outside world was through what he told you. On his visits he’d bring stories of foreign lands along with more gifts than you could manage. Necklaces, gold, Talokan’s finest pearls littered your hut. Despite your best efforts, he insisted you accept his gifts and you never had the heart to turn them away. He liked to jest that one day he’d bring enough jewels to fill up your entire island, to let anyone who sailed by know just how much he cared for you.

“Must you always watch from the waters?” Your voice broke the air in what sounded like but a whisper. You stood just off the edge of the sand, waves flowing gently at your shores and making ripples as they returned to the ocean. He was there and you were sure of it. A gentle breeze made its way through the trees, taking pieces of your knit skirt with it. Comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you waited for him to reveal himself and it wasn’t long before he did. He heard you, he always did. His black hair stuck to his face as he rose from the waters, bronzed and covered in heavy jewelry. Before you was K'uk'ulkan in all his glory.

“Ma'lob Ja'atskab K'iin, in yakunaj” (Good morning, my love)

He knew you couldn’t understand what he was saying and yet he refused to stop speaking his language to you. Maybe the absence of understanding was apart of why he did it. Maybe it allowed him to be comfortable saying the things he wouldn’t dare slip off his tongue if he knew you’d understand.

“K'uk'ulkan”. His name fell from your mouth with ease, the way it had thousands of times before. You never tired of seeing your water god, not when he came to your shores looking the way he did. Namor sauntered slowly up to you with a small brown box cradled in between his fingers. Those green shorts left little to the imagination, not that you were complaining.

“How have you been” he asked genuinely, eyes finding yours as he slides his had gingerly around your waist. His fingers moved cautiously around the gems of your waist beads, testing how far you’d let him get as if he had never touched you before. It wasn’t until he was close enough that you could see the state he was in. Battered, bruised, littered in cuts.

He hadn’t visited you in a week which was unlike him. In the event that his duties as king would tear him from you for longer than he liked, he would always make sure you knew. Worry crept up your spine when he hadn’t paid you a visit in 3 days time and you waited desperately for any sort of sign. A smoke signal, a message in a bottle, anything, but nothing ever came. You suspected something dubious was going on with him. Your suspicion was correct.

“What happened to you”

You saw the way his eyebrows raised slightly, as if he didn’t expect you to ask.

“What would it matter if I told you, in yakunaj”

“You leave without a trace in the ocean and you expect me to not want answers? Do you think just because you’ve returned that I’m not owed an explanation?”

You had a point, he couldn’t deny.

“I had a run in with the Wakandans, their new queen is a formidable warrior. I have done things I don’t know if I’m proud of. Things I’d rather not tell in fear you would look at me differently”.

“Does war follow your actions K'uk'ulkan?” You had to know your chances of loosing him. The brown in his eyes soften as he gazed upon you, his hands gripping your waist with more force as if he’s scared you’ll blow away with the wind. The sun made the brown of your skin dance beneath his finger tips, a sight he wouldn’t trade for the world. To him, your beauty could not be matched by any woman, land or sea.

“Not anytime in the near future. Not with the Wakandans. Despite my wrongdoings I have secured an ally for Talokan”. His response seemed to calm you and he took notice of this. As much as you tried to deny it, you did have feelings for him.

This encouraged him to lean into the dip of your neck, inhaling your scent. Honey and mangos with a hint of cinnamon, a smell he would burn into every fiber of his brain had the heavens above allowed it. Opening the box he slowly removed its contents, a beautiful Amber necklace with a pendant surrounded by Talokanil pearls. You didn’t flinch as his wet hands turned you away from him, moving to clip the necklace on with ease. You saw the admiration in his eyes as he scanned down the valley of your breast to look at where the necklace rested. It was beautiful against your complexion and sat comfortably on the knit bra like top you wore. To colonizers your dress was primitive, to him, it was beauty in it’s purest form.

“I count every hour until I am able to see you again. Will you not return to Talokan with me to save me of the pain of having to live without you”.

Would you go with him? You truly didn’t know. Your duty was to your people, to your island, who were you to abandon them? The gods had given you life to serve the islanders and your power of growing plants on a whim served the people well. At a moments notice you could conjure up rows of fruit trees to feed the village. Despite this, you couldn’t help your mind when it wondered to thoughts about what it would be like being his queen. Adored by him and his people. He had walls covered in tapestry depicting you, what would it be like to wake up to them in his embrace every morning? The feeling of him kissing up the side of your neck pulled you out of your thoughts. As much as you’d love to spend every waking moment like this, you knew it wasn’t possible.

“We both know that cannot happen. I have a duty to my people and yours deserve a queen that is one of them”. The words left your mouth so quietly you had to second guess if you had actually said them. His response assured you that you did. That wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“What would lead you to think you are not one of us? You can breathe water like us, swim like us, eat like us. I’d never let the name Namor come from you, is that not testament enough to your place in my life?”

“I am neither your enemy nor your people, what am I to call you? Surely the better of the two names”

“In yakunaj would suffice”. A smile graced his face as he pulled away from your neck. Watching as small purple bruises burned into the brown of your neck.

“I will not call you a name if I don’t know what it means”

“And yet you call me K'uk'ulkan without a care in the world. Do you trust that it’s meaning is good? Or is it that you trust me, lòol (flower)”

In all honesty, you didn’t have an answer. He must have taken your silence as confirmation of your trust as he worked to push you up against the mango tree behind the two of you. He did it with more force than intended but you were quick to catch the mango as it fell, not without accidentally bruising it. It’s juices flowed onto your hands and covered you fingers with its sticky substance. Namor’s eyes darkened as he watched you attempt to clean the mango’s residue from your hands after placing it to the ground. He gently gripped your hand and brought it up to his mouth, eyes meeting yours. He began to slowly suck the juices from your skin in a way that set your body a blaze. Everything about the scene was seductive and you enjoyed it more than you felt you should have. You tried your best to mask the shock as he slowly dropped to his knees before you.

“Maybe I need to use a different approach to make you change your mind”

Naruto x Jujutsu x Chainsaw Man

Rest in Peace Lance Reddick (June 7, 1962 – March 17, 2023)

love the trope where an authoritative side character pointedly pretends not to help the hero they’re not supposed to be helping by saying shit like “well I can’t just let you wander around up to the THIRD FLOOR where you could just FIND THE THING YOU NEED in the FIRST ROOM ON THE LEFT. And under no circumstances should you USE THE KEY FROM UNDER THE MAT. I wish I could help you, but I CAN’T. Now excuse me, I need to take this phone call for the next 37 minutes EXACTLY.”

How Okoye was looking at Attuma after he places another shark on her doorstep as a courting gift.

Every time an attractive black or poc character gets introduced into Marvel, fans who are of the same race and/or culture as them has to deal with ignorant white authors taking that character and writing the most blatantly offensive and whitewashed fanfics.

There’s no reason why Namor is speaking Spanish instead of his own native language. It’s not that difficult to do your research and it’s clear y’all have no problem doing it when it came to Thor or Loki. Y’all don’t even bother hiding it yet get defensive when someone points it out. Since we’re on this topic, lets not act dumb about his dislike for white people and the LOW chance of him having a white partner like bffr…

Lastly, we need to be VERY careful on how Namor is written and not play into stereotypes that’ll harm his character (and also Tenoch himself) in the long run. Y’all don’t seem to know (nor care) how dangerous it is to have him being written as the “aggressor” pursuing the “naive and innocent” white girl.