#Captains Quarters [OOC] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nellielsss · 9 months ago

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ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ'ꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ˳༄꠶

Summary: Your captain loves nothing more than spending the night with you in his bed! Although, he wishes that you weren't so hellbent on keeping this thing a secret... A drabble semi-inspired by Touch My Body by Mariah Carey only it's much more intimate and less playful. Author's note: the amount of brainrot I've been having over Yami omfg 😭 😭 I've been OBSESSED with Black Clover and it's possibly worse than JJK... speaking of, I know this doesn't include the JJK crowd, but a girl can still explore her interests!! This also might be very ooc for Yami but IDGAF this is my perception of him. IDGAF if this flops I JUST NEED HIM TO FUCK ME ALL NIGHT LONG!!!!! Pairing: Yami Sukehiro x fem!reader CW: gentle sex, pet names, praising

🪽 Nσɯ ρʅαყιɳɠ…

"Thwap. Thwap. Thwap."

╰┈➤ Those were the sounds that were echoing throughout the Captain's quarters, and there was no way one could mistake them for the sound of anything but Captain Yami's thick, monstrous cock thrusting in and out of you.

"Y-Yami~ Captain Yami~" you gasped, looking over your shoulder at the Captain of the Black Bulls as he fucked--no, made love to you. For a guy who weighed close to 230 pounds, he could be quite gentle with you in bed.

And he had to be, because there was no way that he could harm his pretty little Bull, not when he A. needed you to go out on a mission soon and B. desperately wanted your trust. The latter reason was his cover for going slow if asked about it, at least, because the real reason was much more embarrassing for the prideful captain to admit.

He was in love with you, of course! He's actually had a crush on you ever since he saw you, but he'd never admit to it; he had a reputation to uphold.

"There you go, you've got it, sweets," he said in that deliciously husky voice of his as he gripped your hips and moved you back and forth on his girth. "Fuck, I don't even know how I could repay you for this, pretty girl... letting some big, ugly brute like me have a sweet taste of your body," he murmured, leaning down and pressing sweet kisses to your neck. "Don't even know why you'd agree to see me in private and let me do you in like this, you're way too fucking amazing for me," he thought aloud with a dry chuckle. Even in the throes of passion, he still found a way to be self-deprecating.

"Y-You're not ugly, S-Suke- gah~!" you gasped, feeling him press the head of his cock against your sweet spot for a few moments.

"Whatever you say, princess," he chuckled, relishing the feel of your spongy spot against his tip. "Fuuuck, looks like I found your sweet spot, eh? I'll make sure to make it even sweeter," he added, pulling your hips closer and thrusting as deep as he possibly could.

You buried your face in the pillows that he'd bought for your comfort, much too embarrassed by the sounds you were making. "I don't want my captain losing any sleep when there's missions to be completed," was what you told him when you were at the market.

So sweet to him, was what he first thought. Even when you were practically insulting him with your "compliments," he could still see right through the prickliness and find the gooey inside of your words. He'd never had anyone care for him like this--not since the Wizard King was his captain, and that was because the King had a weird obsession with his dark magic. Sure, you were bound by the respect expected of a captain's subordinate, but you took it a step further and personally cared for him.

He knew it from the moment you joined the Black Bulls and showed what you were made of that he'd somehow get you in his arms & his bed, and when that day came, it was the happiest day of his life, because now he could make sweet, sweet love to you every single night. Even when you complained and made a fuss about it, he could just throw you over his shoulder and carry you to his bedroom.

His sheer strength came in handy, because now he was giving you deep, steady strokes, his thick, tanned cock rubbing against your walls deliciously, making you feel things you didn't think were humanly possible

For such a brute, he could be so sweet, but that was because he wanted to repay you for your sweetness.

"Hey, pretty, don't hide your face from me," he crooned, gently grabbing your chin mid-stroke and making you look at him. He smiled fondly when he caught the unabashed love and lust in your eye, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I wanna see my pretty when I make her eyes roll back in her head."

There was it, that cocky streak that he had.

His cockiness could be justified, though; with the sounds you were making, one could imagine that you were ascending to heaven.

"D-Don't tease m'like that, Y-Yami, you know how... flustered I get," you whimpered, stuttering while trying to make your thoughts known. It was so impossible to speak or even think properly with the way he was digging into your guts.

"I know, I know, pretty, but good god is it amazing to see you melt away when I fuck your pretty brains out," he said, the words flowing off his tongue like honey.

He leaned down again and pressed his lips to yours this time, his huge arms wrapping around you even tighter and holding you to him. Was it blatant favoritism? Yes; was it probably going against the rules? Also yes; but neither of you cared, not even a little right now.

Not when he could make his subordinate moan his name over and over again when he made her cum.

His abs flexed and relaxed, his pecs felt hard and soft against your back, and you were just loving every single second of this. No matter how bratty or prickly you got with him, there was nothing like having him dick you down every single night without a care in the world, knowing that you could come to him any time you needed some stress relief or a shoulder to cry on or a dick to ride on. Looking at you now while he sat up straighter, hand still on your head and guiding you back and forth on his cock, he smiled softly once more. In that moment of sweet, unabashed bliss, Yami Sukehiro vowed to someday make you his officially, to show the world that you were his prized girlfriend, the woman who made his heart melt every time he so much as sensed your Ki.

His thoughts were interrupted by that familiar feeling of you squeezing and spasming around his thick pole. "Y-Yami, please-"

"I know, baby, I've got you, I've got you. Yami's got you," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips, his nose burying in your hair and sighing softly. "C'mon, cum on your captain's cock."

Those words were enough to make you arch your back and throw your head back with a loud, heavenly moan, babbling out his name while tears flowed down your cheeks.

"There we go, thaaat's it, cum on m'cock like I know you wanna," he cooed a bit louder this time. Watching and feeling you cum around his cock never got old, and it was enough to make him cum as well with a raspy grunt. "Shit, baby, you got me cumming so soon. I was gonna wait, but, oh well; might as well say fuck it," he said after emptying his balls into your eager hole.

He sighed a sigh of relief once his orgasm passed, and he pressed several kisses to your neck while chuckling softly. "Goddamn it, princess--I fuckin' love you."

"Love you too, Yami," you murmured, too fucked out of your head to even process the aftermath of your heavenly orgasm.

"I know you do," he whispered, rolling you over and kissing you. He kissed your lips over and over again, his cock still buried deep inside of you. "One day, I swear to god, I'll show the world how much I love you. Make all those other uptight captains wish that they had what we have."

Possibly the best part of your night was when you fell asleep in his arms, his body entirely entangled with yours all sweaty and sticky. No matter how sticky you were, he would never give a shit about it. He'd hold you just the same.

"So pretty when you sleep," he said with a soft kiss to the forehead.

Your dear friend and fellow Black Bull, Vanessa, didn't miss the soft glow that graced your gorgeous features when you made your way into the dining hall and to breakfast. "Good morning," you said to everyone with a smile on your face, grabbing a plate and getting the food that you were in need of.

"Is it just me, or is she way nicer than she normally is?"

"Right? Her mood's usually worser than Yami's, especially in the morning..."

"It must be nice to be in love," Vanessa sighed, setting aside her bottle of alcohol for a moment. The other Bulls looked at Vanessa with confusion, the observation making them look at each other as well.

"The hell is she talkin' about?"

#yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro #black clover smut #black clover #black clover fandom #black clover x reader #black clover x y/n #Spotify

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islayhawkin · 7 months ago

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It's from her

Captain John price x fem!reader

Summary: The task force learns that john's beanie holds way more importance to him than it should

Warnings!: sad and vulnerable john, prob ooc, not edited

Leaving for a mission was always hard. He knew that you struggled immensly with it and while he never showed it, it took it's toll on him too.

To leave you behind. Knowing that you had a hard time because of him.

To have the mission ahead of him. The knowledge that he'd be away for weeks or even months on end. The contact to you was rare and it took a lot of effort for him to be able to have a phone call or receive a letter from you. He always worried. While he was the one fighting for his life, there was always a part of his mind that thought about how you were doing, if something happened, if you needed him...The constant uncertainty was driving him on edge sometimes.

And he missed you. Oh, how he missed you. He spent so many lonely nights in his tent or a safe house imagining you beside him while the snores of his comrades filled his ears.

John clung to the few things he had with him that were you. One of them being his hat.

It was one of the first things he got from you. You had knitted the beanie when you first moved in together. Every evening when you two had cuddled up on the couch, the TV playing, you had knitted. He had seen it develop and it was the most calming sound to him, whenever he heard your needles clicking softly against each other. Not until you finished the hat had he been aware that you made it for him.

"Here. I made this for you." You had smiled at him proudly as you handed over the dark-knitted beanie.

It was nothing special and with closer inspection, a few mistakes could be sighted but for john it meant the world. At first, he had struggled to even think of a response as he gripped the soft fabric in his rough hands.

"I know you always like to have something on your head and I thought that would keep you warm when you're in a cold area..." you had muttered out your explanation.

"thank you." He had replied quietly. The love and astonishment had been evident in his expression.

There were times when he thought back to that moment and wished he had said more. That he would've been able to express what it meant to him. But you knew without him saying so. It was clear in his actions.

It was endearing how he still took it on every mission after all these years.

The 141 started to notice it's importance to him when he couldn't find it at base. His usual calm demeanor was slightly irritable and underlined by the strong walk as he barged into the common room as if he were on a mission to save the queen.

"Does any of you shitheads have my hat?" His deep voice made the whole room go quiet.

Soap and ghost exchanged glances. "Got no reason to steal your hat captain." Ghost grumbled out.

John clenched and unclenched his fists multiple times. The muscle in his jaw tightened. "You'll have no problem then if I check your rooms lieutenant." There were some unspoken words between them as two pairs of hard eyes met each other.

"No problem." Ghost replied.

Price took a look around the room before giving them a nod and leaving for their private quarters.

"What's wrong with him?" Gaz leaned over the table to his comrades.

"No bloody idea. Probably got his period." Ghost grumbled.

Price rummaged through room after room methodically. The drawers and cabinets were thrown open and closed softly after close inspection. He muttered a few annoyed curses when he arrived at soap's room: the drawers were already opened but his clothes were probably more scattered over the floor room than in his closet. Room inspections were obviously in dire need of attention.

When he made it to Gaz's room the hat was the first thing his eyes spotted as he opened the door. There it was. slightly frizzy and worn at the edges but still looking soft the way it always did. Except that it didn't lay at its usual spot in his neatly organized closet.

"Can't keep their bloody hands to their own stuff." John grumbled.

The tension fell from his body as he picked the beanie up and took it back to his room. He laid it back to the dedicated spot with a scarf next to it. His eyes observed how it seemed to lay so innocently in front of him. A tired sigh escaped his lips before he pushed himself into an upright position and locked the door to his room for good measure.

In the next moment he dragged gaz out of his chair pressed him against the wall. Johns hand clasped the collar of gazs uniform. While gaz grunted from the impact of his captains weight against him, his face stayed nonchalant. If you knew him better you'd seen the small sliver of nervousness in his eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my stuff?" Price gritted out.

"I didn't take anything from you sir." Gaz shot back almost angrily at the accusation.

"You think that's funny huh?" John sneered. It was unusual for the captain to throw angry words at his team. He was always the composed one; giving them a sense of confidence and security in the battlefield.

"No sir."

"Hmhm. I found something in your quarters. My goddamn hat on top of your closet."

Gaz frowned. "Captain I didn't- sir I don't know anything about that."

Price grunted in frustration before ghost stepped to them and slightly pulled the captain back. "Take it easy cap."

John let himself fall back before pointing a warning finger at the young sergeant. "Just keep your hands off of my things. Especially that hat. Got it?"

Gaz gave him a nod but he didn't back down from his position as innocent. The air was tense as everyone watched the ongoing confrontation.

Ghost gave his captain a look which held john back made him leave the room back to his own office (where he should've worked for the last hour). The lieutenant followed him out as if to escort him. "Why are ya followin' me simon?"

Ghost was about to protest about his name choice but decided there were more important matters at hand right now.

"I figured you'd want to tell me what's going on?" The deep voice came from behind the mask.

Price stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms while shifting his weight onto his toes. "What?"

While price was a tall and muscular man he had no chance against the build of ghost as he towered opposite of him.

"You're going wild over a damn hat for no reason." His tone sounded almost bored.

"It's not just a bloody hat!" John's jaw clicked.

Ghost scoffed. "Then what is this about?"

"With all due respect lieutenant, you wouldn't understand."

That was it. It was never brought up again until a few months later on a mission at the Russian border.

A small safe house offered them shelter before they took off for the next day.

The night was a troubled one. Everyone was anxious and tired, which was a dangerous mix of feelings in a group of men. But they were trained for this. Keeping one eye and ear open constantly; without pause. This was the requirement to survival.

John took the night shift after Ghost woke him up out of a rather unpleasant dream. Everything was quiet except for a few night animals chirping in the forest surrounding them. The sun already brought a bit of light through the windows.

He sat down against a pillar and rubbed his exhausted eyes with his calloused palms. A defeated sigh escaped his lips as he took the gun into his hand and let his head lull back against the wood.

The last few months had been rough. The 141 was on this mission since almost two months now and it felt like they didn't get any closer to their target. For john it meant two months without you. No call, no letter, nothing. For all he knew you could be laying in bed with another guy right now. He couldn't blame you. No, what was he thinking. That was a riddiculous thought. He grunted quietly as he rubbed a hand over his beard. John definately needed sleep.

His beard and hair had grown out over the time, which made him think of the way you'd sit him on the toilet lid and step between his legs to shave his beard for him. You never realised how that position made it quite impossible for him to relax under your intense stare. He smiled at the memory and simultaneously hope that he'd be able to be in that position soon again.

The nightmare had made him unpleasantly agitated and worried. John just hoped, prayed and begged Laswell to make sure that you were okay.

A few hours later the sun started to rise above the horizon, which brought john his clue to wake everyone up and get going for the day ahead. When everybody was checked and price paced slowly in front of the group to explain the plan his voice got stuck in his throat. He had been telling them that they would be making their way into the snowy area as your voice made it's way into his thoughts.

'to keep you warm in colder regions.' you had said with that sweet smile when you gave him his hat.

The hat.

He didn't have his beanie on. It got soaked through yesterday and he took it off to dry. But they had checked the whole safehouse already, ready for departure.

"My hat. Has anyone seen it?" he questioned the group of men standing before him. They looked stunned at his sudden change of topic.

When they didn't answer he started walking up the stairs. Frantically going through the rooms again. Soap went with a nod to the others after him. "Capt'n. We're ready for departure. None of us saw yer hat."

John shook his head. "Not without it." He searched the drawers in the room even though he knew it couldn't be there. His expression was stoic and unreadable but there were emotions behind those blue eyes.

They gave him a few minutes but when he didn't make a move to get on with it ghost shouted up the stairs. "Cap we have a schedule remember?" It sounded slightly irritated coming from behind the mask.

"I said I'm not going without it!" John thundered back.

He couldn't leave without it. It felt like leaving you behind. It was irrational and stupid and the hat was going to cost him his goddamn life someday but... he needed it. That feeling couldn't be explained with rationality or tactic. you would have described it as love. But john would rather name it desperation.

"It's just a bloody hat. We need to get going." Ghost came up beside him.

"It's not. It's from her." John pulled his lips in a thin line as he exhaled through his nose sharply. The room went quiet for a moment at his admission.

Ghosts expression stayed emotionless as he crossed his bulky arms over his chest.

"Yer bonnie wife?" soap asked for clarification.

John nodded sharply and but turned away quickly from the pair when soap raised a brow.

"Honestly dinna know yer were married to her until a few weeks back. I'm sure ye'll survive a week without the hat and see yer lass soon hm?"

Ghost grunted in frustration. "Seriously? That's been the reason for this bloody hat."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. When you're married we can have this conversation." John shot back at his lieutenant. His voice thick with accent and a deep grumbling from the throat.

Soap got between them before Ghost had the chance to respond. "So we ready to go then? Captain?"

John pursed his lips and it pained him to go through with it but he shut off his emotions like he so often did and gave them a stern nod. He started to talk about their upcoming task again as he took the lead once more.

When he got home to you a week later he couldn't hold back a few tears in his eyes when you presented him a new, more colourful beanie, that you made when he was gone. And to his delight you ushered him into the bathroom to shave him first thing in the morning.

The task force never dared to touch his hat again.

#captain john price #john price #call of duty #john price cod #fanfic #x reader #female reader #fluff #cute #Husband! Price #hurt/comfort #tf 141 #cod headcanons #task force 141 #wife!reader #angst #light angst #one shot

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fanaticsnail · 11 months ago

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Will You Let Me?

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 4,500+

Synopsis: Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Themes: pollen!killer x gn!reader, NSFW, mdni, 18+, smut, penetration reader!receiving, swearing, dubcon, begging, pleading, apologising, bruising, crying, rough, do not read if you do not enjoy the trope, fluff at the end, semi-ooc.

Notes: first time writing gn!reader smut! I enjoyed the challenge, but forgive me if there's a word that is used incorrectly! I am still learning inclusive language.

Pollen is a fun trope to play with, but please do not read if you don't enjoy.

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @remisloves @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @icy-spicy

The hot sun shone over the wooden deck of the Victoria Punk. The soft waves gently rocked the boat with a subtle lull, the screech of gulls only aiding your heart to swell in merry solitude.

It was a rare occasion that you were tasked to remain behind while the crew explored a foreign area. Your skills as a linguistics specialist usually meant your silver tongue was called for to coax a good deal, or to decipher scratchings on cave walls. Considering this area was only a port meant for resupply, Captain Kid deemed your skills unnecessary for the journey in land.

Never one to complain, and genuinely giddy at the notion of being secluded and alone for a change, you jumped at the opportunity to stay with the Victoria Punk. You adored your ship, and decided to utilise the opportunity to check over her planks, ropes, and panels that may be in need for repair.

As the day went on, you did not expect a member of your crew to return so suddenly: especially the hulking masked figure of Massacre Soldier Killer. Being the first-mate, he was usually by Kid's side, no matter the circumstances.

Coughing, sneezing and sputtering: Killer’s right hand shot out to grasp your left shoulder. The firmness of his grip was bordering on painful, prompting you to wince in response to the hard strangulation of flesh.

“Something gross hit me in the face,” he strained from behind the teal and ivory mask, “Stuck in my chest and my throat. Not feeling good. Gotta-... fuck-... I gotta lie down or something.”

Concern and worry knit itself over your face, examining the staggering movement of Killer’s body as he retreated below deck. He stuttered and gripped onto the wooden beams, walls and ceiling to stabilize his movement: his body almost giving way beneath the pressure.

“Kil, do you need-,” you began, halting as his voice raised over the top of yours.

“-‘M fine. D-Don’t worry, ‘kay?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing below deck. His large figure seemed to both be inflated and deflated with a foreign paralysis in his choppy, staggered steps. The waves did nothing to sooth him in his glide throughout the halls.

As soon as he reached crew-quarters, he all but shredded his clothes and cast them away from his body. His skin was alite with violent lust, his hands moving against his will to fist, claw and paw at the erogenous zones of his torso, stomach, legs, and his puckered nipples.

He arched his back as his hands gripped the base of his already steel-like cock, immediately pumping it in his right fist. His left hand clawed at the flesh of his chest and lay flat over his heart as he felt the rise in fluttered rapidity.

Scraping and gripping downwards with his left hand, he pushed hard on the base of his stomach, feeling how tightly wound the banded coil was wound in the pit of his stomach: bound hard enough to snap. Every muscle was tense, firm and aching for relief. He began sniffling and sobbing behind his mask, never truly experiencing the shame in the desperation his body was craving before.

He was the only one who managed to not avoid the hessian bag of powdered flowers falling from the rooftop of the naturopathic remedy building. Apologetic calls echoed down from the roof before panic began to rise in the workers. Killer could scarcely process voices above the throbbing ache in his lower abdomen.

Barely hearing several repetitions of Kid’s voice calling: “Killer, are you alright? Kil, are you alright?” All Killer could do was splutter and cough through the burning in his chest.

Golden flecks danced over his eyes beneath the mask, the pollen sucked immediately through the holes and embedded several clusters within the circular orifices. No matter how many times he wiped at the mask with his hands, he continued to inhale the sticky-sweet smell of herbal flowers within deep gulps of his lungs.

“Get him back home!” a hushed voice hurriedly spat at Captain Kid, “He needs a companion, someone to take care of him while he's going through this. Someone caring and kind enough to-.”

“-Don't tell me what to do! Kil, you know the way back to the ship from here?” Kid’s voice barked at Killer, prompting the blonde to spark a moment of clarity in his progressingly foggy mind, “The linguist is back there. They'll take care of ya’ if ya’ need it, okay?”

“Okay,” Killer managed to stutter out, his body scorching hot and violently in need.

“Okay!” Kid parrotted back, looking at the shopkeeper, “Okay, great. Now that's settled, we need a couple things from you. Let's get that sorted before-."

As Killer continued fisting at his cock, he felt release on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut and his lips were parted wide. Unbeknownst to him, each time he panted through his heavy inhales and exhales; more of the toxic pollen punctured his lungs and poisoned his bloodstream with arousal.

He was consumed with lust, a beast untamed and unbridled. There was no release for him, no relief that came thereafter. He was isolated, confused, scared and manic. He needed something, someone, anyone-.

“-No,” Killer spoke aloud in a strangled whisper, “Not anyone. I need the linguist. I n-need-... fuck-... I need my linguist. Where i-is my linguist?”

Continuing about your task of ensuring all of the ropes were properly coiled and laid, your heart began to pang with guilt. You decided to cast aside all further self-induced tasks and seek out the first-mate you serve beside, attempting to offer him comfort through his illness. He seemed so adamant about isolation, but you felt called to be by his side.

Venturing below deck, his painful strain of wanton moans called to you. Muffled groans of pain exhumed from the room, cries of anguish falling through the door. Your deepest sympathies clawed at you to push through the door. Your hand hesitated it's rise against the wooden panel, your body almost walking away before you heard a gentle and heartfelt cry of your name falling from Killers lips.

“I-If you're there,” Killer’s voice again called for you, “Please come in. Please,” he chanted your name with a soft, strangled moan, “Please. I need you.”

Immediately, your body moved against your will. Twisting the knob to crew quarters, you swung the door wide and was immediately met with the sight of your first mate: glistening in beads of sweat and shed of all but his teal and ivory face covering, and viciously pulling at his cock.

“Killer! Why did you tell me to come in if you were doing that?” you shouted in a harsh whisper, immediately slamming the door shut behind you and scrunching your eyes tightly shut, “I don't want to watch that!”

Thick silence aside from the cruel pistoning of his firm hand slapping against his lower stimach engulfed the air. Soft huffs of muffled pants escaped gritted teeth, Killer's mask doing the heavy lifting in silencing his cries for you.

“I don't want you to watch,” Killer confessed in a soft, breathy whine, “Please don't watch,” he keened for you, “Participate.”

“Killer!” you shot over your shoulder at him with a warning tone, “What are you-?”

“-I would never a-ask if I didn't-...” He trained off in a strangled whimper, desperately clenching down on his tongue with his teeth and biting back his needy sobs, “...I-I need you. I need you. Only you.”

“Kil,” you sighed at him, your concern written over you'd face, “Have you taken something? Was it the gross thing from earlier? Did that have an effect on you? Like a drug-?”

“-Look at me,” a barked command exited the holes in the mask, “Please, look at me,” he pleaded, gasping as he grasped at his cock, fisting the flesh and whimpering as he was brought to the brink of ecstacy once again, “Just look at me, please. I just need your eyes on me. Eyes on me.”

“Killer,” you whimpered, finally turning to face him. As soon as your eyes met with the icy stare beneath his mask, you were entranced. Your body propelled you against forward, called to serve the needs of the first mate in a hypnotic trance.

“I need you,” he sobbed, reaching for you with his left hand as his right continued beating his weeping cock, “Only you. Please, let me have you?”

Your body continued reacting against your will, your brain becoming foggy as Killer’s lust thickened the air with all-consuming need. Shame coursed just as heavily throughout your body as the arousal at just the thought of taking Killer’s cock into you began coursing through your veins.

“Please,” he whined, his eyes holding your own as you stripped yourself of your clothes, “Please,” his lips spilt as you straddled his lap, “Please,” as you immediately began sinking yourself down over the tip of his knob.

His precum did little to prepare you your your descent, focussing on your wanton need to have him within you to open your body up to receive him. Killer moaned your name, crying out with baited breath as you slowly consumed all of his length with the grip of your tight hole.

As soon as he felt your heat take his entire length, he was already a babbling mess. There was no strings of cohesive thought as his length became strangled within your tight center. He immediately began shooting your body full of ropes of thick release, ribbon after ribbon of his pale translucent ecstasy.

He cried out for you in warning before painting your walls white with his sticky cum. The pearly beads of his lust coated your tight hole immediately, strings of praise falling from his lips as he rode through his high with you fully impaled on his thick cock.

But he remained firm, hard and desperate for more.

“Wha-...” he began, his understanding of his own arousal and relief not aiding him in the slightest as he thrust up into you. He moaned as he sheathed his lengthy shaft deep within you again, your own arousal now taking over as you started to roll your hips against him while sat fully engulfed by him.

“Killer, what's going on?” you questioned him, your confusion and worry knit on your face, “You're s-still hard.”

“I-I am,” he confirmed, a soft mewl of bliss echoed beneath his mask as he rolled his hips up into you, “What’s happening to me?”

His hands found your hips, rocking you above him as he began feeling another wave of need course through his veins. As his hands embedded into your hips, you winced at the sting. His strength depicted in his grasp, gripping you like a lifeline anchoring himself to the world surrounding him.

He tried.

He tried so hard to be gentle.

He wanted to be gentle for you. Needed to be gentle for you.

But his grip turned sinister, turned brutal and unforgiving as he thrust up into you. His end was coming to a close as he chased it with you writhing and pleading on his lap. His desperation enticed him to continue bullying your tight center with vicious snaps of his bruising slaps.

“Kil,” you called for him, feeling his cock touch a depth within you that had your back arching and mewling for him, “Oh, Kil. I'm close.”

“Please,” he begged, desperately thrusting up into your lap as his end stampeded before his eyes, “Please cum. Please. N-Need it.”

“Killer,” you called for him, feeling the band weave ever tighter within your abdomen, spiraling and coiling within the pit of your stomach, “Kil I'm gonna-.”

“-Oh, fuck!” he roared, his body immediately betraying him as he coated your insides with ropes of hot, sticky, and heavy cum for the second time. His balls sucked up inside his body, his entire being screaming in relief as his release was once again began satisfying his unbridled lust for you.

But his cock still remained firm.

Your eyes clenched firmly shut, the corners wincing at the slight pinch as the coil snapped deep within you. White-hot ecstacy coursed through your veins, your body releasing your bliss over yours, and Killers, bodies as you rode through your high seated on his lap.

His hands were firm, rocking you atop him with a guiding, harsh rhythm as you called his name. Your whole being was alight with passion, your eyes now opening and looking down at the man beneath you.

Killer didn't realize it until he felt his eyes roll back in his skull, his body immediately ushered into a third orgasm as your body milked him with the rhythmic thumps of your warm orgasm. But he still remained firm, hard and needy. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath: particles of pollen immediately spiraling in a cylindrical vacuum deep into his lungs.

“I c-can’t,” Killer called for you, immediately grappling you in his arms. He threw you beneath him, his vice-grip clawing at your hips as he pummeled down into your body, “I can't stop, I can't stop, I can't stop.”

You bit back a whimper, your body barely recovering from the prior spend of your hot release. Overstimulated, ill-prepared and encumbered with your new task at hand: Massacre Soldier Killer never let up. Not even for a moment.

In fact, he only got more intense, ferocious and brutal the moment your body began to milk his cock.

“P-Please know I'm sorry,” he choked out a strangled whimper. His fingers ached with the intensity he was gripping onto you with, leaving punctures of purple intents over your hip bones due to the butality he was burrowing into you.

“O-Oh fuck,” you sucked in your bottom lip, biting down hard as the corners of your eyes began pricking with tears, “It's okay, it's okay. I know. I can t-take it.”

You spoke through those words of confirmation, truly attempting to convince yourself of the ability to endure this rough treatment for as long as Killer needed to use your body for. Rough slaps of his hips smacked against your body, his veiny cock scraping itself through your body as his knob hit angles you didn't realize you could experience. It would equate to bliss if his grip wasn't so intense.

Excruciating agony and white-hot ecstacy were in a perfect marriage within your body beneath the hulking form of Massacre Soldier Killer. The harmonious entanglement driven further by the grunts, growls, roars from the man above you, only for them to turn into begging whimpers and pleas for you to endure just a moment longer.

“I kn-know this isn't-... f-fucking nnghm-... this isn't g-good for you,” his breathy whisper cut through his growls like a pick through ice, “I can't stop. I can't fucking stop.”

“It's okay, Kil. I p-promise it's okay,” you grit your teeth as his grip intensified on your hips, "You're good. You're b-being so good." His rhythm was unforgiving, the pace and rate his body rut into you was tormenting, brutal and punishing.

This was not the first-mate you knew. The beast in his stead was as violent as Killer was in battle, ripping bones and slashing through flesh. This was not at all what you anticipated from aiding Killer through this feat of lust.

His desperation was abhorrent, something he was repulsed by. He never dreamed of joining his body with yours in this strenuous and savage manner. He wanted to be kind, always kind, only ever kind, should you grant him the access to you he so desperately longed for from afar.

Softly spoken, dutiful and almost loving. That's who you knew him to be, and that's who he wanted to be for you. Your friend, your comrade in arms, your senior serving crewmate who you trusted to have your back.

How would you ever trust him again after this? How could he ever trust himself? That push and pull of chasing his relief with you caged beneath him coincided with the tug of his heart and the fog of his mind. He wants you to trust him after this. He wants you to look him in the eye and tell him you still want him. He needed that from you; the confirmation this was not only simply for now, but something he could have once again.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he sobbed into your neck, the cool surface of his mask grounded you. Huffs of his breath poked through the holes in his mask, his icy-blue eyes were scrunched tightly shut while his body remained alight like a beacon in darkness.

He had already reached his climax three times, shooting burst after burst of his sticky cum deep within you. Although relief was found immediately afterwards, his cock continued to remain stiff as the steel of a blade in a snow storm.

He just couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop?

“Kil, I-I think you n-need-... ahh,” you mewled as he moved his hands up to your waist, his broad fingers splayed out to perch like a bird of prey against your skin. He rammed his full length in and out, your stomach beginning to ache with the bulge protruding deep within your abdomen.

“N-Need you,” he groaned in your ear, his hips stapling you against the floor with each cruel slap, “Need to keep going. Almost th-there again.”

“I know, Kil. I know,” you soothed his hair in your hands, trails of wet tears streaked your cheeks with how much sensations your body was taking, “Take what you need, I'm here.”

“I’m gonna-... I'm gonna- f-fuck. I'm gonna cum again,” he groaned deep within his mask, his voice picking up at the end in a small shuddery whimper, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm cumming.”

Your head rolled back, eyes wide as you felt him empty himself within you for a fourth time. The sticky splashback of his hot cum trickled out of your needy hole, his cock buried up to the hilt with his spend leaking over his pubic hair and thighs. He huffed against your shoulder, his mask almost becoming loose over his face as he recovered.

“Good boy,” you cooed at him, pressing a soft kiss onto his bare shoulder as he shuddered and shook through his fourth spurt of ecstacy, “Good boy, Kil. Get it all out.” His cock twitched at your title bestowment, the hardness of his steely cock refusing to deflate no matter the amount of release he pumped into you.

“I-It’s not going down,” he whimpered into you, his hips beginning to roll against yours once more, “It's not going down. I don't know what to do,” his sobs began to shake at his shoulders.

“It's okay,” you winced out, feeling the heat of release exiting from your overspent body with ooze of fluid, “I-I think you need to take your mask off.”

“Wh-What?” he gasped at you, his hands continuing to hold you firmly against the mattress of his bed, “The mask off?”

“Some-... fuck, Kil-... something hit you in the face, ri-right?” your voice was several notes higher than your usual cadence, crying beneath him as he pummeled into you, “Might be still in your mask. Take it off. I'll close my eyes, I'll not tell a soul,” you winced, clamping your eyes tightly shut, “I'll be good. I'll tell no-one.”

Killer immediately halted his thrusting, his body in momentary stasis as your words reached him. His body screamed at him to keep going, to keep pummeling into you, to keep chasing his high that was just within reach. But he stopped, his cock sheathed deep within you.

“Look at me,” he purred down at you, his hands still firm on your waist. His grip grasped you tighter, misbehaving beneath Killer's pleading to hold you more gently.

Unclenching your scrunched eyes, you gazed up at him as his hands left your body and unclasped the mask from shrouding his face. Icy blue eyes, as pale as the sky and as deep as the ocean pierced you as his gaze met with yours. Your breath was stolen from within your lungs, choking back on your surprise at his appearance.

Massacre Soldier Killer was beautiful.

“Look up at m-me,” he stammered, his hips rolling against yours as his cock burrowed deep within your body, “Look at me. I n-need you to see me. I need you to see how desperately I need you.”

His eyelashes fluttered, his eyelids growing heavy as his rhythmic thrusts began to pick up their intensity. Your eyes never left his for a moment: not to look at his lips, not his beard, nor his angular cheekbones, nor his nose. His eyes were what captivated you most, holding you hostage as their glassy hue glazed over to chase his high within you.

“Y-You were right,” he huffed between thrusts, “My lungs aren't burning, and I-I think this is it. Th-This one is it.” His pace was excruciating, but the satisfaction you were beginning to feel build itself within you screamed at you to let him continue using you.

“You can do it, Kil,” you rolled your hips to match his pace, staring up through half-hooded lashes into his eyes, “Use me. Take me, I'm yours.”

“You're mine,” he moaned his growling voice down at you, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against your neck, “Perfect for me. Made for me.” His cock twitched deep within you, your body reacting to his needy chase and toppling over with his final release.

“F-Fuck, Kil!” you cried, your body beginning to throb, your thumps of bliss coaxing Killers balls to empty deep within, “I-I’m-... I’m cumming. Killer, I'm cumming!”

“Cum with me, cum with m-me,” he begged, his pace picking up as his cock finally began weeping it's spend for the fifth time deep within you, “With me. F-Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pants of breath, fluttering of elevated heartbeats and joint cries of bliss ricocheted off the wooden walls of the crew-quarters of the Victoria Punk. Killer's mask lay discarded beside the door, lulling in the subtle rock of the waves over the floorboards as you both fell away from your mutual highs.

Killer moved his head away from your shoulder, gazing down to where your bodies remained joined together in awe. His lips were agape, his eyelashes fluttering as he pulled himself away from you. Watching the floodgates open from your abused entrance, your mutual juices coating both of your stomachs, thighs and soaking the mattress beneath you.

Killer looked to your hips, his lips parting and eyes becoming teary as he noticed the damage showcased on your body.

Marks littered your skin, deep hues of purple branded your flesh, depicting Killer's unrestrained lust and need for you. His bliss was eclipsed by deep sorrow as his fingers gently caressed the elevated indents in your skin. Sensing his unease, you immediately flung your hands up and collected his cheeks in your palms.

“I can handle it,” your eyes searched his, looking between his deep, blue orbs with your eyes only depicting support and affection, “I wouldn't have let you do it if I couldn't handle it.”

Killer turned his head, his lips meeting your palm with his whiskered chin tickling your flesh. This small moment of affection felt more sacred, more secret, and more intimate than the emassment of bodily fluids you shared moments prior.

“I shouldn't have been so rough with you,” he scolded himself, “I will never be rough with you again.” His fingertips caressed your hips, soothing over your aching flesh and wordlessly apologizing with deep, intentional touches.

“Are you feeling okay, Kil?” you asked him, lazily cocking your head to the side, “Don't need to go again?”

“Fuck, no,” he huffed through a small, squeak of laughter, “Not right now, at least.”

Smiling up at him, you propped yourself up on your elbows and gazed deeply into his eyes. You couldn't get enough of the luxury it was to gawk at the handsome man who just spent himself within you five times in consecutive succession.

He truly was beautiful.

“Does that mean you want to do this again?” you asked him while attempting to not show how eager you were. You began taking your time to examine his muscular physique before snapping your eyes back up to his blue orbs. A red hue tinted his cheeks, his eyes darting around the room before rejoining your own.

“I would like to, yes,” Killer admitted at last, sucking in a breath as he anticipated your refusal. Your smile spread up your face, prompting you to immediately spring yourself up to meet his body with your own.

“Crew’s still out for a while,” you shrugged, looking around the crew-quarters you had both tainted with the stains of your aroused fluids, “We should clean this up,” you drew your eyes up to meet his, coy and bashful, “And maybe we could have a bath together-?”

“-Please,” he spoke over you, far too quickly for his liking but too lost to hold back the floodgates of emotional excitement, “Let me bathe with you. I'll wash your hair, massage your body. I'll make sure you're so, so spoiled after all this, if you'll let me?”

A small squeal of joy found its way to your lips, buzzing at the notion that he not only wants to be with you again physically, but he desired to treat you to the luxury of continuing to gawk at his uncovered face further by bathing with you.

“Will you let me?” Killer asked, his voice still holding that eager anticipation that caused you to both melt and soar in unison. You eagerly nodded, prompting Killer to hook his arms beneath you and elevate you into his chest.

Your fingers quickly drew themselves up to his lengthy blonde hair, detangling the sweat-damp strands and toying with the soft curls framing his face. You hummed in contentment as his smile freed itself on his face, glancing at you as you continued enjoying his luscious, thick locks.

“Let's go then,” he cooed down at you, his lips finding your forehead as he cradled you against him, “Let me spoil you for being so good to me. I need to treat you right.”

“Don't forget your mask!” you quickly uttered, causing him to pause and search your face for clarification. You smiled at him, gently reaching your lips up to press against his cheek, “Gotta clean the damn thing, unless you want to experience all that again?”

“Good point,” he huffed, using his feet to kick along his mask to the bathroom as he chaperoned you within his arms, “I prefer my own desire to come from me,” he confessed as soon as he reached the door, “And I want to show you how much I truly do desire you.”

“I can't wait,” you smiled in return, wincing as your body’s adrenaline seeped out of your body and the pain caught up to you.

“I promise I'll be gentle with you,” he confessed, his eyes innocent and brows triangulating in a peak in the center of his forehead, “I won't be rough.”

“I can take a bit of rough treatment,” you challenged him in return, smiling into his bare chest as he began to run the bath.

“I know you can,” he smiled down at you, pressing a small kiss against your temple, “But you don't have to, unless you really want to.”

#one piece #x reader #op killer #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #op killer x reader #massacre Soldier Killer x reader #op killer smut #killer x reader smut #pollen fic #one piece pollen #op pollen fic

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deeranon · 2 months ago

Text

Chip and Tail | Aventurine X mer! Reader

Warnings: characters may be ooc, blood, body disfigurement(kinda?), implied killing, mention of Jade(who is a warning in and of herself), weapons,wounds, may contain grammar mistakes, use of it/it’s for living being(reader) leave if you don’t like or are uncomfortable with it, implied slavery, implied wars

Read at your own risk!

Despite use of it/it’s and they/their pronouns used for mer reader is whatever gender you wish

Mermaid, siren, and sea-daughter are seen as gender neutral terms—not gender specific in this story

The Showman swayed with the waves, creaking and groaning as foam crashed against the hull. The crew shifted restlessly, bodies tense as they shuffled around deck, waiting for even a word from within the Captain’s quarters. Never before had they stayed in one place on the ocean surface for so long, the pause casting unease within their ranks.

Gulls cried as they circled overhead, uncaring for what was going on within the heart of the ship.

“Did you shoot down an albatross or are you simply very unlucky?” Aventurine cooed as he shuffled his deck. Rings of gold and silver lined every other finger, shining haughtily underneath the sunlight as his black silk gloved hands shuffled the deck for the final round.

The captain of The Showman, a wiry and tall man with a full black beard seethed from on his plush velvet seat, face red with rage. “I ain’t unlucky. Yr’ just a cheater! Trying to trick me inta repayin’ my debt! I repaid you blithering sea-snakes ages ago!” He thundered, furiously slamming a scarred hand on the wooden table. Trinkets and pearly jewelry in the place of betting chips laid on the table trembled at the crash, falling to the floorboards miserably.

Aventurine gave no reaction to the man’s whining, smile only widening as he eyed the dark green coat his pirate opponent had obviously stolen from some unfortunate noble. “I’m afraid that’s where you are wrong. You simply think you repaid us.” Aventurine started with a casual shrug of his shoulders “Two years ago, you reached out to us—The Medusa, claiming you had enough money to rid you of your debt. A colleague of mine agreed to meet you at Sargentine’s one and only port city casino, yet when she got there…you were drunk beyond comprehension. You had gambled all of your savings away, just months before your payment was due. So close to freedom, too.” Aventurine gave the quaking captain a faux sympathetic look, tutting like a disappointed parent while dealing cards with practiced ease.

“Blasphemy! I worked my crew half to death getting all that precious cargo—I wouldn’t let it all go t’ some silly landfolk game!” He shrieked. The grip on his cards was paper white.

“You were quite drunk, I heard. Spent too much time at the brothel, perhaps?” Aventurine said with a chuckle. “But let’s get back to the point. I’m here because no matter how you spin it, you have payments to us that are overdue.” He straightened in his chair, smoothing out his perfectly pressed white silk shirt as the air grew thick with tension. “Now, you can try your hand at a game with higher stakes than your stolen jewelry and attempt to win your freedom, or I can simply evict you here and now for the murder of Cassidy White: late father of the Prince of Sargentine.”

The captain paled at Aventurine’s words, the hand of cards falling from his grasp in a shower of inked paper. His brown leather eyes widened with fear, staring down at him in shock.

Aventurine laughed heartily at the stupefied look, head thrown back from laughter as his eyes crinkled with mirth. “You think I didn’t recognize the embroidery on your fancy jacket? Cassidy White was a lover of the sea before he settled and married the current Queen of Sargentine. He had that coat custom made and wouldn’t go anywhere without it. It’s a shame you killed him on his ship, he sounded like the kind of guy I could talk with. Oh well, no crying over spilled milk I suppose.”

The captain paled even further if possible, gripping at his coat’s cuffs like a lifeline as realization dawned on him. The coat was a brilliant dark greenish-black color with blue leather cuffs and lapels patterned with golden ripples like the sea. Fancy gold trimming accompanied by a single thick rope covered the shoulder pads. Within the collar of the coat was the cursive signature of Cassidy White with the royal insignia of Sargentine emblazoned next to it. Aventurine would have had to be a complete fool to not recognize it immediately.

“Fortunately, you ended up with me: the Aventurine stoneheart to the Medusa. The Monetary Evaluation Department Underseers of Seaside Altercations if you didn’t know. I would say I’m a very generous man, so I will repeat to you your two options.” Aventurine raised a single finger “One, you win my game of Roulette and drop this sorry betting game with cards,” he raised another “Two, I kill you now and throw your entire crew into company custody for first degree murder on multiple occasions while on a ship given to you by Medusa. Taking all possessions to repay your debt. What do you say, captain?”

The boat groaned, singing with the waves as it swayed in place, the sound filling the vast room stuffed with stolen goods and currencies like music. Aventurine waited silently with a smile, one hand on the holster of his gun as the wiry man contemplated his choices.

That was the wonderful thing about the mother ocean. A man could only run the length of his ship before he could be caught. No land to hide behind, no trees or buildings to protect him. Only the vast ocean filled with more horrors than any sane man or pirate would dare to take a chance against. Trapping him with his own monsters until he touched earth.

After another moment of thinking, The Showman’s captain looked Aventurine in his glaring pink and blue eyes with steeled nerves and gave a grim nod. “One. I’ll win yer’ damn game.” He growled.

Grinning, Aventurine couldn’t help but disagree. “We’ll see about that. Fate works in mysterious ways.”

Taking his silver revolver from its holster, Aventurine loaded three bullets into the chambers before spinning the cylinder round and round until there was no possible way to know what it would shoot. “Any last words before we begin?”

The man spat at Aventurine’s face, a scowl forming on his dry lips. “Yeah. B’fore the loser dies, they reveal valuable information no one knows but themselves to the other. One less secret for you t’ take to yer grave when I shoot you where ya sit.”

“I can agree with that. But I highly doubt you’ve got a secret I think is good enough to spill on your deathbed.” The stoneheart said nonchalantly, twirling the gun in his hands with unnecessary flare before gripping it tight.

The captain, topped with the iconic pirate hat and a gnarly scar running down half of his bearded face stared at the gun as if his life depended on it. Because it did.

Aventurine never let his eyes leave the pirate, staring into the damned man’s soul for what would probably be the last time.

Bowing dramatically, one hand behind his back and the other cradling the gun, Aventurine rose and said “Got a coin we could flip? Winner shoots first.”

The ocean hissed at the pensive crew, water dark and stormy brewing. Twitching with unused power, the pirates grew antsy as time passed overhead, their leader yet to return or give them a single word of new news.

Paul, a stout man with one eye and a torn lip leaned against the heavy oak door. Ear pressed against the wood, he strained to hear anything through the door. He waited and waited for any sound, but it was dead silent on the other side.

Paul was ready to push away from the door when there was a muffled bang that echoed through the wood. A gunshot. It had to be. Paul knew that sound by heart.

Heart light, a grin broke out on his face as he turned to his crew mates. Jamming a thumb behind him, Paul mimed a gun firing with his other hand.

Hobbling away from the door, Paul snickered to himself as smiles and proud sneers broke out on everybody’s faces. Some even managed to let out chortles or snorts of sadistic laughter. The tension broke like a fickle stick to be added to the fire.

The captain of The Showman was not to be messed with. They had plundered and pillaged hundreds of ships and towns, a single man was nowhere near enough to stop him.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over.”

The crew froze, smiles shifting to frowns as they all stared in confusion at the blond man before them.

Aventurine gave a languid smile, waving a gloved hand covered in jingling bracelets and rings in greetings as he casually carried a long greenish-black coat over his shoulder.

“You’re not the captain.” Paul spat venomously, staring at the coat in Aventurine’s possession with disdain. The other crew members grumbled and hissed in agreement behind him, hands inching for their weapons.

“No, but his ship is mine now. And you lucky lot are under arrest. My sincerest apologies.” Aventurine said, unaffected by the crew drawing their swords and guns. Shoving a hand in a black pocket stitched into his pants, he withdrew a small pile of silvery blue dust.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The blond warned.

The rebellious crew froze immediately at the sight of the powder: Ground siren’s scales. A single sniff could knock a grown man out for weeks, and could even cause death and permanent paralysis in more serious cases. Aventurine had enough dust in his hand to kill the entire crew and then some.

The ocean crashed violently against the ship, as if sensing the presence of one of its lost children. Sea froth stained the floor of the vessel as it rocked back and forth violently. Aventurine adjusted his stance with ease while the seasoned crew struggled to gain their footing. The sea longed for the dust, calling for it desperately.

“Now, if you don’t want to end up with immovable limbs for the rest of your lives I suggest you stop resisting. The ocean is the perfect place to dump bodies and I’d prefer it if you didn’t make more work for me. Though if you’d like to jump now I’ll allow it, the ocean seems pretty finicky today. Maybe a nice snack will calm her.” Aventurine warned, holding the ground scales closer to the ocean and causing the ship to lurch so hard half of the crew fell onto their backs.

The few that remained standing sheathed their weapons, knowing well when they were outsmarted. Aventurine grinned, pocketing a good portion of the dust before reaching for the flare gun strapped to his right leg. With a single click, the flare sailed into the air for as long as it possibly could.

Like a cheetah suddenly leaping from the grassy savanna, a ship so large it made The Showman look miniature appeared in the distance. It fought against the crashing waves as it slowly approached, growing larger and larger the closer it came. The crew watched with slack jaws as the grandiose ship neared.

“Ah! There she is! The mighty Sigonius, my favorite ship.” Aventurine crowed, chest puffing with pride like a peacock flaunting it’s feathers. “Be thankful that you get to board the Sigonius before you are thrown in jail, ladies and gentlemen. It is a privilege indeed.”

The crew felt both annoyed and awed at Aventurine’s words. Annoyed at his flaunting, and dumbstruck that he could ever captain such a large ship. The Sigonius approached much faster than one would expect of a ship of such large size. Slowing to a stop, the gargantuan teal ship sent out a large metal bridge to connect both sea vessels together.

“Sorry, but lowly scum like yourselves aren’t allowed to see the insides of Medusa ships.” Taking his chance, Aventurine blew the dust straight into the heart of the Showman crew. One by one, they all crumpled to the deck like puppets freed of their strings.

In perfectly aligned rows, troops marched down the bridge and began casing the groaning ship. Weapons were confiscated and jewelry was gathered into crates labeled “perishables”. The workers swarmed the smaller ship like bees drawn to flowers, buzzing with activity wherever they went.

Deciding that his job was finished, Aventurine started to make his way to the bridge when the ship shook violently.

Dulled by the wood, a horrific spine crawling sound echoed from beneath the floorboards of The Showman. Workers paused to listen to the wail-like scream, stunned with shock and hit with unease as the sound continued.

Aventurine frowned, hairs standing on end and goosebumps rising along his arms. His heartbeat spiked the more the sound continued.

Suddenly it stopped, as if it had never happened in the first place.

Was that part of the secret the now deceased captain had told him about?

Turning to the nearest worker, Aventurine flashed a charming smile barbed with tebsion. “Take a team below deck and find out what made that noise, okay?”

“Yes sir.” The soldier nodded, saluting before marching off to rally a team.

With nothing left for him on the ship, Aventurine stepped foot on the Sigonius once again, heading straight for his private sleeping quarters. The ocean continued to riot against the small Showman, pummeling its sides and swaying it violently. At that rate, the ship only had a few hours until the tides capsized it. Hopefully the ship could be cleaned out before then.

As Aventurine was about to open the door to the hall, a keen shrill broke through the air and made the sailors cover their ears in pain. Quick to cover his own ringing ears, Aventurine staggered over to the railing of the ship—desperate to find out what was making the horrid noise. Even with both hands clamped tightly to the side of his head, his ears still dribbled with blood from the nauseating noise.

Searching with pain filled eyes, Aventurine scanned the waters between the ship for signs of monstrous life. Instead of finding a six headed beast or a pack of agitated Cyclas, Aventurine spotted a sizable hole torn through the wooden side of The Showman’s hull. Wood splinters drifted in the raging ocean along with thick fisherman netting twined with red string. An incredibly bad omen.

Oily black liquid stained the surface of deep blue sea, spreading out from the hole now starting to fill with sea water. The liquid dripped from the hull like wet paint, giving off such an intoxicating smell Aventurine was ready to believe that The Showman had raided a perfume store.

Holding his breath, Aventurine waited for the wail to sound out once again. Like clockwork, the piercing shriek pounded away at his ears determined to turn him deaf. Mind racing, Aventurine carded through his internal library of sea creatures at lightning speed.

Ink black liquid, enchanting smell, angry ocean, horrific screams, enough strength to bust through the hull of a Medusa ship, red string intertwined with fisherman netting: it was a mermaid. Possibly even a siren.

As if confirming his suspicion, another sorrowful scream shook the ocean and rocked even the mighty Sigonius. The netting Aventurine had thought to be simply drifting in the water now thrashed violently, the thick rope was black with the same oil colored liquid in the ocean. Furious waves crashed against both ships as the black substance continued to increase with each jerk of the hook and seal infested netting.

Blood. It was all blood.

“I want all men off The Showman immediately! There is a breach in the hull!” Aventurine roared when the scream trembled to a long whale like whine. “And get that mermaid out of the damn netting! They’ll drown us all if they don’t stop!”

Men still aboard the Showman scrambled to cross the shaking bridge while Aventurine ran for the lifeboat closest to the blood stained water. With no patience to wait for fellow sailors, he dropped the boat into the thrashing sea. It was never a good idea to stay between two large ships that could knock together and crush you at any time, but Aventurine was willing to take the risk if it meant stopping the siren from killing them all by accident.

Letting the water bring him closer to the net, Aventurine reached out and began to draw in the bloody rope as he sawed away with his hunting knife bit by bit. It tugged and jerked in his hands, threatening to send him beneath the waves multiple times, but Aventurine sat firm in the small boat.

The nets were endless as they were large, Aventurine cut as much as he could but more net seemed to replace it each time. Either this was a siren, or Aventurine was dealing with a very young and unhappy whale.

Sailors grouped in the other boats dropped into the sea around him, grabbing at the net and heaving with all their might. It was no use trying to cut the sea creature free, there was simply too much net to get through before the sea creature drowned them in a tidal wave.

They had to bring it aboard the ship.

The ocean raged endlessly, transpiring with the ravenous storm from above. Together both elements made even the Sigonius ship feel like it was capable of tipping.

To take a sea-daughter away from the water invoked the mother’s most powerful protective measures to ensure its child’s safe return.

The only way to calm the mother ocean was to return its daughter back to water. Every sailor and pirate worth their salt knew that one thing before agreeing to a life on the ocean. Himself included.

Aventurine only had one problem: there was no place to set the net swaddled mermaid on the Sigonius. Not naturally, at least.

Riffling through the previously locked drawers of the dresser planted against the wall of his sleeping quarters, Aventurine searched for his Favour. A magical sand-dollar that would build you a single non-living object if you set the evil or troublesome soul trapped inside of it free. Aventurine had come across it while strolling through the port market in a different country. A lucky find.

Since that day, he had kept the Favour tucked away for a moment like this one.

Having finally found the pitch black sand dollar, Aventurine made his way through the groaning ship to his office. A group of ten men kneeled before the mass of red twined netting covering the deck, wax muffles stuffed deep in their ears as the beast let out softer yet still ear rupturing cries. The group worked tirelessly to slice through the thick hook infested ropes, trying their best to not accidentally stab the hidden siren with their knives or dig the arsenal of hooks into its skin.

Aventurine paused, his head aching from the pain of the continuous crying. Raising his voice as loud as it could go, Aventurine yelled “Have the mer brought to my office when most of the nets are gone! I will take it from there.”

Only two men seemed to realize he had spoken over the shrill whale like noise the mer let out when a stray hook supposedly caught onto its body. They nodded, squinting at his lips but giving him two thumbs up before returning to their work. With the hope that the crew mates actually knew what Aventurine asked of them, he made his way to the office reserved for the captain of The Sigonius.

Pushing the heavy furniture around until it all stood grouped together in the middle of the room, Aventurine crushed the Favour without hesitation as the Sigonius rocked uncomfortably.

Red mist arose from the sand dollar, curling in the air like incense before it transformed into a giant angry cloud that whirled around the room. It writhed and shrieked, the horrifically deformed finned face pressing against the cloud harmonizing with the beast outside before coating the entire room in a thick scarlet mist.

Aventurine held his breath, elbow over his face as the red filling his vision deepened to a color reminiscent of dried blood.

The spirit gave a final wail from within the mist before throwing itself through the wooden walls to the ocean outside. A siren’s soul had been trapped inside, now free to drown sailors from beyond the grave of it so wished. Though Aventurine saw the trade as necessity as he stared at the object before him.

In place of the mist was a great tank that nearly reached the roof of the room, a rolling ladder made of iron connected to black railings attached along the outermost glass wall. The entire tank spanned three of the four walls, edges perfectly curved and inside wide enough for Aventurine to lay flat on his back and still not touch the walls. A kind of cement or rubber like object protected the wooden floorboards beneath, capable of protecting the room from leaks. Water a perfect blue hue filled the dull and empty tank, saving Aventurine a great deal of time.

With the addition of the tank using up a chunk of the office, Aventurine got to rearranging his desk and other equipment out of the way to the ladder before opening the door and waiting for the sailors to arrive.

It seemed like his words hadn’t been lost to the crew mates, now dragging a still entangled mermaid behind them. It’s screeching was like metal grating against clay, thrashing weakly as hooks poked through the now few layers of netting encasing it.

Aventurine nodded at the exhausted crew members. “Good. Help me get it in the tank, and then you’re free to rest.”

“Of course, captain.” One of the sailors agreed, bowing their head.

As a team, the tall and hulking sailors hoisted the mermaid, now limp from exhaustion or merely accepting its fate, into the water with a loud splash. Aventurine waved for the crew to leave from his position on the ladder, watching as the sea creature within started to squirm the moment it hit water. The ocean outside immediately started to calm, the rocking waves growing weaker by the minute.

The door closed with a satisfactory click as the last of the group left the room now colored in a blue light from the water blocking the stained glass window. The sun, now peeking out from the dying storm started to fall below the horizon.

Aventurine stared, waiting with bated breath for the creature to reveal itself. Tendrils of black blood spreading in the once pristine seawater thanks to its wounds. Except, there was no further movement. The mer did not slip out from the nets in a dramatic reveal of beauty like Aventurine thought it might. Nor did it leap out from the tank and tear his throat out in the span of a few seconds. It laid hidden within the blankets of bloody black fishnets, unmoving aside from the small rise and fall of (supposedly) its chest.

The mer had fallen asleep. Or was dying slowly from blood loss.

Either way, it would be pointless staying up to watch the (hopefully)sleeping mermaid. Aventurine had a ship to captain and a meeting to attend on land. Letting out a sigh, Aventurine left the messily arranged office locked behind him as he started a search for the night crew.

The Sigonius was now docked at a port owned by Medusa in the land of Pleyr-Tor. A merchant hub where only the wealthiest families of all species thrived. The ship was silent save for the grumbling crew as they heaved heavy boxes of food up the bridge and repaired injuries sustained by the Sigonius on their voyage.

Three days had passed since Aventurine stepped on solid land for the first time in four months. The sun was readying to descend when the captain finally returned to his ship.

Crew members watched silently as Aventurine stalked up the bridge with a lax smile, knowing full well what would happen if they disturbed him. Sailors parted like the blond was radioactive, forming a path for Aventurine to walk through all the way to the thick wooden door protecting the Captain’s office. The door opened and closed with a normal click that might as well have been a slam to the oldest members of the crew. If there were seasoned crew members left, that is. All had been lost to sea or let go to some other ship before they could ever form true bonds with their captain.

Locking the door behind him, Aventurine sank into his overly comfortable desk chair. The cedar wood table was littered with betting chips and papers for navigation and myths, debts to collect and which land to “assist” next. A single oil lamp placed in the top left corner, his only source of light on late nights. It needed replacing soon as it was having trouble lighting for the past few days. Aventurine made a note to himself to buy a better oil lamp while in Pleyr-Tor.

Hours passed in the blink of an eye as Aventurine worked away at the papers on his desk. His head ached from the constant smell of seawater, distracting him from any further work. Breathing out a sigh, Aventurine turned his chair around until it faced the large tank holding his underwater guest.

Madam Jade’s words rang in his ears, increasing the pain of his headache tenfold and causing the grip on his chair to increase.

Everything had a cost. Even freedom. No matter the race or situation. All debts must be repaid. Accidental or not.

Aventurine was not allowed to let the mermaid go.

Staring through the crystal clear glass, Aventurine watched as the sun slowly inched away from its low post in the sky. Down and down it went, painting the sky in yellows and pinks. Closing his eyes and letting himself soak in the fading sunlight until the sky turned a gentle purple, Aventurine did not catch when the once still mess of nets moved just slightly to the left.

“What should I do…” Aventurine muttered into his hand, glancing at the hidden mer within the still empty tank.

Perhaps that would soon change. If the mer lived, maybe sand and rocks of every color would brighten the dull cage. Seaweed could be taken from the ocean and planted for the slightest increase in privacy. Small fish to fill the void. Would the mermaid eat the fish? Hmm, maybe the fish could wait. Would the mer care if Aventurine added incense burners in the room to get rid of the seawater smell?

The nets, only two or four left, started to move. Aventurine snapped to attention, pushing away all his thoughts of decorating as he stood from his chair, knocking it over with a crash.

The ink black nets, large enough to easily capture Killer Whales, were jerked and pulled in every direction. Ropes started snapping one by one. Red twine floated in the water like bloody seaweed as the frayed strings broke apart.

Aventurine saw a faint flash of scales and a shadow of a hand slicing through rope from within. The creature, now awake and furious writhed underneath the netting. Blood matching the color of the night sky graced the dark blue water once again as hooks dug into flesh and scales. Water leapt out from the tank and onto the creaking floorboards below, staining them a dark brown.

The final rays of sunlight flickered below the window line and engulfed the room in almost total darkness. Slowly, Aventurine’s eyes adjusted to the dim setting. Blinking rapidly, Aventurine never let his gaze wander from the cloak of blood crusted fisherman netting even as his largest source of light sank beyond his vision.

There came a skin crawling trill from within the tank. It was clearer this time, the mer’s disorienting melodic voice humming with the water instead of its painful cries when above water. Goosebumps arose on his flesh in waves, hair standing on end the longer the call continued. The air, once warm and comforting was now colder than the winter ocean.

A clawed hand broke free from the nets.

Backing away on shaky feet, Aventurine turned to snatch the oil lamp from his desk while his heart started to beat louder than a drum in his ears. There was the muffled sound of nets continuing to snap and break from behind, the being writhing just beneath the surface. Water stained black fell to the floor around him, no less different than human blood when drying into wood.

Aventurine fumbled to light the lamp, pausing when there was a flash of blue light from behind. His heart went still and his mind raced, wondering if he truly had brought a killer siren onto his ship.

Face instinctually morphing into a calm smile, Aventurine turned around, lamp forgotten.

Eyes deeper than the midnight zone stared into his soul with pupils blown so wide the irises were barely visible. Fins flared with a rattling quiver as their lower body looped and coiled throughout the enclosure that almost seemed too small to fit their massive size. Lights flashed continuously along their skin and long, flowing tail. Aventurine couldn’t tell where one bioluminescent fin ended and another began in the darkness filled only by the light of the mer.

Claws sharp enough to pierce bone reached up and up and up until they touched the edge of the glass tank, unblinking eyes never leaving his form for even a moment.

Lips parting to let out a deep warble, Aventurine saw two sets of razor sharp canines peeking past their lips. The creature lifted itself up with only its arms until it reached out of the tank. Tail still curling in an endless spiral in the water as their upper half touched the wooden floorboards.

Instead of backing away for showing fear, Aventurine gave his best smile as he stepped forward, watching at their water logged hair splayed on the ground around them. “Y’know, you caused a lot of trouble for me. Sinking a ship I just finished taking over and having me loose valuable artifacts was quite rude of you. I deserve an apology, don’t you think?”

Their lips pulled back further than should be possible for a human, the flesh of their cheeks tearing in bloody strips until their rows upon rows of pointed teeth were revealed. Torn frills all along their body quivered angrily. Scales flashed in warning, a clear message to stay away or risk death. Letting out a chitter-like sound, the mermaid’s eyes narrowed as they continued to stare at Aventurine.

In the dark of night, Aventurine only had the dim glow of the mer’s scales to make out their towering figure. His mind more than happy to fill in the details he could not see.

He stepped closer, hands stuffed in his new coat pockets. Aventurine never was one to play safe. “Breaking through the hull of a ship like that must have caused some serious damage. I’m surprised you’re even standing right now. Tough cookie, aren’t you?” He said, tilting his head to the side as he willed his eyes to adjust better to the lack of light.

“You are quite the beauty, as well! What’s your secret? Let me guess…the flesh of sailors?” While laughing at his own joke, the mer continued to watch him with their hundred yard stare. The fins in place of human ears flicked at the sound of his voice, trembling softly.

“Oh it’s nothing, just an old pirate joke. You really are lucky that I was the one who came across that ship you were in and not one of the other Stonehearts. I doubt Topaz would find you cute enough to rescue.” Aventurine hummed, watching as the mer drew more of its body from the water. The sea-daughter was long—so long Aventurine couldn’t tell the length of their tail with how it had to circle around the entire tank and then some just to fit. Definitely more than a meter or two, that he was sure.

The mermaid’s clawed hand twitched as their smile widened. Tilting their own head to the side as their large eyes bored into Aventurine’s soul, a pale film covered them for a brief second as they blinked without proper eyelids. A clicking sound reminiscent of dolphins left their mouth instead of the horrific screech Aventurine was haunted by on the day he saved its life. Dagger sharp nails tapped against the bloodied and groaning wood rhythmically as the raspy clicking continued.

Aventurine paused as he listened to the mer’s clicks and taps, watching as they repeated the action over and over again. Clearly, they had yet to murder him via siren song or rip his arm off and use it as a snack to munch on after showing how easy it was to lift their own body over the glass wall like it was nothing.

What were they trying to say? Or were they saying anything at all?

“Can you even understand me?” Aventurine questioned, shifting on his feet. The mermaid, to its credit, looked thoroughly confused on it’s part. They let out a growlish “Buwerr?” And tilted their head further than should be safe for something that looked so human.

“I’ll take that as a no. A language barrier, huh? This is going to be interesting.” Aventurine muttered to himself, though he was sure the mermaid heard with how it’s fins twitched. It had good hearing.

The mer towered over Aventurine, face still broken and showing a concerning number of teeth with eyes eclipsed to a near completely black state. It was incredibly unnerving, especially since the only light was from their fluorescent fins and blinking scales. Not to mention they were covered in their own blood.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. All that dried blood can’t be comfortable, can it? We can discuss other matters later,” Aventurine said with a grin. His body easily fell into its masked routine, hiding the fear and uncertainty he felt and replacing it with confidence.

Fins flicking and scales blinking, Aventurine’s newest bet nodded. The mer shifted, jaw re-hinging and skin weaving back together over their cheeks until their face looked exactly like a human. Blinking with those filmy white eyelids, their pupils shrank and morphed into perfect replicas of human eyes—no, Aventurine’s eyes. He shivered involuntarily at the sight of eyes that mirrored his own as the mermaid changed itself to look like a deity among men for his own comfort. Or for it’s own comfort, which is more likely.

The mermaid chittered in a chipper tone, lips curling into a toothy smile. It had horrifyingly sharp teeth.

Yep, still a mermaid.

Holding out a now dainty hand the same colors as the sand, the mer waited with an expectant look. It’s tail swayed playfully in the water, sloshing seawater over the edge and onto the already soaked floor. When Aventurine did not take their hand, the mer made a tutting noise and retracted their arm back to their side. Their frills trembled and glowing scales blinked to a deep green before shifting to scarlet red, and finally a bright fuchsia.

They made a strangled animal sound, like an elk with a frog in its throat. Their lips obviously weren’t used to moving properly. They paused, scowling and fluttering their fins moodily before letting out an unidentifiable sound.

“Gr….grr..greetings.” Aventurine’s own distorted voice echoed back at him from the mermaid’s mouth. It huffed with pride, fins flicking in waves.

Ah, so it could mimic as well. How dandy.

Holding its hand out once again, the mermaid repeated the word twice over with lips un-synced from Aventurine’s copied voice.

Ah, so it wanted a handshake.

Chuckling, Aventurine said “Ah, I suppose we did skip over pleasantries,” he cleared his throat “I am Aventurine, a stoneheart of Medusa. Pleased to meet you. Use me as you wish, you can even stab me in the back if you want to—but I don’t make bets that don’t pay off.” Reaching out, Aventurine twined his fingers together with the mermaid’s. Hands palm to palm.

The mer stared down at him, gazing at their intertwined hand as their webbed ears twitched and titled, finely tuned to the pitch and exact tone of his words to break the barrier between their languages.

Shaking their held hand, the mermaid nodded with a smile.

Clicking and trilling, the mer drew words from the air to repeat a word still unintelligible to Aventurine even with the mimicry of his voice.

“Ah, the language barrier strikes again. How about I just give you a nickname instead? Just until we can find a middle ground.” Aventurine suggested with a shake of his head. His conscience weighing too heavily on his shoulders to handle a shrug.

“Yes…yes!” They sang, pulling Aventurine close to their chest as they circled around him like a boa. The mer nodded merrily, lights flaring to a rosy pink. Aventurine pulled his hand away, adjusting his glove as he pondered.

“Well, it has to be fitting—but not too odd. Since we’ll be together for quite a while it should have some kind of meaning behind it, don’t you think?” Aventurine went on as he craned his head upwards to look into the mermaid’s curious eyes. They nodded sagely, fins attentive as they licked their salty lips.

Aventurine slowly listed name after name, watching for a change in the mer’s expression. Eventually the mermaid returned to the water from pure disinterest in the names, holding him steady as they forced him to sit on the highest stair of the ladder.

The mer looked ready to drift underneath the water by the time Aventurine was starting to run out of names. Grasping at his last few ideas, Aventurine hesitantly listed the last name that came to mind. Your name.

Erupting from the water, your hands grabbed at Aventurine’s shoulders as you both fell back into the water like whales breaking from the ocean for air.

“Perfect!….YES! YES!NAME! YES, NAME!” You shrieked joyfully, tail crashing in the water as you literally lit up with glee. “MY NAME NOW! EVER!”

“Alright! Alright! That’s your name now! Glad you like it.” Aventurine sputtered, dragging his soppy wet blond hair away from his wide eyes as he floated in your tank. You circled around him in a never ending spiral, chittering and trilling with a smile so large Aventurine thought your mouth might just split open again.

Swimming to the edge, Aventurine stared into your bright eyes when you met him at the rim.

You reminded him a lot of himself when he was young. Aventurine didn’t know how much he liked that fact as he watched you twirl in the water without a care in the world.

Aventurine called your name and you paused, eyes a carbon copy of his own staring back into his soul and touching something he thought was buried the day he lost his family during the tribal wars. “…Don’t ever let Medusa tie you down, okay? This stupid organization doesn’t need to ruin any more races.”

Your fins twitched at his words, blinking to a deep blue lighting. “Stoneheart…Medusa,” You parroted with worry. “Aventurine…tie..”

“Hmm, no—forget I said anything. We can talk about all that later. If you’ve already forgotten, you are still pretty injured. So let’s focus on you getting better for now. We’ll have all the time in the world to talk later.” Aventurine huffed, patting your head with a bare hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Neither are you, is what Aventurine chose to leave unsaid.

@idkfitememate merry Christmas!! 🎁🎄 here’s your present!

@kaitsawamura made the scale divider! Thank you!!

#deer anon #🦌deer anon <3 #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #mermaid #merfolk #mer person #siren #pirates #honkai star rail #hsr posting #reader #X reader #hsr x reader #merry christmas

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liyaedc · 7 months ago

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small ford x f!reader Drabble

!SLIGHT BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS!

Warnings: swearing, friendly banter, ford is slightly ooc, unedited, not proof-read, billford mentions

Lets set the scene, early in the morning, you and Ford stand at the deck of Stan-o-war with Stan still snoring about in the captains quarters. Ford with his back leaning against the bow, flipping through what seems to be the Great Gatsby, and you right beside him, with your elbows leaning on the bow twiddling your thumbs together as you gaze upon the mesmerizing water.

As the wind runs through your hair, still in its bedhead mode, you let out a slight chuckle.

That slight chuckle grows into a stifled laugh, causing you to throw a hand over you mouth. This catches Fords attention, he closes his book with a snap and whips his head towards a now manically laughing you. He looks at you with slight concern. oh god, she’s finally lost it. Weeks at sea have finally driven her to insanity! he thinks.

“Are you..alright?” He asks carefully. You throw your head back, you laugh slowly letting up at you wipe the tears from your eyes.

“I cannot believe you fell for a fucking triangle.” You say “the same exact triangle that tried to kill us and take over the world with weirdmaggeadon!” You exclaim, throwing your hands out to get your point across. You turn your head to him and he looks at you like you’ve just assaulted his mother.

A slight blush grows on his face as he sticks his nose in his book. “that doesn’t matter! What matters is that now hes possibly coming back, and needs to be erased once and for all!” He states heroically, as he shakes his fist in the air

You raise and eyebrow at his little speech and look back at sea “whatever cipherholic”

“SHUT UP-“

————-

Since gravity falls is coming back I figured I’d might as well write a lil sum sum, lemme know if you want more! Requests are open,

Thanks for reading!

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #canon x reader #f!reader #writeblr

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berylcluster · 8 months ago

Note

What are your hard nose for role-playing? Things you won't rp or ship?

⊰ ship stuff and my No-Nos for RP can be found HERE listed in my rules! ⊱

#ahoy! i'll be your captain; ooc #i don't mean to be rude but #i have them listed and there for everyone to see for this very reason #if you need specifics more than what i've listed #you can dm me of course #one of those quarter fortune machines; asks

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n4kama · 1 year ago

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Small Hiatus Notice

Hey guys, gals and my lovelies that don't identify as either...

Just to let you all know that, besides what's in my queue, I'm going to be on a hiatus for a little while.

I'm, unfortunately, one of those introverts/neurodivergents that can't really handle being around people for more than a specific amount of time without needing days alone to recuperate my social battery and energy to do anything else.

And due to Christmas and New Years, I haven't been able to find time to recharge said battery...

So my desire/energy to write is practically null and void, so I'm going to be going to be on hiatus besides IMs until I can get to a good point again.

It probably won't be until February, mainly because my mother fractured her shoulder before Christmas, and I'm more or less her designated driver and the main person who does shit for her that she can't. (Which drains me more than I can explain...)

By all means, send in memes or mun asks and stuff for when I'm back or when I have bursts of energy.

If you have plot ideas send me a ☁️ through inbox or IMs and I'll get back to you! I also have discord if you'd prefer plotting through that!

I'll post an update when I'm back.

Wishing you all an early Happy New Year! Thank you for being so amazing and giving me life with my OP loves!!!

#Captains Quarters [OOC]

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curly-capt · 4 months ago

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Hello, Internet!

My name is Curly. I'm the Captain on the Tulpar. My crew was talking about this website and their "Blogs". I thought maybe it would be fun to join! So, Daisuke helped me set up the whole thing. Here's some relevant information about me.

My name is Curly, but nicknames are alright.

I'm 31 years old.

I'm the Captain, although I used to be the Co-pilot many, many years ago. (Gosh, I feel old..)

Well, that's all I suppose! Please, feel free to reach out and talk! I love meeting people.

OOC:

Hi, I'm the mod! You can call me Ry. I'm 18, and a huge fan of Mouthwashing. Please keep the asks appropriate & Respectful. Roleplaying and interaction are highly encouraged!

AU Info:

WARNING: BLOG DEALS WITH THEMES OF ABUSE, MANIPULATION, TRAUMA, SUICIDAL IDEATION, SELF HARM, MENTAL ILLNESS AND MORE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. PROCEED AT YOURE OWN RISK.

This blog takes place early in on the final voyage of the Tulpar. The events of the game are still Canon to this timeline, but they have not occurred yet, and are still preventable.

Curly is a Biromantic/Trans individual. He is open about this and will talk about it.

He's in denial about having a crush on Jimmy.

This version of Curly does present with Anxiety & Audhd! I, the mod, have them and I.. can't play a character without accidentally giving them my issues.

Information known about this version of Curly: (Will be updated as information is shared)

- He was bullied as a child/young teen. He is unaware that he was being bullied, but after befriending Jimmy, the bullying.. "mysteriously" stopped.

- He wanted to be a pilot his entire life. He's starting to regret that.

- He has an younger brother named Everett

- He wants to get a dog once he gets back to Earth.

- He's bad at drawing, but enjoys it anyway

- He's a people pleaser

- He doesn't like fish

- He likes the emoji hearts, and will occasionally use them alongside the emojis 😞 and 😊

- Is prone to having "weird dreams" (not NSFW)

- Very, very, very bad at flirting. Flustered easily

- Describes himself as a "dreamer" when he was a child

- Had an overprotective mother

- Space was his special interest growing up

- Dislikes naps

- Loves stars!!!!!

- Had a ficus, but he gave it to Jimmy

- Calls Daisuke "Kid/Kiddo"

- Favorite colors are Orange & Blue

- has a star projector light in both the cockpit and his quarters

- was taught how to make paper stars

- loves physical affection

- has a sister named Emmeline

- Has a pet rock named Darcy

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing spoilers #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #captain curly mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #ask blog #roleplay

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 3 months ago

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From the Ashes Pt.43

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, Cersei POV, Tywin POV, ooc tywin?, sometimes its hard writing for this guy, can't seem to really get into his head

Words: 3341

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47

All Cersei could do was laugh at Phiobe after the captain revealed what she learned. That (y/n), grungy and awkward as she was, now was some kind of messiah to the foolish people in Essos. Surely, a whole land couldn’t be so enchanted by this outright lie.

“Impossible.” Cersei tried to hide another chuckle with her hand and a shake of her head. “That doesn’t sound like (y/n). Not in the least bit.”

Her fear of (y/n)’s survival had been confirmed a long time ago, but this news had to be a complete fabrication. Even if her sister was alive, the champion of a religion could not be her.

A mirth filled smile tugs up her lips. “And you said she hatched a dragon?”

They were back on the ship, at sea once again and already miles away from the Port of Lys. Up on the deck, the men were enjoying a special treat from their generous captain: spirits and wine. Enough to liven their soul until they reach Yi Ti. The journey would be hard, Phiobe warned everyone in advance. There would be rival pirate ships and naval forces to be wary of. Opportunities for plenty of deaths and injuries.

Phiobe’s door to her quarters is open so they were able to hear the stream of loud merriment from above. She smiled while listening to them and nodded in affirmation. “Oh yes. I thought that was quite incredulous too. There were many people present on that day though and witnessed the whole thing.” Handing Cersei a refilled glass of wine, Phiobe continues. “Even visiting Westerosi tradespeople. Though many of the docks in King’s Landing are shut off due to the war, this information has managed to make its way through White Harbor and Old Town..”

“It can’t be real. Do you believe any of this?” she asked incredulously while hastily consuming her drink. Even back at Casterly Rock, Cersei had never had so much wine and she was starting to grow a great liking to it.

“There have been crazier things that I have heard. Some proving to be true, others clear hoaxes. I won’t believe anything until I see it for myself. Alas, we will pass by Volantis on our way to Yi Ti.” Taking a sip from her glass, Phiboe sets it aside. “Do you think her prince husband is aware that she still lives?”

Cersei prickles at the mention of Rhaegar Targaryen. Their last conversation together still made her ears warm with fury when she played it over in her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think he would necessarily care. During their marriage, he had been in love with another woman.(y/n) doesn’t matter much in Westeros anyway. Going through a civil war where no one is sure who will come out victorious, they will just think it a rumor.”

“Ah.”

“What?”

“You jealous little creature.”

Indignation flares across her cheeks as she lets her calm composure shatter. “You-”

Waving her off, Phiobe is still chuckling. “Relax. I suggest you take another sip of your drink. Cersei, I like you. You’ve got an adorable temper and a tongue like a whip. Don’t tell me you’re willing to get yourself killed because you’re jealous of your little sister.”

“And who says I’m going to die?” She digs her nails painfully into her palm, rage pinpoint on Phiobe.

“Dragons and Azor Ahai aside, the truth in the rumor is that she’s alive. You’ve previously tried to kill her, yes? I’ll take that look as yes. The moment I saw you walk away from your uncle, not batting an eyelash as he was killed, I knew you were cold. But you look too polished to be capable of murdering someone with your own hands. No, you with your mountain of gold could easily hire an assassin. Someone’s protecting her. Whether that actually be the soldiers of the Red Temple or someone she hired, your assassin has failed. If she finds out it was your doing. . .” Phiobe heaves a weary sigh. “I won’t protect you or be held accountable for anything.”

Draining what little remained in her cup, Cersei bitterly shakes her head. “(y/n)? No. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t dare hurt me.”

Phiobe heaves out a dry scoff. “Presumptuous of you. Why do you think that?”

She was too important to Jaime. Whatever spell (y/n) had Jaime under, it was no match for the love that Jaime and Cersei had for one another. There was no way he would let harm befall on her. How could she explain that to the captain?

Instead she safely proceeds with “It’s simply foolish to think that (y/n) is capable of such malice. She is not like me. She doesn’t have a spine.”

“I hope you’re right.” Knocking back whatever was left in her own drink, Phiobe stands and walks away from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“I have a few things to take care of. Help yourself to the rest of the bottle. Dinner will be brought up in a few hours.” Phiobe waves goodbye before closing the door and securing it with a lock and key.

As she turns, Ferid stands at attention right in front of her. Respectfully, he nods his tattooed head. The Unsullied fighter had been money well spent. Phiobe had made sure to compensate him appropriately. He could go free if he made up the money she spent on him.

However, even when Ferid had reached the monetary goal, he sadly refused to leave the ship. Fighting and blood had been the only things he had ever known. What would he do with his life? He couldn’t have children, so no woman would want him. Having little knowledge of social protocol besides listening and obeying, he doubted he could immerse himself back into society. He was too broken.

A sad tale Phiobe had heard far too many times. Many of the men on her ship, nearly half of them having been bought, chose to stay despite having the money to leave. Unfortunately it was a feeling Phiobe shared with them. If she ever wanted to quit pirating, what would she do with her life? Live out her days like her mother? That wasn’t the type of life she wanted. Lady Analu possessed a docile temperament; the life she had now was perfect for her. Overly quiet and carefree. Her business was thriving in one of the most beautiful countries. She wanted nothing else in life.

“Captain, may I have a word?”

“Of course. Let's go up top. No doubt Lady Cersei is eavesdropping.” She muses and leads the way back up the solid wood stairs and to the shining sun that glittered across the ocean. “What is it?” Ferid paused, worry heavy in his dark eyes. “Captain. . . Why are you wasting your time with her? You should have just sold her off to Lady Analu or anyone else who was willing to take her off your hands. You are doing Prince Heiu Hoai a disservice by giving him this girl.”

“You don’t know Heiu Hoai like I do, Ferid. Don’t worry, she won’t be our problem for much longer. Besides, like I’ve told you, I find her entertaining. I think maybe she is who I would have been had I grown up in the lap of luxury. If she wants to waste her life trying to kill her sister, its no business of mine. As long as I still get some use out of her.”

“I think she’s perfect for one of the many princes of Yi Ti. Heiu Hoai will be able to match that brat with his own ego.” Dardan chuckles, interrupting their private conversation though Ferid didn’t mind. The big man often budged his way into conversation to offer commentary.

Sighing, Ferid concedes; his worry of the matter diminishing as it seemed he was the only one who was concerned. It was well known that Prince Heiu Hoai had a harem comprised of many different types of ladies.

“Rest assured, dear Ferid, once we get to Yi Ti she’ll be out of our hair and we’ll be in the prince’s favor still!” Phiobe clapped him on the shoulder and managed to pull a small smirk from Ferid. “Remember five years back when we were last back at the palace?”

A pleasant memory for the entire crew. Plenty of food and spirits to gorge yourself silly on. Pleasure produced from the local pillow house was icing on the cake. They were always treated well when in Yi Ti. For the prince, Phiobe produced only the best goods from her various pillages. He always, in return, shared his wealth with all of them. Normally Phiobe wasn’t one for relaxation. She was always on edge and ready for a confrontation. In Yi Ti and staying at Heiu Hoai’s palace, Phiobe was able to truly relax. From there, Cersei could do whatever she wanted. Make her way back to Volantis if she so wished to go through with her plan.

Dardan cleared his throat. “As for the matter of the rumor you heard at Lady Analu’s. . .”

“Ah yes, what have the other sailors heard?”

“Gasif confirms hearing it in the nearby tavern. As does Qateel.” Confirmed her quartermaster.

Phiobe knew the whole story sounded crazy. But it was coming from three different sources. Possibly many more.

“The dragon part doesn’t sound too farfetched.” Admitted Fedir. It was known that there were still dragons roaming in the Shadowlands. Beyond the territory of the city of Asshai.

“Yes but the fact that the Red Temple has an interest in her. . . That’s not something to be ignored.” A fantastical tale, yet Phiobe had to admit that she herself was starting to think it might be true. “It doesn't matter. I’m not getting us involved. If Cersei wants to attack their prophet, so be it.”

Fedir’s shoulders appear to sag in relief to hear that. His captain hadn’t completely gone mad. The royal brat would be gone soon enough. He just had to be patient and ignore her as much as he could. Those calculating eyes of hers though. . . They tended to unnerve him. Chilling, much like Phiobe’s. Maybe in another life, where Phiobe was the one with blue blood and Cersei a lowlife in society, Cersei had the possibility of being pirate captain. In her contained brutality that would rise her in the ranks had she the proper skill and training. Phiobe had started at a young age. Wanting to protect her mother from rape that so frequented the poor and slaves, Phiobe decided to learn how to use a sword. Initially her plan had been to protect her mother. From there she prospered into a true killer.

If the girl ever wanted to become like Phiobe, she still had a long way to go. A path he would suggest to no one.

Still, there was a long way to Yi Ti. While Phiobe wished to get there as soon as possible, it would be nearly impossible to not stop for supplies unless she wanted a few of her men to die. Eventually they would have to stop. Ghiscar preferably. Phiobe wanted to be sensitive toward Fedir and not stop in Astapor even though she had good connections there. He didn’t have the fondest memories.

She would never allow Cersei to escape though she saw the determination in the girl’s eyes. If she planned on escaping from Phiobe, she would have to kill the captain. That was no easy feat.

“Please. . .” Her breathing is labored as she begged her husband. “Please don’t let her die. Tywin, she can’t die.”

That moment had always plagued Tywin Lannister.

Her flushed cheeks streaked in tears, pleading green eyes that drowned behind saline.

What had she expected him to do at that moment? He was but a mortal lord and did not have the power to resurrect the dead. Tywin, always weak to his wife’s every whim, retrieved (y/n) from the midwife making the nursemaids scurry around him. (y/n) was a small baby. A tiny creature to have caused such a ruckus. If he hadn’t been there with Joanna, Tywin would have thought the baby to be sleeping.

He feared disappointing Joanna if he didn’t wake her to the living world.

Never one for physical affection, holding the baby had been very awkward for Tywin. Especially when he held the baby so close to his chest that his nose came to the crown of her sprucely haired head. He hadn’t even held Jaime this close when it was announced that the younger twin was a boy. An heir.

Not knowing what to do, he gently begins to rub at her small back. His mind whispered thousands of prayers in seconds as dread began to make his stomach heavy. The baby was not waking and he didn’t feel her breathing either. Joanna was going to be devastated.

That’s when, as a last ditch effort, he leans his lips down to whisper to (y/n). . .

“Your Grace?”

He doesn’t jump but Tywin is still startled when his footman announces the arrival of his sister. While he owed his sister a great debt for helping take care of the children after Joanna’s death, Genna wore out Tywin every time they were forced to interact. Now most certainly she would be filling his halls with her crying. He would miss Kevan too, but there was no point in weeping. Tywin would find whoever did this and make them pay a heavy price. Then he would be able to find Cersei. When the news of her abduction and what had happened on his ship, Tywin made sure to secretly send a letter out to Dorne. Not that much news was able to make it to King’s Landing due to Aerys closing all the gates. He could ride to Dorne himself without Aerys ever finding out. But there were matters to attend to in Casterly Rock. Ser Kevan’s remains had been unloaded from the docks and transported to Casterly Rock’s private sept. He would be buried in the tombs of Lord Tytos and his father before him. The ship had been eerily floating along Lannisport’s shores with no crew to be seen on deck.

On cue, Tywin could hear his sister’s whimpers grow louder and louder until his councilroom door was thrown open. “Oh Tywin! How horrible!”

Grimacing as she proceeded to throw her heavy arms around him, Tywin only allows her wallowing for a few seconds before clawing his way out of her grip. “Yes, very horrible- Genna please.”

“First Jaime and now Kevan and Cersei. What have we done to displease the gods so much?” There were many things Tywin could name that would put the Lannister family on the god’s bad side but he was not going to say any of them; not in the presence of his hysterical sister.

As delicately as he could, he sits his sister down and safely moves to his own chair. Having distance between them, Tywin let out a sigh and places his hands on the polished wood table. She must not know about the rumor circulating about (y/n). A fantastical story no doubt that had everything from magic swords to dragons and his daughter being in the center of it all.

“Help her, Tywin. Help her.”

Genna loudly blew her nose in her handkerchief, a large and curvy ‘G’ and ‘L’ were embroidered onto it with gold thread. Tywin would be surprised if his sister even brought up (y/n) let alone Tyrion. They were already ghosts even when they lived in Casterly Rock. Forgotten and ignored as background specters. Sad, lonely eyes-

“They still haven’t found Cersei, have they?” Genna asked abruptly as she had composed herself slightly. She’s dabbing at her eyes and sniffling as Tywin shakes his head; no, they had not found Cersei. Her body, thankfully, had not been among the dead they found on the abandoned ship. She must still be alive somewhere. “I’m sure she’s okay. She’s always been made of tougher stuff, that Cersei.”

“Always wanting to be one of the boys.” Tywin mutters but it makes his sister chuckle lightly.

She nods her head, fondly remembering when times were sweeter. When Cersei and Jaime were younger, they appeared nearly identical; both with golden hair and fair skin. They didn’t have any of the traits that distinguished their gender so Cersei found it simple to disguise herself as her twin brother. Tywin had been furious when Cersei had snuck into Jaime’s sword lessons. She could have seriously been injured. Joanna always laughed when it happened, trying her best to admonish Cersei but she found her daughter’s spunky attitude endearing.

“Gods Tywin. . .” Her face crumbled but Genna put a hand over her eyes. “Cersei has to be alive. She just has to.”

His savior came in the appearance of his footman, knowing the drill when it came to Genna, alerted him of an appointment he had in just a few minutes. Genna nods and bids goodnight to her brother. Tywin would have to better prepare himself for tomorrow when they would enter Kevan’s body to his grave.

A glass of wine was brought to him as was a small meal of lamb. He had no appetite and pushed it aside, preferring the wine as nourishment. Pale green eyes stare at the paper in front of him, Tywin’s mind unconsciously drifting to the dream he had had the night before. Joanna had visited him. Even now she was clear in his mind, a perfect picture. Rosy pink cheeks that made the rest of her pale face bloom. Her gold curls coiled and braided in such an expert fashion that Tywin always found appealing. Pearls had been strewn through her hair and adorned her seafoam green gown that spilled all around her. A vision so perfect Tywin thought that he might have died in his sleep.

Her smile didn’t mirror his own. It was soft and standoffish.

“My dear, it’s time to acknowledge her.” Joanna whispered, not unkindly. Her hands feel warm as they cup Tywin’s cheeks, brushing her thumbs across his sideburns. “You can’t continue to ignore her. She needs your help. Please my dear. The Great War is coming and she needs your support.”

She might have sounded delusional to anyone else but Tywin. Many years ago, when she was heavily pregnant with (y/n), Joanna had mentioned something a dreadful event she had dreamed about. Describing two warriors among ashes. One of them, long blonde hair peeking out from a dragon-shaped helmet, had looked at her with green eyes. Joanna believed it to be (y/n). That was the last time she had ever spoken of the dream, but Tywin could tell that it bothered her. Even after (y/n)’s birth, Joanna still seemed troubled about (y/n)’s life. When (y/n) had been found in the lion’s den, all that blood made her faint with the belief that her daughter was dead.

In their marriage, Joanna had proven to always be right. She was smart and tactful for a woman. Tywin had decided that’s where Cersei got her own analytical mind from. Whether is was a matter of state or that of a personal nature, Joanna knew the answer.

Disbelief still numbed Tywin. (y/n) and Jaime were alive.

How had (y/n) survived death so many times? It seemed unnatural.

Anxiously he runs a hand over his face. This was all preposterous. Everything was lining up though in an eerie way that followed Joanna’s nightmares.

The conference hall was dark by the time Tywin pokes his head out to instruct his guard to deliver a message to his captain of arms. His head was still whirling and he wasn’t completely sure this was the smart thing to do.

Joanna’s voice echoed firmly in his memory: “She’ll need a naval force for her homecoming.”

He would trust in his wife. Always.

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