#DO IT LIKE BLACK SAILS is what i'm saying | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

killerplink · 3 months ago

Text

DEVOTION

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Plot: A fight with Jason gets heated—sharp words, stubborn tempers, neither of you backing down. But when the tension snaps, it turns into something else entirely. Something raw, desperate, and messy.

Words: 10k

The apartment door slams behind you both, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet space. Your heels clack against the hardwood as you stalk toward the bedroom, too pissed to even look at him right now. Jason follows, his heavy boots thudding after you, that cocky swagger in every step even though you're very clearly fuming.

"Are you really gonna be mad all night?" he asks, tone half lazy, half exasperated.

You whip around so fast your hair flies over your shoulder, finger already pointed at his chest. "Yes! Jason, I swear to God, you're fucking impossible!"

His brows shoot up, that infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth. "What'd I do now, doll?"

"What'd you do? Are you serious?" You step closer, eyes flashing, and jab a finger into his chest. "You almost started a fight at the restaurant! Over nothing! Just—someone bumped into me, and suddenly you're ready to crack skulls like you're still some street kid with nothing to lose, except you have everything to lose, Jason! I have everything to lose!"

That softens his smirk, just a little. But it doesn't disappear, not entirely. "Baby, I had it under control."

"No, you didn't!" Your voice breaks on the words, frustration and fear tangled up too tight in your chest. "You never have it under control when you get like that. You stop thinking. It's like you don't even care what happens to you."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You're bein' dramatic."

"Oh, fuck you." You turn away, arms crossed tight, nails digging into your own skin like you can hold yourself together if you just squeeze hard enough. "I'm not being dramatic, Jay. I'm scared. Every time you act like your life doesn't matter, it scares the shit out of me because your life does matter. To me."

That knocks some of the wind out of his cocky sails, but true to form, Jason Todd never backs down that easily. "I can handle myself, baby. I've been in worse fights before you even knew me."

"And maybe that's the problem!" You spin around again, hands flung wide. "You're so used to throwing yourself into danger like you've got a death wish, you don't even think about the people who love you, who have to watch you do it. Who have to fucking wait and hope you come home in one piece."

His jaw clenches, that sharp edge of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. "I came home tonight, didn't I?"

"Barely! If Dick hadn't dragged you out of there—"

"—I would've walked out just fine on my own," he cuts in, voice hard, like he's this close to losing his temper too.

You both stand there, breathing hard, anger seeping through every pore. Your heart is hammering against your ribs, anger and fear and love all tangled into a knot you can't untie. And goddamn him, even now, with his blood still running hot from almost throwing down, with that cocky little glint still in his eye—he looks good. Messy hair, jaw clenched tight, that black shirt stretched over his broad chest, his hands flexing like he still has adrenaline to burn.

You want to shake him. You want to kiss him. You want to scream until your throat hurts.

Jason exhales, slow and heavy, like he's trying to ease some of that heat out of his chest before you both say something you can't take back.

"Baby," he says, quieter now, "I'm fine."

Your throat closes up. "For now."

He takes a step closer, hands sliding to your waist, fingers curling into your dress. "I'm not goin' anywhere, pretty girl."

You shake your head, eyes stinging. "You can't promise that."

Jason sighs as he leans down, forehead tipping against yours. "What do you want me to say, huh? That I'll never lose my temper again? That I'll play nice and walk away every time some asshole gets in my face? That's not who I am."

"I know," you whisper. "But it's who I wish you could be. Just for me."

That hits somewhere deep, somewhere tender he doesn't let many people see. But instead of softening, Jason leans into the heat instead because that's how he knows to handle fear, with fire.

"C'mere," he mutters, dragging you into him, arms wrapping tight around your waist. "You wanna fight with me? Do it right here, baby. Get it out of your system."

You shove at his chest, and he catches your wrist, twisting you into him like a dance, his breath warm against your ear.

"Or," he says low, voice all gravel and heat, "you can find a better way to work out all that attitude."

"Fuck off," you snap, but it's weaker now, your anger unraveling into something messier, hotter.

He chuckles, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "C'mon, pretty girl. You're pissed, I'm pissed, and you're standin' here looking like that." His hands slide down, grabbing your ass hard through your dress. "We both know exactly how this night's gonna end."

Your breath catches, nails curling into his chest again, not pushing this time, just holding on.

"Still mad at me, baby?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He grins against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. "Let me make it up to you."

Your hands land flat on his chest, shoving him back, catching him off guard enough that he stumbles two steps out of the bedroom. And before he can say a damn word, you slam the door right in his stupid, handsome, reckless face. Not locked, just shut, because locking it feels too final, too mean, and you're pissed, but not that pissed.

Jason stares at the door for half a second, then his forehead drops against it with a low thud, and he knocks his head against it once, twice, just hard enough to feel it.

"Fuck."

He didn't mean to ruin the night. He never means to ruin shit when it comes to you. But the moment that asshole's hand brushed against your ass—innocent or not—it flipped a fucking switch in him. And maybe that's fucked up, maybe he's got a million unresolved issues tied to losing everyone he's ever given a shit about, but you?

You're his. His girl, his future, his everything, and seeing someone else's hand anywhere near you sends him spiraling into that ugly, possessive part of himself that only you've ever managed to soften.

And yeah, maybe the guy didn't mean it, maybe it was just a crowded restaurant and accidents happen, but Jason's not the kind of man who plays it cool. Not when it comes to you. Not when he loves you so much it hurts sometimes, sitting right there under his ribs like a bruise he can't stop poking.

He presses his palms to the door, wishing he could just rewind the whole night—go back to you looking so pretty at the restaurant, all smiles and soft touches, letting him steal kisses between courses. You'd been happy. And then he fucked it up. Again.

Inside the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the sheets, trying to hold back the sting in your eyes. You won't cry—you won't—but your throat's tight, and your chest aches, and the night feels like it's unraveling right between your fingers.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. It's Tim's fucking birthday, for God's sake. The restaurant had been beautiful, the food actually good for once, the atmosphere soft and warm with all your friends laughing and talking and teasing each other.

And then some random guy brushed past you on his way to the bathroom, bumping your hip, and Jason went feral. You love that he's protective—God, you do—but Gotham is full of crazy assholes, and you don't want him starting a fight with someone who might pull out a gun and blow his brains out over a misunderstanding.

The thought makes your stomach churn, fear sliding ice cold down your spine, and you have to shake it off before it eats you alive. You stand, fingers reaching behind you to unzip your dress, and it slides off your body in a whisper of fabric, pooling at your feet. And that's when you catch your reflection in the mirror, and yeah, no wonder he couldn't keep his hands off you all night.

The lingerie underneath? It's not the kind you wear every day. This is the good shit—black lace and thin straps, sheer panels teasing the curves of your tits, a matching thong barely covering anything, thin enough to show just how wet you already are.

Because for all the shit he's pulling tonight, Jason's still your hot ass, broad shouldered, cocky as hell boyfriend, and your pussy? She does not hold grudges.

You're still mad. You still wanna shake him until his teeth rattle. But you also want him to fuck you so hard you forget why you were even mad to begin with.

You sigh, tug open the bedroom door, and march straight into the living room, chin high, steps confident even though your knees are still a little weak from all that adrenaline. And, yeah, maybe from how fucking good he made you cum this morning.

Jason's slouched on the couch, head tipped back, hands dragging down his face, and when he hears your footsteps, he looks up, and freezes.

His eyes rake over you, slow and dark, tongue darting out to wet his lips like his mouth's gone dry. "Jesus Christ."

You cross your arms under your tits, pushing them up just a little higher. "What? Cat got your tongue, big guy?"

His gaze flicks from your face to your tits to the sheer lace stretched over your hips, and the way the thin strip of fabric between your legs is already dark with how wet you are.

"You're tryin' to fuckin' kill me," he mutters, half to himself, half to you.

You cock a hip, all attitude, even though your pulse is hammering. "Thought you liked a challenge."

Jason pushes up from the couch, moving slow, shoulders broad and tense, every line of him saying he's holding himself back—barely. "You're still mad at me."

"Furious," you agree.

"And you're standin' there looking like that."

You glance down at yourself, trailing a finger over the top of your bra, down the center of your stomach. "Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?"

He's on you in two steps, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other grabbing a handful of your ass, yanking you flush against him. "Gonna fuck the attitude right outta you, baby."

"Promises, promises."

He kisses you hard enough to steal your breath, hands already roaming, already tugging at the straps of your bra, already ready to tear you apart and put you back together again, but you're faster. You grab two handfuls of his shirt, spinning him around and shoving him back onto the couch. He goes down without a fight, grinning like the cocky bastard he is, because you both know you can't actually budge him unless he lets you.

But fuck, does it turn him on when you try.

Jason sprawls into the cushions, legs spread, hands braced on his thighs like he's daring you to climb on top of him, but instead, you drop to your knees between his legs. His whole body tenses, chest rising slower, breath catching because you—all pissed off, all attitude, all tits spilling out of that black lace bra—are kneeling right there, looking up at him like you're about to ruin his fucking life.

And for once, Jason Todd has nothing to say.

You reach for his belt, slow and deliberate, dragging the leather free of the loops with a sharp tug, and you swear you see his fingers twitch. He's already getting hard, already pressing against the front of his jeans, already so fucking easy for you.

The buckle clinks as you undo it, popping the button next, tugging the zipper down with a sound that seems louder than it should be. And then you pull his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free his dick, and—fuck.

He's so fucking big, already thick and flushed, veins standing out along his length, and a bead of precum clings to the slit, catching the low light. Your pussy throbs on sight alone, clenching around nothing, still sore from the last time he was inside you.

Jason's hand lifts, fingers reaching for the back of your head—because of course he wants to grab your hair, guide your mouth, fuck your throat—but you slap his hand away, sharp and quick.

"No touching."

He freezes like you've just short-circuited every thought in his head. "What?"

"No. Touching." You wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, giving him one slow, punishing stroke, twisting your wrist just the way he likes. "You wanna act reckless? You wanna scare the shit outta me? You wanna start fights over shit that doesn't matter? Then you can sit there with your hands to yourself while I handle this."

Jason's jaw clenches, shoulders tight, every muscle in his thighs twitching, but he obeys. Barely. His hands grip the edge of the couch so tight his knuckles go white.

You lean in, licking up the underside of his cock in one slow, wet drag, ending with a kiss to the tip that leaves your lips shiny with precum. "You're such a fucking idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah, baby," he rasps, voice already rougher. "I know."

You pump him slow, fingers squeezing just right, thumb swiping through the slick at his tip before you slide down again.

"What if you got yourself shot tonight, huh? What the fuck am I supposed to do if you get yourself killed because you can't stand someone breathing in my direction?"

"Fuck." His head tips back, throat flexing, cock leaking even more into your palm.

"Who's gonna love me the way you do? Who's gonna fuck me if you're dead, Jason?" You squeeze his dick just to see his hips jerk. "Who else knows how to ruin me like you do?"

"Baby—"

"No. Don't talk." You flick your tongue against the tip, barely a taste, before you sit back on your heels, jerking him slow and mean. "You don't get to talk, you reckless, possessive, stupid fucking man."

His abs tighten, hands still white-knuckling the couch, and his cock twitches in your grip, a fresh bead of precum sliding down the side. "You love that I'm possessive."

You glare up at him, lips curling. "I do. But not when it puts you in danger, asshole." You kiss the tip again, softer this time. "Not when it makes me scared I'm gonna lose you."

Jason's breath stutters, and you see it. That crack in his tough guy armor, the one only you ever get to see. But you don't let him soften.

Not yet. Instead, you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock again, pumping him faster, twisting your wrist just right, watching his thighs tense and his hips fight not to thrust up into your mouth.

"Keep your hands there," you murmur, voice all sweet and mean at once. "And maybe—maybe—I'll let you cum down my throat."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ."

His head falls back, a bead of sweat sliding down his neck, and you know you've got him right where you want him.

Jason yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, not even bothering with unbuttoning it, because if you're gonna make him suffer, the least he can do is give you something to look at. And fuck, do you look.

Your hands rest on his thick thighs for a second, gaze dragging over every inked inch of him—the dark ink across his chest, the jagged lines along his ribs, the script down his arms that you've traced with your tongue a hundred times before. He's so fucking hot, all muscle and attitude, sprawled out, dick rock hard in your grip, glistening with spit and precum.

"Enjoyin' the view?"

His voice is pure gravel, but there's a waver in it, like he's already hanging by a thread.

"Shut up."

You lean in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock again, tracing that thick vein with the tip of your tongue until you reach the head, circling it slowly before you take him into your mouth, lips stretching, jaw aching already, but you don't stop. You never stop.

He's too fucking big, he always is, but you try anyway, sinking lower, feeling the weight of him press against your tongue, the blunt head nudging the back of your throat.

"Greedy little thing," Jason mutters, hands twitching, and you see it. The instinct, the need to grab your hair and fuck your throat until you're crying.

But you slap his thigh sharply. "I said no touching."

"Baby—"

"No."

You sink back down, hollowing your cheeks, sucking him deep until your throat spasms around the fat tip, gagging. Tears prick your eyes, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but you fucking love it. Love the way his thighs tense, love the way his dick jumps on your tongue, love how fucking desperate he looks.

Jason's chest heaves, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "You're evil."

You hum around him, the vibration making him swear under his breath, and you pull off with a filthy pop, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock before you drag your tongue up the side again.

"Yeah? And what's that make you for loving it?"

"Completely fucked."

You grin, all teeth, and take him back into your mouth, bobbing your head faster, sucking him down until you gag again, drool dripping down your chin, slicking his cock even more. Your thighs press together, your pussy throbbing, panties soaked through. You can feel it, the sticky mess between your legs, the ache in your cunt, the way your body needs him, no matter how mad you are.

Jason groans, deep and low, and you glance up at him through wet lashes, seeing the flush on his chest, the tension in his jaw, the muscles jumping in his stomach. He's so fucking close already, you can tell, and every time he tries to lift a hand, you slap it back down, keeping him helpless beneath you, all that strength and power completely useless unless you let him use it.

"Baby, please." His voice cracks, and it's the hottest fucking thing you've ever heard.

You pull off one more time, stroking him fast and messy, your spit slick hand gliding easily along his length. "Please what?"

"Please lemme touch you."

You shake your head, licking up the underside again, tongue teasing his slit before you suck the head back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks until his hips buck, just once, just enough to choke you again. You swallow hard, tears sliding down your cheeks, and his dick throbs so hard you can feel it on your tongue.

"Be good," you murmur around him, voice muffled and obscene, "and I'll let you cum."

Jason's head falls back, a broken groan ripping from his throat, and you know you've got him. You sink back down, taking him as deep as you can, lips stretched tight around the fat width of his cock, spit and precum slicking your chin as you work him with all the devotion you can muster. What you can't fit—and there's always part of him you can't fit—you stroke with your hand, fingers gliding over the thick base, your palm sticky with drool and his slick.

Your tongue works the head, lapping up every drop of precum he leaks, tasting that salty, addictive tease of what's coming, and you fucking love it. You flick your tongue against his slit, suck gently on the sensitive tip before you sink down again, sucking hard, cheeks hollowed so tight your jaw aches, but you don't fucking care.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Jason groans, his voice wrecked, head tipped back against the couch, muscles tight like he's holding himself together with sheer fucking will. "You're perfect, baby. Mouth so goddamn good—fuck, you always know how to suck me just right."

The praise makes your pussy clench hard, heat flooding your belly, and you double down, bobbing your head faster, working him with both your mouth and hand until your throat burns and your jaw trembles. Every time you pull back, you leave a messy trail of spit and precum glistening along his length, but you dive right back in, tongue swirling around the head before you take him deep again.

"Look at you," Jason breathes, his voice low and rough. "So fuckin' pretty like this. My perfect girl. You love this dick, don't you?"

You hum around him, the vibration making his whole body twitch, and he groans so low it vibrates in your chest. You pull back just enough to gasp, "Love it, Jay. Best fucking dick I've ever had."

"Yeah?" His grin is sharp, dangerous. "Then show me, baby. Show me how much you love it."

Challenge fucking accepted. You take him deep again, swallowing around the head, ignoring the gag reflex that flares up as you press lower, working him into your throat until your nose brushes the skin at the base of his cock. You gag again, spit bubbling past your lips, but you don't stop. You fucking love how heavy he feels on your tongue, how thick and hot and perfect he is, filling your mouth like he was made for it.

Jason's fists clench at his sides, his whole body trembling with restraint. "So good for me, baby," he mutters, voice cracking with it. "So fuckin' good. My pretty, filthy fucking girl. Takin' me so deep—fuck, 'm gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill that perfect mouth."

You moan around him, and that's it. His hips jerk, cock swelling, and then he's cumming, thick ropes of cum spilling across your tongue, hot and salty and so much, it makes you whimper as you swallow, throat working hard to take it all.

He always cums a lot, his balls emptying in pulse after pulse, and you keep sucking, milking him through it, letting every drop slide down your throat until your belly feels warm with it. His cock throbs against your tongue, so sensitive it makes his hips twitch every time your tongue flicks over the head, but you don't stop until you know he's completely spent.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice rough and almost shaky. "Gonna kill me one of these days."

You pull back slowly, licking your swollen lips, wiping the mess from your chin with the back of your hand, and grin up at him, all fucked-out satisfaction. Jason pulls you right into his lap, and you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself.

His hands slide down to grab your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, grinding you down against his cock, still hard and slick with your spit, and you moan when you feel the thick length press up against your soaked lace panties.

"Fuck," Jason mutters, dragging you along his cock again, feeling how drenched you are even through the lace. "That pretty pussy misses me already, huh?"

"Jay," you murmur, voice soft, needy, and when you lean in, he catches your mouth in a kiss—hot, messy, all tongue and teeth, licking into you like he's starving for your taste.

He groans low when he tastes himself on your tongue, dirty and possessive, and you whimper into his mouth, hips moving on their own, grinding down against him, chasing friction.

You break the kiss to breathe, forehead resting against his, and your fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck as you whisper, "Do you love me?"

Jason's hands flex on your ass, holding you tighter, and his voice is low, earnest when he says, "You know I do, baby. Love you so fuckin' much."

You lick your lips, eyes dark with want. "Then fuck me like you mean it."

His eyes flash—something feral, something wild, and before you can say anything else, he's moving, standing up with you in his arms like you weigh nothing before he lays you down on the couch, his jeans and boxers kicked off in one rough move. He kneels over you, hands already tugging your bra down until your tits spill out, and he doesn't even bother unclasping it before he's on you.

"Love these tits," he mutters between kisses, licking over one nipple, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go with a wet pop. His tongue flicks over the other, sharp and teasing, before he closes his lips around it, sucking hard until you gasp and arch into him. "So fuckin' pretty, baby. Could spend all day suckin' on these."

You tug at his hair, breathless, moaning when he drags his teeth over your nipple, just the right amount of rough. He leaves a trail of messy hickeys down the curve of your tits, marking you like the possessive asshole he is, and you swear your pussy gets even wetter from it.

He kisses down your stomach, hands already hooking into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to get access to you. "Love this body," he murmurs, licking over the waistband before kissing your hipbone. "Love this pussy. Love you, baby."

You whimper, spreading your legs instinctively, and he groans at the sight of your panties clinging to your soaked folds, the lace darkened with how wet you are. His fingers trace along the edge of the fabric, barely touching you, just enough to make your thighs twitch in frustration.

Then his tongue flicks out, teasing you through the fabric, just the lightest drag of warmth over your clit, and you jolt, hips twitching up, chasing more.

Jason hums, amused, as he pulls back, blowing cool air against the damp spot where his tongue just was. "So fuckin' wet for me already," he mutters, voice wrecked, his breath hot against your cunt.

His fingers slide down, pressing against the soaked lace, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit, just enough to make you ache but not enough to satisfy.

Your hips stutter, desperate for more friction, but he doesn't give it to you. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his scruff scratching at your sensitive skin, and then, another flick of his tongue, this time firmer, tracing over your clit through the thin barrier of lace.

"Jay—" Your fingers tighten in his hair, trying to pull him closer, but he only chuckles, the vibrations making you tremble.

"You love this, don't you?" His voice is thick with hunger, fingers still rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit. "Love bein' all messy for me, panties soaked, beggin' for my mouth..."

He leans in again, dragging his tongue over you, pressing the fabric against your cunt, making it cling to every swollen, aching inch of you. Then his teeth close around the lace, tugging just enough to make you feel it before letting go.

Your thighs tremble, your body desperate for more, but he just keeps playing with you, running his tongue along the slick fabric, soaking it even more, his fingers pressing right against your entrance, but never giving you what you need.

"Jason—" you whimper, pushing up against his mouth, but he only smirks, pressing another teasing, barely-there kiss over your clit.

"Patience, pretty girl," he murmurs, eyes dark, voice rough.

He finally hooks a finger into the crotch of your panties, pulling them aside to bare you to him, and then his mouth is on you. Hot, wet, tongue sliding through your folds before fucking into you, slow and deep, licking you open like he's savoring every drop.

You moan his name, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his big hands grab your thighs and hold you open, spreading you wide like he's got all the time in the world to devour you.

"Keep 'em open, baby," he growls, voice muffled between your thighs. "Wanna see this pussy when I eat you."

He fucks you with his tongue, nose brushing against your clit, and every time you try to roll your hips or squirm away from the intensity, he holds you down and just keeps going, messy and obscene, spit and slick dripping down to the couch beneath you.

Jason groans into your pussy, the sound vibrating against your clit, and he sucks. Soft at first, just enough to make you gasp, before he latches on and really sucks, lips wrapped around that sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue flicking against it, over and over, relentless.

"F-Fuck—Jay—" Your voice is all breathy, wrecked, your fingers pulling at his hair, but it only spurs him on.

He hums again, mouth still latched to your clit, and then drags his tongue down, lapping at your folds, hot and messy and so deep you feel it in your gut. He groans like he's starving for you, like he could live off this alone, tongue pushing inside again, fucking you slow and deep before dragging up to swirl around your clit.

And then he does it again. And again. And again.

His hands squeeze at your thighs, holding you open, keeping you spread, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into your trembling skin, soothing even as his mouth drives you insane.

"You taste so fuckin' good, pretty girl," he rasps against your soaked cunt, his lips slick, his chin glistening with your arousal. "Could eat you for hours."

He presses a soft kiss right against your clit before flattening his tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy, gathering every drop of slick before pushing his tongue back inside you.

You keen, legs twitching, and he groans into you, hands tightening, like he can feel you dripping for him.

"Goddamn, look at you," he mutters, breath hot against your cunt as he pulls back just enough to admire the mess he's making of you. "Drippin' down my fuckin' chin, baby—"

The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on you echo in the room, filthy and desperate, and all you can do is whimper and take it.

When he pulls back just enough to suck your clit into his mouth again your whole body jolts, and he hums in satisfaction, eyes locked on you as your mouth falls open on a gasp.

"C'mon, baby," he murmurs against you, every word vibrating against your skin. "Cum for me. Wanna taste you."

It hits you hard, your back arching, thighs trembling in his grip as you cry out, body clenching tight before it melts into pleasure. You swear you see stars, the intensity making your head spin, and he groans low in his throat as he licks you through it, sucking every drop you give him, cleaning you up with his tongue like a man fucking starving.

He doesn't stop until you're trembling, oversensitive and gasping for breath, your hands tugging weakly at his hair, begging for a break. When he finally pulls back, his mouth and chin are glistening, and he wipes his face with the back of his hand, grinning down at you like the devil himself.

"Goddamn, baby," he mutters. "Tastes even better when you're mad at me."

Jason flips you onto your stomach like you weigh nothing, handling you exactly the way you love—rough enough to remind you how much stronger he is, gentle enough to show he'll never actually hurt you. And you already know what he wants, so you arch your back, pushing up onto your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder with a bratty little smirk that makes his jaw clench.

His hands slide down your sides, slow, deliberate, before they settle on your hips, fingers digging in just to hear you gasp. Then he grabs the lace of your panties, tugging them down over your ass, baring your soaked cunt and the mess he already made between your thighs.

"Fuck," he mutters, palming your ass, squeezing and spreading you open to get a better look. "Always so fuckin' pretty back here."

The first slap lands sharp, making you jolt forward, your slick thighs trembling. The sting blooms hot across your skin, and you whimper, but it only makes you arch deeper, pushing your hips back toward him.

Jason watches, transfixed, as your pussy clenches around nothing, dripping slick onto his cock when he presses the thick head between your legs. He's still hard, precum leaking from the swollen tip, and you rock your hips, rubbing your soaked folds against him until he curses under his breath.

"Needy little thing," he grits out, guiding his cock to your entrance. "Can't even pretend you're not desperate for me."

He starts pushing in, splitting you open slow, and the stretch knocks the air from your lungs, leaving you trembling under him. "Oh, fuck—"

"Always so fuckin' tight for me," Jason groans, one hand stroking down your stomach, feeling the way your body stretches to take him. His fingers slip lower, over your clit, slick and swollen, and you shiver all over when he rubs slow circles over it. "Goddamn, baby."

You rock back, taking him deeper, moaning as your pussy clenches down hard around him. He curses, leaning over you, chest pressed to your back, and murmurs low in your ear, "You want me to fuck you like I mean it, huh?"

You nod frantically, words catching in your throat, and Jason groans, pulling back just enough to grab your hips, steadying you before sliding in deeper, bottoming out with one slow, brutal thrust.

He gives you a second, like he always does, letting you adjust because he knows he's big, knows he's a lot, and he loves you too much to hurt you.

But you're impatient, your body burning with need, so you glance back over your shoulder, panting, "Thought you said you loved me."

His jaw tightens, a flush spreading down his chest, and he growls, "I do."

"Then fucking prove it," you challenge, and that's it, the last frayed thread of his self-control snaps.

Jason's hips slam into yours, driving his cock so deep you see stars, and you cry out, fingers scrambling for purchase against the cushions. His hands grip your waist, holding you still so all you can do is take it, body jerking with each brutal thrust, wet sounds filling the room every time his cock splits you open.

Your cunt grips him like a vice, soaked and clenching around him, dragging him back in every time he pulls out, and the slick slide is so obscene, so messy, it only makes him fuck you harder. His hips snap against your ass, the slap of skin on skin echoing, and you bury your face in your arms, moaning his name like a prayer.

"Still wanna fucking die, you idiot?" you gasp between moans, glaring at him over your shoulder, and Jason groans, dropping one hand to slap your ass again.

"Shut up," he pants, driving in deep enough to knock the air out of you. "God, baby—you're so fuckin' wet for me."

"Because you're—you're so fucking stupid," you sob, half-scolding, half-moan. "What if—what if you get yourself killed, and who the fuck's gonna fuck me like this?"

"Jesus Christ," Jason groans, the filthy confession sending a sharp pulse of heat straight to his cock, making it throb inside you. "No one, baby, no one else is ever gonna touch this pussy."

He fucks you harder, deeper, grinding into you until you're shaking under him, toes curling, nails clawing at the couch. Every thrust punches little gasps from your throat, and you can't stop talking, can't stop scolding him even as he's fucking you stupid.

"You love me?" you pant, voice high and breathless.

"Love you so much, baby," he groans, leaning over you, lips against your ear. "Love you, love this body, love this perfect fuckin' pussy. All mine, baby. All fuckin' mine."

"Show me," you whisper, voice shaking. "Show me how much."

Jason's hips snap forward, hard enough to drive you into the couch, and you moan his name, cunt squeezing tight around him. "I'll show you, doll," he pants, sweat dripping down his back. "I'll show you exactly how much."

His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, spreading your ass, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks tomorrow, and you'll love every fucking one of them. Each thrust is brutal, his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy, so slick with arousal and his precum that it drips down your thighs, making a mess.

"Look at this greedy fuckin' pussy," he groans, thumbs spreading you open wider just so he can watch. "Suckin' me in like you missed this dick."

"I did," you gasp, fingers clutching at the couch cushions. "But you're still a fucking idiot."

Jason grits his teeth, hips snapping forward hard enough to shove you up the couch, your knees scraping against the fabric. Your slick little cunt grips him tight, soft and warm and soaked inside, milking his cock every time he drags back just to slam back in. Precum leaks from the swollen tip, mixing with your slick, and every thrust pushes it deeper, making you feel so full you can barely breathe.

The couch creaks under both of you, the whole thing rocking with the force of his thrusts, and Jason can't tear his eyes away from the way your ass bounces every time his hips smack into you. Your skin glows, sweat-slick and gorgeous, and he can see the way his dick stretches you open, disappearing into your perfect pussy over and over again.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, almost to himself. "You're perfect. This pussy's fuckin' perfect."

"Damn right it is," you pant, pushing back against him until you're stuffed full all over again. "And if you get yourself killed, who the fuck is supposed to fuck me like this?"

That ticks him off just right this time. His hand shoots out, grabbing the back of your neck, not to hurt, but to hold, to control, and he hauls you upright, your back pressed flush to his broad chest. You gasp, legs shaking, the stretch of his cock inside you deeper, hitting that sweet spot that makes you cry out.

"Who said I was goin' anywhere?" he growls against your ear, hand sliding up from your neck to wrap gently around your throat. "You think I'd leave you, baby? Fuck no."

His other hand finds your tits, fingers tugging at the bra you still hadn't taken off, yanking the cups down completely so your soft skin spills into his hand. He palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, and you moan loud, head tipping back onto his shoulder.

"You love me?" you whisper, breath hitching with every thrust.

"You know I do," he pants, fucking up into you, hips rolling slow but deep, stuffing you so full you swear you can feel him in your throat.

"Then fucking show me," you challenge, rocking your hips down to meet him.

Jason groans, fingers tightening on your throat just a little, enough to make your cunt flutter around him. "I am," he mutters, mouth hot on your neck. "Fuckin' you so good no one else could ever touch you— no one else could make you this wet, this fuckin' messy."

He shoves you back down, face to the cushions, ass in the air, spreading you wide so he can see everything. Especially the way your slick pussy stretches around him, sucking him back in every time he pulls out, shiny with your wetness and his precum.

"Fuckin' shit, baby," he groans, watching his cock slide in and out of your perfect little pussy. "You're fuckin' drippin'."

"Because you're that good, asshole," you snap back, voice muffled by the cushions.

Jason slaps your ass hard enough to make you jolt, cunt squeezing down on him so tight his vision blurs for a second. "Yeah? Then why the fuck you talkin' so much?"

"Because you're a fucking idiot," you sob, back arching when he drives in deep. "You don't—you don't need to start shit every time someone looks at me, Jay. You're the only one who gets to fuck me like this, don't you know that?"

Jason groans, hands tightening on your hips as he slams into you harder, hips snapping, driving you into the couch so deep your knees nearly buckle.

"I know, doll," he pants, voice wrecked. "I know, fuck—I just love you so much, I can't stand anyone else even lookin' at you."

"Then—then fuck me harder," you gasp, tears in your eyes from how good he feels, how perfectly his thick cock fills you up, dragging against every sweet spot inside you. "Fuck me so good I can't even think about anyone else."

Jason yanks you up again, your back flush to his sweat-slick chest, his cock buried so deep you swear you feel him in your fucking lungs. His big hand cups your jaw, turning your face toward him, and he kisses you messy, tongue sliding between your parted lips like he's starving for the taste of you. It's sloppy, wet, both of you panting into each other's mouths, sucking on tongues, biting at lips.

You moan into his mouth when his free hand finds your clit, two fingers rubbing sharp, relentless circles over the sensitive little bud. It's too much, too fast, your cunt already stretched wide and soaked around him, every rub of his fingers making you clench down tighter.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, breath hot against your cheek, hips snapping up into you so hard you bounce. "You're so fuckin' wet—you're drippin' all over my dick."

His fingers don't slow down, and you can't do anything but take it, legs shaking, cunt squeezing around him, your swollen clit throbbing under his ruthless touch. The heat coils low in your belly, sharp and fast, climbing so high so fast it almost scares you.

"Jay—fuck—wait, I—"

Your hand flies down, grabbing at his wrist, trying to ease him off your overstimulated clit, but he's not budging, the muscle in his forearm flexing as he presses down harder.

"No," he growls into your ear, voice wrecked. "You wanted me to fuck you like I mean it? This is what that fuckin' means, baby."

His dick pounds into you mercilessly, every thrust dragging against your sweetest spot, thick and hot and leaking inside you, smearing precum along your fluttering walls. You're soaking him, so slick you can hear the obscene squelch every time he sinks in to the hilt as he rubs your puffy little clit.

Your whole body locks up, spine arching, mouth falling open as you cum so hard it knocks the breath out of you, that sharp edge of pleasure tipping you into freefall. Your pussy clamps down on his cock, tight and trembling, and Jason fucking moans, jaw clenched, hips stuttering as you soak his dick with wave after wave of hot, slick arousal.

But he doesn't stop.

"Gimme more," he pants, fingers ruthless on your clit. "C'mon, baby, you can do it, show me how messy you can get."

"Jason, I—fuck—fuck—"

Your thighs quake, eyes rolling back, and when he starts to slap over your clit lightly, it hits like a live wire—your whole body seizes, cunt pulsing around him, and then it happens.

You fucking squirt, hot and sudden, a slick rush spilling from your cunt, drenching both of you in a messy gush that soaks the couch, his thighs, your thighs—every inch of skin that's pressed together—leaving your pussy glistening, clenching around his dick as your juices drip down to the cushions. It's a mess you didn't even know you could make, and Jason loses it.

You both knew you could squirt when you were drunk off your ass, but this? This was all him. And you're both wrecked with it—you, boneless and trembling, him, harder than fucking steel inside you, completely gone for you.

"Holy fuck, baby," he groans, voice somewhere between awe and pure hunger.

Your whole body shakes, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer intensity, overstimulated to the point of pain-tinged pleasure, and Jason kisses you through it, swallowing your sobs and moans right from your tongue.

It's still so messy—hot, wet, open-mouthed, tongues licking into each other's mouths, tasting sweat and spit and you, and he groans deep in his chest like you're the best thing he's ever had.

His cock keeps sliding into your soaked, fluttering cunt, so slick it's almost effortless, but you're still so tight, sucking him in greedily. His fingers finally ease off your clit, stroking instead of circling, soothing instead of torturing, but his kiss stays just as hungry. Desperate like he's trying to memorize your taste, the way you moan into his mouth when you can barely even catch your breath.

"Baby," he murmurs between kisses, breathless and tender and filthy all at once. "You're so fuckin' good for me. Love this pussy—love you."

Jason's lips break from yours, sliding down your jaw, over the curve of your throat, hot breath ghosting over your pulse before his mouth seals against your neck. He sucks hard, tongue flicking over the skin, leaving a bruising, sloppy mark.

And the whole time, his hips keep working, dragging his thick cock in and out of your soaked, swollen cunt, slow but deep, hitting every spot that makes your toes curl.

"Fuck, Jay—" you whimper, head tilting to give him more of your neck, hands clutching at his wrists, his arms, anywhere you can reach to steady yourself.

He hums low in his throat, all smug and wicked, and you can feel him smirk against your skin. "You want my cum, baby?"

You moan loud, nodding so fast it makes him chuckle.

"Of course you do," he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, kissing his way up to your ear. "This needy little pussy loves my cum, huh?"

"Yes," you gasp, writhing against him, trying to push back and take him deeper, to make him give it to you.

But he just teases, slowing his thrusts, dragging every inch out before pushing back in so slowly, letting you feel just how thick and hot he is inside you. "Thought you were mad at me, pretty girl."

"I am," you snap, but it's breathless, your earlier fire softened by the way he's fucking you so deep and slow, pulling every sound he loves right out of your throat.

"Yeah?" he smirks, tongue licking over your racing pulse. "Then why should I cum inside this perfect little pussy if you're still so fuckin' mad?"

"Jason—" you whine, pushing back harder, but his hand holds you steady, thumb pressing into your hip, controlling the pace no matter how desperate you are.

"Gotta convince me, baby," he taunts, voice all low and syrupy-sweet, fingers sliding down to your clit just to flick it, making you jolt and clench down hard on his cock. "Why should I fill you up, huh? Gimme one good reason."

"Because I need it," you gasp, fingers clawing at the couch cushions. "Need you to cum inside me, need to feel it—fuck—please, Jay."

"Need it?" He grins against your neck, biting just hard enough to make you yelp. "Sounds like my girl's not so mad after all."

"I am—"

"No, you're not," he cuts you off, fucking into you a little faster, just to hear the pitch of your voice climb. "You just like actin' tough until you're full of my dick, huh?"

You nod frantically, pride shredded, nothing left but raw, aching need. "Yes—yes—God, yes—please, Jay."

"Please, what?" His cock drags against your sweet spot with every thrust, his fingers circling your clit again, faster this time. "Say it, baby. Tell me exactly what you want."

"Want you to cum inside me," you sob, back arching, thighs trembling. "Want to feel it dripping out—want to be so fucking full of you, Jay, please—"

That does it. His grip tightens as he snaps his hips forward, fucking you deep, no more teasing, just hard, filthy thrusts, skin slapping skin, his cock driving into your slick little cunt until the wet noises echo louder than your breathless moans.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, forehead pressing to your shoulder. "Gonna give it to you— gonna fill this perfect pussy up."

You moan his name like a prayer, clenching down so hard it makes him stutter, and then he's gone, hips jerking, cock throbbing deep inside you as he spills, hot and thick, cum flooding your pussy in pulse after pulse after pulse.

It's so much—the heat of it, the way his dick twitches inside you with every spurt, and fuck, you feel everything. The way his cock pulses, the way his cum paints your insides, so deep, so full, your body reacts before you even realize, pleasure slamming through you again, white-hot and all-consuming.

"Oh—fuck—fuck—"

Your whole body trembles, seizing up as you arch, as your walls clamp down hard around his dick, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge again, even sharper this time.

Jason groans, choked and wrecked, because he feels it. The way your pussy flutters, grips him like a vice, milking him, dragging out his orgasm as another thick pulse of cum spurts deep inside you.

"Shit, pretty girl—fuck—"

His voice is hoarse, breathless, hands locking onto your hips as he bucks up, rutting into you with slow, desperate rolls, like he's trying to fuck his cum deeper.

You're soaking him, your release gushing around his dick, slick dripping down to his balls, making everything filthy as you keen, breath hitching, body trembling. The pleasure is so much you can't stop shaking, can't stop gasping, every little twitch of his cock sending more sparks crackling through your limbs.

Jason groans again, deep and raw, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you right where he wants you, his cock still buried inside, still throbbing, even as his hips slow, his whole body shuddering against yours.

"Jesus Christ, baby—" He swallows hard, head falling forward against your shoulder, voice thick, half-slurred. "Damn near killed me."

But he doesn't let go. He won't. His arms curl around you, holding you close, keeping you locked against him, cock still nestled deep, even as his cum drips out, thick and hot, making a mess between your thighs.

You both shudder, your pussy milking him for everything, his cock twitching, still so sensitive it makes him groan low in his throat as he grinds against you, lazy and slow. You're so full you leak around him, creamy slick dripping down his balls, sticky and hot, smearing where your thighs press together.

It's messy, obscene, perfect, and he loves every second of it.

He kisses your shoulder, still panting, his hand sliding up your stomach to cup your tits, lazy fingers playing with one nipple. "Still mad, baby?"

"Maybe," you mumble, face buried in the crook of his neck, completely fucked stupid.

Jason's laugh rumbles low in his chest, warm and rough and just so him, his lips pressing to your temple in a lazy, affectionate kiss. "You're a terrible liar, doll."

His cock slips free from your fluttering cunt with a slick, obscene noise, your pussy clenching reflexively at the sudden emptiness, already missing him even with his cum still leaking from your swollen slit. It smears down your inner thighs, dripping onto the couch cushion below, and Jason watches it like a man obsessed, fingers tracing over the slick mess he made of you before finally easing you down against him.

You whine, soft and spent, but you don't fight it when he turns you gently, pulling your smaller body right on top of his, the perfect little puzzle piece to his broad, muscular frame. Your skin feels like it's buzzing, every inch of you overstimulated and tender, but his hands are so gentle.

Big palms soothing up and down your back, warm fingers tracing lazy circles along your spine. His lips find your temple again, softer this time, and the two of you just breathe, hearts still pounding, somehow falling into the same steady rhythm.

You nuzzle into his neck, breath warm against his skin, and for a while, the only sound is both of you catching your breath, bodies molding together.

After a long, quiet moment, Jason's voice breaks the silence—rough, hesitant. "I'm sorry."

You blink up at him, your face blissed-out and sleepy, limbs heavy, but you still reach up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing gently over the scar there. His hand comes up to cover yours, his palm dwarfing yours as he lifts it to his mouth, kissing your palm, his lips warm and soft.

"I'm sorry too," you murmur, voice soft, but Jason just shakes his head.

"Nah," he says, eyes flicking up to the ceiling like it's easier to talk to that than to you. "It was my fault. I just..." he trails off, breath hitching slightly, and for a rare moment, Jason Todd looks nervous.

You wait, patient and quiet, until he finally sighs, his grip on your hand tightening just a bit. "I never had this kind of love before," he says, voice so low you almost miss it. "Ever."

Your heart aches, and you squeeze his hand back, silently urging him to keep going.

"And yeah, I don't—I don't know how to behave sometimes," he admits, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "I know it's wrong to be so fuckin' possessive. To assume you're mine just because I want you to be."

"Baby," you whisper, brow furrowing, but he keeps talking, like he has to get it all out before he loses his nerve.

"It's selfish and stupid," he says, frustrated with himself. "But I just... I never felt this way about anyone before. And it's fuckin' terrifyin', but it's also the best goddamn thing that's ever happened to me."

Your chest aches, soft and warm and so full of love for this man who's only ever known how to fight for what he wants, and now he's fighting himself, just to figure out how to love you right.

You tilt his chin until he's looking at you again, your eyes wide and soft and just a little stunned, because yeah, Jason's softer with you, you know that. But this? This vulnerability, this naked honesty, this is rare. This is the part of him no one gets to see.

"What are you talking about, baby?" you whisper, thumb tracing his lower lip. "I'm yours. You don't have to doubt that."

His eyes darken, something vulnerable flickering beneath the heat. "Yeah, but—"

"No 'but'," you cut him off, leaning down to kiss him—soft, sweet, no heat this time, just love. "I am yours, Jay. You don't own me, but I belong to you. And that's my choice."

His arms tighten around you, almost crushing you to his chest, but you don't complain. You just melt into it, letting him hold you like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers if he lets go.

And yeah, maybe your pussy's still throbbing, and there's cum dripping down your thighs, and you both reek of sweat and sex, but right now? Right now, all that matters is this.

You shift slightly on top of him, just enough to press your lips to his chest—soft, lingering, right over his heart. It's steady beneath your mouth, a quiet, strong beat that reminds you he's here. And you hold onto that, breathing him in as you kiss him again, even softer this time.

Jason's hand slides up your back, fingers weaving into your hair as he cups the back of your head, guiding you up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. It's so gentle, so sweet, and your chest aches all over again, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

"I'm sorry I said I want you to change for me," you murmur, voice quiet and a little hoarse. "I didn't mean it like that. I just..." you sigh, fingers tracing idle patterns over his ribs. "I knew what I was getting into when we first met. I knew. And I thought that over time, it would be easier to just... I don't know... get used to the idea that one day you might not come home."

His hand tightens slightly in your hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he's listening.

"But it's not," you whisper, voice cracking slightly.

"I know," he says softly, his lips finding your temple again.

You exhale, shaky and uneven, and your voice wavers when you say, "I just want you to promise you'll always come back to me. I can't lose you, Jason. You're the only person in my life I've ever loved like this, and I just... I can't—"

The words catch in your throat, and you almost sniffle, but Jason's already there, tilting your chin up until you meet his gaze. And fuck, the way he looks at you—like you're everything, like you hung the goddamn moon—it almost breaks you.

He can't stand seeing you cry. Not like this. Crying because he fucks you stupid? Sure, any day of the week. But crying because you're scared of losing him? That kills him a little.

His thumb strokes along your cheek, brushing away the tears threatening to spill. "I promise, doll," he says, voice low and steady and so fucking sincere it hurts. "I'll always come back to you."

You nod, swallowing hard before you nuzzle back into the crook of his neck, letting his warmth wrap around you like a shield. His arms tighten around you again, holding you like you're his lifeline. And maybe you are.

And yeah, there's still mess between your thighs, and the couch probably needs to be burned after what you just did to it, but none of that matters right now. All that matters is this. Just you and Jason, skin to skin, hearts pounding in sync, holding onto each other like the world outside doesn't exist.

After a quick cleanup—you both do what you can with the poor couch, but honestly, there's only so much scrubbing that'll save it—you end up in the shower together, lazily soaping each other up with that vanilla body wash you love. Jason grumbles about how it's too sweet and not him, but the second you press your slick, warm body against his under the spray, he shuts up real fast.

Wrapped in clean clothes, smelling like dessert, you curl up on the couch, freshly dressed in one of his worn-out t-shirts that hangs off your shoulder and a pair of cotton panties. Jason settles next to you in his sweats, bare chested, all warm skin and ink as you tangle yourself around him like the needy gremlin you are.

A box of shitty pizza rests between you—a sad, greasy excuse for a meal, but somehow perfect for tonight—and some trash reality show plays in the background, the kind that makes you both question humanity.

Jason glances at you, his arm stretched around your shoulders, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. "So... we good?"

You roll your eyes, groaning dramatically, before leaning over to chomp a massive bite out of his slice, despite the fact you're already holding your own.

"You little brat," he mutters, shaking his head, but there's no real heat in it. If anything, the way he smiles at you—soft, warm, a little exasperated—makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

You just flash him a smug grin, mouth full of stolen pizza, and lean your head on his shoulder, sighing happily. "We're good, Jay."

And yeah, the couch will never be the same, and the pizza's objectively terrible, and the show's giving you both secondhand embarrassment. But with you curled into him, his arm wrapped around your waist, and your bare leg hooked over his thigh, Jason figures he might just be the luckiest motherfucker in Gotham.

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ellastone-olsen · 1 year ago

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Could I request something Rhaenyra x Stark!reader smut with them being feral codependent soulmates? I love that trope. They would totally be unhinged and in love wives together plus the fire and ice parallels 😭 Like after Laenor “dies”, Rhaenyra’s goes looking for a new spouse and runs into Stark!reader and it’s just love/obsession at first sight?

MY QUEEN IS CRUEL

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!Stark!reader

Summary: your family comes from Winterfell to the capital at the invitation of the Targaryen family. Princess Rhaenyra announced that she would choose a new spouse. Your brother was a contender from the House of Stark, but it seems to the princess that another contender from the rulers of the north is more interesting.

Warnings: NSFW 18+, soulmates dynamic, mentions of blood and alcohol, innocent reader, virginity loss, oral, fingering

Word count: 3.1k

AN: omg my first House of the Dragon fic, I hope I translated some titles and names correctly. Thanks for the request, it took me so long to write this, but I love Rhaenyra so much 💕

Rhaenys's bitter, heartbreaking cry is heard in the silence of the room. The woman looks at the burnt body that just a few minutes ago was her son. “Who allowed this?! Why wasn’t anyone around?!” Corlys embraces his wife in rage and grief. That day, sadness became the main companion of the grieving parents.

No one knows that on the shore, the one who is now considered dead is running towards the boat. Laenor Velaryon sails away to disappear forever from this life in which he was imprisoned. Rhaenyra gave him a chance at happiness and Laenor will not forget this.

Rhaenyra Targaryen is officially recognized as a widow. It is expected that rumors about the death of the princess's husband began to spread like a plague, from servants to other servants, and those to their families, from there the plague was transmitted to all seven kingdoms. Some believed in the official story, others, like the grieving mother, blamed the Targaryen family for everything, they said that the princess ordered the murder, that she was tired of her husband. But for Rhaenyra it was enough to know that this was absurdity and slander.

“So what are you going to do next?” Daemon approached unnoticed. Rhaenyra didn’t look at him, her gaze was directed far out to sea. "I think I'm looking for a new spouse." Damon thought the hint was crystal clear. He thought that she still wanted him, wanted to finish what they started that night all those years ago. “Rhaenyra...” He was interrupted, “No uncle, leave it alone. Kiss me and let me go. If you do not...” A ringing silence hung between them. The phrase did not need to be continued; he already understood it.

King's Landing was filled with lords, princes and princesses from all over Westeros. The royal family invited all the noble houses, announcing that the heir to the iron throne would thus choose a new life partner.

“I don’t understand why you took me with you.” Your carriage was approaching to the King's Landing. Your parents were, as always, calm and cool, as befits the Starks, the rulers of the north. Your younger brother looked around the windows excitedly, clearly excited about his first trip outside of Winterfell. “Your mother and I think that you also need to see the capital.” Your father, as always, spoke directly and to the point. You smiled bitterly. “Only we’re here to try to marry Rob to this pompous princess.” You didn’t hide your bias towards this whole thing, which was more like an auction. “Y/N just try to say something like that about the princess in public and you will disgrace the entire House of Starks.”

For the rest of the trip you rode in silence, only occasionally fiddling with the hilt of the sword hidden in a sheath under your heavy black coat. Perhaps you had a little curiosity about the princess. What does the one who will take the iron throne look like, against whom there was so much outrage just because she was a woman. You thought that she must be strong and stubborn just like her ancestors. The same as the previously lived Visenya about whom you once read.

The carriage stopped.

“Do I have to wear this? How will I take my sword with me?” Your mother stood in the chambers that had kindly been allocated to you and watched as a maid helped you lace up a black dress with antique long sleeves. “You don't need the sword today, honey. This is a royal ball and you are not a knight in service." You looked in the mirror, and even though dresses weren't something you wore often, it didn't look bad at all for your taste. Still, the velvet in tandem with the large fur coat that you took from Winterfell looked harmonious.

“But what if something goes wrong and I’m left without a weapon?” You insisted. After so many years of training, the sword became an extension of you, and going out without it was akin to death. "The Royal Guard will protect us all." Your mother tried to be gentle and calm your worries. The woman came up behind you and put her hands on your shoulders. “For just one evening, be a princess and not a rude warrior. For me." You covered her hands. "Okay, just for you."

All arriving guests entered the huge hall in turn, after which they were seated at long tables, which were bursting with an abundance of dishes kindly offered by the royal family. “The Starks of Winterfell,” the man shouted and your family entered the hall. You followed your parents straight to the table in the center, at which the Targaryen couple was already sitting with the king and that famous Princess Rhaenyra at their head. Finally, you were close enough that you could see a woman with dazzling white hair and sharp purple eyes. Your breath caught somewhere in the depths and you couldn’t look away. It seems at this moment the ice and skepticism inside you broke, burst into a thousand pieces. You had to lower your head according to the rules of etiquette, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from contemplation. And when she finally looked at you, when your eyes met, you realized that you had problems. “Your Grace, this is our son Rob and eldest daughter Y/N.” Your father, as the head of the family, introduced his children and added, “I hope that Rob can claim the place of your husband Princess Rhaenyra.”

At these words, you remembered why you were here and a little jealousy pricked somewhere in your chest. You were almost jealous of your brother. But who are you to be jealous, because you just met. This is all becoming too strange, but so tempting. You sat down and the evening began.

Wines of different varieties continually filled the glasses of rich gentlemen, everyone laughed, joked and discussed who the heiress would choose as her husband. The Lannisters were sitting next to you and you could hear snatches of greasy jokes about how their eldest son could have Rhaenyra in all poses. Anger boiled inside you, how could this bastard say such things about this woman. “And they also say that her sons are bastards, and she is a whore.” The loud laughter of the Lannisters infuriated you even more. “Then your house is no better for having sworn allegiance to a whore.” You thought you said it quietly, but they apparently heard you.

“I didn’t hear what the pup from Winterfell was barking just now?” Everyone who was at your table fell silent and the whole room also paid attention to this. “I said what I meant.” The man was already deeply drunk and clearly in the mood for a fight. He stood up and you stood up next, you were the same height. “If you are so brave, then say out loud what you think of the princess.” Rhaenyra's purple eyes watched your quarrel carefully, it would be a lie to say that she did not look at you all evening, knowing that all the men in this room would be denied. She definitely liked your spark and wanted to see what happened next.

“I said that her sons are bastards, and she is a whore.” The man said the last word slowly, syllable by syllable, everyone present was in suspense. King Viserys took out his favorite blade. "I'll cut out your filthy tongue." As soon as he finished the phrase, a knife, prudently hidden under a fur coat, appeared in your hand and pinned Lannister’s palm to the table. He tried to get it. “There are a lot of vital veins in this part of the arm; if you try to pull it out, you will bleed to death.” The white cloaks immediately drew their swords and stood ready. Rhaenyra's entire being was hypnotized in delight by your actions and words, at that moment she chose her spouse. The entire Lannister family stood up and was ready to tear you apart.

"Get them out." For the first time that evening, Rhaenyra's voice broke the silence of the event. The bastard's face lit up with a smile. “My princess, thank you...” But before he could finish speaking, the guards twisted his hands, pulling the knife out of his palm, causing the man to let out a bitter scream. The entire Lannister family was disgracedly eliminated from the feast; there was silence for several more minutes, only whispers were heard from different sides.

"What are you doing." Your father pulled you by the arm, urging you to sit down, and glared at you with eyes full of rage. “Your mother asked you not to take weapons with you.” “She asked not to take the sword, dear father.” Rhaenyra stood up. “Today, to our great regret, unpleasant and unacceptable events occurred for the royal court.” She paused, her gaze returning to you and a smile gracing her lips. “But let’s not let these events overshadow our holiday, let’s raise our glasses and have a feast.” The crowd cheered and raised their glasses as they praised Princess Rhaenyra's wisdom and resilience. The celebration continued until late at night, you drank several glasses of wine after the incident and by the end you were decently drunk.

All evening you kept looking at Rhaenyra, your head was filled with thoughts about how beautiful and wise she is, about how wrong you were, how you regret that you didn’t want to go to the capital. But then these euphoric thoughts were darkened by the fact of her imminent marriage to one of the men of these noble houses and perhaps even to your brother.

You headed to your chambers, every now and then passing by local servants. Your legs dragged you heavily, your mind only thought about taking a warm bath and washing away inappropriate thoughts about the heiress. The heavy door opened with a slight creak, letting you into the semi-darkness of the room. You thought that you asked the servants to extinguish all the candles, but for some reason they were burning. Your gaze caught on an unfamiliar figure standing with his back to you, and the knife that had recently been in the Lannister’s bastard was again in your hand, waiting to defend yourself from intruders.

"You're a little warrior aren't you?" A velvety voice broke the silence and the stranger turned to face you. You immediately lowered the knife. “Your Grace, forgive me, I didn’t know it was you.” You immediately bent your knee in front of her. You were absolutely at a loss and the whole situation was a little confusing, why was the princess, the heir to the throne, waiting for you in your chambers in the middle of the night? “No need for formalities, please stand up.”

She walked through your chambers looking at some of your personal belongings until she found the sword. “Oh, this is your main weapon, as I understand it, you don’t to swing a knife every time of course ...” she bent down to take a closer look at the sparkling silver blade. “Such a beautiful thing, to match the owner.” Her compliment made your already red cheeks flush. “Did you want to talk about what happened, Your Grace?” you desperately wanted to change the topic.

“Did your mother ever tell you the legend of soulmates?” You were dumbfounded by her question. “Your Grace, I don’t quite understand...” She continued to walk around the room. “Don’t they really tell such stories in the north?” Her tone sounded fakely upset. “They say I know one.” “Then tell me too.”

You didn’t understand anything, Rhaenyra Targaryen came to you at night to listen to fairy tales for children? Perhaps something was put in the wine and now you were hallucinating, but it seemed like everything looked real. The woman lit the fireplace and, unbecoming for a future queen, sat down on the soft fur in front of the fire. She looked up at you, inviting you to sit next to her, you obeyed. The crackling of logs, the heat of the fire and the soft floral perfume of Rhaenyra lulled to sleep.

“My mother... told me when I was a child that there was a belief...” you cleaned the throat. “That every person has their own soulmate, but not everyone is able to find it, it’s like a person who was created by the seven gods just for you.” Rhaenyra began to unravel her tight braid; her head began to hurt unpleasantly from her hairstyle. You watched out of the corner of your eye as her snow-white strands gradually fell onto her shoulders. “And how do you understand who exactly your person is?” She encouraged you to continue. “I don’t remember exactly, but they said that when you see him or her, you will immediately understand, just the first glance or the first meeting and…boom.” "Boom?" She asked again, not quite understanding your strange wording. "Yes." You were looking at the burning logs when Rhaenyra's hand covered yours. She has already unbraided her hair. “Do you want to brush them?” Something strange was clearly happening. But who are you to refuse, you nodded and took the wooden comb brought from Winterfell from the nightstand. Hands carefully took strands of silver hair and combed them, as if they would break from the wrong movement.

“Do you believe in this legends?” You thought for a second. “I’m not sure, or rather I didn’t believe it before, but now these fairy tales don’t seem so stupid to me.” You put comb down, combing all hair perfectly. “I don’t understand why these questions are asked, Your Grace.” Your head was a complete mess due to the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline caused by the woman next to you. “Please call me Rhaenyra.” She turned to face you. “You understand everything, little warrior, don’t lie to me.” The woman moved closer and closer until she placed one hand on your shoulder. "Your Grace...Rhaenira." She leaned in so close that her lips were almost touching yours. "I want you." You looked into bright purple eyes, which shone yellow in the firelight. “Tell me the wolf of Winterfell, do you want me?” Her perfume smelled so delicious, her soft skin, white as her hair, that the dress did not hide, begged to be touched, “I...yes please, I want you.”

Rhaenyra's lips touched yours, sharing the sweetness of the recently drunk wine. One of the woman's hands grabbed the collar of your velvet dress and began to pull it down your shoulders to free your soft breasts. She carefully laid you on your back, on the soft fur, holding the back of your head. Her lips moved to her neck, then to her shoulder and then wrapped around her pink nipple. The action caused you to place your hand on her head, stroking her silver hair. The princess's hands lifted the skirt of the dress to the waist and stroked the skin of your soft thighs. "Cute little thing." She giggled and touched your lips again. The kiss was untidy, but full of tenderness and desire. Rhaenyra relieved you of underwear, her fingers slipped inside without a barrier, you were completely wet, just for her, but then she remembered. “Is this your first time?” She stopped any action, waiting in horror for an answer. "Yes, my grace." Rhaenyra buried her nose in the crook of your neck and began to kiss you, whispering, “I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier.” Your hand rested on hers that was still between your legs. “Please continue, I want this more than anything.”

And she continued, gently pounding and curling her fingers to hit that sensitive spot inside that made you see stars and whine like a pup. "Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, oh please my grace." Your hand touched the sensitive bud for additional stimulation. “Oh fuck, fuck...I'm gonna...” “Cum for me, cum for your queen.” Her movements became faster and clearer until you came, squeezing around her long fingers, biting your hand so as not to scream from the new sensations that she was giving you. She pulled out and showed you her hand, which sparkled in the firelight from your release, and then licked every last drop, causing your eyes to darken.

When you came to your senses, you stood up, only to strip completely and push Rhaenyra towards the bed, urging you to sit on it. "Please let me return the favor." You knelt in front of her, lifting the skirt of her dress up to expose her stockinged legs. Your lips kissed every centimeter of skin, no one worshiped it like you. When your mouth reaches her pussy, you notice that her arousal has left a wet mark on the bed linen. The tongue draws a line along the entire length, collecting her arousal, and the woman moans, lowering her hand to stroke your cheek. “My little savior, tell me, would you have killed him if I had not intervened?” You kiss her palm. "Yes my grace." And you hug her sensitive bud with your lips, simultaneously pushing three fingers inside, immediately picking up a fast pace. "Oh Gods!" She moans and screams without being embarrassed to be heard, the way you stretch her drives the woman crazy. “Fuck, that’s it!” and “Yeah right there, that’s my good girl.” You fuck her, trying to please your queen as best as possible and feel how she clench around your fingers. “Fuck fuck Y/N!” She cums, for a long time, and you fuck her through orgasm until she whines from overstimulation, asking her to stop.

You move onto the bed and lie on top of her again, kissing her. “I didn’t believe in soulmates until I saw you.” She hugs you, covering your naked body. You lie there, again inhaling the aroma of her perfume and not believing in the reality of what happened. “I would like to believe that it’s true,” she replies and you think.

“Have you already chosen someone to be your spouse?” You say this quietly, in a whisper. It was at this moment that you remembered why your family came here in the first place and how you may have acted meanly towards your brother. She laughs and you don't understand. "Yes, I chose you."

You lift your head sharply, looking into those purple eyes to see if she's deceiving you. “But...what if people are against it, what will you do?”

She thought about it, she knew that there would be dissatisfied people. “Then I will personally give Syrax the command to burn to the ground anyone who questions my choice.”

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra is my queen #rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #hotd rhaenyra

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ryo-kaikura · 1 month ago

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Yandere Male Siren x Pirate Male Reader

Tw: yandere, mentions of killing, maybe actual killing, forced abortion

Btw, you're around 180cm, you're slightly a jerk, I made siren autonomy to have both male and female genitalia in both siren form and human form, it's 18+ in more ways than one. I was also slightly horny making *that* scene (⁠◔⁠‿⁠◔⁠)

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You're a captain, the captain of one of the feared pirates, the black skull, but currently you're on a small boat, rowing to a beach… why? Because you're meeting a siren.

Usually, sirens are out to kill but it seems like this one isn't like the rest. He's kind, good looking and has a beautiful voice, his name's Morien.

Though truthfully his name has a slightly eerie meaning… Most parents don't truly think deeply of their children’s names especially when they even threw that children away.

I mean I don't like sirens but Morien is kind. When we first met, I was scouting for a deep enough area to dock, since I was familiar with the rocky area unlike my crew, and sending any of them would lead to their deaths. And even though I knew the area, it seems like I would've still died in a whirlpool that mysteriously showed up. In my almost unconscious state I saw a big black fish tail that seemed to gleam under the little to no sun in the area I was pulled in. I didn't even realize my foot got stuck between some rocks until the black fish tail came around and showed a hand that pulled me to the surface. While being pulled to the surface, I seem to have gone unconscious.

When I came to, a siren, with flowing dark blue hair and skin that seemed to be bathed in milk with its almost near milky white color and a fish tail that seemed like the starry night sky with dark purple and black shine and tiny sparkles as the shine reflects on it, was wrapping my injured leg with a leaf. In an instant I try to get to my sword but realize it's nowhere near me. So I prepare myself for any horror it might show to me… but after 30 minutes it seems l be struggling with the bandage.

‘How cute’ so I called out and the siren seem to be in fear while turning around. And with a squeak he said “imsorryiwaspassingbysawyoustuck *inhale* soItriedtosaveyoubutionlynowhowtobringyoutothwsurface *exhale* plsdontkillme” and you just responded with a chuckle which seems to cause him to turn red. The siren then continued “my name's Morien, what's yours?”as he tilted his head. “Mine's M/n, fishy”

“By the way, aren't sirens supposed to go in groups? Why're you all alone, fishy”

“I was thrown out of the kingdom, since I refuse to lure any humans” “but I'm also lonely since anyone that saw I was a siren would try to kill me, by the way… I put your sword next to me, since I didn't want you kill me :(´◦ω◦｀):”

After that we talked until the sun was around halfway from setting. And he gave me a bell, where I could just say the location and ring the bell and he would instantly be notified

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After month of doing like this, suddenly I felt the boat steer to the left where I saw it was filled with Rocky areas, the I saw, Morien singing? But it doesn't seem like Morien, and Morien said he was kicked out for not luring humans

FUCK!!

Those are sirens.

I quickly took control of the ship from one of my crew that had been lured and brought the ship to safety. Later that night when they came to, they were instantly apologizing for falling for a sirens trick. Of course I forgave them, seems stupid not to forgive them since I was also lured but… they don't know that.

After a few more days sailing I saw a man desperately calling for help. So I asked my crew to help him up. But as they were bringing him up, they seemed to be completely whipped by him. The man introduced me and my crew as Caelun. He has dewy light brown skin that's almost white, flowy honey colored hair and green pupils, his height around 170 cm. Though e got everyone whipped, I could care less, in fact its seem I'm excited to meet with Morien.

That night we were able to anchor the boat and I decided to meet with Morien, so I said the location to the bell and rang it before going down on one of my small boats. Unknown to me, a certain honey colored hair is following me but he's not fully human, as where his feet are supposed to be is a fish tail. Not long after, I docked my boat and saw Morien. And like always he seemed giddy to meet with me again. After talking for a while and the moon already at its peak I decided to go back but suddenly Morien suggested bringing him on the ship. I didn't know how, but somehow he was able to turn into a human. So I brought him back with me as I rowed the boat back, unknown to me, the certain honey haired boy was furious.

When I got back, I introduced him to my crew and it seemed like his height's now 175cm and his once flowing hair turned into short messy dark purple hair, after that I gave him his own room and went back to my own. Suddenly I saw Caelun wearing lingerie on my bed, I couldn't seem to look away, somehow, I got hard. Without a care in the world, I went and had fun with Caelun, we did it till morning, where he had bite marks and hickeys that all around his body, cum was still dropping from his gaping cunt that seemed to be unable to close with how long I fucked it open, I'm also praying he won't get a kid cause of this. Cause of the intense fucking we did, I let him rest.

After the refreshing night, Morien seemed to be in a pouty mood all the time.

That night, I went back to my room and saw Caelun wearing new lingerie. Feeling a little pent up, I made him ride me, but unknowingly I gave him a perfect opportunity, while he was riding me, he started singing… not long after I passed out but I still could feel him riding me. When I came to, I felt love bursting out of my heart for him. I shoved my dick till I kept pounding on his cervix which seemed to cause him to squirt endlessly. After that was finished, I started making out with Caelun kissing him and manhandling him to my liking, I kept fucking him over and over again even after r the sun has risen to its peak. After I finish Caelun looks like he's pregnant with how swollen with cum his cunt is. As I want him to be pregnant with my child I took a toy that he seemed to have brought, that is the size of a fist and plugged his cunt so while he's out and about it won't spill.

Later after discussing routes and everything else with my crew, Morien wanted to see me, he started to say how Caelun is the siren prince and how he kept luring humans. But I didn't want to hear any of it, so I reprimand Morien for slandering someone else cause of his jealousy and went back to my room and slept with Caelun.

The next morning I made Caelun do some chores on the ship but it looks like every step he took, it made him more and more stimulated till he was overstimulated and kept squirting since I did add an extra toy to tease his clit.

I soon helped him and made Morien clean after the mess.

A few weeks later, after fucking Caelun almost everyday and only cleaning his cunt after he felt sick cause of it, he was finally pregnant. So I hurriedly tried to find a suitable docking place to go and bring Caelun to his parents. After three months I was able to dock, I ordered my crew to take a months vacation and then I brought Caelun deep undersea, I was able to breathe underwater since Caelun help and used one of his singing to make me able p breath underwater.

Why is it that I wasn't shocked he was a siren and a prince, it was because the night Morien said those things, I confronted Caelun, and he told the truth but said nobody was ever kicked out for not wanting to lure humans, since it not like any humans were kicked out since they didn't want to hunt.

After that day my distrust for Morien grew. Somehow, I realized Morien was following us to the kingdom, I have to protect my baby.

Later, I brought Caelun to the king and we chatted, and I agreed to help raise Caelun’s children.

Later that week, Morien found me while I was exploring the kingdom and asked to talk. Not long after, he started singing and then I realized Caelun had caused me to hate and distrust Morien even though Morien saved me and even though the king felt like a nice person, it turns out him and Caelun had hidden motives, so wanted to leave with Morien but Morien said he had something to do.

A few days later

I went back to the kingdom after Morien didn't come up and visit me. I'm glad the spell still worked, so I went to check on Morien, just to see him get told his crimes?!! I won't stand for this.

I ready my sword and lunge at the guards, causing a commotion. I hurriedly took Morien and swam as fast as possible away from the kingdom.

But unfortunately, I was never faster than those born under the sea. After getting caught, Caelun was shocked to see I was helping Morien. He kept asking if my promise to help him raise our child was a lie. I simply told him that I would never want to raise my child with someone who mind controlled me to have a child with them.

But all Caelun said was “hah! Why would I, a prince, try mind controlling you, I don't need to try to do that, when I want something, then I will get it, anyway, I'm already pregnant with your babies, and you'll need to take care of it” while a look of disbelief and confusion was shown on his face.

Then I saw a rumbling behind me and heard Morien shout “don't disrespect him, when you have no basis, I as the second prince and successor of one of the great sea serpents shall judge the king and his son!!”

After that, Morien judged the king as someone who was unworthy of being the king and listed all the king “crimes”...

Huh…

Why did I put quotations as if I know Morien is saying baseless crimes…

Haaahhh… must've been the lingering mind control.

Soon Morien lunged at the king and pulled his heart out, seeing such a gruesome scene, Caelun passed out. Then I heard Morien asking the guards to drag the unworthy first prince to the dungeon.

Morien's POV

Son of a bitch, Caelun was able to destroy my mind control on M/n, and even though M/n didn't realize it, the one who saved him wasn't me, but Caelun, no matter, I'll just kill him and the children that bitch made with MY mate.

I went back to the kingdom that knew I was the star of destruction but didn't treat me any differently, and started my 10 year long plan. What is my 10 year long plan? Taking complete control over the kingdom. Originally I was going to be kind to the king and kill them after the king is old and dying but after I saw Caelun go outside the barrier and save a human, I fell for the human and decide to jump star my plan. So I warned Caelun that his father was searching for him but in truth, his father didn't need him for anything. I just needed a perfect time and place to start my ego.

(In my world, Ego's are ancient powers everyone has but nobody knows about this anymore since less and less people has been using their ego's because it's much easier to use magic, since if their ego's are attacked of damaged it will directly affect the users soul)

What I didn't realize was that after I sent Caelun back home, they realized that the prophecy was true, about the fact I am the star of destruction and anyway they treat me, I will end up usurping the throne but it was said that if I found the “one” My desire to destroy would disappear.

Didn't matter though, I had wanted to have the throne since I was small. When I saw that the Mermaids, a creation made by one of the ancient sea serpents, in fact were just the creation of one of the old gods' ego, trying to paint the siren kingdom black. I realized that I might be the star of destruction but not entirely on the siren kingdom, but on another kingdom instead.

Afterwards, I was just planning on killing the king so I could frame the mermaid royalty. But now, not only do I want to destroy the mermaids but I also want to get rid of the existing challenges in my way, and one of them is Caelun.

The only problem that Caelun pose Is the fact he is completely and at an entirely higher level than me in his proficiency in magic and his singing.

No matter, all I cared is that he is now completely crushed and I have M/n completely under my spell.

Currently I'm going to the dungeon, to see my elder brother in his demise.

“Wakey wakey~, brother.”

“Why are you doing this Morien, I thought you were not gonna complete the prophecy, why are you doing this”

I opened the bars and looked at Caelun's, chained to the wall, heavy belly. Every time I see this abomination, I wish to kill him.

“Hah! And here I thought you were a genius, didn't you know the signature markings on M/n are MINE. You just had to break the spell on him and get pregnant with MY mate's offspring”

“I knew it was yours but it's using that spell means I you were to order him to die he will kill himself and that's dangerous, what if someone mimics your voice”

“That's true but you need not worry, in fact, I already have it under control. Anyways, aren't you curious why you said those things in front of M/n”

“!!! What!!! You were involved with that?!!”

“hah, that funny, I'm shocked you didn't realized, didn't you taste something funny from the food I gave you before you wanted to list my crimes 😊”

“Wha-”

“I laced your food with a puppetry potion, and I forced you to say those things, just to crush all hope My Mate has for you. And now, all I need to do is get rid of those things in your stomach.”

“Wha-, no please, no.”

(Specified gruesome abortion scene, skip this paragraph if you can't handle it)

I started to gather my mana into a black ball of smoke and directly fused it with his stomach, when I saw there's barely any life in it now, I raised my foot and brought it directly on his stomach. Not long after, I saw blood gushing out of his pathetic cunt, and I saw happily as some egg sack skins and egg sack insides came pouring out. It would mean the babies are completely dead.

To make sure, there are none alive I checked using my ego. When I'm sure they're all dead I left. Unknowingly, an egg was still alive but he was able to successfully nurture it.

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A few months later, I finally married and officially mated M/n and decide to live on the surface, after completely blackening the concepts of mermaids to humans, while sometimes taking time to clean up trouble under the sea.

Though, M/n will never realize, I killed his offspring that he had with my brother nor will he realize any girl or boy that flirted with him are now on the dining tables of the sirens. I will make sure of that

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This was supposed to be like the little mermaid but if Ariel never realizes Vanessa is Ursula and even though Ariel realizes Vanessa is Ursula, Ursula still won the last battle and completely took over Prince Eric’s mind. Idk how it went like this… though because of that I switch their names, og

Caelun saves you

You fell for Caelun

Morien and his group lures your boat

You didn't fall for it

Morien turn human cause he want to know why you didn't get lured

Morien realize u like Caelun and went crazy

Morien mind control causing u to hate Caelun

Caelun gets killed

U and Morien had babies

Morien= Inspired by: Welsh/Celtic roots “mor” (sea) and “ien” (youth or life)(unsure about the ien for youth/life). Romantic and eerie—like a sea spirit who never ages and always takes.

Caelun= Inspired by: Latin caelum (sky/heaven) Caelun is airy, sky-linked, and peaceful—offering a celestial counterpoint to Morien’s dark oceanic lure. Air vs. abyss.

#male yandere x male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #sub yandere #yandere x male reader #yandere male x male reader #sub!yandere #x male reader #sub character

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vanteguccir · 1 year ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOPPOSITE * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N and Matt are polar opposites.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Matt was not an extroverted person. Unsurprisingly, he was a quieter, more reserved guy who liked to have his own space and took his own time to say what he wanted if he was asked to do so. His mood would change drastically if he was forced to talk when or with whoever he didn't want to.

Y/N, on the other hand, looked like a little ball of light that wouldn't stay still. She had a habit of talking a lot in a short space of time, uttering words until she was out of breath. In addition to always seeming to be in a good mood, a smile decorating her face like a permanent tattoo. Energetic was the word that defined her.

Therefore, when she and Matt revealed their relationship to the public, many fans didn't understand the origin of their love, as they were very different, literally polar opposites.

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"... Stop! Stop protecting your insecurities because you know you have an ass haircut, so you're projecting what could possibly happen to me! At least I'm willing to take that change." Nick screamed next to Y/N, moving his arms comically in exaggerated despair.

Chris laughed loudly at his speech, leaning his back against the car door from the passenger seat so that he could have a better view of the back. Matt smiled as he shook his head, watching them in the rearview mirror.

Y/N quickly nodded her head, her eyes wide as she raised her hands, showing that she wanted to initiate her own opinion on the matter.

"Exactly! You only try to diminish others because you are insecure about yourself. It's impossible to be friends with people like that. They are always trying to diminish someone, saying absurd things that cause so much discomfort." She spoke quickly, gesturing with her hands as her eyes darted between Nick and the rearview mirror, or rather, Matt's blue eyes.

Matt watched her with eyes full of love and affection, nodding his head in agreement to what she was saying.

"They're always talking bad about someone, have you noticed?" Y/N turned to face the blonde next to her, pointing her right index finger towards him, who hummed.

"Yes, exactly!" Nick shouted, slamming his hands against the back of Chris's seat, earning an angry shout from the boy.

"People can only give what they have inside themselves." Y/N finished her train of thought, shrugging as she licked her lips, wetting them.

Matt quickly reached for the bottle of his own tea in the cup holder between the front seats, opening the lid and turning his upper body towards the back, silently offering the drink to his girlfriend. She smiled big, sending a wink as a "thank you" before taking the bottle.

"It's good to have Y/N in a video with us. She speaks for both of them." Chris commented briefly, pointing to Y/N and Matt, letting out a hysterical laugh when he saw Matt rolling his eyes - but still not denying anything.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt was fast asleep. His head buried in the white pillow, and his body curled up like a burrito around the fluffy duvet. His mouth was half open, low snores escaping from between his lips. His eyelids trembled slightly, showing that his mind was sailing through dream land.

Y/N slowly opened the door with her elbow, her hands occupied by a wooden tray that held a simple but nutritious breakfast for two. The girl had a big smile decorating her face as she walked with light steps towards the bed.

She placed the tray on the closest bedside table in one quick movement before going to the windows, opening the black-out curtains, allowing the sunlight to illuminate the room completely.

A grumbling sound was heard from the bed, Matt lifting the duvet to the top of his head, still half asleep. Y/N smiled at his reaction, quickly walking to the bed, kneeling on the mattress and pulling the blanket off the boy, laying her chest on her boyfriend's bare one, bringing her face closer to his.

"Good morning, my love." She murmured against his cheek, sealing her lips over his skin repeatedly.

Matt grumbled again, his brow furrowing in false anger but pushing his face against hers lightly, enjoying the feeling of being showered in affection by his girlfriend.

"Come on baby, wake up!" Y/N asked a few seconds later - after seeing his eyes closing again -, her fingers pulling Matt's eyebrows up slightly, watching him forcefully open his blue orbs.

Her laughter echoed through the room as the boy pretended to go bite her, a smile spreading across his face instantly.

"It's such a beautiful day outside. I thought we'd have a picnic. Or we could go to that golf park. Oh oh oh, or we could cook that blackberry pie you wanted. We could also-" Her words came quickly, excitement evident in her voice.

Matt's sleepy brain took a few minutes to process what his girlfriend was saying, his head just nodding in agreement without even knowing what he was agreeing to.

"Can we?" Y/N's question caught his attention. Matt only opened his right eye, looking at her for a few seconds, trying to search in his mind what she was asking him to do without achieving any results.

Matt didn't understand how Y/N woke up with so much energy, while he needed at least 20 minutes to really feel alive.

"Yeah, sure." The brunette mentally shrugged his shoulders. She wouldn't have asked him to do something risky to their lives, so it was okay for him to accept it without knowing what it was. Right?

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N knocked twice on the door of her shared room with Matt, the sound almost imperceptible. She turned the handle and opened it, entering the room slowly.

The sound of loud music escaped the brunette's headphones, which rested against his ears. The boy was sitting in his gaming chair, and his upper body bent slightly forward as his hands worked on the keyboard, probably answering emails sent to the Sturniolo Triplets inbox.

The girl walked with light and quick steps towards her boyfriend, a small smile on her face in excitement. She gently touched his right shoulder, alerting him to her presence.

Matt looked up, his eyes instantly brightening as he noticed Y/N there. His hands pushed the headphone back - leaving it hanging around his neck - while his feet moved on the floor, turning the chair so that he was facing her.

"Babe, it's raining." Y/N quickly said, without even waiting for him to talk.

Matt frowned, his hands moving up to her hips, lightly squeezing the covered area.

"Yeah, I know, honey." He nodded, confused as to why she would be telling him the obvious, the sound of heavy raindrops hitting the windows from outside filled the room.

"Can we dance in the rain? Please, please, please?" Y/N clasped her hands in front of her body in a sign of prayer, pleading with her eyes.

Matt raised his eyebrows, the thought of getting completely wet with the freezing rain made him shiver, his mind already imagining his clothes sticking to his skin.

He sighed, closing his eyes momentarily.

"What I wouldn't do for you?"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"What do you guys want?" Madi asked as she stood up from her seat at the table on the fast food restaurant, ready to place the triplets' and Y/N's orders besides her own.

Nick quickly said what he wanted without taking his eyes off his phone, choosing the photos that he would put in that Friday's photo dump. Chris mumbled his order, resting his left cheek on his hand - which was supported on the table by his elbow -, his eyes focused on the digital menu on his own phone.

Madi nodded to the two before turning to Matt and Y/N, waiting for them to say what they wanted.

"For me, it's just going to be a cheeseburger and a Diet Coke. And Matt's going to have a double cheeseburger and a root beer." Y/N counted on her fingers as she said each food, watching Madi nod when she finished. "Thank you, Madi." She blew the brunette an air kiss.

Matt pressed his lips to the top of Y/N's head lightly before pulling her to rest the back of her shoulder against his chest.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"No, Chris, I don't want a blueberry donut." Matt rolled his eyes, huffing as he leaned his hips against the table, his arms crossed.

"You're hungry, and it's the only thing we have right now, Matt." Chris rolled his eyes back, exchanging looks with Nate, who smiled, amused by his reaction.

"What happened to you today? Did you wake up with the wrong foot?" Nick asked, his tone full of annoyance, wrinkling his nose.

"Why don't you shut-" Matt's sentence was interrupted by Y/N entering the kitchen, humming a Taylor Swift song under her breath.

"Oh, hi guys! Good morning." Y/N smiled brightly at the four of them, her eyes shining as she met Matt's, approaching him with quick steps - throwing smiles towards Chris, Nick, and Nate as she passed them. "Hi baby." She rose on her tiptoes, sealing his lips in a quick kiss.

A smile automatically grew on Matt's face, his eyes taking on a lovestruck look, all the anger he felt vanishing.

"Did you eat? I didn't see you eating breakfast earlier. You must be hungry." She asked, still facing him, her brow furrowed in concern as her right hand rested lightly on Matt's stomach, stroking the covered skin.

"No, baby. There's nothing interesting here." The boy sighed dramatically, ignoring his brothers' murmurs of disgust.

"We still have blueberry donuts, honey. There are some left over from the video you three made yesterday." Y/N pointed to the counter, where the box of donuts sat next to the stove. "You liked them, right?" She moved slightly away from Matt, reaching out and taking one before handing it to the boy.

Matt instantly smiled, taking the sweet from Y/N's hands with his right one and bringing it to his mouth, biting off a small piece. His left hand rested on Y/N's hip, caressing the area.

"It doesn't even look like he just-" Nick began his sentence, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Thank you, my love." Matt cut Nick off, sending a glare in his direction over Y/N's right shoulder before opening a big smile to her, biting off another piece.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Hi, good afternoon! How are you?" Y/N greeted the McDonald's attendant, a big smile lighting up her face, as her eyes went to the board where the menu was displayed, mentally confirming what she was going to order.

The attendant smiled back quickly, her heart warming at finally being able to have a kind costumer who wasn't in a bad mood.

"Good afternoon! I'm great, thank you." She nodded momentarily, placing her fingers on the computer screen, ready to select the order. "What can I do for you today?" Her eyes went from Y/N to Matt, who was standing behind the girl.

His hands rested in the front pocket of the hoodie that covered his upper body, while an awkward smile spread across his face, nodding briefly.

Y/N started ordering calmly, including Chris and Nick's orders that she had already memorized - even though they both said they didn't want anything, she knew that Nick would end up biting a peace of her burger and Chris would steal Matt's fries -, giving the attendant time to select everything without rushing.

"Is that all for today?"

"Yes, that's all." Y/N confirmed, taking Matt's wallet out of her purse and taking out her card, quickly paying for the order. "Thank you so much. Have a nice day!"

Matt quickly mumbled a "thank you" before intertwining his fingers with Y/N's, allowing her to pull him toward a table.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Yes, they were polar opposites, but Matt and Y/N showed every day that opposites really do attract each other.

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andhumanslovedstories · 3 months ago

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Do you know the Langston Hughes poem "Let America Be America Again"? I think you would enjoy reading it.

I know it's cool among leftists to hate America and wish it harm, and yes it's built on a LOT of harms, but your post resonated with me. It's the country we have, and it IS our duty to keep the freedoms we have and extend them to everyone.

god Langston Hughes is always hitting

Let America Be America Again

Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek— And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean— Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the land it has become. O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home— For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore, And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa's strand I came To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we've dreamed And all the songs we've sung And all the hopes we've held And all the flags we've hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay— Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again— The land that never has been yet— And yet must be—the land where every man is free. The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME— Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose— The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people's lives, We must take back our land again, America!

O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath— America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain— All, all the stretch of these great green states— And make America again!

#frederick langston #poetry #us politics #b.

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revelboo · 1 month ago

Text

This is a sandbox storyline- basically a story starter anyone can play off of. No set Transformers universe here so any partner or partners goes- you want to romance BW Wapinator, IDW Megatron, and TFP Ratchet? Go for it. The premise? Cybertronians trying to find a human who's a compatible match to their sparks and biofields (bit different than my normal stuff, where here, a match needs to be made to be able to bond). Due to how severely endangered their species is, the factions are cooperating even if there still is palpable tension. The agreement is to lure potential matches onto a massive cruise ship where they can interact as their holomatter avatars with their real forms stashed in the hold. Flirting, chatting up, and romancing humans they're drawn to with the intent to reveal their true forms when the cruise stops at its first and only port of call. An isolated island.

If you want to play: no minors in any context, smut is fine, dub-con/forced seduction is okay, but anything beyond that is a nope. Pick whatever characters you want from any TF continuity and carry on the storyline. You can do next/previous like I do and reference this starter if you want, but you don't have to. It's free real estate since it's a very old fic I haven't touched in forever and it probably wasn't getting touched again ever otherwise, so have fun.

Cruise ship concept inspired by Swim Away by themaskismyface on Ao3

Cybertronian Cruiselines

Squinting up at the massive ship as the sun bakes you, people move around you up the walkway alone or in small groups. And some of your doubts ease a bit seeing the ship up close, because you'd honestly assumed it was a scam of some sort. The brochure that had come with your ticket had indicated it was a fantasy cruise. That you could roleplay and romance crew members as funny as it sounds.

Rounding a corner, you run into a queue of people and the cause? The two tallest men you've ever seen. One's mostly silver hair is swept back from an almost sinister, scarred face and red eyes that have to be contacts sweep over the crowd. The other one's hair so dark a black it almost looks blue in the sunlight, his eyes startlingly bright. Yeah. You absolutely understand the backlog now. Everyone gawking at the eye candy on display. That one with the contacts, his eyes almost glow with a feral light, lips twisting in annoyance. And that duster he's wearing looks too hot for the heat, his shirt halfway unbuttoned to show an expanse of tawny skin and tucked into tight fitting jeans. His buddy's shirt stretched tight over a broad chest as he smiles and reaches to hook a finger against his tie, tugging slightly.

"Welcome to the Iacon. I'm Optimus and this is my co-captain Megatron," blue eyes says, his deep voice easily carrying over the whispers. "Please get settled so we can set sail without delay." And he's sweeping an arm to get people moving in the right direction.

Glancing at the two hunks, you follow the crowd, pulling your luggage with you. If the entire crew is that lovely? You're going to have some fun. The ramp enters into an expansive main area, and your neck cranes to try and figure out how many levels there are above you. Never seen a ship this big before. Everything gleaming gold, cream, and glass. Looking far too bourgeoise for you to set foot in or touch. And it looks like the entire cruise line crew is right here, mingling and drifting among the guests. Men and women both and there doesn't seem to be any real dress code going on that you can tell. The only way to tell the crew from the guests is the lack of luggage and the little pins they're wearing. Little colored badges that look like funny faces. And there's multiple versions it looks like. Showing what their duty is, maybe?

"I can't believe that the future of our race lies with these pathetic creatures," Megatron growls, watching the humans wander up the ramp to the ship, fingers flexing in irritation at this indignancy.

Shooting him a censoring look, Optimus watches the humans go. "The strong should protect the weak. Though, these forms do take some getting used to." Rolling his shoulders, he rubs his fingers together, playing with the sensory net and the sensations that feel as real as if it was his own servos touching.

"It's a miracle humans have survived as long as they have," Megatron mutters. No claws, no fangs. Disturbingly squishy and weak, and still very determined to murder each other from what he can tell. Shuddering slightly, he growls as more of them head their way. To come gawk at him. But after centuries of failed attempts to create a hybrid or artificial spark? Their numbers are dwindling. This is the last, best option and he despises it. And as carefully as they selected humans to invite, he can't deny the dread that maybe it won't work. That the medics and scientists got it wrong and this is all a waste of time. That Cybertronians can't be saved. Head turning, he sees Autobot and Decepticon avatars crowding the railing, leaning to watch the humans that might be their salvation with open curiosity.

Annoyed when he sees several head into the ship to greet the humans. And to get close enough to see if any of them trigger reactions to their biofields. Oblivious little organics smiling and gawking at them as they're fussed over on the pretense of getting closer. Because that's the game here. A fantasy cruise where the crew, his people, cater to the human guests' whims, trying to find a compatible partner. It's horrifying that they've sunk this low.

#transformers x reader #megatron #optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #megatron x reader

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mai-col · 2 months ago

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Heya! Your artsyle is so cool, and I thought "That looks french" and lo and behold, you're at the gobelins. The french touch really is something in art i guess. Care to share your fav inspirations? I'm a fan of a lot of things, and I don't draw according to most of them, but old ass comics like Thorgal have my heart!

Hey fellow frenchie !

(this might be a long one, do NOT ask me to talk about things I like or do so at your own risk ; now, BUCKLE UP)

As a kid, I also read a lot of old comics (never Thorgal, which is weird for a fantasy nerd, but I'll come back to it later), I absolutely adored Franquin's Gaston Lagaffe (and still do) ; we also had a whole bunch of Astérix and Tintin (classic french kid education ^^).

(this has to be one of my favorite images EVER)

Also, honorable mention to F'murr's "Le Génie des alpages", this page lives rent-free in my head :

Now, FANTASY : then, boom, at 10-ish, I discovered Le Tendre & Loisel's "La Quête de l'Oiseau du Temps", which was WILDLY inappropriate for my age, but I think a lot of illustrators and artists my age have similar stories, and it made a huge impact on me and still allows me to flex to all the old dudes that populate comic festivals in France (but that's a whole other can of worms), soooo I guess things turned out all right.

A few years later, I also got into Dufaux & Rosinski's "La Complainte des landes perdues" (same artist as Thorgal !) and Bourgeon's "Les Compagnons du crépuscule" :

(I have trouble finding pages of La Complainte's OG series because there were a ton of spin-offs, but the first 4 books are a banger, as far as I remember)

Concerning "Les Compagnons du Crépuscule", I first got into Bourgeon's work through "Les Passagers du vent", because if there's one thing I'm just as obsessed with as fantasy, it's SHIPS and adventures at sea [intense look towards Black Sails and The Terror], but LCC left more of an impact on me, I think.

A personal note about La Quête and Les Compagnons du Crépuscule : these comics are OLD and I have complicated feelings about the way they depict their female protagonists. Yes, they're not the absolute worst I've seen, they do have a mind of their own and some cool moments (oh boy is that bar LOW), but eeeeehhhhhh growing up as a girl and going "ah, so THIS is the role I can have in a story that I otherwise like a lot ?" was not... super fun, let's say. (another can of worms for my queer ass to open later)

Fast forward to 2012 and my very first year of art school : I got super obsessed with Cyril Pedrosa because my aunt lent me her copy of "Trois Ombres", which has the disctinction of being the first book that made me cry :

(ooh look, a ship, whoops that was an accidental coherent segway)

Around the same time, I also really got into Mathieu Bablet's "La Belle Mort" because I was right in the middle of my Tekkon Kinkreet (the animated film, not the source comic ; it took me a while to get to it) phase and these backgrounds looked so good :

BUT the biggest thing for me that year was that our comics/narration teacher, Joseph Lacroix, was a huge Mignola fan, and, well, you can guess what happened...

He showed us this :

And boom, brain chemistry altered (@totheredandblack this one's for you 👀)

I also need to show you his own work, because every time I bring him up in french comic festivals, I get a blank stare -

- and he was also a huge influence on me along with Mignola (maaan I wish I could draw battles and skeletons like he does)

Also, let's circle back to Mignola : I love Hellboy like everyone and their mother, but my real soft spot is for his Fafhrd & The Gray Mouser adaptation, which I stumbled upon at the Cité de la bande dessinée's library in Angoulême back in 2013 :

(here, have two pages as a treat, because I couldn't choose between a cool action scene and the page that has a 'who doesn't chill next to their bestie while they're taking a bath' moment)

(we're almost done I swear, I only have two left)

Number 1 : Around 2013-2014, I discovered Jake Wyatt's work (he has a tumblr, @jakewyattriot , but he seems more active on instagram nowadays), and boom, once again, brain chemistry altered.

(just in case not everyone here knows about Necropolis, just LOOK AT THAT)

Number 2 : in 2020-ish, while I was working on Les Songes du roi griffu, I was kinda struggling with mountains, and I remembered an artist my dad had told me about, Cosey ; I still haven't fully read a lot of his books, but his backgrounds are incredible (it's also interesting to see how his line changed over the years, which is actually true for a lot of the artists I mentionned above).

That's it ! @laserbobcat thanks a lot for your question and for giving me an excuse to yap about artists I like 👌

(edit : I forgot to mention it, but I got out of Gobelins in 2018 ; I'm no longer there but I keep the description as a running gag ^^)

#yapping #a lot of yapping #influences #artists on tumblr #(I guess)#long post #comics #maaaan I love comics

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softlypaintedseafoam · 4 months ago

Text

i'm your conscience, i am love

synopsis. with new waters on the horizon and wano embracing a new dawn, you enjoy a private moment with your beloved swordsman.

pairing. roronoa zoro x f!reader

word count. 0.7k | masterlist

content warning. wano spoilers, reader is coded black (written ambiguously. anyone can read), established relationship, soft zoro, silent 'i love you's

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

a surprise gift for my friend @triangularz >:3c hehe, surprise hazel, i'm sure you didn't see this coming! i'm also back at it again with the i would die 4 u titles, i did warn you guys though. i've never written for zoro before but i wanted to give it a go!

You'll miss the beauty of the Flower Capital.

A fragment of guilt takes hold of your heart; yet you can't stop yourself from admitting it. From the crystal blue lake with flower petals delicately floating across its surface to the vibrant green eaves that accompany you. The Flower Capital is aptly named. It is a sight to behold, especially when juxtaposed to the current conditions of the rest of the country.

The next time you see Wano, you pray that it will be when green covers the whole of the island.

Tama will be a step closer to her dream of becoming a kunoichi, darling and excitable. Momonosuke will be a touch more mature and Hiyori will be will be as rambunctious as ever, giving her brother a run for his money now that she no longer needs to project herself as the most sought over oiran in the whole of Wano. By then, Yamato may return with you all as a full-fledged Straw Hat, seeing the country of his birth for the first time in years.

Yes, it's a wonderful scene to imagine. The warm hugs and the banquet that will ensue privately in the castle, Wano unaware that its unsung heroes have returned.

For now, though, the unsung heroes will be living in the morning.

So for today, your crew prepares their exodus and says their necessary goodbyes. For today, you can enjoy a small walk in the forest with your partner and see the scenery one last time. All without the worries that Zoro will get lost like if you were to live him to his own devices.

Wano's healing won't be an immediate change.

No amount of hoping and wishing will do that. But everything has to start somewhere, you fasten your grip on Zoro's arm. He glances at you curiously before you smile in return, giving him arm a brief squeeze. All things are fine here! "Just thinking about how nice it'll be to see Wano after some time passes," you sniff the fragrant aroma of cherry and plum blossoms. "By then, Luffy'll be King of the Pirates, you know. And I'm sure you'll have knocked Mihawk off of his throne."

Zoro's lips spread into a grin, dark eyes glinting with mischief. Of course, you can hear him say. That's the only way we'll come back here! "I wonder who'll be trying to dethrone me by then," you're sure he is imagining his hypothetical opponents with he laughs. It's fittingly Zoro that he the prospect only excites him. You try to picture it; a Zoro 20 years from now staring down a spunky teenager challenging him for his title. What sort of adventure will that person go on to reach levels necessary to fight the King of Hell?

You can only hope it will be as wonderful as the one you're on right now.

"Do you think they'll go sailing across the Grand Line to get strong enough to defeat you?" Maybe they'll come across the sky islands or surf the sands of Alabasta. "Go on a crazy adventure and learn about the world?"

Zoro looks boyishly young, like a child winning his first match in a duel at his dojo. "They'll have to if they ever want to defeat me," he nods firmly, grinning with all of his teeth. "Maybe throw in one person whose fought me before. If they can't handle someone whose ass I've kicked, they definitely can't handle me. And they can't have any scars on their back," he adds in quick succession.

"Maybe they'll fall in love," you giggle knowingly, raising your brows in a playful motion. You hold the gaze of dark eyes with tender affection that is doubly reciprocated.

"That wouldn't be so bad," Zoro's voice is a quiet, warm timber. There's a near melodic quality to it that you can't describe and everything is green. When did green become your favorite color? Stubborn verdure, pulsing with the vitality of life and everything beautiful about it. You're arrogant enough to believe Zoro looks at you like you're the one that embodies those qualities rather than him. "That wouldn't be bad at all."

Your adoration bubbles over the surface and you raise one of Zoro's hands, pressing a kiss against his palm. The walk comes to a sudden pause, Zoro gently wresting his hand from your grip to cup the side of your face. A thumb grazes your bottom lip. "You might as well commit to the full thing," he murmurs, lips brushing against yours before pressing them together firmly.

#romance dawn ー 🌅#one piece x reader #op x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece x black!reader #op x black!reader

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hollaforlyla · 4 months ago

Text

"YE MAY BE IN LOVE..." ── prime!sonic x reader

posting this here because why not :p

NOTE: wrote this back in 2022, and i really like it, so im reposting it here. originally from my wattpad. <3

enjoy, if have not already read!

You kicked the tree that was on the one single island you and your crew members were able to invade and a single coconut fell from the leaves, landing near your foot. " ARGH ! I told yall we'd find some food on this pity island ! " You grinned as you lift the food and threw it in the air, catching it in the air with a toothy grin decorating your lips.

Suddenly a loud splash of water caused you and your three members to jump in fright and look towards the shore of the land to see some sort of blue figure emerge from the blue waters and on the land.

You all hid behind the large rocks to overhear him talking to himself, " Okay, stay calm. One minute, I was looking for Nine, then I saw that gnarly ship, and then, somehow... " he pauses as he looks around and questions, " Wait, where am i? "

He suddenly sat on the green grass and huffed, " How did i get... "

" Ah! wonder what these guys do. " He spoke looking at his shoes and gloves at the same time before Batten spoke aloud, " Ahoy there, stranger! What brings ye to the No Place? " She asked while you, and you, Black Rose, and Sails sat behind her while she hung from the single tree.

"Seriously? " the creature suddenly laughs causing you to raise an eyebrow. " Pirates? That's--that's super! Just great ! Of course your pirates ! " He laughs as he extends his arms out.

" I bet he's one of the old crew ! " Sails spoke and that's when you made yourself known.

" Do you have some sort of hate for us pirates, mate ? " You spoke, getting close up to the blue hedgehog causing him to bend back as you tower over him with the tip of your sword close to his throat.

The blue hedgehog gulped as he chuckles, " No-no ! Of course not ! Pi-pirates ar thy best ! " He spoke in the worst accent as he backed away from your sword far as possible and uses his finger to move the tip of your sword.

" What should we do ? " Rose spoke as you stood in between her and Sails. " I say, we pirate ! " Batten suddenly jumped beside Black Rose, causing her to jump as Batten raises her sword in the air and grins. " But the captain's not here ! " You spoke up, causing Batten's grin to disappear as she looked back at you three. " Yar be right ! " Rose added, " I don't think he'd approve of us, you know, 'pirating' ".

" What kind of pirates don't pirate ? " Sonic asked and you suddenly grinned after hearing that sentence escape from his lips. " Landlubber is right ! Yarr know how the saying goes ' Dead men tall no tales ! ' ". And once again, you along with your crew raised your swords to the unknown hedgehog, causing him to back away and try to talk with you in his once again pirate voice.

" Argh, Argh ! I don't mean to harm ye ! I'm just a wayward hedgehog looking for a way home ! "

None of you listened to the creature and when you all threw your swords down he was able to jump over you all and run around the island. He looked back to see Batten fly after him and when he looked forward he skidded to a stop before he could hit the water.

No matter where the hedgehog went, you and your crew were always one step ahead of him because this island was so small he didn't have much space to run around. " Boy, it sure feels good to a pirate, don't it ? " Black Rose asked and grinned, squatting beside her as you were somehow able to pin the hedgehog to the edge of the large rock. " Aye ! Brings me back to the good ol' days, Black Rose ! "

You and the blue hedgehog were able to make eye contact for a longer period of time and this time he had a blush on his face. Back in your old world, Sonic had some sort of crush on you, so to speak. But being the Hero of Mobius he didn't have much time to worry about all the lovey-dovey stuff because of a so-called Egghead.

Whenever you got close to the Blue Blur he would panic and hide it with his heroic charm and runoff. He had no clue if you liked him back, but he knew for sure this version of you didn't, 100%.

Black Rose was able to trip the creature as he ran past her, and let out a scream as he was about to collide with the water, but suddenly he felt Sail's robotic arm catch him and lift him into the air and keep him there as he stared at Batten, Black Rose, and ..... Y/N.

" Well, wouldn't you know. I'm caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. " He spoke and Batten and Black Rose shared a puzzled glance with each other before Sails spoke up, " You know, he's too fast to be part of the old crew. "

" Listen, I am not a part of any crew you're looking for. In fact, I've lost my crew. It's a bit of a sore spot actually. " He admitted and Batten only smirked as she raised the tip of her sword to his throat once again. " I'll give you a sore spot, all right ! " Before she could do anything else, you step in front of her and pushed her back. " All right, all right. Enough of that Batten. Not everything needs to be beaten to a pulp....even if they are among our seas... "

The blue hedgehog and you made eye contact, but this time you glared at him as you placed your sword back around your waist in your belt whilst Sonic blushed...trying to keep his composure. " Gather the coconuts. The captain would want us to get back to the ship with something other than a filthy landlubber. "

" Arr, Y/N. " Black Rose agreed, " Leave this scalawag for the bazzards. " Batten only sighed as she watched you and Black Rose collect the coconuts, " Well, it was fun while it lasted. " And with that, Sails tossed the hedgehog back on the land as he faceplanted and followed his crew to collect coconuts.

" Wait, you're leaving ? " He questioned as he watched your four work, " Uh, you can't leave me here ! " He cried. " And why is that ? " You asked, leaning against the tree trunk and kicking it once more to gather the coconut from its leaves. " There's literally water everywhere ! "

You rolled your eyes and followed your crew to a small boat as you tossed the coconuts in there. " Uh, where're you going ? " He asked, " Somewhere with a lot of land, hopefully. "

" Back to our ship, and we don't take scalawags. " Batten responded, tired of the blue hedgehog's whining. " You know, with all that speed, this landlubber could be useful. " Sails explained as he circled around the creature using his tails to hover around. " Swabbing the deck, raising this mizzen mast, rowing the boat. "

Batten sighs, " I hate rowing the boat. " " Gives me bad cramps for days, " You added and Black Rose nods. " I'll row ! I'm a great rower ! Heh, I'll bet you 20 coconuts I'm the best rower you've ever seen ! " the creature grins as he nudges Sail's side before jumping down to the three others.

" FIne, I, too, hate rowing. But, there is one condition when we get back to the ship. It's captain's orders or else ! " Black Rose spoke as she turned, but suddenly Sonic zoomed in front of her and chuckled, " Or else? The plank ? I can assure you that this hedgehog has no interest in planks. " The creature spoke and you suddenly spoke up,

" Then prove to us you can take orders from a captain, or the plank is what you'll get ! Savvy ? " You placed a hand on your hip as he winked at you. " Captain's orders got it !...I love captains... " You roll your eyes as you pushed him to the side by placing a hand to his face and got into the small boat.

Once everyone was seated in the boat, Sonic grinned as he sat in his said spot. " Everybody got seat belts on? " You all blinked in silence and you stared at the hedgehog. " Seatbelts ?-- "

All of a sudden you felt yourself grab Batten's arm as the boat zoomed through the water faster than you've ever seen a bird soar above the ship's sails. You all let out a scream before you made it back to the ship, and your grip on Batten fell loose and you felt yourself fall a top of the blue hedgehog. Your arms were extended outwards and pinned on the sides of his stomach and your face was buried in his chest.

A blush formed on Sonic's face as you sat up as the boat was lifted onto the actual ship and you looked back up to see the hedgehog was gone and by the other side of the boat, covering his face to hide the blush.

You on the other hand felt your stomach twist in different directions until Batten tossed an arm around your shoulder, " Aye ! Looks like little Y/N caught herself a lucky one ! " You only nudged her arm and pushed her off of you, crossing your arms as you spoke. " Blimey ! 'Il crush ye barnacles if you think I would have some sort of feelings towards a stinkin' landlubber ! "

As Batten rose her arms in the air with a snarky smile, you looked back at the hedgehog and blushed before splashing some water on your face from one of the barrels and entered inside the ship and towards your room where you sat for a while until the captain was introduced to the blue hedgehog.

🏴‍☠💙🏴‍☠

The sound of the seagulls cawing awoke you from your slumber and as you entered the deck of the ship you saw your captain and other crew members sound asleep. You looked around for the blue hedgehog but you couldn't find him anywhere on the ship until you suddenly felt two hands grab onto your shoulders, " BOO-AH ! " You turned around and were able to tackle the intruder to the ground by the poop deck, but as the tip of your sword hits the neck of the person you let out a puff of air when you noticed the intruder was no one but that Sonic fellow.

" Sneak attacking a pirate can be a bad idea mate, especially if you're trying to befriend said pirate... " Your feet were planted to the floor as your back was leaned forward as the hedgehog's back was pinned to the ground, his quills squishing between his face as he lets out a half-heart chuckle. " I never knew pirates could be sneak-attacked? You're not like all of them, are you ? :"

" Your one to talk, hedgehog. Your fake pirate accent couldn't threaten a baby sea horse ! "

Sonic's belly laughter soon escaped from his lips and you cocked an eye up. " Yhou make uhup the strangest pahrases i've ehever hehard ! " You growled softly under your breath and moved your sword away from his neck and stepped off him so he could stand. You placed your sword back around your waist and walked towards the portside and stared at the water. Sonic slowly walked beside you and placed one elbow on the ledge and the other arm was placed on his hip.

" So you have no idea who I am ? " Sonic suddenly asked and you looked over to him playing with the small locket on your neck, " Well, I know you are very easy to tackle, you are very fast, and you have a very strange laugh... " You explained and Sonic chuckled,

" You somehow still remind me of my Y/N .. "

" Your Y/N ... ? "

" Oh, N-nevermind .... Have you, uh, got any sleep? You look overworked and tired. " He asked and you smiled, " I could be asking you the same thing, you look like you haven't slept in weeks. " You flicked his nose causing him to grab it and laugh, " I got my fair share...your the one who looks like they need some shut-eye... " Your smile died down and you had to admit you were tired. " A pirate's work is never done...stayed up all night cleaning the poop deck and made sure the captain's cabin was cleaned from sea bugs and other sea creatures. Got 'round 3-maybe 5 hours of shut-eye? " You guessed and Sonic looked to the water and thought for a moment.

Looking at the sun he could tell it was around maybe, 7 AM, and the rest of the crew was still asleep, so Sonic grabbed the sword from your waist and stabbed it to the pole of the sails. " Hey ! What do you think your-- " Before you could say anything, the blue hedgehog swung his legs into your ankles causing you to fall back but he caught you and placed you to the wooden floor of the deck and he laid beside you, his hands wrapped behind his head.

He sighs as he closed his eyes but you were still confused. " I- what are you doin- " He hushed you but slammed his hand over yours gently and you glared at him, about to bite his hand until he removed it and spoke, " It's still early in the morning...thank me later when you get at least 7 hours of sleep. "

And with that, he closed his eyes once more and you turned your body to face him and stayed like that waiting to see if he'll do anything...but he didn't. He just laid there with eyes shut, his chest moving up and down lightly. You looked around to see the rest of your crew sound asleep and you huffed quietly.

Eventually, you shut your eyes and around 10 minutes later you found yourself asleep, the waves hitting the bottom of the ship rocked it, giving the atmosphere a more calmer sound.

When morning hit, Sonic was the first to wake up and he found you sound asleep beside him, your mouth gaped open to create a small circle and he smiled fondly at the sight until he stood up......

#sonic #sonic prime #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic series #sonic fandom #x reader #sth #sth fandom #fluff #reader insert #gn reader #female reader #my writing

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naffeclipse · 7 months ago

Text

Gifts

Reader x Mermaid!Eclipse

Commission Info

Thank you so much to @counterbalance for requesting a darling fic about Y/N and Mer Eclipse learning about gift-giving and then properly celebrating Christmas together! This was a delight to write and I'm always happy to return to Soul Bound to the Astral Sea AU <3

Content Warning: Light angst.

———

Tonight, for once, you find it difficult to drift off into dreams. It’s hardly been an issue before. In the night, while you rest, you visit your dear friend—a figment of him. A memory replaying the last tattered pieces of your home like a wind-torn sail.

The familiar ache in your heart does not rest. It is a machine, a relentless, chugging engine that does not know what time of day or energy you have to give, it goes on hurting, wondering about the little mer you held in your arms within the shelter of the cove. Where has he gone? Is he safe? Is he growing as big as you dream of?

You calm your breaths. Sliding your eyes close despite the lack of heaviness, excitement clings to your fingertips and toes.

You’re not a child. Not anymore, but you’re not grown enough to be seen as an adult. Vanessa looks and acts like an adult. The adults talk to her like she is one. She kind of is. You think she’s serious enough to be one, anyway.

A teenager. That’s what you are. Neither baby nor adult. It’s frustrating at times when you’re so furiously captured within a body that has begun puberty but you’re still inclined to have a joy in things the little kids enjoy as well.

Fighting your jumping anticipation, you shift once under the scratchy covers. Go to sleep. Go to sleep.

The mantra works over you, and draws you down, down, down into a dark depth with no sun, only stars.

The black space is as peaceful as a day with no wind. The stars glittering around you are distant and far, watching you with a cool awareness. You float with no power to propel yourself through the inky sea you float within, and you wait.

He does not leave you alone for long.

Brilliant orange light pierces the darkness. The glow engulfs you until you find his head rearing through the pitch-black like a solar flare across the surface of the sun.

A warmth spills into your chest. Caressing your heart gently, the echo of a song a child of the sea once sang to you returns.

Eclipse.

A leviathan—barely grown. His body easily dwarfs you with a long, scaled tail shimmering like pearls under moonlight, burning hot orange. Frills and fins wave through the black sea. His four limbs cut through the emptiness, propelling himself towards you until his two lower hands take you gently in his palms—like a person picking up a cat, you think.

He’s so much bigger now. A sort of growth spurt has taken him this last year, lifting him out of the tiny minnow you found trapped on the beach and into this vision of a great sea beast that tears down ships and conjures storms. The frills around his face have thickened and are beginning to spread wider upon the crown of his face. His arms are thin but quickly gaining with limber, corded muscle. His colors of brilliant orange, red, and black are beginning to deepen into sharper, mature hues.

There is still so much growing left for him to do if he is to become a true monster of the ocean, as all the stories go. But he is large and he is gentle with you in his hands.

His maw immediately splits into a great grin. He chirps a gentle sound in greeting. You stare at him, and the familiar ache returns at the impression of his claws handling you so gently.

What a beautiful, cruel dream.

“Hey, big guy,” you say softly. You softly tap the back of his hand cradling your torso. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

Eclipse grumbles low in displeasure. His wide eyes flare with a familiar concern before his expression picks up once more. His frills flick.

A pulse rings through your core. A question. The reason for your excitement—not anxiety—that almost kept you from another blissful vision in the night.

He draws you close to his chest. Reclining onto his back, Eclipse lays you upon his heart. You want to laugh. How long ago was it when you cradled the little mer in your arms like a baby? Now he’s holding you effortlessly upon his chest, and you have never been smaller despite your growth spurt. Unfortunately, this is where it ends for you.

The thought doesn’t scare you: being held in the palm of a giant mer. You knew then when you beheld his little face and his wide, scared eyes, that mers weren’t as bad as the people of the island thought.

A great, powerful heat rolls through your body in confirmation. Then, a little nudge.

“Right,” you murmur, “Tomorrow is Christmas.”

You concentrate on images of a tree decorated in tinsel and ornament, and little gifts wrapped up underneath. That’s what it looks like for other children when their parents are providing.

“It’s about gift-giving,” you study the pattern of his shining scales, “and being together with people you love.”

Immediately, your thoughts wander to the feast the island holds for everyone, including orphans like yourself. You’ll get a gift or two provided by the lady who works at the office in the center of town, paid for on behalf of the community, often generic and simple, like a good-smelling lotion or a tiny toy (though you’ve outgrown such desires). Other kids stare at you when you dare to linger far too long, and often loudly wonder if you’re the same one their parents say is strange and possibly dangerous. They know it’s due to a mer.

None of it matters to you. What you care for is the food, the rich smell of mashed potatoes, and the savory scent of a Christmas ham with honey glaze. Oh, you would give your left hand to devour an entire coconut cream pie.

Eclipse trills a curious sound.

“Vanessa will help me steal a pie,” you say, then laugh quietly while you outline a scale on Eclipse’s chest. Sometimes, when he has damaged or worn scales, you try to pick at them but your phantom hands seem to have no effect. “It’s not much, but it’s nice.”

Once, a few years ago, when you had woken up on Christmas day, Vanessa noticed the tears on your cheeks. Another dream of Eclipse left you with a deeper ache than usual. She didn’t even open any of her gifts; she simply slipped a coconut cream pie off of the dessert table they were setting up, and she took you down to the beach. It was cool, but not cold enough for snow. Vanessa told you to dig in. The two of you ate like toddlers, eating with your hands and smearing whipped cream on your chins.

You looked out to the ocean, a dark gray-blue, and wondered if Eclipse would have eaten pie with you.

A flash of bittersweetness burns through you. Eclipse rests his hand gently on your back and strokes his thumb down your hair.

Eclipse rumbles as you lie on his chest, causing you to still. A terrible coolness floods your middle. You press your palm over his heart. It is not a content sound he often makes or a curious grumble. No, it is a moan of sorrow, something deep swirling within the pit of his stomach.

Again, you feel a sting of salt upon an old wound. Your heart ripples with his anguish.

“Eclipse?” You can’t lift your head from underneath his soothing motions. “What’s wrong?”

He continues to hold you with desperation as if trying to catch the moon by scooping up the reflection of lunar light upon a still, watery surface.

The strength of this dream of your little mer bears down upon you, and you long to close your eyes. Instead, you turn your head and kiss the firm bone of his sternum.

“Don’t be sad,” you whisper, “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

You’re not very good at easing him. His presence is still downtrodden, but a tinge of frustration burns around it, like fire eaten away at the edges of old newspapers.

Another pulse rises through you, stronger than the rest. Then images begin to emerge in your mind. Ghostly memories of beautiful large seashells, pieces of lost treasure, and even a brass clock spring into the front of your awareness.

It perplexes you all the same, the levels of your dreams. Sometimes they’re sweet and simple, and Eclipse only holds you while the two of you drift away. Others are like this. It makes the ache deeper, widening like a chasm until it’s nothing more than a trench where no light reaches.

“That’s a lot of gifts,” you chuckle, then add, “If you were here, I’d give you fish. So much fish that you couldn’t even eat it all. Would you like that?”

A soft rumble quakes underneath you. The impression of hunger storms through you as he provides a comically violent rendition of how he would tear apart and indulge in such a feast.

But he falls quiet, and you have little more to say.

You smile as his hand gently surrounds you in the form of a squeezing hug. You lay your head heavy on his chest and watch the starlight drift by. The constant heat in your chest is gentle and comforting, but underneath it is a salty sorrow.

He won’t be here to give fish to, and you will go to town with Vanessa tomorrow, and steal a pie.

When you wake, you feel the warmth of the dream fades. It’s Christmas.

The sea is calm on a Christmas day. Last year, it was tormented with storms and raging seas after the harsh season of the sea leviathan attacks. You try to not remember the sickly yellow scales of the monster from the depths, nor its teeth, nor its stomach you were trapped inside.

Now, you guide the Rustbucket II slowly, aware of the heavy catch dragging along its side. The silver fish struggle within the net. Your old fishing ship might have buckled such a load. Eagerly, you sail deeper into the sea while everyone on the island enjoys a feast, even Vanessa.

You promised you would see her later. She threatened you with eating all of the coconut cream pies if you didn’t keep your word.

You turn your sights to the horizon. A bright sun shines down despite the cool temperatures. Your thick sweater combats the chill in the air, and you watch the fog of your breath heat up before your red-touched nose. Fixing a strap of your overalls, you search outwards with your heart.

Eclipse?

A resounding ripple in your heart answers back. Slowing down the length of the boat, you step out of the cabin to reach the railing on the deck. The beautiful water settles around you and your small vessel. You search the deep blue. Warmth climbs into your bone marrow. The presence of a great leviathan swirls the surface before gently, he breaks through with a gentle rise of his massive form.

Dripping above you, Eclipse grins, his maw open wide and revealing sharp layers of teeth. None of the jagged fangs frightened you. Instead, leaning your arms over the railing, you gaze back with a smile on your face.

“Hey, big guy.” You incline with your head towards the netting straining with the wriggling weight of your catch. “Merry Christmas.”

His eyes sweep slowly away from you and to the fish. His eyes widen, the pupils dilating in a predator’s hunger. His tongue, shadowy and sinuous, swipes his mouth.

For me?

He lifts a claw to his chest and taps once. The bright glow within his gaze becomes candle-soft.

You nod. “For you.”

His massive form sends ripples against your boat, rocking it in the slightest, but you flow with the bobbing effortlessly. Lowering himself to you, he presents his face close to the edge of your boat. You lean over, as far as you can without losing your footing, and press your face against his cheek.

A gentle, musical sound leaves him, a sigh and a purr, rumbling into one pleased sound. His eyes close. With the gentle touch of sea foam, he nuzzles you softly before you pull back. You rub your gloved hands together.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Dig in!” You gesture at the net. Eclipse trills. Rising again, his massive claws work the riggings of the net just as you have shown him before, and with delicacy, freeing the netting from your boat.

The catch of fish is akin to a bag of marbles in his hand. The little creatures struggle and flop about. Eclipse licks his chops once more. Opening the netting, he upends your gift and dumps it entirely into his maw. You make a slight face as he chews and a few slip away from his maws, falling into the sea and escaping.

You wait. A growing anticipation buzzes through your chest, not of your desire, but from Eclipse. He’s already eating his gift. What more could he be excited about?

A twinge of apprehension moves through you. He doesn’t think you have more fish waiting for him, does he?

Thoroughly rushing through his meal, he chews and takes a heaping swallow.

You watch his expression closely. “How was it? Did you like your snack?”

He trills in answer, humming a song that sends musical notes washing against you. A cheer like a great splash from his massive, lower hands follows. His tail whips excitedly down below. The ocean begins to stir before he calms himself and again, lowers himself down to you.

You laugh. His excitement is infectious, and you soon shake away any concern. He likes his gift. This year you had something you were excited to give. Your dear friend gets to participate in a holiday humans celebrate, and you’re not only looking forward to pie this year.

Eclipse finishes with a thick swallow. With a satisfied swipe of his tongue, he grins at you. You arch an eyebrow back.

A pulse of energy, eager and excited, touches your heart.

“What? What is it, big guy?” You narrow your eyes in exaggerated suspicion when the leviathan tilts his head. A mischief glints in his eyes like a shimmer of stars.

Slowly, he lowers himself to you and gingerly lifts a claw to the top of your head to stroke your hair once.

Wait. Stay.

You dip your chin before Eclipse snaps his tail, and with thick ripples, bordering on crashing waves, he disappears down below. You watch his massive figure before the deep blue swallows up his bright red and orange colors.

What is he planning? Giving you another seashell? You adore the one in your home, sitting close to your bed on top of your dresser. He finds the most lovely things to bring you.

Get ready.

An image flows into your thoughts as the words enter your mind. A knife, like the one you keep in the cabin for cutting through nets. Slowly, you straighten from leaning idly against the railing. What is he going to give you that requires you to have a knife on hand?

Still, you do as he asks. You step away from the waters at last settling from his submergence and locate the little knife. It’s a touch blunt, you need to get it sharpened. Hopefully, it will do the trick.

Venturing back to the railing, you gaze down. A bubbling begins in your chest, clashing now with nervousness amid the anticipation.

You furrow your brow. There are very few times in your life you have ever felt Eclipse nervous.

An urge to call out to him almost overtakes you, but in synchrony with your thoughts, the colossal mer arises back from the depths. He stops at his shoulder, floating in the ocean and keeping his gaze level with you before he draws out his hand.

A small bag, netted and knotted, sits on the water-dripping center of his palm. You peer closer as he offers it up. His frills flick around his head, sitting back slightly while his wide eyes watch you.

For you.

You glance at him before gingerly reaching out and taking the netted bag. You stare down at it, finding a few dozen oysters tied up within.

You lift your head. Eclipse drops his hand back into the water and presses closer to your boat. He looms in the slightest. You get the impression that if he were anywhere close to your size, he would be watching over your shoulder and checking your expression every other second.

“Okay,” you say softly. You use the knife to cut the netting and carefully set the bag down on the deck before you pluck one oyster.

It’s dark. The meat might taste good, though you’ll admit, you’ve never dined on oysters before. Clams, yes, but not this.

Open them.

The urge returns. A swirling vortex of enthusiasm follows, and you glance up at Eclipse for a split second of confusion before you remember what oysters are also known for.

You turn the oyster over. Examining in your hand, you carefully angle the blade and break open the shell. A gray flesh collects within, and several lumps sit underneath the flesh.

Lowering the knife, you stare in silent awe. Your lips part soundlessly. Carefully, using your fingertips, you begin to push on the bumps, coaxing the little treasures out of the oyster and into your palm.

Several pale and shimmering pearls, some round, some less so, fall into your palm.

Saltwater pearls.

“Oh, Eclipse.” You lift your head. “These are beautiful. How did you…?”

A hot breath leaves his mouth—as if he were holding it all the while. He dips his head. Impressions fly through your thoughts. He spoke with Vanessa (as best as he could when she cannot hear him the way you can) and she suggested a pearl necklace for a Christmas gift. Eclipse has found no such treasure in his years of collecting, but he knew what made pearls.

Another thought enters your mind. Eclipse longed to crack open the oysters himself but his claws were far too big for such little pearls.

But a gentle warmth fills your body.

Then you feel his thoughts center on you.

Except you.

You make a sound caught somewhere between a sigh and a sob. You shake your head slightly, blinking back the slight wetness threatening to plunge your face. Clutching the pearls, you look up at him.

“Thank you. No one has ever given me something so precious.” You beam and gingerly roll the priceless pearls between your fingers.

He bobs his head, and settles against the side of your boat, carefully to not put any pressure onto its frame, and settles in as you crack open the neck oyster. A warmth radiates from him, filled to the brim with relief and content.

Once you’ve gathered a priceless hoard of pearls, you get to your feet and kiss Eclipse on his sea-slick cheek. A gesture done in gratitude and as a gift.

#naff's writing commissions #mer eclipse had so many gifts waiting for y/n #and now he can give so much to them!!#and of course y/n can finally give their big guy more fish <333 #in deep dreams between the waves #mermaid!eclipse #naff writing

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loganwritesprobably · 11 months ago

Note

– Law with the 1° genre, prompt (l.) ✨

Law is a character I have a lot of fun writing, even though I've never actually seen him on screen (I think I've consumed the anime in the weirdest way possible). Just love him. I also love this trope

This ended up being kind of long

Find the prompt list here

Content/Warnings: Law/GN!Reader, fluff, one bed, suggestive, friends to lovers, getting together, first kiss, Law has a nightmare

You were a Heart Pirate, a friend to your Captain and all your crewmates. You loved sailing, and being a pirate, you loved the Polar Tang and having one of the healthiest crews on the sea. You also loved Captain Trafalgar Law. You didn't mean to end up in this position, and yet here you were, with a huge crush on the one guy who was totally off limits. Probably anyway, you hadn't exactly asked where he stood on the entire thing.

You hopped onto the dock of the island you'd arrived at, planning to spend a few days on land. You needed to stock up, and Law was on a mission for information. That meant staying away from the Polar Tang for a while. A couple of crew members remained inside the sub, and once everyone was out, sailed away to keep it out of few. It was late, and pitch black, which would hopefully mean nobody would suspect you were pirates.

Since it was late, everyone was headed to the two inns on the island, splitting between them to increase chances of finding the information that you wanted.

When you arrived at the inn with Law, Bepo, Shachi and Ikkaku, Law set about getting rooms for everyone. You stepped in beside him at the front desk, stood shoulder to shoulder, while Bepo, Shachi and Ikkaku stood behind you both, rubbing their eyes and yawning, their exhaustion clear.

Law took the three keys you'd been given, two rooms to be shared and one solo room.

"Bepo snores! He can go on his own." Shachi protested, taking one of the keys for himself.

"I do not! .. Do I?" Bepo asked, taking another key for himself.

"Sorry big guy.. I'll get in with you Shachi." Ikkaku said, leaning heavily against her friend and nearly knocking him over.

"Looks like I'm with you then, Cap." You said, and you certainly weren't unhappy with that arrangement.

Bepo found his room first, heading in and locking the door behind himself. Then Shachi and Ikkaku found theirs, and headed inside with softly mumbled 'goodnight's. You and Law were last, and he headed in first, making a beeline for the bathroom. You closed the door behind yourself and locked it, setting the room key on a side table.

You ventured deeper into the room, only for your heart to drop when you made a key discovery: there was only one bed. Bepo had taken the wrong key, and gotten one of the rooms with twin beds. At least the bed was a double, silver linings you guess.

Law shuffled out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing just sleep pants, and no shirt. He had been about to say something to you when he saw exactly what you had.

"Shit." He muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. There was no sofa in the room, and you'd not really brought anything with you to sleep on if you were going to sleep on the floor. The bed was, realistically, the only option.

"Yeah." You mumbled in agreement.

"Bepo falls right asleep too, we couldn't get him to swap if we tried." You could only nod. It was true. You'd considered that already.

"Guess we're sharing." You said, finally walking away from the bed to use the bathroom for yourself. Suddenly worried about your hygiene, you decided to take a quick shower, careful not to get your hair wet. You got out, brushed your teeth and dried off before changing into your sleep clothes. You couldn't put off the inevitable any longer though, so you stepped out of the bathroom to find Law just sitting on the bed, polishing his sword.

You put your clothes from the day into your bag, and went to sit on the other side of the bed to Law, assuming that was where you'd be sleeping. You untucked the duvet from beneath the mattress, fluffed the pillow, and silently lay down. Law set aside his sword, and did the same on his own side of the bed, still distinctly lacking a shirt. Fuck.

You lay facing the wall, away from Law, your heart beating rapidly. You didn't dare turn to see what he was doing himself, just closing your eyes. Thankfully, you were exhausted, and so you didn't lay awake and anxious for long.

-·–·-–-·–·-

When you woke the next morning, after some particularly tantalising dreams about the man sleeping beside you, you opened your eyes to discover the man in question was now facing you, and you were facing him. His lips were slightly parted, and he looked.. peaceful. You couldn't help admiring the sight, even if it felt wrong to watch him sleep. You'd thankfully not woken up cuddling, like some sort of cliche, so eventually you managed to convince yourself to get up and head to the bathroom.

You washed your face in cold water, calming yourself down after your dreams, and waking up beside the man who'd been in your fantasises in months. You took a few deep breaths before returning to the room feeling more steady than before, to find Law still asleep. Should you wake him? He looked so peaceful, and he was always so exhausted. You were sure everything would be fine, you'd wake him before noon, or if the crew came knocking.

Slowly, carefully, you collected a book from your bag and returned to the bed, not wanting to wake Law. You slipped beneath the sheets, and got comfortable, opening your book to where you'd left off last. You managed to read for an hour before Law began to grumble and shift. You looked at him for a moment, and when he didn't stop, you reached out to rest a hand on his arm, hoping to gently wake him.

That didn't work.

He shot up, eyes wide and breathing rapid. He struck out as if to hit you, but thankfully you were just slightly faster than him, having the advantage of having been awake for over an hour already. You gently moved his hand to rest in his lap, hesitating for a moment before you rested a hand on his back.

"Want me to take a walk and let you chill out here for a while?"

"No-" he rasped, hand reaching out again, but this time he gripped your wrist tightly, as if you'd disappear if he didn't hold on.

"Okay. I'll stay here Cap." You confirmed, but he didn't let you go. He couldn't. A few silent minutes passed where Law's breathing slowly evened out, and you patiently waited.

"We can talk about it, if you want." You offered, when he finally released you, treading carefully so you didn't unsettle him again.

"Not really." Law replied, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep from the corners. No wonder he was always so exhausted. You wanted to know what it was that'd upset him so much, but if he didn't want to tell you then you wouldn't press him.

Law got up out of bed and headed to the bathroom, cleaning up like you already had, and you took the chance to change into your day clothes so you were ready to go whenever Law wanted to set off.

He returned after a few minutes, looking more composed, but still exhausted. You wanted to help, to ease his discomfort and take away whatever was hurting him. That wasn't your place.

"I have nightmares too, sometimes." You said into the silence of the room, perched on the edge of the bed. Law paused his movements, surprised by your words, then continued digging through his bag for his stuff.

"About what I've lost, and everything I have now, and how easy it is to lose that too. Nobody is invincible." You continued, hoping it would at least help Law feel a little less alone.

"You dream about losing us?" He asked, looking toward the main door to the room rather than at you.

"Yeah, pretty regularly actually. You guys are my family, I don't know what I'd do without you." He nodded and slipped back into the bathroom to chance into his day clothes. He returned, only missing his hat, which you tossed to him for him to put on.

"Hey, you don't have to worry about losing us, you know. I won't let that happen to any of us." Law said, but his expression said everything.

"Then why do you worry about it?" You asked, and Law once again stopped stock still. You were going to give him a heart attack if you weren't careful.

There was a long pause then, longer than the others, and you watched Law open and close his mouth repeatedly, trying to find the words that he needed to defend himself, or at least something smart to say, but he kept coming up fruitless.

He walked over to sit beside you on the bed, licking his lips. His eyes remained focused on the ground as he hooked his ankle with your own, and then reached out and took your hand to lace your fingers together.

"It doesn't matter if I worry, I'm the Captain, it's my job. But I care if you worry, I don't want you losing sleep over us." He told you, voice impossibly soft, like you'd never heard it before.

"It's not your job. It's your job to trust us, and believe we can work together as a team to all stay safe. But the worry will never go away, we'll probably all always worry because of everything we've been through before we met." You replied, gently squeezing his hand. Your heart fluttered in your chest when he returned the gesture.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked suddenly, and a part of you was sure you were still dreaming. Surely he hadn't just asked that?

"What?" You asked dumbly, and Law laughed softly. He'd watched your pupils dilate, he knew you were interested, you were just stunned.

"I dreamt about you specifically. About losing you. Can I kiss you? I just.. want to be sure you're really there."

You had never been able to say no to your captain.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

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Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

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peariote · 6 months ago

Text

like them? ── .✦ patrick zweig x reader

hallo!! this is more a character study than anything. his loser ways intrigue me. not really happy with the ending :[ hope you enjoy anyways ‪♡. 2k words.

You were perfect.

Your glacé demeanor was the thing that drew him to you. Screw what anyone else said, he deserved a minute amount of softness once in a blue moon.

Especially after a particularly humiliating challenger.

So what if he was distracted by you? That doesn't account for his less than stellar performance, surely (he can blame the motel mattress for the crick in his back) but it sure contributed. That toothy grin was lethal, and you didn't even know it.

He was drawn back to your sparkling eyes every time he hit, the sound of the thwack fading into the back of his mind. He knew you wouldn't catch him—you were watching the ball flicker over the net with every hard strike.

It was only inevitable you would catch him.

The ball sails past him, slamming into the rusted, chain-link fence with a loud crash. It tauntingly lodged in one of the openings. As your eyes dart to catch its motion, you instead catch his dark gaze right on yours.

Patrick plucks the ball from its sunken position and pockets it, shoving it into his too-big shorts. He swore they fit a couple months ago.

He shuffles off the court after a half-hearted handshake with his (much) younger opponent, who gives him a movie star grin—like he’d won Wimbledon and not a backwater challenger.

You're waiting for him at the barrier, hands pressing into the metal. It's gotten a bit nippier, recently, in the late November month.

The sight of your trembling shoulders and fixed gaze makes him bold enough to invite you for a bite to eat.

He’s cute, all bumbling motions and wry, nervous smirks. His hip hits the barrier after one particularly eager motion. He thinks he hides his resulting wince well.

(He does not.)

You ended up in a diner. There were two in the town. He’d learned from the woman at the motel. He only heard half of her sentence as he was dead on his feet, but he distinctly remembers being told one was "absolute shit."

When he took a sip of jet black coffee and felt the bitter, smooth burn on his tongue, he knew he chose the right one.

He tries to start conversation. A cough instantly lodges the second he tries to speak, catching on the buildup in his throat.

“-sorry. Yeah, so… why were you here to watch?” You definitely look too cool for this town. Too cool for him, which is a sentence he never thought he’d think. His younger self would be aghast.

You purse your lips familiarly, and suddenly it's not you sitting across from him but her, tawny skin matte in the diner's shitty lighting and messy braid slung over one shoulder. Your words snap him out of his revere.

"Oh, well, I'm just a fan. You've got such a explosive style... I like it."

Well that's something she'd never say.

The unfamiliar kindness to your tone makes him smile crookedly.

He's different that night, around you. Not that you'd know.

His soft laughter rings through the almost-empty diner. You'd both ordered food by now—just waiting it to be delivered from the noisy kitchen. He can't remember exactly what you'd said that made him laugh like that, tinkling in a way he'd never let escape him before, but he finds he can't really remember.

When your food comes, you do this polite little shimmy back, eyes following the plate of pancakes as it's placed down in front of you. Jesus, that's familiar. He misses seeing how his eyes would go big at every meal, eagerly taking in the veritable mountain of food in front of him.

Then, his hot plate of eggs and toast is placed down in front of him and he can't help but dig in. He forgets all about him, if only for a moment, at the melt of warm, cheesy eggs on his tongue. Yep. Definitely the good diner.

One thing he's used to—feeling hungry. For food, for people, for happiness.

It leads to impulses. Bad ones.

He's accepted dates from so many sleazes. Let them push him and treat him wrong for reasons he doesn't want to think about can't understand.

Whatever. Introspection's a bitch.

He prefers to let them feed him on their dime and then have the mediocre sex they expect from him for their kindness. He slips out after they fall asleep and returns to his apartment or motel room (or car, when it's that bad.)

Oddly enough, you don't give him those urges. The results of his mindless swiping don't feel like the little meet-cute he'd fallen into.

The last thing he expects to do is to slip you his number he scrawled on the receipt for the bill you split. Can't imagine why he's kissing your cheek under the awning, protecting you both from the rain before waving you off—giggling, actually laughing at the view of you as you run to your car, hood pulled up over your head.

Not even a thought ran through him about propositioning you.

He returns to his stuffy motel room, peels off his shirt at the muted hum of the shitty AC. Broken again. He'll be gone by morning, anyway.

Slumping back against the mattress, his eyelids press visions of light eyes and curling hair to his mind. They don't feel as oppressive, as terrifying when their intercut with your voice, your smile.

The next time he sees you, it's colder. Far into winter, his breaths puff clouds into the air. The city is windier than the small town you'd met in, the skyscrapers tunneling the frigid air right against his back.

This was a long time coming. You'd think him younger (or busier) with the way he's glued to his phone—awaiting your messages and, later, calls.

He definitely feels younger; less like a man in his early thirties and more like a teenage girl. He hadn't crushed like this since—

That's enough of that.

The long trudge to your apartment was only caused by the less-than-ideal parking your old building had. By the time he made it to your doorstep, ringing the bell with tingling fingers and rubbing his reddening nose, he was thoroughly frozen.

His clothes was less than ideal, too—unused to being in a place that snows during the winter months. He runs from the freezing temperatures, fearing the slowness they bring and the idleness that may trap him. He flees to California and Florida for the winter, creeping around the coast and clinging on to the barest hints of heat that remain there.

Your apartment is his California, now.

The second the door opens, he's hit with a wave of warmth. The warm air seeps over his skin, coming from the rumbling heater and the scattered burning candles and the happily humming oven.

Yeah. He could get used to that. Especially the bright smile on your face at the sight of him, nose red and eyes squinted despondently.

"Pat. Come in. Jeez—you look cold."

Being swept into your apartment felt intimate. His shoulders tensed at the tug of his coat, unwilling to part with it even if you were just trying to be a good hostess—

Yet, as soon as the heavy fabric slipped off his back, he realized how laden it had been with ice and melted snow, keeping the chill pressed to his skin.

The flannel he had on underneath, layered over a long-sleeve, was much warmer. It seemed to absorb from the air and from his own body heat, insulating his trembling arms. His frozen hands rise to rub at his biceps, before slipping up to bathe in the pocket of heat it'd created.

He doesn't even notice being led to the couch, pressed into the cushion by your gentle hands. He settles heavily against one of your throw pillows.

The bustle of you in the kitchen is firmly background noise now, the faint clicking of a mechanical timer buzzing on the counter. Without the cumbersome weight of the cold, the desire for sleep enfolds his mind. His eyelids droop heavy, burdened no more with gelid crystals of ice.

A melting droplet slips down his cheek, followed soon by a salty one. They runoff, fading into the throw pillow that bears his curly head.

He's knocked out before the timer even beeps.

“Hey, hey.” Is softly cooed in his ear, a warm hand shaking his shoulder.

Oh. It’s Art, waking him up for practice—whatever, five more minutes. He attempts to shrug off the touch and flop on his belly, but his resting place feels smaller than his bed was at Mark Rebellato.

No, the fingers are too slim, and this is definitely closer to twin-sized. Tashi, then. Dude, he just got back from tour yesterday. He huffs and grumbles and tries to roll over again. Can’t she let him sleep in—

But he keeps getting shaken, and he blinks open bleary eyes to find no hint of… them. Just you, blinking down at him with a steaming bowl clutched in your other hand.

His sleep-crusted eyes flutter, caught off-guard at the rush of memories and then the brutal battering of your visage on his brain. Right. You're here, with him—or he's here, with you. In your apartment, on your couch. He'd fallen asleep.

"Dinner, Pat. Have you gotten thinner?"

He probably has. He accepts the bowl greedily, digging the offered fork deep into the white rice and chicken, dripping with a sauce he's never had but supremely enjoys.

It's different, home-cooked meals. He'd never had one, a true one, until he'd met him. To have a member of the family cook and pour hours into a dish was something he'd never seen. He usually didn't even glimpse the cooks, and was shooed from the bustling kitchen anytime he so much as tried to peek in.

The presentation wasn't the masterful art he'd grown to know, with perfectly placed leaves and round dollops of puree. But it steamed, wafting scents into his nose. He appreciated every bite.

You'd flipped on the TV while he was devouring the meal. Once he zones back in, he hears it—a droning voice enunciating familiar words.

"This is live coverage of the Australian Open, looks like the Donaldsons are coming in now—"

His head shoots up.

Gaze contacting with the screen, he glimpses cropped blond and a newly-cut bob. His eyes are downcast, following obediently behind her like an acolyte. Occasionally, he sees his gaze dart up, as if she'd acknowledge him and stray from her warpath.

Yeah, he's seen this before. Keep pushing, Sisyphus. She's no Orpheus.

He finds the strength to turn it off. His thin fingers tug the remote from your lap, impacting the little red button harshly. The place of it on your coffee table echoes.

"...can we go to bed?"

He's never been cradled like this before. After you'd fussed, shoved him into a too-big sweatshirt (he doesn't know where you got it) and graciously let him take his jeans off, you tugged him to your chest and buried your nose in his still-damp hair.

His hands are still warm from the bowl when they snake over your skin. Bared thighs slot against yours, pulled close and tangled in the web that is you.

Usually, he'd struggle. Resist the pull and tug of silken, sticky threads—each one only entrapping him further.

This time, he sinks into them. Surrenders, like a venom-laded fly to be wrapped and ensnared. The sounds of your breathing soothe his restless mind.

You're no longer him, with his smile and the youthful glimmer he used to see. Or her, with your funny, but scathing commentary. He doesn't see her in your focused looks, or hear him in your laughs. They meld together, swirled and blended into an amalgamation.

You soothe the roughened edges of the image. There's no cutting feeling in his gut or the curl of a vice around his ribs.

Just the press of your collarbone against his forehead and your breath through his short tresses.

#kiera's fics #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers #challengers fic #challengers 2024

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