#mythological nymphs

[classic-art-favourites]

Venus and Nymphs Bathing by Louis-Jean-Francois Lagrenee, 1776.

[the-evil-clergyman]

The Sea Nymphs by Nicolas Auguste Laurens (1898)

[weirdlookindog]

Norman Lindsay (1879-1969) - Undine

[guummy]

GODS & MONSTERS

pairing : god!jason todd ⠀𝒙⠀ nymph!fem!reader | words : 1.8k

summary : ‘put your hands on my waist, do it slowly.’

contents. allusions to mistreatment ( from the other gods ), half of this is actual plot, the second half is smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, stalking ( idk )

note. so, I made a post earlier this month abt this fic, and a lot of people took an interest in, so if this flops then everyone lied to me /j, but thank you to that anon who told me to carry on writing it bc I would have forgotten about it. this fic is giving meeting ur celeb crush not knowing that in the future, you’ll be married

#. main masterlist. | dc masterlist. | jason todd masterlist.

OVER AND OVER again, the older nymphs had to follow your every move. They said you had the mind of a curious adventurer, and although your sisters were the same, you couldn’t help but find curiosity outside your own home. So, as you rested your back against a tree, playing with a piece of thread between your fingers, you couldn’t help but wonder how long would pass until they found you.

One of your most favoured pastimes was to watch the supposed god that visited the riverbank every morning. The first time you ever laid eyes upon him, you asked your sister who he was. A god of war, who was supposedly sane enough to accompany the war of mortal men if they worshipped him to his liking. If he was lucid enough to subjugate his godliness to the land of humans, perhaps he was rational when it came to love. Instead of chasing and manipulating women to his enjoyment such as the other gods of Olympus, perhaps he was gentle enough to devote himself to a lover.

And you were one who loved devotion.

As a nymph, you craved it just as you longed for the touch of cold water to soothe your skin.

Now, that you peered around a tree, glancing at the god, you couldn’t help but revel in his presence, watching as he performed his daily routine. You revelled in the way he curled his fingers into fists, his gaze locked onto the soft rushing of the waves and ripples of the water. And apart from that, and the bellowing of the wind, there was nothing else you could hear, not the breathing of either of you or the creatures around as if they were kept silent at the sight of the god.

In the midst of your obnoxious staring, you let out a small yelp in pain as you happened to impale the tender skin of your palm with something protruding from the ground, drawing his attention over to the source of the noise; your incompetent lips.

“Who’s there? Come out,” he demanded, his voice sending shivers down your fragile spine.

Cursing under your breath, you stood up and slowly approached him from your hiding, leaving prints in the soil as you stood before his towering figure.

“Forgive me,” you begged as you bowed.

When you felt his fingers on your chin, your body trembled as he lifted your face to look at you.

“There is no need to,” he replied, his voice deep and hoarse.

You would have expected him to end your life there and then, yet, he gazed at you in a way that beckoned you to say more, your body weakening at his viridescent pupils.

“Are you Jason?” You asked, eyes widening as you realised how close you were.

To be noticed by a god was startling, but to have one touch you whilst you stare at each other was viewed as only a dream.

“And you are?” He asked.

As you told him your name, he repeated it with a small smile, gesturing for you to stand up.

“And what do I owe the pleasure of meeting a nymph?” He asked, circling you slowly. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” he spoke as he watched you step away from him. “I’ve seen you before,” he confessed. “You watch me from over there. And you return to the river when I leave.”

“I never meant to stare at the beginning,” you replied, biting on your inner cheek as you played with the fabric of your clothing, your voice becoming silent as you finished your confession.

“Why do you stare?” Jason asked, crossing his arms.

“Why do you visit the river?” You questioned him, the mischief you were born with as a nymph seeping through your shyness. “You’re a god, you’re handsome, and I cannot stare?”

“I visit these waters to pay respect to someone I lost,” he replied after you answered his question.

Barely any of the gods respected mere humans so his confession had your mouth agape.

“Were they your lover?” You asked.

“A friend,” he corrected.

You didn’t know if he could tell what you were thinking but inherently, you were satisfied he was an unmarried and untaken god. Naturally, gods had affairs and multiple marriages, but the idea of his attention simply being on you had you flustered.

You nodded in understanding as you looked over at the ripples practically telling you to come back.

“I’ve been away from home for too long, my sisters will probably be looking for me,” you whispered, staring back up at the god before you, your heart beating and the pits of your stomach fluttering.

Choosing a pebble from the bank of the river, you held it in front of him before placing it in his palm when he held it out.

“To remember me by,” you muttered before taking a step backwards.

Glancing at him one more time, you made your way back along the river, deciding in your head your sisters would never hear of this interaction.

Not only was he a revengeful and a passionately driven god, he was also wise. The two of you seemed to talk every possible moment; at the break of dawn, sat on the riverbank a few yards away from your home, or late in the afternoons where you showed him your favourite comfort places around the woods you had spent your life in.

Yet, everyday, you had tried to push yourself to offer yourself to him as a sort of gift, if he’d accept you anyways. You were noticeably touchy with him, whether the pads of your fingers grazing over the embellishments and carvings in his armour or making sure your hands brushed against his larger limbs.

One late evening, the confidence you had been longing for finally came as you stood before him in a coven of trees, desperate to tell him of your deep and solid feelings.

“I want you to have me,” you confessed, breaking the silence between the two of you, your hands held out in front of you as your gaze was focused on the ground.

“Excuse me?” He replied, needing reassurance of what you said.

“I want to give myself to you,” you added.

Jason paused for a moment before resting his hands on your hips.

“Insolent gods only want to please themselves, but I don’t wish for the same. I don’t want you to offer yourself to me, but if you truly want this, all you have to do is tell me,” he explained, his hand resting against the back of your head. “I don’t wish to have your body if you cannot have mine.”

Slightly nodding in understanding, your hands drifted to the hems of your clothes.

“Do you want me?” You whispered, twisting your clothing between your fingers.

“In all my life I’ve never wanted someone more,” he confessed, leaning slightly to meet your gaze.

At his words, you began to remove the fabric clinging onto your skin, standing still in front of him as your breath quivered.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a kiss to your jaw, his lips travelling down to your neck.

Your body was cold to the touch, and when he brought your hand up to press a kiss to your palm, your body shivered and grew warm under his touch.

If Jason’s men found him like this, found him making love to a nymph, they’d probably cheer, but you knew he wasn’t simply doing so because it had been so long for him, but because in the last few days, he had grown fond of you, and it was an act of feverish desire to hold you.

“Lie down for me,” he mumbled, yet, his voice was loud.

Doing as he said, you laid down on the sheets of clothing you previously removed, watching as he knelt down, pressing his hands to your inner thighs as he gestured for you to spread your legs.

Soon, he was clad with no clothes, brushing soft kisses across the expanse of your stomach as he gazed up at you, worshipping your body even though it should have been the other way around.

You were already practically his goddess.

Jason was tender with his touch, his hands gripping at your waist as he pushed his cock inside your clenching hole. The girth of it had you gasping as your head lolled back and your eyes shut in both pain and pleasure.

“Please,” you whispered when he paused in his movements. Your small beg led to him beginning to move, slowly pistoning his length in and out of your soaked core, the soft sounds of skin colliding hidden beneath the rustling of leaves and lapping of water.

It was your first time, yet, his gentleness distracted you from how much it hurt and soon, instead of cries, small whimpers soon fell from your lips, your eyes closing as he drove his length inside you.

“Jason ── ,” you hushed, your eyes fluttering as you looked up at him with your blown pupils. His hands gripped tighter at your waist as thrusted into your cunt, your walls sensitive around his length.

You trembled underneath him, revelling in the warmth of his body against yours as the soft winds blew against your skin. Your body had practically welcomed him, and it was then that you realised that you were no longer a virgin.

That you were losing it to a god.

One who whispered your name repeatedly as he pressed against your flesh, handling you with care and the urgency to bring you to your release

You were annoyed that he was so gentle in his touch, drawing you close to tears as he bullied his twitching cock in and out of your chaste and tight hole, but not selfishly that you were in pain and he didn’t boast in his lack of ego. Small pleads and whispers spewed from your lips as his own breath hitched, your walls clenching with every thrust.

Burrowing your face in the crook of his neck, you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, Jason’s hips meeting yours with such a lack of rhythm; you knew how desperately he wanted to claim you as his. And soon, you felt yourself come undone underneath him, your body trembling as your orgasm crashes upon you. Jason soon shuddered as he filled you up with spurts of his hot cum, his groans too godly to be heard by your nymph ears.

“Your mine, and I’m yours,” he quivered, still bucking his hips against yours.

‘You’re already mine,’ he whispered, and at that, you knew he was never going to let you go.

[isalooney]

̷L̷o̷v̷e in Paradise

First time I ever actually try this semi rendered style and let me tell you it almost took me out lol.

It doesn’t really feel finished but im not touching it anymore 😭

Really proud of how Calypso looks ngl :))

[evilios]

I keep thinking of potential for "good dad Zeus" stories but for Olympians when they're younger/coming into power and they're making me very, very sentimental.

You're young Artemis and you're your father's daughter. You come to him first when you're upset or hurt because, intimidating as he is to many, he always holds you close, laughs fondly, and makes your distress easier to bear. You know that whoever hurt you will not sleep at night and your wounds will heal.

You're young Apollo and you're your mother's child but your father's favorite son. You and him share understanding looks that no one else comprehends. When you wake up from your first prophecy, you are terrified and confused, but you feel a steady, big, warm hand under yours and it's alright. He teaches you the art of fate. You know his mind like no other.

You're young Athena and you're your father's delight. He always finds newer and newer ways to engage your rapidly thinking mind, and he chuckles fondly at your theories. "You would be a mighty king, my child," he tells you and you know it is the highest praise though you don't delight in calls of power. You watch competitions and games standing by his side. You are, still, his greatest pride.

You're young Hermes and you always make your father laugh. He tells you stories of your mother, all scented with strawberry tree fruits and wild flowers, and you wonder how big a man's heart is to store so many loves. He chides you a little for your constant pranks but you can tell that he loves you from the little glint in his eyes. He always sits you close during banquets and listens to your stories even if they're made up.

You're young Dionysus and your father finds you perplexing. He might not understand you as well as his other children, but you watch him from afar and get him, somewhat. The grab for power and the need to keep it, the desire to make others bow to your might: you've felt it since you were much younger. Always a demanding son, always a ruthless little leopard. He'd pick you up and look at you in wonder, "you are so much like me".

You're young Ares and your father does not understand you as well because you're your mother's child. You are not as close to him as others are but that's how you are with most of your family. Deep down, he relates to you - he was much like you when he was young: taking what he's owed. As you grow older, you realize you've become the same great father he is, following in his steps.

[anniflamma]

Re-working some scenes from my first draft for the next EPIC animatic. There are no clean-ups or similar yet. Everything is really rough.

[classic-art-favourites]

Clytie by Evelyn de Morgan, 1886.

[the-evil-clergyman]

Study for Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus by John William Waterhouse (1900)

[shushmal]

you ask for ficlet prompts, and a prompt you shall receive:

merman Steve please and thank you 🙏

blows you a kiss, i would do anything for you also im mixing a lot of lore here im so sorry

He grew up lonely. Nereides live solitary lives mostly, only gathering when called, when there is need. He spent many years roaming and exploring deep oceans, only seeing his kind in passing moments of trade and exchange. It is a very lonely life, and he never understands why he was so different from the resst, when all of his kind are perfectly happy in their solitude.

The ocean is vast, and there aren't many nereides in this part of the world. But there are a lot of humans—humans who are never alone, he finds, always accompanied by others in their boats and their swims.

He loves to watch them. They are fascinating, these land people who throw themselves into the ocean with excitement and joy and curiosity. He watches from a distance, filled with longing and envy, as these creatures leave the safety of their home to touch the sea.

It's how he finds Dustin, as its little body struggles as a rip tide pulls it from the shores. He knows he shouldn't, knows how dangerous humans are, but still, he rushes to it as the tiny thing wanes, stills, and brings it to the surface.

They float there together, the human and the nereid, just above the water, the human gasping for breath, trembling against him, until finally it speaks. Or screeches really. "HOLY SHIT!"

He doesn't understand the words, but he understands the meaning. "Holy shit," he says back to the human, because he's kind of feeling the same way.

The human begins to babble a whole lot of other things, and he has no idea what any of it means. He knows a little of human speech, things overheard, but he knows none of these words. This goes on for a long time, the two of them floating in the water alone, until finally the human points at itself and says, "Dustin."

"Dustin," he repeats.

"Dustin!" the human says again, gesturing at itself.

Ah, this is a Dustin. "Dustin," he says, agreeing, and uses his free hand to pat the human's head. Dustin then points, its little finger wagging in his face.

"You?"

"You?"

The Dustin says something again, but he doesn't understand it, distracted by a human boat shooting across the water towards them now. The Dustin is saying a lot of things still, but it's quickly approaching.

"Good-bye," he says to the Dustin, hoping that's the correct word. He ducks under the water and releases it, waiting a moment to make sure it floats, before darting back into the depths—only so far as to not be seen from the surface, even when the little human sticks its head underwater and looks around. Soon, the boat is beside it, and the Dustin is pulled from the sea.

He tries not to be sad about it. Dustin was wiggly and warm, and it was nice to hear it talk so loudly and so much. Nereides rarely speak like humans do, and he wishes that Dustin could teach him a few more of his words.

"Holy shit," he says, alone in the water, and decides to come back again tomorrow. Maybe he can see Dustin again.

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

François-Joseph Navez (Belgian, 1787-1869) The Nymph Salmacis and Hermaphrodite, 1829 Museum of Fine Arts, Ghent

[hoofpeet]

what are nymphs? they sound super cool & ive never seen you talk about them before :O

Here's a nymph guy ! Different 'breeds' of nymphs naturally grow different types of plants, and have varying sunlight/water needs based on it :]

[renaissancedesire]

Soaking wet 💦

I love doing fun messy posts like this x these pictures make me look like a mischievous water nymph

Op is non-binary {they/them}

My Ko-fi 🌿

[fine-arts-gallery]

Water nymphs (c. 1877) by Witold Pruszkowski.

[classic-art-favourites]

Two Nymphs of Diana Resting after their Return from the Hunt by Francois Boucher, 1748.

[the-evil-clergyman]

Nymphs by Moritz Stifter (19th Century)