#pirate lesbians | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meli-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Le Loup Des Mers

An azure wave laps at the unrated sloop; a cutter-shaped, doubly-masted lady whomst fucks the wind and anyone she steers herself roughly and closely against. Those who dared be bigger — which is, near enough, all of them — put into place with a fourteen-gun broadside, whilst she ducks neatly under their own.

Sophie would swear she was firing now, if not for the quiet and pleasant wad rammed into the sinewed barrel of her neck-crook — in an increasingly, dreadfully, familiar manner; runs a hand over whip-bruised arms and the rear-bound wrists of her, evidently captive, guest.

“Godscocker— Lotte?” sputters Sophie, throat pickled in the salt-sodden air. She lurches aneath an errant beam, snatching at a foreign dagger on the vanity, and stumbles over lost vestments and an unsettlingly new pile of coin, “Are you okay? How did you get here—”

“Respectively, Capitainette—” says Lotte, a thirsting wetness in Sophie’s ear, heaving against the backboard, “you cut these bonds and I believe I will find myself irretrievably disposed towards twisting that knife, qui est le mien, into that yellow-stained gut of yours.”

“Lotte, come on— it’s me!” says Sophie, drawn to the guilt-cartouched volley of hickeys she’s besmirched on a citizenly-ennobled bosom. It wouldn’t be her first appeal lost to shot-deafened ears, nor in the Commandeur’s presence, who’s hazel stare cuts deeper than the blade in Sophie’s calloused paw. “What if, before then, you found Phillipe in your hands instead?” she asks — a devious, if desperate, plea.

“You— kept him?”

Sophie could hear the rusting anchor on Lotte’s chest unmoor — if only a knot. “Of course I did,” she says, exposed in thread-bare britches.

Lotte cautiously unfurls against the loosened, cut bonds as Sophie plucks a stuffed and sewn shark-sack from ceiling-clad netting, and sees it parted into her hands like rotten canal gates at the old river’s insistent ebbing, “You ‘ave ten minutes — then, I stab you.”

Sophie would never doubt she could — porcelain hands, an old and chevalier-made wound, hid an iron-wrought skeleton beneath. “So,” she hopes ten minutes is enough, “you’re in my quarters— in my bed.” Perhaps more.

“Oui. Rather the astutation for a mongrel as flea-bitten as yourself,” nips Lotte.

“And you were bound, and are—”

“In mortifying bereftness of mes garnementes? Oui— that is airily clear.”

She rounds a gum-rubber-tipped finger on Phillipe’s sole button-eye, where she’d stitched it a long time ago, sending the magic sensation of touch through a tender arm. “Mes Dieux— ‘ow inebriated are you?”

Sophie knew she’d had too much, head clotting with grapeshotted-splinters of last night. There was another ship’s centuried wine, dated 1689, dedicated to the Sun Empress who had sacrificed her kingdom, and autonomous-self, for the citizens. Still, “Was I— drunk?”

“Hmm— Oui,” sharps Lotte, with a tannic hint, “so-much-so you attempted board the flagship of La République, Modeste — mon Modeste. I am obliged to admit, loathingly so, that it was rather more than an admiral, if stupefying, dare.”

Lotte tottered up, wrapping thighs, a still-stinging pair of hot-crossed buns, over her lap, snapping a clockwork-laden finger when Sophie dared think she was permitted to speak.

“I believe what one said, to one’s crew and mine, after the dozen-or-so nine-tails,” she continues, as Sophie swallows, “was— and now, in ‘onour of this flaming, scuttled delight, I’m going to make the dirtiest sea-slattern out of this dazzling jewel of the nine seas.”

“Oh Gods—” mutters Sophie, finger then pressing on her lips.

“After so you dragged me, stripped-and-whipped, to these chambers, to undress—”

“And then I—”

Suddenly, Lotte had whole-handedly squished Sophie’s cheeks, furiously tight. “Then— you fell asleep, stuck in those britches,” she says, retracting her hand — the gentle tinkle of ceramic plates rubbing intimately upon another, “whereafter, I was forced to endure a lustrous smothering beneath those obscenely-broadened shoulders of yours — because the alchemised war-tea I took at your approach left me pulse-rushed for twelve hours.”

She huffs — runs her hand, cold with a rune-etched softness, arcanely so, over Sophie’s whitened cheek, trembling desires into britch-bound parts and restoring her ruddy hue.

“Okay— Six. It was fading as dawn spilled in, you had shifted enough I found sleep.” Then musing, “So, regarding time, there are some few minutes to make your last deliberations.”

“I-I wouldn’t have, not really, not ever— you know that,” she whimpers, daring not to touch.

“Non? So, why is ‘alf the Modeste’s crew dead, and ‘alf in the brig,” Lotte tells her, ayches as purringly, loin-stirringly absent as any sign of her sympathies.

“I was— drunk, dear. Lacking in— inhibitions.”

“Ah— and these inhibitions, these are now the reason I remain unravaged?” Lotte brings her finger to meanest thumbing of puppy-fat, where it pours from her britches, then all around its hem, to her front — porcelain chill overcome by Sophie’s own heat.

Sophie pulls away, “Look, what if I dropped you at port? The closest must be—”

“Non.”

“Non?”

“Non!” Lotte cracks, waves of irritation crashing on golden locks, “Don’t be— ridicule! It is exactly this lack of tact, or graft, that had you booted from l’académie.”

Sophie cannot help herself, a reverent laugh rolling off a well-used tongue, “Now, now — I can recall that was because I was caught booting you in the, well— booty.”

“I don’t think you were complaining about tact and graft then,” Sophie says, kiss-stained lips battered then with a hurled and velvet pillow. Followed thereafter with a tight-mouthed—

“Officiellement.”

“You are tactless now, sûrement,” Lotte runs a hand from teat-to-throat, “It is ransomed, the crew, at some significant port. You shall make it— one week, in such time you can display yourself, increasingly dispossessed, before claiming your républicaine she-bitch is a frigid, unenjoyable sort of cunt, or whatever ‘ole you’re putting yourself into these days.”

“To whomst you got— nowhere,” she finishes, “That you desire then to part with, only, albeit perhaps with a generous ransom.”

“But— Charlotte, won’t everyone think I’m—”

“Quoi? A meekened, rain-soaked hound who stuck its nose into the crevices it shouldn’t have — more than a fair trade, for damages caused to me, both material and reputational.”

Sophie pauses, finally bringing an arm over Lotte’s shoulder as she sets Phillipe down, watching her flinch on teasing wounds, “One week?”

“You ‘ave a sturdy bowsprit, non? And one’s words, again— dirtiest sea-slattern?”

---

(Masterpost)

originally written on cohost 09/03/2024, in response to Make Up A Criminal's prompt:

Pirate who swears she only got into this for lesbian cred and is super sorry

#4 Minute Read #Melinoë Writes #phillip posting #Révolution Mécanique #f/f #make up a criminal #pirate #pirate lesbians

3 notes · View notes

gravegoer · 2 months ago

Note

MORE SEVIKA X SIREN I BEG

I hear your call [P2] ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ

HALF OF MY INBOX IS SIREN READER !! dw, i got you guys. ( also i got a lot of love in my inbox. !! thank you so much for the support. youre so sweet , im looking at 🍃 anon ily ) summary: sevika saves your scales.

masterlist , part 1 2.1k words part 3

The night after you met Sevika, you followed her ship, even throughout the darkness. The celebratory crew could be heard on the deck, along with the clanking of glasses and music.

Although this wasn't what you were interested in, you were interested in a certain captain. You assumed she didn't bother with the celebration and got bored swimming alongside the ship.

Eventually, it had come to a stop in the late night, now sitting in the dock of a well-populated island. You eyed the people that stepped off, and your gaze landed on Sevika.

She was hard to miss, her large stature and intricate outfit stood out amongst the crew, ultimately declaring herself captain. There was a sort of swagger in her walk, perhaps from booze or maybe exaustion.

Whatever the case, you were interested.

You couldn't get too close to land, deciding to lurk around the harbor instead. You ducked under the water upon hearing any movement or voices. Being this close to population was no place for a siren, especially such as yourself.

Any fisherman or pirate alike would take take you up and pawn you for a pretty price. So you heeded in your movements. Luckily, you were a skilled enough swimmer that you made little to no sound whilst in the water, barely leaving behind a ripple.

The sun was just now rising, and you assumed Sevika would be looking for a place to stay the night. There was no way you could wait around that long for her to come back. But that doesn't mean you didn't want to.

To your delight, a group of men swarmed to talk on a dock near you, and their conversation was full of exactly what you wanted to hear.

Sevika.

They were pirates looking for a crew, and from the looks of them, quite experienced pirates.

"She's headed to Shank's motel. Shall we give her a visit?"

"This late at night, man. You've got to be spewin' some blige. She'd flog you just at sight."

"Aye. Migh' as well wait till' morn' "

You grew closer to their spot, itching to hear more. Your head nearly bumped against the old wood due to your closeness.

Suddenly, a hand was in your hair, but unlike Sevika's, it was clammy and gross.

You screeched at the intrusion, being pulled out of the water.

A fourth man.

How could you let your guard down so easily?

"Now, what's a stupid lass like you doin' so far out at bay."

You crained your head up to be met with a severely shredded bald man. You clawed at the hand on your scalp and thrashed. The sting threatened to bring tears to your eyes, and you opened your mouth for a song.

The knowing man slammed your face down onto the wood, stopping you in your tracks.

"Fuck. This one be a siren, but the harder the catch, the more the prize is what I say."

Another voice came from your left.

"Knock 'er out, and I'll grab a net."

A blunt thwack was heard before your vision went dark.

Sevika had tied her boat to a post before leaving her crew to find a place to eat, preferably not a bar where she knew the rest of her men were headed. Having enough to drink, she sat at a stand selling calaloo and threw a few dabloons on the counter silently, waiting for her meal.

Her mind wasn't on anything except for you. The ruler of the Seven Seas was enamored with a mer-person.

How fitting.

She thought about the way your eyes sparkled when she told you stories, looking at her like no other. How your cold hands were so gentle when you touched her. Your soft lips against hers.

I mean, how much deeper could she fall.

Having been so engrossed in thought, she barely noticed the whispers around her. Barely. She, of course, was the talk of the town.

She intimidated people just by taking a seat next to them, so casual yet making everyone at the stand turn to glance at her. It wasn't often that Sevika bothered with mundane tasks such as eating anywhere but a bar, and nobody really saw her face anywhere except for wanted posters.

Although it was a picaroon town, and there was no way anyone there would bother to turn her in or snitch, she still pushed her plate away and got up to fend off the prying eyes. (Picaroon means pirate)

Her buckled boots thudded against the dirt road, now on the way to the nearest inn. She was almost desperate for a nights sleep without rocking on the mad waters.

Upon entering, a large man stomped past her, eager to get somewhere, she was just about to grab him and slam him into the nearest counter before her attention was interrupted.

"Them chowder-headed fools caught themselves a real jem, aye?"

"Heard theys' puttin' 'er up for auction"

That was never a pretty thing to hear. It either meant low-life pirates snagged themselves an expensive treasure, or worse, a living treasure. But it wasn't rare that a fisher or pirate just so happened to find a large, human-like fish in their net and put her on the market, so Sevika paid it no mind.

She did linger on the fact that it might be the one person on her mind at the moment but quickly shook away those thoughts. You were smart, quick. Theres no way any man would have you that easily.

When she approached the counter for a key, the shop-keep laughed, "What? You want a room? I think you ought to pay the stands a visit, its the first auction in a week."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at his words, her head dipping into her previous thoughts again.

I guess it wouldn't hurt to make sure.

So she drug her tired and heavy legs right back across town for the sliver of a chance that it might be you.

You awoke with a harsh throbbing in your head, feeling cold and dried up. Through blurry vision, you could make out the steel bars, closing you in. And a loud voice,

"Another bid for 300 dabloons !"

Fuck. It's what you've been dreading all your life. You got caught due to your lack of awareness and clumsiness. Inwardly cursing at yourself, you grabbed at the bars and shook violently.

"Look, she's awake. How do we feel about upping the price now that we can see her pretty eyes."

The man stuck his fingers in your enclosure and tilted your chin up. At that moment, you became aware of the metallic muzzle on your face, keeping your jaw in place. You glared up at him, knowing you'd bite him if you could.

He pulled away when you jerked your head forward, as if making the motion to bite him. He laughed loudly, and another bid came from the crowd.

"500!"

The men yelled and whooped at that. You thunked your head against the bars, the loudness ringing in your ears. You can't believe you got yourself in this mess for a pirate.

It was just hollering and laughing for a while before the man beside you spoke,

"500, Aye? Going once.. going twice.."

"A thousand."

A heavy female voice stood out amongst the rest, sounding angry and tired. Your eyes darted around, looking for the source of the voice, but another shrill voice spoke up.

"1000? Is this woman kidding? 1500."

The men's laughs roared in again, smacking the mans back and slinging booze. A tall figure stepped out of the shadow, cigarillo in hand, and spoke, "Double it."

All went quiet as they eyed Sevika, her arm crossed over her chest as she brought a mechanical hand to her lips to take a drag. She blew the smoke from the side of her mouth, making a taller male cough.

Your eyes widened, and fingers gripped the bars steadier. When you made eyecontact, you could have sworn her eyes went soft for a moment before she looked to your captor.

"Well.. any final bids..?"

He spoke seemingly frightened and pleased with himself all in one moment.

Nobody spoke against Sevika, as a captian never had a bounty over their head for a reason. And her bounty was hefty.

There were no protests as she pushed her way through the crowd, seemingly more violent than usual. She put her cigar out on someone's forehead, the small tiss, standing out against silence.

Her boots clunked as she ascended the stairs and plopped three brown bags atop your cage. You looked up at her, but she wasn't looking back. Her metal hand was grabbing the key from the mans hand and pushing him backward in one motion.

He stumbled, but you looked away to eye Sevikas human hand swiftly unlocking the cage. She held her hand out to you, dark hair shadowed her eyes, and hid her expression from you.

She was who you were here for.

You hesitantly grabbed her calloused hand, and immediately, she lifted you into her arms. Now, looking into the crowd, her menacing expression was highlighted by the dim torches that surround the stands. Her cape was draped over your tail and bare torso, shielding you from the cold, and more importantly the people.

As she was stepping down the stairs, she saw your muzzled mouth, and her expression got a tinge darker. No words needed to be spoken as she balanced you with her human arm and knee, tearing the straps of the muzzle off with a sharp finger.

It was almost instinct to hum a siren song, but before your vocal chords could start, you saw her expression and buried your face in her sturdy torso. It was the look of warning, a warning that you obeyed.

Pirates gawked at the sight of her carrying you past the crowd of people. Nobody dared to reach out and touch you. Some people didn't even dare to look at you. You kept your gaze on Sevika's clenched jaw and torn expression. The angles of her face were more prominent at this angle, you would blush at the sight but your nervousness didn't allow it.

Her grip on your tail was firm, yet gentle, human arm cradling your torso without complaining about the coldness. You weren't one to be drawn to the warmth of a human, but found yourself pressed closer against her body. You now shut your eyes to rid of the feeling of stares and judgement.

As she carried you down the dirt road back to the inn, she spoke in a frustrated tone, "You are the stupidest fish ive ever met."

"And you're the sappiest pirate ive ever met."

When Sevika stepped into the inn with you in her arms the keep gawked at you. You were cradled like a baby, weightless in her hold. She kept a stern gaze as he passed her the keys with a room number attached "56".

The people that sat in the inn waiting room averted their eyes, shrinking under Sevika's cold grey eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed, making you want to reach up and rub the wrinkle between them.

She walked up old rickety stairs, almost bending under your combined weight and turned left down the hall to the room. It was surprisingly quiet, and you were able to hear the woman's ragged breaths. Sevika was obviously worn out and tired from her day, and still came to your rescue.

How heroic.

She effortlessly shifted you to one arm, making sure your head was steady against her shoulder and creaked open the wooden door. Your tail barely brushed against the ground, her height compensating for the length.

"I need—," you spoke, before she cut you off with a grunt.

"Water. I know."

Opening the door to the bathroom, she sighed at the size. It was almost too small to fit her large frame and your long tail.

Dropping you into the tub gently, she turned the knob for cold water. "Want me to sprinkle in salt?"

You genuinely couldn't tell if she was joking, "No, no it's okay," You laughed, humming at the feeling of water on your tail.

"Why did you let yourself get caught," Sevika said, more as a statement than a question.

"I wanted to find you.. and I succeeded.. mission accomplished?"

She shook her head and bent down to accommodate for the space between you. She put a warm hand to your cheek, eyes soft and almost concerned, "Don't go looking for me like that again, danger follows me closely."

You giggled at her seriousness, despite being roughed around and almost being sold as fish food (or worse) you felt somewhat at ease. The woman at your side brought you a strange feeling of comfort, comfort that the sea never brought you.

"I guess ill just have to follow you closer."

i already have ideas for part three.... hehehehehe

again, thank you for the asks they are sweet ! and comment if you want to be on the taglist for part 3 , i do have some other works in my drafts but im saving them for when i finish this series :) but asks are open !!!

@misswynters @haruko--bby @thesecondhandwoman @theirlaliengirl

1K notes · View notes