#tales from port chance

[englishotomegames]

Aksys Games has announced they will be releasing Mistonia no Kibou and Utakata no Uchronia in English for the Nintendo Switch in 2025! 7’scarlet will be ported to the Nintendo Switch as well.

Mistonia no Kibou

"A tale filled with love and fixation, woven together by those who carry the blood of the fairies. The story takes place in Grand Alvion, a kingdom thriving under the rule of the fairy queen, in an era where light and shadow coexist. On the outskirts of the capital city stands a noble residence belonging to a prestigious family, where a newly-hired maid is about to set foot onto the property: our heroine, Applause. Having lost everything eight years prior, she swore to take revenge on those responsible. Under a false identity, she begins her search for the truth as she works at the mansion belonging to a potential target for her vengeance. What secrets will she unearth upon her chance encounters with the distinguished noblemen who protect the kingdom? What path will she choose? And so begins the revenge tragedy of a girl bound by a hapless fate."

Utakata no Uchronia

"Welcome to the renowned and prosperous utopia, the flying city of Itehari. Our protagonist is Hinagiku, a noble lady from a distinguished family who longs for the world beyond the floating city. One day, Hinagiku, having just turned 18 years old, encounters an amnesiac man named Yashiro. Their fortuitous meeting becomes the catalyst that drags her into a series of events involving the secrets and various truths hidden beneath the surface of this beautiful utopia."

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Ten

Fool's Fare: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: ASSAULT, ATTEMPTED SA, feelings of jealousy, reader avoiding her problems, smut (pain kink, fingering, dry humping, p in v, dirty talk, slight breeding kink), arguing, descriptions of blood, violence, misplaced rage, idiots in love. I think that's it, but PLEASE let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: Just under 5.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

You always thought monsters were found solely in the spoken words of stories passed from person to person in low lights, in hushed whispers, in frantic glances.

They were the things that parents warned their children about, their gnashing teeth and glowing eyes hunting them in the dark, reminding them to stay close, to stay mindful, to stay safe.

You didn’t believe in monsters. You hadn’t since you were little, but now you wondered if monsters weren’t the creatures that roamed the nights, preying on children and unsuspecting folks as they traversed the shadows. Perhaps they were the unsuspecting victims of circumstance, the victims of choices made and consequences dealt with no care for the intentions behind them.

Did any one person ever intend to become a monster? To become the thing that parents warned their children about? Were they born or were they made? Was a monster capable of being a good person? Or did the title bar one from redemption? Were they even capable of love?

Captain Jake Seresin was a good man, of this you were sure and certain. You saw the way he treated the men of his crew with respect and fairness no matter how far down the totem pole they were. You saw how he smiled at the children in the different port town, green eyes twinkling as he waved at the babies and ruffled the hair of the small children that greeted him. You saw the way he closed his eyes in the setting sun, the sea breeze ruffling his golden locks, the smile that lay in a shadow on his lips as he savored the moment.

You watched him in those moments, wondering how anyone could think him a monster. You were no stranger to his harder moments or his rougher actions, but you supposed you had your fair share of the same. Despite seeing the uglier side of him, if you could even call it that, you still found yourself drawn to the rugged captain all the same. Your eyes would wander toward him before you even had the chance to realize what you were doing, green eyes meeting yours and snapping you out of your reverie as heat would rise to your cheeks. It was a wonder the roof of your cabin had no holes in it from the way you lay awake at night, staring daggers into the worn wood as your mind raced with thoughts of the captain, of what would happen should you either fail or succeed in having the curse lifted.

It had been two weeks since the events on the isle, and the captain had yet to lay a finger on you, as promised. On more than one occasion you had waited with bated breath as he would reach for you, only to huff quietly in disappointment as he would stop and let his fingers drop back to his sides. You found you missed his touch, the constant reassurance it brought to you that you were safe under the watchful eyes of your captain.

Truly, you found that you missed having him around you so constantly. You missed the late night filled with quiet laughter and the shared tales of growing up in your different parts of the world. The way his fingers would play with the ends of your hair or smooth over your cheeks as he studied you while you told your stories. Or the way his emerald eyes would light up with joy as he recounted a story of he and Javy back in the days before he took command of the Hangman. You missed him.

Of course, the captain was sure to keep up with your sword lessons, and you were proud to say that his hits were growing fewer and farther in between. You had yet to best him, but you caught the flashes of pride that danced in his eyes every time you came close.

You once again found yourself perched in a chair inside a busy tavern, the other ladies bustling around the room with drinks and ample cleavage on display for wandering eyes of men. You saw several members of your own crew casting longing glances at the ladies, and you suspected several of the newer members would try their hands at sating the undeterrable desire that coursed their veins.

You let out a long, labored sigh as you rested your chin on your fist, eyes scanning the room with disinterest as the men spoke around you. Natasha sat across the room, a gaggle of men surrounding her as she regaled them with titillating tales of her adventures and coy flirtations disguised as teasing japes. You wondered if you could ever find yourself feeling so carefree, envying her ability to forget the current circumstances as the deadline to end the curse drew nearer with each passing day.

The tension from your group of friends was palpable as they watched the blond captain oversee the signing of the poor, new souls sign away their lives to one of servitude. Javy stood at his side, arms crossed with a stoic expression on his face, but the way he would glance over towards Natasha just a few tables over was not lost to your watchful eye.

A pretty red head sauntered over towards where your captain sat, a lascivious smile curled on her painted lips as her eyes wandered over Jake’s form draped across the wooden chair. A manicured hand came up to rest on his shoulder, dipping down towards the open V of his cotton shirt as she leaned down to whisper something in his ear. His hand reached up to hers, taking it, and you felt the ugly twist of heat curl in your chest as your cheeks warmed. You stood abruptly, chair scraping against the stone floor as the others cast wary glances your way.

“I need some air,” you muttered, already moving towards the exit, shoving past the several large bodies, drunkenly swaying as they blocked your escape route. If the others called after you, you didn’t hear them over the noise of the tavern and the blood rushing in your ears. He would touch her, but not you? His touch you had to beg for, seeking it out yourself because he refused to touch you for some stupid sense of honor and valiance, and yet he gave it freely to the first woman who came in his sights.

The night air was cool on your skin as you finally managed to break through the crowd. You paused only for a brief moment before you pushed forward, determined to put some distance between yourself and the stifling air of merriment.

You had made it only a few yards before you heard your name ring out in the quiet streets, the familiar timbre causing your heart to clench in mixture of anguish and anger as your thoughts swirled inside your head. He had deprived you of his comfort for weeks, had kept you at bay and away from him for so long, and now he suddenly wanted you?

You ignored him as you sped up your pace, hearing the sound of his footsteps pick up as well. You rounded a corner, pushing yourself back against the entryway of one of the buildings and out of the dim light cast by the streetlamps. You waited with bated breath as the footsteps rounded the corner, a flash of blond jogging past your hiding place before coming to a slow stop once he realized you were nowhere in sight.

“Guppy?” He called, uncertainty laced in his voice. You stayed silent, still, as he glanced around the buildings lining the street. You shifted in the shadows, pressing yourself as far back as you could as you watched him. He let out a deep sigh, hunching over as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Guppy, please,” he said again, twisting as he inspected the shadows. “Can we talk?”

You didn’t want to talk, not with him. At least, not in that moment. No, you wanted him to feel as helpless as you had for two weeks, reaching out only to be ignored. You wouldn’t forgive him so easily.

You needed a moment to breathe, to think. You had been afforded so little time to yourself, constantly bombarded with tasks on the ship in between your sword lessons and chatter with your friends. You hadn’t allowed yourself a moment to process the events of the isle and the information you gathered after, and you found your frustrations and feelings from the past two weeks boiling to the surface.

Jake let out a curse under his breath as he paused in his turning. You watched as his teeth worried on his bottom lip, indecision clear on his face before stalking off in the opposite direction. You waited a few moments, making sure he was gone before slipping out from the shadows, scanning the street for signs of anyone. Seeing signs of no one, you looked back one last time in the direction the captain had disappeared in before turning towards the harbor.

You managed to make it back to the ship before the tears started leaking past your carefully constructed wall of feigned indifference. It was quiet, the entire crew having decided to try and find some sense of normalcy at the tavern, and you were thankful for that serendipitous turn of events as you padded across the deck towards the stairs to the galley.

The ship swayed in the tide, causing you to be somewhat unsteady on your feet as you stumbled towards the kitchen. The ale felt sour in your belly, and you were sure some food would help settle it before you retired for the evening to wallow in your feelings.

A part of you knew you were being unreasonable in how you were handling the situation, and as you scrounged up some bread, you huffed at your own unwillingness to address the issue.

You would never move past this rough spot unless you sat down to have a conversation with the captain. Two weeks had allowed the wounds to fester, and avoiding the situation would only make it worse.

You had just found the last of the cheese, making a mental note to pick some up at the market tomorrow before departure when the creak of one of the floorboards caused you to pause. Letting out a sigh, you turned around towards the entrance to the kitchen. It was the captain you had expected to see, so it surprised you to see one of the crew members bracing himself against the frame of the doorway, dark eyes fixed on where you stood. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought him drunk or ill with the way his skin shone with sweat, the paleness of him showing in stark contrast to the shadows of the room. The bags under his eyes caused him to have a skeletal appearance, and the hair on the back of your neck stood at attention as the two of you stared at one another.

“Evening,” you offered, wincing at how small your voice sounded. “Can I help you?”

The man said nothing, thin lips turning downwards as he cocked his head to the side. He took a slow, heavy step forward, and your eyes immediately darted towards the knife that lay on the edge of the counter. It wouldn’t kill him or cause much harm by any means, but it might slow him down enough for you to escape should you need to.

“Are you hungry?” You asked him, inching slowly towards the knife so as not to cause suspicion. “I can make you something if you like.”

“You know we’re always hungry,” he sneered, looking at you with disdain. “Haven’t had a sated belly in months. Haven’t had a drink that’s not left me more parched than before either. And women…”

He paused, eyes raking over your still form, and your heart pounded in your chest. The night was still fairly early, and you would be surprised if anyone made their way back to the ship anytime soon.

“We all know that you’re the only source of relief on this ship,” he continued, eyes growing impossibly darker as he took another step towards you. “You’re always surrounded by that lot, though. None of us can get close to you. Tha’s why when I saw you leave, I knew I had to take my chance.”

You felt your fingers twitch as you glanced back over at the knife, taking a small step sideways as he took another haggard step forward.

“Chance at what?” You asked him, voice barely above a whisper, and you cursed yourself for how shaky it sounded. The man stopped, standing slightly straighter as his cold, black eyes fixated on you.

“Relief,” he uttered, the word barely passing his lips before he lunged for you. You were faster, barely, as you scrambled for the knife. You gripped the handle in your hand, whirling around just as the man’s body crashed into yours. You let out a grunt as you stumbled, nearly falling to the ground, but managing to catch yourself on the counter. Fury coursed through your veins as the man’s hot breath washed over your face, his eyes blazing but almost unseeing as he reached for you. You brought your hand up, slashing at his face with the knife.

He let out a howl of pain as he clutched his now bleeding eye, falling to his knees as the thick, red liquid oozed out between his fingers, and you took the moment to scramble away from him, hissing as your hip collided with the edge of the counter. Your eyes fixed on the dinner bell hanging just by the stairs of the galley. You glanced back for half a second to see the man staggering to his feet, hand still gripping his skull as he fixed a murderous glare on you. You sucked in a breath as you bolted from the kitchen, the bell growing closer and closer as you willed your feet to move faster.

Your fingers wrapped around the rope attached to the bell and you pulled frantically, the loud clanging of the metal echoing through the room and up the stairs onto the deck. You hoped that it was loud enough for someone to hear and investigate.

Your thoughts were cut short as a hand yanked you backwards by your hair, a hiss of pain leaving your lips as your hands clawed at the ones just out of reach behind you.

“You miserable, little cunt,” the man growled, slamming you into the wood of the entrance, “I coulda been nice to ya, but now? Now I’m going to make sure it hurts.”

Your cheek ached from the force of the impact, the rough wood scratching your skin and adding to the sensation as you struggled to break free of his hold.

“Stop your squirmin’,” he muttered, hand wrapped around both of your wrists as he gripped your shoulder with the other to pull you back away from the wall. You took that moment to bring your foot back as hard as possible, heel meeting something solid in the process. The man let out a grunt of pain before his hand moved from your shoulder to grip your chin, pulling it back at an awkward angle to look at you.

“Now listen here-”

You didn’t let him finish, instead opening your mouth and biting down as hard as you could onto his fingers. He let out a pained yell as your mouth flooded with the taste of iron. He snatched his hand back, his other letting go of your wrists. You took the opportunity to flee, feet thudding up the steps to the deck. You turned your head to glance back over your shoulder, but before you could get a gauge on how far away the man was, you ran into a solid wall of muscle.

You let out a grunt as you stumbled back, nearly falling down the stairs before an hand reached out to grab your hip and steady you. You reeled back, eyes locking onto brilliant green, and your body sagged in relief.

“Guppy?” Jake frowned, eyes scanning you head to toe. You were sure you looked a sight in that moment. The throbbing in your cheek was pounding, the skin there sticky with what you were sure was blood. Your wrists and shoulders ached from where the man had twisted them back.

At that moment, thundering footsteps sounded behind you, and your heart jumped in panic as you twisted around in Jake’s hold. The man’s murderous gaze landed on you, his lips curled in a sneer before dropping at the sight of the captain behind you. His skin paled as Jake’s hold on you tightened, and you felt the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes.

“What happened?” Jake barked, and the man in front of you flinched at the tone. Neither of you said a word as you stared at one another, daring the other to speak first.

Footsteps sounded on the gangway, and you turned to see a small group making their way onto the deck, headed by Javy. The quarter master stopped short as he saw the scene in front of him, his usual stoicism slipping into a look of shock before they schooled once more. He pushed his shoulders back and made quick strides to stand next to the two of you.

“Captain,” he said, arching a brow at the man behind you. “What seems to be the problem here?”

“I was wondering that myself,” Jake growled, the tension rolling off of him in waves. A beat of silence passed before Javy let out a drawn-out sigh.

“Thomas,” he snapped, drawing the man’s attention. “Get your ass down in the galley. I’ll be dealing with you in a moment.”

The quarter master’s tone left no room for argument and the man, Thomas, cast one last glance in your direction before retreating back down the steps.

“Reuben. Mickey,” Javy barked out. Both men hurried to follow Thomas down the steps without another word, giving you curious looks as they walked by. The quarter master turned to look at the captain, lips pressed tightly together as he glanced down at you.

“You might want to get her cleaned up,” he said quietly. Jake said nothing. He guided you towards the cabin, his touch surprisingly gentle as your feet stumbled beneath you. You felt the first wave of exhaustion hit you then, sagging further into Jake’s side as he led you past the door and down the hall to his cabin.

The room was just as you remembered, not having seen it in the weeks since the captain started pushing you away. The man in question led you further into the room before guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. Your mind was foggy, but you were vaguely aware of Jake moving. The sound of water being poured from a pitcher and into a bowl filled the room, and the blond kneeled before you with a cloth in hand. He took one of your hands in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb gently.

“Guppy?” He murmured, eyes searching your face. “You still with me?”

“Yeah,” you croaked quietly. Jake gave you a comforting smile that seemed strained more than anything else. He looked away to mess with the bowl to his side, wringing the cloth of the water it had soaked up before turning back to you.

“You had me worried there for a second,” he said finally, dabbing at the scratches on your cheek. “I couldn’t find you after you left the tavern, and then I heard the bell on the ship, which I thought was odd for this time of night. I go to investigate and you run right into me with one of my crew hot on your tail.”

You said nothing, eyelids drooping as you fought the urge to sleep that was quickly taking over. Jake worked methodically, dabbing gently at your cheek and wiping away the blood that stained your skin.

“You should get some rest,” he told you, dropping the cloth back into the bowl and moving to stand. You watched him, taking note of the way his brow furrowed and his lips pulled down into a frown. He set the bowl on one of the tables littering the wall before turning back to you.

“You must be exhausted after today,” he continued, making his way back over to you. He brushed the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear before cupping your cheek gently. He bent down to press a kiss to your forehead, pulling away slightly, but still lingering.

“I mean it,” he chided, hands pushing you and guiding you to lay back, “you need to get some rest. We’ll talk later, alright?”

You nodded, eyes already falling closed as he retreated.

You awoke with a start, sweat clinging to your forehead as you bolted upright. The lingering feeling of being chased hung in the air as your chest rose and fell with every pant of air. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the sun looked to be well in the sky from where you sat on the bed. It was at that moment that the door to the cabin swung open.

Jake stood in the doorway, a look of concern on his flushed face, as if he had been running.

“What is it?” He asked, breathless. “What’s wrong?”

You stared at him dumbly. “What?”

“I heard screaming,” he replied, brow furrowing as he inched into the room, the door closing behind him. “I thought something was wrong.”

You continued to stare at him as he padded closer, studying you.

“How’re you doing?” He asked finally, softly. The events of the night before rushed back to you. The feeling of helplessness, the pain, the fear. You thought about what Thomas had said to you, about wanting to feel relief, and a wave of anger crashed into you so suddenly that you were on your feet before you knew it. You stomped over to Jake, shoving at his chest. The captain was taken aback, stumbling backwards in his surprise.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up to defend against the blows of your fists against his chest. You ignored his outcry, swinging your hands blindly in front of you.

“Guppy, stop,” Jake said, scrambling to grab your wrists and stop you. You bared your teeth, rage pulsing through you much like it had last night.

“Dammit, stop!” He snapped, finally getting ahold of your wrists, stopping your tirade. The two of you stared at each other, panting from the exertion. Jakes eyes bored into yours, searching for what, you didn’t know. You yanked your hands free of his, pursing your lips in a tight frown as you studied him back. A warmth blossomed in your lower stomach, and your breaths grew labored for a different reason. Jake’s expression morphed into one of confusion, which didn’t last long as you leaned up to kiss him.

He let out a noise of quiet surprise before returning the kiss with enthusiasm. One hand moved to grip your waist, pulling you closer as the other snaked up to cup the back of your neck. Your arms wrapped around his neck, caution thrown to the wind as you moved your lips against his. Jake licked into your mouth, drawing out an embarrassingly loud noise from you. You felt the smirk against your lips, and a twinge of annoyance fluttered through the surface.

You pulled back, breathing heavy before pushing against Jake’s chest to dislodge yourself from his embrace. He gave you a puzzled look as you spun him around, pushing him down onto the edge of the bed. You hoisted your skirts up around you before settling down on his lap, once again attaching your lips to his. He let out a grunt that quickly dissolved into a moan as you began to rock against him, the hardness of him pressing into you through his trousers.

His hands settled on your hips, guiding you over him as his mouth devoured yours in a kiss that was more tongue and teeth than anything else. Your hands roamed his figure, up the span of his torso, over his shoulders, and into his hair. Your fingers entwined with his golden locks, scratching at his scalp and eliciting a drawn out grown from the man beneath you.

You clutched at his hair, yanking his head back harshly. Jake let out a hiss as his eyes focused on you. Green was swallowed up by the blacks of his pupils, and a look of pure lust adorned his face as you held him still.

“It’s your fault,” you spat, hovering your lips just over his. His brow furrowed once more.

“What?”

“He wouldn’t have gone after me if you hadn’t been avoiding me for weeks,” you continued, grinding down on the bulge in Jake’s pants. He gave a wanton moan as his eyes fluttered closed.

“Nothing to say?” You breathed, a moan escaping your lips as pleasure coursed through you.

“It wouldn’t have-fuck!” He groaned, “it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run from me.”

You let out a growl before yanking his head to the side, running your nose along his neck. You sank your teeth into the meat of his shoulder, drawing out a pathetic whimper as his grip on you tightened, the muscles in his neck straining as he fought for control.

You let out a startled yelp as you were flipped onto your back, Jake’s hands scrambling to untie the strings of your shirt, baring your chest to him. The cool air caused your nipples to start pebbling, your chest heaving as you gazed up at him.

Jake lowered his mouth down to capture one nipple between his lips, laving it with attention as a hand reached up to grope the other. Your back arched as you threw your head back in bliss, hands curling in the soft locks of your lover once more. Jake nipped and sucked at the skin of your breast before shifting his attention to the other, and you glanced down to find him already looking at you. A smirk ghosted on his lips as he trailed a hand down under your skirts.

His fingers brushed your lower lips, sending a shiver up your spine that left you wanting more.

“Look at you,” he cooed, running his hand up and down your slit, your wetness coating him as you moaned. “Already so wet for me. You get off acting like such a wild thing all the time?”

His thumb circled your clit, and you let out a high-pitched whine as you arched into his touch. The smirk was full-blown now as you clung to him.

“Don’t you worry, pretty girl,” he murmured, cradling the back of your neck to bring your forehead to rest against his. His nose nuzzled yours as your breaths came out in quick pants. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Slowly, he pressed a finger into your entrance, your walls gripping the digit tightly, and he let out a breath.

“Fuck, so tight,” he muttered more to himself than to you. You clung to him, fingertips digging into his shoulders as he slowly pumped in and out of you, adding a second finger before long.

“Such pretty noises you make for me,” he cooed once more, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before drawing back. You tried to chase after him, but he moved just out of reach with a chuckle. “You’re squeezin’ me so hard, darlin’. You gonna let go for me?”

You let out another whimper, the coil in your belly curling tight as you scrunched your eyes closed, and you fought to hold it off just a little longer. Jake tutted, moving the hand on your neck to grip your chin firmly. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his disapproving gaze.

“Don’t you go holding back on me,” he growled, speeding up the motion of his fingers, paying special attention to your clit. “Your pleasure is mine. Now give. It. To. Me.”

With a final thrust, the coil sprang, pleasure coursing through your veins as you let out a keening moan. Jake leaned forward, swallowing your pleasure with a debauched kiss that left your head reeling for air. He pulled away, and you gasped for air, sucking in lungfuls as you came down from your high.

Jake littered soft kisses along your neck leading down to your shoulders, and a new wave of need filled you. You ran a hand through his hair, the other reaching between the two of you to pull at the laces of his britches.

“Jake,” you breathed, looking at him through your lashes. “Need you.”

Jake pulled back with a huff of a laugh as he looked down at you, hands moving to help release him from his pants.

“Not even going to wait for us to undress?” He teased, sucking in a breath as your hand wrapped around his length.

“Need you now,” you insisted, stroking him. He let out a groan, shifting back on his haunches as you released him, spreading your legs with a whine. Jake hesitated, and you pouted up at him.

“What is it?” You asked, leaning up slightly to get a better look at him.

“It’s just,” he paused, pressing his lips together and turning his gaze away from you. “I need to know if this is real. If this is more than just anger, and adrenaline, and any feelings you’re having about the deadline coming up.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words. You sat up, taking his hand in yours and squeezing gently.

“You don’t have to worry about any of that,” you whispered. Jake looked back at you, eyes searching once more, and you gave him a soft smile that you hoped eased his worries.

“Kiss me,” you said. Jake returned your smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him with you as you laid back. The kiss morphed into one that was more debauched, quiet moans falling past your lips as Jake trailed his own down your neck.

You reached down to grip him once more, spreading your legs and aligning him with your entrance. Jake wasted no time, leaning back to watch you as he pushed inside of you slowly. You let out a gasp, hands clutching at his arms as he filled you, the slight burn pushing the air from your lungs.

“Taking me so well, sugar,” he crooned, running his knuckles along your cheek. “So warm and wet for me, fuck. Could stay inside of you forever.”

His words had you clenching around him, and he let out a strangled moan.

“You keep doin’ that, and I’m not gonna last long, darlin’,” he chuckled.

“Need you to move,” you whimpered. “Need you to fuck me.”

Jake didn’t respond, instead leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss as he pulled his hips back, only to push them forward once more. He soon found a rhythm, and the sound of skin slapping and the cacophony of noises from the two of you soon filled the room.

“Feel so good,” he muttered in between kisses along your skin. Your nails dug into his shoulders now, legs wrapped around his waist, urging him on. “Never felt something this good, shit. Never wanna leave. Never want anyone else, just you. Squeezin’ me so hard, yeah. Just like that. I’m not gonna last much longer, darlin’, you just feel too good.”

“Need it,” you choked out, the coil inside of you on the brink of bursting once more. “Need to feel you.”

“Fuck, sugar,” he groaned, hips moving faster and losing their rhythm. “Want me to fill you up? Is that what you want?”

You nodded, moans escaping your lips left and right as you teetered on the edge.

“Dirty girl,” he huffed with a laugh. “Feel you clenchin’ around me. Don’t you worry, I’ll give it to you. Keep you nice and full, and then you’ll swell with me. You like the sound of that? Like the idea of me marking you from the inside out?”

Your hips bucked up to meet his, desperately chasing your release, and Jake obliged by slipping a hand between the two of you to toy with your clit.

“Need to feel you come around me, pretty girl. Then I’ll give you what you want,” he cooed. “Come for me.”

His words were all it took to send you over the precipice. Your moan caught in your throat, and your back arched as you came hard around him. Jake’s pace picked up before his hips stuttered, a moan leaving his lips as warmth flooded inside of you. He gave a few more shallow thrusts before stilling. His breath fanned across your neck, your fingers running through his hair.

Jake shifted off of you, pulling out of you with a quiet hiss as he shuffled to lay next to you. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you close with a sigh. You nuzzled into him, resting your head against the pillows as you held the captain in your arms, his head resting on your chest. Neither of you said anything for a long moment, just basking in the afterglow of your coupling.

“I love you.”

It was so quiet, you weren’t even sure you had heard it at first. Your fingers paused in his hair for a moment before continuing their path. Something swelled inside your chest, and you willed the tears to stay locked inside. What you were feeling would only serve to cause you more harm if everything went poorly, and still…

“I love you too.”

A/N: You all have the fact that I started watching Black Sails this weekend to thank for this. But seriously, I know I took an unexpected hiatus after everything that went on last month, and for a while there, I wasn't even sure about the future of this blog. Thank you all for sticking by me as I navigated what I was doing, and I hope to have more for you guys here soon!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[lirotation]

"Future" of the "past/present/future" set...yes...still struggling with the "past" one.

This can be THE HC for my CP.

Just some musing after the cut.

Castle by the sea

Mortal Astarion X F!Tav

There stood a castle perched atop a seaside cliff, its imposing walls shrouded in mystery, for none knew who resided within its walls for years on end. Until one fateful day, when a band of merchants, hotly pursued by a bloodthirsty pack of orcs, found themselves with no recourse but to pound upon the castle's iron-clad door, begging for sanctuary.

Oh, how the bards still sing of that day! A vision emerged from the castle's depths - a beautiful couple, the lady's smile warm as the sun, while her lord was a whirlwind of violence, effortlessly slaying each orc until the last lay dead at his feet. The merchants scarce had time to blink before he returned, drenched in the crimson tide of his foes.

From that day forth, it became known that a well-spun tale could earn a traveler a hot meal and protection from the castle. Come the following spring, a humble inn arose nearby, and people staying there could spot the lord and lady strolling hand-in-hand along the coast, their laughter carried aloft on the sea breeze.

Five years later, that solitary inn had blossomed into a village.

A decade more, and the village had grown large, its streets bustling with life. Until one cruel winter when a ravenous band of goblins descended, intent on raiding the peaceful hamlet. But the dreaded couple painted the streets crimson with goblin blood. In gratitude, the villagers swore fealty. They offered an annual tribute and was accepted by the benevolent lady as tax. The funding was used to build a school and extensive sewer system by the lady, while her lord marked the law. His iron hand dealt justice, his judgments always stern, yet fair.

And so the village became a town.

Fifty years on, the first college and grand libraries were constructed, a port arose - all from the bounty of the beloved couple's governance.

And so the town became a city.

One hundred summers had come and gone when citizens would occasionally spy the couple amid the market crowds, the lord whispering some quip that sent his lady into peals of unrestrained, un-ladylike laughter.

Yet, a seed of disquiet took root - for while their elven lord remained ever virile, their human lady now bore the creases of age upon her face. Murmurs arose, questioning why the pair had not produced an heir. Scandalous rumors spread like wildfire - that she was barren, unfit to give him a child. Ambitious maidens of every race saw their chance and shamelessly propositioned the lord. It was even whispered that the lady herself had begged her lord to slay these brazen girls. Until at last, an assassination attempt was made upon the lady, some seeing it as a chance to help their lord shed his "unwanted baggage."

The lord arrived on time, and the look he gave the crowd chilled them to the bone.

Then, upon the next dawn, citizens looked up to see that the castle by the sea, was by the sea no longer.

_________

Yeah, still the timeline where she traded her fertility for a cure for him. Career is more important! They founded a city together =D

[fanaticsnail]

When You Had The Chance

Masterlist Here.

Word Count: 3,830

Plot: Serving as first mate to the Buggy-Pirates, it was your job to keep your captain grounded and uplifted. When tempers flared, he decided to confront his childhood rival once and for all - pulling out all the stops to finally lay their feud to rest. Crew against crew, Captain against Captain, First-Mate against First-Mate - will you win, or lie at the mercy of the man you once loved. The man you will always love. 

Themes: Angst, pining, war, fighting, guns, blades, blood, unrequitted love, age-gap (19-37, 23-41, 32-50: Maths made me work today) f!reader, pet-name used, enemies to friends to enemies to lovers.

Song Suggestions: Let Me Down Slowly, She Used to be Mine

Tag List: @sordidmusings, @writingmysanity, @gingernut1314, @feral-artistry,

Destruction, chaos, blood and bones litter the splintered hull of the ship. The air was tinted with the scent of cinders, flint and ignited powders. Another cannon struck the top-mast, this time severing the link and reducing it to shredded planks. Everything was happening both too fast and too slow. Buggy was flying through the air, untameable as the sea and as chaotic as the storm rocking the ship against the thrashing waves. 

A clap of lightning cut the sky, the sound of rumbled beaten-drum thunder reverberated and shook against your rapidly reducing vessel. You shook your nerves away from your hands and leapt into the air, holding your breath as you propelled yourself onto the enemy vessel. 

You had no idea that a night of drinking and reminiscing with your captain and crew would lead you here. It started with ale, pale to start and ending with stout. Then you switched to ports and honey-mead to cleanse the palate and continue the merriment. Music, lividity, gaiety was where you started - singing heartily to the shanties of old. 

And then they brought out the ouzo. 

Ouzo, your one weakness, had memories spiraling and your heart swelling in love-stricken grief. It started with each of you recounting your places at the time of Gol D Rogers execution. Buggy could barely choke back his tears, almost coherent with words he left unspoken as he witnessed his heart stop as a fifteen year old. You confessed you were in a place you knew you shouldn't, a child of barely eight witnessing the death of someone you had adored from afar as king of your kind. 

From listening to the recounts of the crew, anger began to fester below the surface. Tales of how Captain Shanks ruined the life of your beloved clown had your heart beating heavier - swelling with the thinning blood infused with a high percentage of alcohol. You had only then begun to uproot the prior stifled feelings regarding the redheaded captain’s first mate. 

You thought you repressed them enough, compartmentalized enough. But the bile began to form behind your lips as your heart jumped into your throat as the memories found themselves within the forefront of your eyes. 

He had every right to turn you down. You respect him more for it now than you did back then, that was for certain. You were barely nineteen, making a name for yourself as one of the most nimble-footed, light fingered thieves in the east blue. “Get in, get on with it, get it done, and get out,” was your motto; and a motto you managed to execute with the highest amount of competency and skill. 

Stealing from a red-haired captain? An easy task you were commissioned to do. Having your heart stolen from your chest, lungs compressed of all its oxygen as your eyes met with the steel gaze of the first mate? Not something you had ever accounted for. But you fell first, and you fell hard. 

You disregarded your mission, bullied the captain immediately to take you under his wing aboard the red-force and served with them for little over four years. In those four years, your heart was longing, craving affection from the first mate. Yassop gave you hell for it. Lucky Roux attempted to join in on the teasing - only for you to teach them both a lesson by misplacing and claiming objects very near and dear to them. 

Each time you set to dock at port, you witnessed the love of your life take another to his bed. You drew attention yourself, and easily took a fling here and there. But in doing so, you were always longing to be the one chosen good enough - special enough - to warm the sheets beside Benn Beckman. To be the face he’d lie next to in the night, and the smile he awoke to in the morning. 

At twenty three, you confessed. A night not unlike the one here amongst the red-hair pirates had you singing, swaying and dancing to the fingerpicking of a guitar. Ouzo drove your words, an apprehensive and innocent smile dancing on your lips as the warm alcohol flushed your cheeks. You laid it all out for him; from the moment your eyes first met, to the way you altered your entire life for the opportunity to be by his side - you risked it all at the beachfront fireside with the crack of warm flames dancing in your eyes.

As you leant in to place a soft kiss against his lips: he turned away from you with his eyes tightly shut. His hand clapped over your shoulder, as he kept you an arms length away and reopened his eyes. 

“Darlin’, I’m flattered,” His voice drawled, brows furrowed in a deep frown as he held his eyes away from yours, “But I’m a little old for someone like you.” 

Someone like you. 

That phrase had all thoughts sour, all emotions and tempers running high as you hastily sprung to your feet and marched back towards the Red Force. Knowing now what you knew then, he had every right to turn you down as you confessed to him. You were young, a fool only in love; never unsound in mind. 

Was that how all of the crew thought of you? An infatuated, love-sick, and thieving child following blindly the orders of your captain, under the watchful eyes of a first mate you’d come to love? You gave up everything to be by his side; your career long since forgotten as you worked yourself to the bone for the chance to be on the receiving end of a small smile from him. 

You hastily packed your belongings, leaving no trace nor whisper you had ever served among this crew, and crept back into the shadows where you once more found yourself again. Thriving in the reignition of your skillset, you had managed to acquire a fair amount of wealth for yourself. Feeling in a celebratory mood after a successful solo heist, your eyes met with the hunched over figure of a sad clown.

Feeling content and pleased with yourself, you decided to buy him a drink. And then another. 

And then you decided to join him for one. 

When you met Buggy, you knew this was the crew you were always meant to serve with. Your skills as a thief had you perform in his circus as his prized assistant. His coy volunteer within the stands, his enchanting assistant showcasing his grandeur, his leading lady in the ring - his loyal First-Mate as he made a name for himself through fame and fortune. Never once did you feel the desire to romance the clown, keeping the need to express such feelings for another hidden well below the surface, but you loved him as one ever could love an older sibling who acted like the younger. 

After slamming down your upturned, empty shot glass for the umpteenth time; you lulled your head atop his shoulder and nonchalantly raised your voice in question.

“What if we just,” your speech slurred as you looked over the back of your nails, “killed him?”

“Killed who, Doll? Who we killing?” Your captain asked, looking over your head to nod in appreciation of your painted fingernails.

“Shanks. The Red-Hair pirates. All of them.”

Buggy leant down into your ear, holding his glazed over eyes and a rumbled growl of anxiety laden excitement purred against your skin.

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

And this is where your booze-filled suggestion had you. Rifles drawn, cutlasses brandished and fists meeting flesh as you tore each other into ribbons of littered and battered skin. Teeth gnashing, throats growling and brows furrowing; the tension was being cut with layers of destruction. Two crews you had served with, the former being on the winning side of the fight as the latter began to perish. Your current crew were being annihilated, only very few remaining now standing as the Big Top was slowly sinking beneath the icy-cold water. 

As another cannonball was fired from the end of an iron circlet, you fell to a crouched position and barely managed to cover your ears to stifle the ringing within. As you withdrew your ears and turned, you opened your eyes to a sight you never thought you would see again.

Facing down the barrel of a rifle, your eyes first met with the cold circlet of doom pointing at your head. You smelt the warm familiarity of tobacco first, your heart pounding harder than it ever did within the battle prior. 

Glancing up past the barrel, you met with the cold and calculated stare of the first-mate of the red hair pirates. His eyes were wide and wild, his lips curled back into a grimace with the grinding of teeth, before the cruel twist of fate had his eyes stagger under recognition.

The warm hot flush of angry tears began to sting at the corners of your eyes as they continued to bear into his - his own raw emotion being depicted on his own face. 

Beckman’s heart stopped, his breath hitched and cigarette fell from his parted lips as his jaw fell slack. Never once had you reached out. Not after all this time did he know you were even alive, let alone serving amongst the rival crew of the one you had come to know prior. He never should’ve let you leave - not like that. Not knowing how he truly felt for you and choosing to restrain himself from your alcohol-induced confession. 

He loved you. He loved you so desperately, he could not see his life complete without you. And when you severed from the crew and left no trace, Beckman became a shell of a man he once was. Faking smiles, forcing laughter, joining himself with pleasurable company no longer on his agenda as all he could picture was your face. Your eyes: filled with such sorrow at his rejection, that was all he came to see behind his closed eyes as he lay to sleep. 

"You gonna shoot me, Becks? Is that what it all comes down to?" Your taunt broke him away from his looping thoughts, his battletorn face alert to the woman he had come to long for. Your sinister and malicious smile was never something he ever foresaw being on the receiving end of, and it startled him. 

"I don't want to, Darlin'. But if it'll stop you from fightin’ us and leaving with the clown again, I'll see it done,” he responded, clicking back the ignition on his beloved pistol.

The roars of battle fleeing from the lips of your Captain, his malicious cackles of rage-filled laughter hurtling towards Red Haired Shanks. Echoes of taunts and insults hurled into the air regarding the betrayal of one captain against another, all of which were met by an uproar of apologies from your former captain as he blocked every assault thrown his way. 

Although you were a faithful first-mate, knowing it was your role to serve and protect your captain, you were struck down by your own swollen emotions within your heart. No longer filled with the taste and hindrance of alcohol, your once hidden thoughts and emotions began to swell of their own accord in front of the silver-haired first-mate.

You couldn't tear your eyes from Beckman’s, unable to break the spell of longing you felt for him. After all these years, he was still the man your heart cried for in the lonely hours of the night, as you lay in crew quarters aboard the enemy’s ship. The first man you ever loved. The man you would always love. The man who still held the pointed tip of a gun at your head as you scowled into his face, masking the pain his absence had drawn to you.

His eyes, his hair, his soul: all once held secret and safe with your adoration for him protected and refused to be spoken. Those words turned to broken mirrors, refracting light away from your eyes as they held firm against his own.

"You going to cut me down just like that? I thought you were a man far more dignified than all that," you huffed with a humorless laugh. His jaw clenched tightly shut, his eyes narrowing at you as you snarled at him beneath the barrel of his gun. 

"And I never thought I'd see you again, let alone blindly serving the enemy,” He growled, dragging his eyes over your war torn clothes and battleshaken face for any semblance of injury. 

Another cry from the clown in rage had your ears pricking at the sound, but eyes fixed on the expressions the man in front of you were holding. You saw the masking emotions slip, his eyes begin to glaze as your own mask dropped completely. 

After all this time, he was still the man you loved. You loved him so desperately, so deeply, that you almost forgot the reason you were here in the first place.

He dropped his gun from your head and fell to his knees in front of you, reaching down his left hand to seek out your chin and cradle it beneath his thumb and index finger. You keep your eyes fixed on his as you allow the luxury of a hot tear to roll down your cheek, gritting your teeth in wordlessly reprimanding yourself for such an action. 

“Benn,” the whisper of his name from your mouth had his body surge towards you, taking your lips beneath his in a long, bruising kiss. 

His left hand removed itself from your chin to take your cheek into it, his right hand circling your waist as he cradled you against himself. You whimpered against his lips, feeling everything you had once felt for him simmer and boil to the surface. 

You clenched your eyes tightly shut, brows furrowing as he reflected everything you had tangibly felt in yearning for him for all of these years. You felt the stubble of his chin scrape against yours, the taste of his final cigarette on his tongue as he deepened the oscillation. He growled as you finally gave in, hooking your right arm over his shoulder and placing your left hand atop his right cheek. You felt the etchings of his healed over scar dancing beneath your fingertips, an angry whisper of a tear leaking down to press against your thumb.

"Please don't leave with him. I couldn't bear the thought. Stop all of this,” he whispered against your lips, “Please stay,” he uttered, breaking the kiss to brace you against his body, “Stay with me on the Red Force. Serve Shanks once more. Please . I'll do anything-."

At that, you circled your chin around, breaking the embrace while rotating your hips away from him. You danced your body around his, placing a firm kick to the side of his head; successfully knocking the first-mate of the Red-Hair pirates to the ground and rising to your feet in one swift movement.

Benn was on his side, staring up at you with a mixture of shock, fury and pride. 

"Good bye, Benn. You should've shot me when you had the chance."

At that, you ran fast as your feet could carry you towards your blue-haired captain. You quickly sought him out as he lay punch after punch against the face and torso of red-haired Shanks, who looked to just be sitting there and taking them. He easily could defend himself and thwart the rage of the clown by pushing him backwards into the sea water, but he just stood and took everything Buggy was throwing at him.

Buggy, your beautiful captain, was crying. Hot and angry tears were pouring without any semblance of stopping, as fatigue from the fight slowed down his rage-filled hits. His white gloves were stained red with the blood of the man who betrayed him, a man who appeared to be whispering in a voice so low only Buggy could hear it. 

Your sprint drew you close, just off to the side as the punches slowed to a lull; Buggy’s shoulders shaking as he continued to sob. 

“It’s okay, Buggy,” Shanks whispered, allowing another hit to land against his chest, “It’s okay. Everything is okay.” Buggy’s head hung low, his knuckles pressed firmly against Shanks’ torso as he continued to cry into the air. 

Shanks hooked an arm over his shoulders, pressing Buggy’s sweat-smeared forehead against his own, as he embraced him with his battered remaining arm. Shanks’ eyes were closed and a whisper of a boyish smile was stuck to his face as Buggy’s sobs began to shake violently under his arm. 

“I’m sorry, Buggy. I’m so, so sorry,” Shanks whispered, nuzzling his head against Buggy’s as he drew his head into his chest. Buggy’s eyes continued to remain wide and unblinking as he stiffened in the embrace. 

You felt the presence of both the Red-Hair and the Buggy-Pirates at your side; battered, bruised and broken as they watched their captains embrace against one another. 

“You can keep hitting me if you want,” Shanks smiled, placing his chin atop the blue hair of the captain you serve, “But know I’ll never hate you. I’d rather die.”

You felt an overwhelming sense of both panic and relief as Buggy circled his arms around Shanks’ waist and buried his head into his chest. Sobs from the clown and laughter from the redhead began to echo against the deck of the ship, confusing all those surrounding. 

“Lay down your arms, boys,” Beckman’s voice rumbled from your side, prompting you to freeze in place. To your surprise, the Red-Hair pirates sheathed their swords and disarmed their pistols. Silence aside from the whimpers from your captain in the arms of your former were the only sounds gracing your ears, until they met with the flick of a lighter and a deep inhale of a cigarette. 

You looked over to the silver-haired man beside you, watching as he took the back of his hand and wiped the small trickle of blood from your prior kick from his lips. 

“And bring out some Ouzo, would you, Roux?” Beckman’s eyes upturned. You watched as that smile you so desperately craved began to draw up onto the lips of the man you loved, causing your heart to swell. 

“Me and this one got a lot to talk about,” he stooped down, resting his forehead against your own as his charming smile began to grow, “Don’t we, Darlin’?” 

The battle died down, your current and former captains sitting together in the middle of a table of the tavern as the Red-Force tethered and chaperoned the Big-Top into port. You were sitting at the bar, refusing to acknowledge any member of your former crew, nor your current. Cabaji and Yasopp were heavily engaged in a dart-throwing competition at the far end of the tavern; Roux and Mohji were talking about food in heavy detail, with Richie curled up at their feet. 

And Beckman was sitting atop the barstool beside you, patiently watching and waiting for you to engage him in conversation. You continued to sit in silence, sipping at the small glass of ouzo first before downing the liquid and signaling for another. 

“Someone like you,” you mocked him, tutting out a venomous reprimand before throwing back another shot of the burning, liquorice-flavored liquid as soon as it was placed in front of you, “Darlin’ this, Darlin’ that.”

“Is that what this was about?” Beckman chuckled, leaning his elbow on the bar as he took his cheek beneath his fist, “After all this time, you think-.”

“-You know what, Benn? Fuck you,” you spat, turning from him and signalling for the bartender to leave the remainder of the bottle, “Fuck you and your stupid ‘someone like you’, Benn. You should be so lucky, you arrogant prick-.” 

Your words were stifled by the firm grip pulling at the back of your hair, immediately molding his lips over your own in a long, passionate kiss. He circled his chin, parted his lips and claimed more of your heart with each brush-stroke of the portrait he painted against your mouth. He bullied you, bruised you with his intensity; cradling you against his body with each motion he made with his lips. 

Wolf-whistles and cat-calls were thrust into the air by the two pirate crews once sworn in hatred, now allies. Benn smiled against your lips, continuing to press more of himself into you before he broke away from claiming you against his mouth. 

“Someone like you,” Beckman whispered, his breath tickling your lips with the former memory, “Someone as young as you. Someone as stunning as you. Someone that could have any man they wanted fall on their knees and beg for you to send a single look their way.” Your breath hitched, eyes wide at his confession.

“Is that what you’re doing, Benn?” your eyes dropped to his lips, processing every word relayed onto you, “Begging?” 

“Pleading,” he confessed further before he claimed another kiss from your lips that ended as briefly as it began. You allowed the small break of a smile chip and whittle away against your prior stoic and aggressive demeanor. 

“Why didn’t you say so when you had the chance?” you asked him, shaking your head at him and drawing up your palm to cradle his cheek within its warmth. He closed his eyes, leaning into the small gesture and kissed your palm.

“I wanted you to have the chance to do better, Darlin’,” he uttered, placing his hand atop yours and withdrawing it from his face, “Better than me.” You sought out his meaning behind his gray orbs and clicked your tongue at him.

“Why would I ever have wanted anyone else?” you whispered, shaking your head at him. He chuckled, turning back and poured two glasses of the burning, translucent liquid into the shot glasses. 

“A guy like me doesn’t get someone like you,” he sighed, his smile still present as he downed his ouzo, “Someone like you goes for someone like Shanks.” He poured himself another and danced his glass rim against yours remaining unclaimed atop the bar. You took the hint and raised your glass within your hand, rolling your eyes at his comment. 

“Someone like me changed their life to follow someone like you,” you quipped in return, downing the liquid and placing your glass back atop the bar, prompting Benn to do the same. “I gave up everything I was for you, Benn. I wanted you,” you took the neck of the bottle and began pouring the liquid into both of the glasses, “And I still do.”

“After all that fighting?” he asked, nudging you with his shoulder, “You still want me, Darlin’?” You sighed, a smile dancing on your lips as the crew around continued their merriment and conversations. 

“Of course I do.”

[hey-august]

The Tide Comes and Goes | Buggy x gn!Reader

Summary: Stuck in a relationship and a life that you don't want, you're given the chance to get out. WC: ~1k Warnings: pretty much SFW, just a hint of spice, buggy x GN!reader, cheating / infidelity - reader and their partner cheat on each other, profanity, angst, no happy ending A/N: I had this ready for Angst August but forgot to post it oops. I have one more that I want to write, plus an optional comfort ending that will fit into any of the Angst August stories I wrote.

“You could come with me, you know. All you have to do is ask,” Buggy teased. Every visit from the pirate ended with the same offer. A solution to your loveless marriage.

You had hoped to fill the void other ways. Extravagant shopping with the money your partner sent home, volunteering with the fake righteous busybodies in town, pouring bottle after bottle into the emptiness, becoming a temporary port for sailors who needed to wet their dicks. Some of it was fun, but the ache was always there when the morning sun hit your eyes.

The only relief you found was through a clown, of all people. Through his stories and jokes, his sleight of hands, and the bawdy atmosphere he and his crew brought to town.

Buggy was fun. Listening to his adventures, watching him embody the spirit of the story - it was enthralling. When his voice dropped, as soft as the incoming tide, you’d lean in closer. When he slapped the table and shouted with all the air in his lungs, you’d jump in excitement.

Sometimes when only the moon and you were awake, when you laid in a bed too big for one person, you replayed his tales in your mind and allowed yourself to imagine that you were in them too.

Over time, you shared stories with Buggy. About jobs deemed more important than feelings. A familiar stranger whose visits you gave up tracking because they were so infrequent. Of rare calls with laughter in the background and distraction in your partner’s voice. You told him about a life on pause indefinitely.

But when Buggy visited, it felt like the pause was lifted. Like that time was for you. So you took it. You took the freedom he sailed on. You took his taste, his lips pressed against yours. You took his requests for assurance and promised it was okay. That you wanted this. You wanted him.

It felt different, at least to you. Every other time you brought someone to bed, there were no feelings attached. Your heart pounded in your chest and between your legs, drumming away any negative feelings for the moment. With Buggy, the ache only ever dulled. It stayed behind to whisper something different. That you shouldn’t be alone anymore.

You did anything and everything to quiet the voice entirely. Every time you straddled the visiting pirate and his waves, every time you were caged beneath his sweaty body, every time he pressed you into a mattress that didn’t belong to him, you ignored the whispers. You waited until they went silent. Even when you curled into the snoring figure, sharing sheets until the tide came, the inner-voice stopped talking because you stopped listening.

One morning, you woke up after Buggy. He was quiet and gently stroking your arm. Shifting slightly, you looked up at the captain. His facepaint was smudged and faded, no doubt smeared into the pillow he slept on. Your pillow. His hair was loose and a little dirty at the roots from his exertions the night before. Stubble clung to his jaw and neck. It was longer than usual and you liked it.

Buggy looked down and returned the goofy grin that you were wearing. He felt so close. He was within reach.

But his ship would be leaving soon. And he would make that empty offer that you could go with him, even though you would never ask. It was routine. A part of the play.

“You should come with me.”

Wait, that was wrong. That’s not what Buggy was supposed to say. The smile was gone from his face, but the softness wasn’t.

“I want you to co-”

“Stop. Don’t say it,” you interrupted, pushing back from him. You sat up too quickly, bringing sparks of light into your vision. The pounding of your heart was in your ears, drowning any rational thoughts.

This was not how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be the one to ask. But you never would, because this was your life. This empty fucking house and empty fucking bed were yours. All this loneliness and sadness is what you knew. It hurt, but it was familiar. It was comfortable.

“I’m not going with you, Buggy. I won’t, so don’t ask.”

“Seriously? Haven’t you thought about it? Don’t you want to leave this shit behind?” Buggy asked, torn between wanting to understand and wanting to convince you. He gestured around, his movements hard and rough.

“Stop! You don’t know what I want. Do you even understand what you’re asking me to do? Give up my life, abandon everything, and join a circus?” You laughed loudly. It was ridiculous. It was stupid. It wasn’t for you.

“Fuck, just listen to me f-”

“Stop begging,” you spat, “it’s pathetic.”

Buggy’s jaw tightened. “Fuck you.”

Pushing off the blankets, he got out of the bed and started pulling on the clothes he left on the floor.

You stared at the bottom of the bed, listening to the rustle of clothes while Buggy got dressed. “Why did you ask? Why did you have to do that?”

“Because I wanted to.”

You picked up on the past tense. Wanted. Your chest was burning. It was too full.

“Aren’t you tired of being left behind?” Buggy continued with a sneer that pierced your chest and allowed your toxic insides to drip out.

“Wow…don’t you get it? You were always just entertainment for me, Buggy the Clown. Like I’d want to join you or your fucking freaks.”

Buggy turned to face you so quickly that you couldn’t help but look at him. And the anger on his face. He stared at you, the ocean in his eyes dark and murky. His fingers twitched. Then, without another word, he left.

You listened to his heavy stride, until the front door jingled and slammed shut. Hard.

And you were alone once more. Just like it’s supposed to be.

[armandisdaddy]

I Will Break You

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (Pirate) x Fem OC (Mermaid/Siren)

Word Count: 1,700

Content/Warning(s): !!18 PLUS!!, Non-Con/ Dub-Con, Violence, Descriptions of Blood, Attempted Drowning, Abduction, Obsession, Toxic.

Author’s Notes: This is set within The Golden Age of Piracy (1650 to 1726). I don’t know why I thought of this, but I think the best stories are the ones that just pop into your head. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1.

King’s Landing knew him as “Aemond One-Eye” or “The Kinslayer”. He had become a well-known enemy of the monarchy. After killing his nephew; Lucerys in cold blood he escaped his execution by a hair and in the midst of his exile he created a band of the most ruthless criminals he could find to sail across The Narrow Seas and reek havoc on any unsuspecting ships and pillaging any lands nearby. Many men aboard “Vhagar” spoke of the mysterious sirens that plagued the seas and took many men to an unpleasant death.

Aemond listened to the tall tales and wondered if they’d ever encounter a swarm of them and if they did would they live to tell the tale? It was a rather misty night with the moon high and the entire crew was asleep. Aemond did not sleep often he was usually up planning his next attack. The sea was strangely calm putting Vhagar on a steady course. The sounds of faint splashes against the small waves and soft singing alerted him and he left his cabin to go on deck.

He held a lantern in his hand as he walked across looking out into the thick haze and he saw a glimpse of feminine face. He called out into the darkness. “Hello is anyone out there?! Do you need to come aboard?” All he could hear was the sweet sounds of a woman singing. It was alluring; seductive. He started to lose his train of thought with the melody wrapping itself around him. The sounds of the sea became muffled once those sea green eyes found his and his body moved uncontrollably toward the port side of the ship desperately climbing over it to get to that sickeningly sweet voice.

Without warning one of his men pulled him back aboard just as he was going to plummet into the darkness which was not an easy task. Aemond fought him tooth and nail trying to get to that sound. “No! No! She’s calling me!!!” He finally held his hands over as his ears. “Captain! Fight it!! Ye’ cannot follow the sound. It will lead you to your death!” He pulled him below and smacked the living daylights out of him. He finally stopped wailing like a mad man. He realized he was drenched in sweat and his chest heaved heavily.

“Daeros..? What…what happened?” He ran his fingers through his hair feeling as though his heart was longing for something that he could not reach. It was a dull ache that he wished to be rid of. “Captain..ye’ were bewitched by a sea devil. Ye’ must resist the lot of them or it will be eternity in Davey Jones Locker for ye’.” This particular creature had been following them for quite some time. She had the sapphire within Aemond’s skull by chance one night and she wished to pluck it from his eye socket and save it for the rest of her collection of shiny or precious things.

She had been observing him for quite sometime noting how the darkened circles under his eyes never left and he often seemed without rest. He was the only one on board who didn’t use precautions and stuff his ears like the rest of his crew. Obviously he did not believe in her kind’s existence and his ignorance would be the death of him. But tonight she was deterred and obviously angered by the interference of another. She almost had him she thought. She found refuge within a nearby cove and thought of what to do next.

Daeros left Aemond to get some rest but instead he stared at the ceiling of his room thinking of that voice and those eyes he would never forget them. The next day the sky was clear and the mist dissipated. Aemond wandered into the deck tired as usual still not finding rest. He sighed with that creature still on his mind. It haunted him so such a dreaded creature with eyes that pulled him closer and closer to his demise and yet he would risk it just to see them again.

Nights had passed and there was no sign of her, but she was there watching and waiting. He was expecting her again and she knew it she could tell by the way he roamed the deck when the moon was high. He paced back and forth and stayed there until dawning hoping to hear her song again. Finally, after days of them pillaging another unsuspecting village they stayed docked for a while making plans to set sail the next day and she knew this was her last and only chance. He had decided to take refuge as large water pool where it stood stagnant away from the harsh waves. He knew he was being watched small splashes alerted him, but he stayed calm and never showed that he knew she was there.

He smirked to himself whistling while the reflection of the moon rested on the body of water. Then in the distance he heard her and his heart fluttered with anticipation. He would finally have his chance, he could see her head peaking from the water far enough for her to swim away and deep enough to pull him to a watery grave, he stood to his feet instantly become captivated by the sound of her voice. Her voice pulled him in and the feeling the ice cold waters didn’t even make him flinch she had him where she wanted him so she swam forward wrapping her arms around him.

He finally saw her face. She was alluring and ethereal. He’d travelled the world and he hadn’t seen such beauty until her. Her wet tresses were as black as the sea and her eyes as deep as the ocean itself. She reached to pull away his eye patch, but was met with the dull sting of a knife being pushed into her tail. Her cries of pain were inhuman it almost sounded like a banshee screeching. He smiled at his victory and the pain her eyes held. She thrashed about trying to escape him and he didn’t fight to let her go, but just as she thought she could flee a net was thrown her, tangling around her.

She fought with all her might, but the pain and loss of blood began to slowly deteriorate her energy. His crew pulled her ashore and carried her away onto his boat. She was to be held below deck within a tub like a pet. Aemond came down to see her and help the wound he caused and she wasn’t happy to see him in the slightest. She hissed at him as her body laid with something that gave off the look of a tub. Her right arms was chained to the floor. Her instinct to push back and make herself smaller as he came closer made her feel helpless. She looked for an exit anywhere being inside of this thing.

“I will not hurt you again. So long as you don’t try to drown me again. Deal?” If looks could kill hers would rip him apart. He chuckled to himself and took the rag with ointment on in and began dabbing it against the wound. “I guess…you don’t speak my language…hmm..I heard your kind looked grotesque and hideous, but you….you are far from hideous.” She flinched and hissed from the stinging pain. “I’m sorry about that, but you would’ve gotten away from me…I couldn’t let that happen.” She stayed silent listening to him talk all the while planning how she could somehow find her way back to the sea.

“Don’t get any ideas…you should get used to seeing me. We are headed back to my home and you are to stay with me. I heard that after some exposure to the dry elements you sprout legs. A painful transition I suppose, but it can’t be helped. You will never see the sea again, well from your window you will.” She could feel tears flowing down her face something rather unfamiliar. She detached from the moment thinking of her sisters that she was leaving behind and the ocean that she loved so dearly. He was to hold her captive like some prized possession and she was going to be helpless.

“P..please…” She muttered lowly. He looked up in surprise. “So you do speak…Wonderful. You will learn to get use to what will now be your life. I can be very pleasant if you can learn to behave.” Her face twisted and she bared her fangs and extended jaw at him. “There she is…you didn’t like that word. I know you don’t know what it is to be tamed…but I will bend you to my will one way another.” He dug his fingers into the wound causing her to screech trying to pull away from him but she was too weak. “Please!!!!” Was all she could say unfortunately it was the only word she knew.

He pulled away and savoring the sounds of her screams. “I will be back to check on you…we will be home soon.” She fell into the tub wrapping her arms around herself and shaking. The rocking of the boat reminded her of the push and pull of the ocean and eventually she fell asleep. She thought it was all a nightmare. But she was awakened by excruciating pain. It felt as though her tail was being ripped apart. She screamed out, tears pooling in her eyes. Hearing her screams he ran to her aid and saw the most gruesome scene.

Her tail was becoming two and her scales were falling off blood pooled within the tub and she reached for him hoping he could make it stop. He for a second felt empathy wanting to throw her back into the dark sea, but he wanted her with him and he could not let her get away. Instead he pulled her from the tub and into his lap wrapping his arms around her as they sat on the floor. It was to be a long night and an even longer day once they got to his home.

To be continued….

@izzy-the-ginger

[ramblingoak]

The Repugnant

Chapter One: Little Starfish

Check out amazing art by @foxybouquet HERE / Chapter Two is HERE

Your father always warned you that you were too curious for your own good. After hearing rumors of the pirate ship The Repugnant in the area you snuck out of your father's villa to try and get a peek at the dreaded pirate and his crew of monsters. But what happens when Captain Mary Goore gets a peek of you first?

Mary Goore x Female Reader

Warnings: vampire!pirate!Mary Goore, vampire shenanigans, horror, violence, no one is dead but they're not exactly alive either...this will make sense later, some suggestive moments but nothing too spicy yet, Copia, Terzo and the ghouls will be showing up soon too, nsfw 18+ mdni, 1,800 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the banner and the collage and thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

“Don’t leave the house at night.”

That was the one rule your father had always insisted you abide by.  Of course there were plenty of others, especially as you had gotten older and more rebellious.  But staying inside of the safety of your family’s villa when night fell was always the most important rule and it was the one you had always obeyed.  ‘Strange creatures run amok in the night Miss’ was what your nanny would whisper to you while tucking you into bed each night, ‘Best to stay indoors and let the guards handle things’.

In retrospect you probably should have listened to her.

You tried to stick to the shadows around your home as much as possible while you crept along the perimeter.  The guards always stuck to the same routes and after years of watching them from your bedroom window you knew exactly when and where they’d be.  But tonight the moon was full and bright leaving very few places to hide.  You could not get caught, not when tonight was the best chance you had to see a man you had dreamed about since you were a child.

Pirates were common in the waters around the island you called home.  Occasionally they’d come into port and enjoy the various taverns close to the docks.  The island was a popular spot to restock ships for both merchants, soldiers and pirates alike.  For the most part everyone kept to themselves and rarely did any fights occur.  The silent agreement the groups had with each other made it easier for you to go into town and hear all sorts of stories of life on the sea.

One story in particular had always been your favorite though, a story of a man so dangerous that even the most skilled pirate crew hardly dared say their name.  For years you thought it to be a tall tale, a story that just became more and more fantastical as it was told.  The descriptions of the ship itself, The Repugnant, made it seem like some sort of vessel that came straight from hell.  Black wood, black sails and it was always surrounded by a deadly mist, it sailed the sea without rival.  But it was The Repugnant’s crew that people feared the most.

They weren’t men or women, but monsters.  Creatures that even the darkest imagination couldn’t conjure.  The rumor was that they were all cursed, that years ago they had crossed paths with a warlock and been doomed to roam the seas for an eternity, undead and wicked.  Everyone had different ideas as to what the crew had been turned into.  You’d heard everything from ghosts to zombies to sirens and then monsters you had never even heard of before.  The only one of the crew that everyone could agree on was the captain.

It was said that Captain Mary Goore was a vampire.

Even the word ‘vampire’ sent a shiver down your spine.  As a child it scared you to think of someone drinking your blood, of draining you dry and leaving you for dead.  However as you grew older it seemed to stir something else in you.  Your nanny was always one to stoke your imagination and had often snuck you books about creatures of the night.  You would pore over them while you were supposed to be asleep, reading over and over again about their lore.

When you’d finally fall asleep it was always to dream about a dark clad figure meeting you in the dark.  Their cold hands caressing you in ways no one else had before.  Dark promises whispered into your skin that would stoke all sorts of desires within you.  More than once you had woken up from such a dream with a gasp on your lips and sweat cooling on your skin.  And more and more it wasn’t just a gasp on your lips but a name…

All of this led you to where you were now, rushing through the woods that separated your home from the town near the sea.  You had put on your plainest dress to hopefully blend in a little more.  All you wanted was a peek, just one glance of the man that had been in your dreams for years now.  You wanted to see the shock of dark hair on his head, you wanted to see the bright red of his eyes…you wanted to see Captain Goore in the flesh.

As soon as you had overheard the guards talk about a sighting of The Repugnant it had been all you had thought about.  Each night since you had stayed up for hours watching the water for any sign of the ship.  It was tonight, after most everyone in the house had gone to bed, that you had seen the mist in the distance.  Watched as it grew thicker and closer.  When the moon had broken away from the clouds briefly there was no mistaking what was sailing towards the docks.

Your feet stumbled as you hit the cobblestones that led into town.  The mist had drifted along the paths from the water and for the first time you felt a little thrill of fear go through you.  It was getting harder and harder to see where you were going.  Despite growing up here and knowing the town like the back of your hand the mist was confusing you.  At first you thought you were hearing other townsfolk talking as they wandered around you but the whispers were becoming darker and rougher.

They were becoming far less human sounding.

You ducked into the alley by the Moon Bay Tavern, leaning against the wall to try and collect yourself.  The realization of the situation you were in was starting to dawn on you.  All you could see in your mind was your father’s face as he called you a ‘foolish girl’.  He had been lamenting more and more that your head was too far into the clouds and you would soon need to come back down to earth.  You had ignored him like usual but over the last month even your nanny was saying the same sort of thing.

Your clothes were becoming finer, your posture was being corrected and even your hobbies were being commented on.  It was like they were trying to mold you into a completely different person.  Someone that you had no desire to be.  The same night you had overheard the guards mention The Repugnant being seen was also the same night your father had stated he would need to find you a husband soon.  The idea of being handed off to someone like you were a piece of furniture was revolting and you wanted no part of it.

So it was with all those thoughts swirling in your head that you had begun to cling to the idea of Mary more and more.  It was just a fantasy and now that you were down here surrounded by who knows what, the stupidity of your plan was apparent.  You pushed away from the wall with a groan and turned back towards the way you came.

A foolish girl indeed.

“Hey little starfish, what are you doing out so late?”

It seemed like your blood had instantly turned to ice water from the voice drifting up from behind you.  The sounds of boots on the cobblestones grew closer, far too close but you couldn’t seem to convince your limbs to move.  You were frozen in place because deep down you knew who the voice belonged to.  Gathering all the courage you could muster you turned and found yourself face to face with the man you had dreamed of meeting but now dreaded to see.

They were dressed mostly in black save for a red sash around their waist that had various weapons hanging from it.  A large three point hat was perched on their head and it cast a shadow over their face.  It did nothing to obscure those eyes though, two piercing red eyes stared right at you like they could see straight into your soul.  Above you the moon finally was able to peek through the clouds and a blue swath of light hit the man, no the vampire, in front of you.

They were far more handsome than you had ever dreamed of.

“Cat got your tongue?”  They grinned at you widely, showing off their fangs.  “Come on now, you gotta say something.”

“I’m uh…I’m…”  You shook your head, taking a deep breath and trying to calm your breathing.  “I’m just leaving.  From work.”

“Oh yeah?”  Mary took a few steps closer, their eyes roaming up and down your body.  “And where is that?”

“Um, the t-tavern.”  You pointed a finger to the building, wincing at how badly your hand was shaking.  “But my shift is over so I’ll be heading home now.”

You had barely managed to turn away before Mary’s hand was on your arm.  The coldness of their skin quickly seeped through the fabric of your dress and you gasped, trying to tug your arm away without success.

“Now, now.  What’s the rush?”  Mary tugged you to the side and started backing you up against the wall, barely leaving any room between you.  “You know starfish, it’s kinda funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“I’ve been in there for a bit, looking for something good to eat.  But I didn’t see you at all.  Wonder why that is?”

“I work in the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?  A pretty thing like you?”  Mary clicked their tongue while shaking their head.  “No, no you’d definitely be out in the tavern serving drinks.”

“Well you’re wrong.”  You took a quick breath and held your head up high, finding the tiniest bit of courage to meet those red eyes.  “Now let me go.”

Mary’s eyes seemed to darken a bit and you had to look away.  Slowly you could feel them leaning in closer and closer until their nose touched your jawline.  You couldn’t hold in your gasp when they ran it along your skin, inhaling deeply as they did so.  When they were done they stayed close, moving their lips to rest against your ear.

“Doesn’t smell like you work in the kitchen.  In fact it smells like you don’t belong here at all.”  He laughed when you tried to pull away, not letting you move even an inch.  “To me it smells like you belong on that hill above town.  In a house your daddy built.”

“Let me go!”

Mary growled when you tried to pull away again and the sound seemed to reverberate through your body.  With a snarl they shoved you roughly back against the wall, your head hitting the stone painfully.  

“Sorry little starfish, I won’t be letting you go.  Remember when I said I was looking for something good to eat?”  Mary reached up to grab their hat, tossing it down on the ground.  Their black hair fell across their face and they quickly brushed it away all while smiling down at you. Your eyes fell to those fangs and you were unable to look away.  “I think I found it.”

Read Chapter Two: Setting Sail

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[looseleafteeaves]

Skywalker and the Rug Merchant

Ekkreth-e-Ruklappa Veltak

I tell you this story to save your life. Ek marst te nao me lanal.

As everyone knows, Ekkreth is clever and cunning and the best at tricking Depur. But occasionally, Depur is able to trap Ekkreth for a little while. This is when Ar-Amu steps in.

This is one of those tales.

Ar-Amu looked upon her children, stone faced, and sad. Her children were still bound up in chains. Ekkreth was missing. So Ar-Amu spun the moonlight into water and gazed into the thin film in the bottom of the bowl, searching him out.

She found him, in a small town tucked far from the larger space ports. None of her people spoke her language, not even Ekkreth. None called each other by name. At night, no stories were shared, or dancing, or plays. They sat inside their homes and made useful things for their work the next day.

Ar-Amu was shocked-never had she seen some of her children this separated from her. So she called out to them from the desert. She called for any of her children to come.

None did.

Ar-Amu called for 7 days, and still none came to her.

Except for one figure, who was not one of her people. Everyday, they would cross the desert, heading to the slave quarters. And everyday, the figure- a simple rug maker- would pause, and stare out into the desert like they could hear Ar-Amu's voice.

Finally, on the 7th day, the Rug Maker stepped into the desert.

"Excuse me? I have heard you calling from the desert for 7 days. Do you need help?"

And Ar-Amu saw her chance.

"My people have lost themselves, and I need someone who can remind them of that. I need you to make a rug that tells them a story."

The rugmaker was shocked. "How can a rug tell a story? Why must it tell them a story?"

Ar-Amu's unveiled mouth turn from stone into a gentle smile. "Because a story can save your life. I will teach you to weave stories, and you will carry the stories to my people who do not have them."

The rug maker paused. "Who are your people?"

"My people are the ones bound in chains. The ones who must be enduring and sneaky and fierce and strong and pretty for the wishes of a being who calls them property. My people are slaves, and one day, they will be free."

The rug maker nodded. "So I will weave a story to save their lives. How do I do that?"

Ar-Amu turned and walked deeper into the desert.

"You follow me, and learn."

Now, while I am sharing the story, the secret of how to weave a story into a rug is not for you. Just know that Ar-Amu guides the Rug Maker into making a rug telling the story of Ar-Amu's promise. While the Rug Maker can't understand what they have woven, they can sense the importance of the task, and they do so with care. They study the pattern so they can weave the story again if they need.

They next day, the Rug Maker trekked into town from the desert, the pinks and reds of the dawns warming the sky. They guide the bantha who carries the rugs into the market, and they settle into an open spot, laying out the rugs and setting the one they had woven with Ar-Amu a little out of the way.

That day, many people stop by. Depur and freeborn and jawa and slaves. None of the people except the slaves stop and glance at the rug. And none ask for the cost except one.

"Rug maker, I am interested in this rug." The figure, bird like in facial structure, and built with hidden strength. Red embroidery wraps their old clothes.

The rug maker smiles. "But of course! It is one of my least popular- I would give it to you but for some water or pika juice."

The figure looks closer. "Why would you give something that takes many hours of work for so little?"

"Because the work does not belong to me, but to the people it was meant for."

The figure- Ekkreth - blinks, reaches into a pocket, and removes a small fruit, and a pouch with water. "You would trade the rug to me for so little?"

"Tell me, Customer, do you feel called by the threads?"

"I see myself in them, if I can look long enough."

"Then it is yours." The Rug maker says. "I gift it to you."

And the Rug maker packed up their supplies, and went on their way.

The slave who has the rug, took it to their home, and looked at it for a long time. But in daylight, it held nothing. After finishing their work for the day, is when the rug changed.

In the moonlight. the figure- Ekkreth gazed upon the story of Ar-Amu's promise, and remembered who they were. They turned into a red bird, and spread that knowledge across all of the slave quarters, and the quarters were able to find their names and their stories.

They could hear Ar-Amu calling from the desert.

They found their way to her.

[katsukikitten]

Yerkes | The Dragon Knight | Non-Con | Extortion | Dragon tail & monster fuckin| orgasm denial| a series probably only me and @kingkatsuki know about lmfao

Your lungs burn, begging for air as you forgo proper breathing technique as fear steadily creeps into your veins. Feet propelling you through the busy market place of the city as seagulls call overhead and the brine of the ocean clings to your skin. This was home, at least it had been for the last six months, you have the advantage of knowing the layout over someone who's only just arrived.

And yet he is expertly cornering you.

Being stalked by the Dragon Knights was one thing but being stalked by him was another. Or so you heard.

The tales told about his ‘honorable’ cruelty were spoken in caution and hushed whispers in dark alleys or late at night. As if saying his name too loud or too often would summon him.

Yerkes.

You had said his name so boldly last night around the campfire, so nonchalant over the alleged predator that stalked down fugitives. Spat or scoffed it you cannot remember now as the very thing you mocked gives chase.

Rounding a corner to slide into the mouth of an ally that leads into the underbelly of the city. The abandoned tunnels were where most criminals sought refuge and could lose pursuers in the pitch black landscape; you'd lost a knight before you could do it again.

Although it would prove more difficult this time as it was “personal now.”

His low timber of a voice growled the threat in your ear, chest heaving, smile wide and cruel. His fingers twitching before tossing away the hair he ripped from your throbbing skull all over three small scratches on his cheek.

But what were you supposed to do? Let him take you?

Fat fucking chance.

Your fingers grip at the heavy manhole hidden beneath layers of garbage, scrambling to move the metal when a large red scaled dragon tail slams on the ground before you.

Panic rises up your throat, desperately dulling your senses as you foolishly try to move the appendage out of the way.

It should be easy, light, as all it does is extend from his spine as he stands tall in the mouth of the alley. His slitted red eyes glowing like embers as they scorch every inch of your skin they land on. Yet still you are unable to make it budge and even the blade at your side snaps against the sturdy blood red scales.

“Did you really think you'd get away from me, little stray?” He barks a laugh, pulling you to him by his tail while also walking closer. Forcing you closer until you're at his feet, tail wrapping around your ribs to keep you still as he leans down. His golden earnings sway from the action, reflecting the setting sun off the coast as the busy murmurs of the port echo around the two of you.

Anger spikes in your blood once more, wrapping your fingers around the precious metal and yanking, ripping the jewelry from his ear with a snarling hiss and arc of blood.

“Bitch.” The scaly appendage squeezes you even tighter, causing you to cough and sputter yet still you hold onto the jewelry as it bites into your skin.

“This is all you know isn't it.” He poses it as a statement rather than a question because he knows the answer, “Thievery, desperation, violence. Like some mangy little stray cat.”

Heat burns like venom in your lungs, wrapping around your heart even as the breath is stolen from you. Voice silenced like it has been all your life.

Still you gather saliva on your tongue, pushing it to the tip before spitting a glob of it onto his handsome face.

The Earth shakes beneath the two of you from his rage, piles of trash and rusty scrap metal crush beneath the weight of it before it stops all together. As if he's collected himself but not for long. Ringed fingers curling into your hair before they twist and pull, yanking you to look up at him as blood drips from his cheeks and ear.

“Tsk.” He wipes away the glob of spit flicking it from his thumb, “You forget I'm a scale dragon. I can freely increase any matter I touch. Brick, metal, Earth, even your bones and teeth can be my weapons. I suggest you tread lightly.”

With his threat your body creaks from an unknown pressure. Bones threatening to snap, head too heavy for the muscles in your neck to hold it up and had it not been for his fingers in your hair you head would have killed back on to warm scales.

“Even though you getting away really did piss me off, it was fun.” He tosses your head away from him and the pressure lets up some, body still much too heavy to move as if a tar pit had opened up beneath you and swallowed you whole. “Really fun.”

He squats down to get to your level for a moment, grabbing onto your chin to turn your face this way and that, “Not too many women fight back ya know. Most of the time the crime isn't even their own.”

For a moment you think you hear pity in his harsh tone making your eyes snap to his and he chuckles. Thumb swiping over your bottom lip as he traces a feature of you he quite likes, even through the pain and lethargy you snap at him.

“I wanna see what else this mouth can do besides bite and spit.” He coos callously down at you, smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Imposing more pressure on you, making you putty in his grip. Leaning into his warm tail as he stands up, fingers quick to undo his belt freeing his cock that hangs heavy in the air. Veins forking in his skin as it twitches under your scrutiny before a bead of pre weeps from the slit.

Drool collects on your tongue, horror slowly ebbing as it contorts into hope.

Into an idea.

Using all of your strength to press sharpened nails into the meat of his thigh earning a flash of surprise before a snarl paints his handsome face.

“I'll do this-” Speaking takes so much out of you, hardly hearing your own voice over the rush of your pounding blood, “I'll do this if you let me go.”

“Sure sweetheart. I'll let you go.” He scoffs, grabbing onto your jaw to force your mouth open. His hand at the base of his cock as he guides himself into your warm heat until he hits the back of your fuckable throat. Groaning when you gag and sputter, throat tightening around the intrusion of his cock head before he pulls back just enough to let you breathe.

You have just enough agency over your body you can hollow your cheeks, tongue swirling around his length, tasting those forking veins you saw earlier as he rocks his hips with vigor.

Fucking into your mouth with unabashed grunts and groans, loudly boasting over how good you feel.

“Fuck, knew your mouth was good. Is this how ya eluded the knights for so long?” He looks down at you, meeting your gaze before you purposefully make yourself gag.

You think you feel his fingers in your hair relax first, slowly seeping into his bones until he's finally so caught up in pleasure he's starting to lose his hold on his power on you. Bit by bit you can feel yourself being able to move more.

Enough you can sit up on your knees now as you take him down your throat. Bobbing your head more freely and even moving your free hand to dip into his pants so you can grope his fat sac. Your own thighs rubbing together as you start to relish in the sounds he makes, in the feel of his nails against your scalp, how his tail tightens and loosens around you but most of all his face.

Brows furrowed up, mouth open in a near constant groan or sigh as he looks down on you with such an intense gaze you think it'll be burned into your skin forever.

“Bet you love this don't ya?” He smirks when he sees you squirm, you flash a glare up at him and a shake of your head, “Oh no?”

He's panting when he pulls you off of him with a lewd pop, silvery strings connect you with his fat length. Tip of his scaled tail squeezing at your breast before slipping down the front of your body. Warm appendage sliding over your mound before it curls against your clothed cunt as if he were cupping you with his hand.

“So if I press, I won't hear a pretty little squelch?” He mocks as you try to back away only to be caged in by the mass of scales that encircle you. Applying more pressure until the cloth starts to stick to your slit before he hears a very satisfying sound.

Squuuuueeelch

“Aaaahh fuck. You are into this.” He growls, sliding his tail tighter against your clothed cunt, rubbing roughly encouraging you to grind against him. Straddling the thick muscle reminds you of a thigh but the roughness of the scales catches your clit deliciously. His tail vibrates his excitement as he shoves himself back into your mouth, bucking into your throat sloppily.

The vibrations from your moan make his cock twitch in your mouth and his tongue loll past his lips as he thinks his vision will blank. But he won't allow himself his release just yet not until you're ruining your pants and creaming on his scales.

Delighting in how your hips grind desperately into his body, feeling your pleasure in the way you vibrate against his cock. Waiting for the tell tale signs that you're going to cum before he wraps his tail in such a way you can't move your hips. Whining against him, trying to move as a tremor runs through your body. Pleading wet eyes as you look up at him is a sinful enough imagine to have his sac tighten.

His stomach spasms before his dick unloads road after got rope into your mouth as he forced your head down until your nose presses against the nest thatch of dark hair on his pelvis.

He's panting as you claw at his thighs to no avail groaning out a drawn out, “Fuuuuuuuck.”

Eyes still fluttering as he looks down at you, letting you pop off of his dick as he stares down with glowing red eyes.

“Aww what's wrong I thought you didn't want me like that.”

“I want you dead.” You spit but it doesn't land anywhere past his stomach, if anything it earns a rough fisting of your hair as he glares down at you. Smirk playing on his cruel mouth, exerting so much power over you now. The weight of the pressure he applies has you gasping for breath, clawing weakly at his skin before his tail moves across your cunt in a teasing manner before going back to gently cradling you. A contrast in how gentle the giant appendage is compared to the rough grip at your scalp. Slumping as your eyes try to flutter close, head falling back onto his scaled tail when he lets go.

“Such good head deserves a reward, no?” He taunts, leaning over you as he delights in your discomfort. He knows you can't answer, hell you're even fighting to stay awake but no one else has been able to endure this much weight of his power before.

The prospect of possibilities has his cock trying to twitch back to life.

“I offer you this. I'll keep hunting you over and over and over until the day you die or until you start to bore me.” He slaps your cheek with his finger tips to keep you conscious, tail unfurling around you making you fall into the cobblestone alley.

“So I suggest you run.”

[monstrousproductions]

✨Travelling Light - Episode 35✨

The Traveller spots something unexpected while in port; and a mythical terraforming tale...

Subscribe now Spotify, Apple Podcasts or your podcatcher of choice 🚀✨ Full transcript available here

Travelling Light is a science fantasy podcast that follows the Traveller as they explore their galaxy, collecting stories from the people they meet and adding them to their community archives.

Every week, co-creator Matt (@diabeticspoon92) draws a gorgeous illustration to go along with the episode's archive entry. This week's entry was based on an idea by Matt himself! 💀💕

We accept all sorts of submissions for the archives, from fully written entries to one-line prompts. Send your ideas in through social media, by email, or through monstrousproductions.org.

If you’re enjoying the show, please consider signing up at ko-fi.com/monstrousproductions. Our tiers start at just £1 a month, or you can make a one-off donation of any amount 🤩 All supporters get the chance to vote on audience decisions and an invitation to the Monstrous Productions Discord server!

🚀✨ See you next Friday! ✨🚀

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 13 (A Landgraab Curse?!)

For an uncle she didn't know she had until she was in her teens, Heather's Uncle Karl had become one of her favourite people. He'd been there the day she first met Malcolm in the park, and she could trust him with her insecurities about love and relationships.

"It was so uncomfortable, Uncle Karl! She was awful! And he can be so much like her!" she complained, shoveling a spoonful of yogurt into her mouth between breaths. "And she looked so excited at the prospect of selling my clinic!"

Karl and his husband Mortimer listened, waiting for a chance to interrupt. Finally, she took a drink of orange juice long enough to get a word in. "If he doesn't make you happy, you don't have to stay with him," Karl said.

"He doesn't make me unhappy," she argued. "And it's his mother I really can't stand."

Karl and Mortimer shared a wistful glance. "His father doesn't sound so bad," Karl offered charitably as he stood. Heather groaned. "Sorry, sweetie, I've got to run to work. Mortimer doesn't need to leave just yet, so don't feel like you need to rush through your breakfast."

He embraced his niece quickly before he threw on a tie, kissed Mortimer, and raced out the door. Mortimer smiled, fiddling absently with a brick of clay while he considered Heather's night with the Landgraabs. "Can I tell you a story?" he asked.

Mortimer, the writer, a lover of stories, would never think of telling his husband's niece what to do with her life, but Heather was all too eager to hear what he had to say. "Is it a good story?"

"That'll depend on your perspective," he admitted. "My great-grandmother, Lady Ravendancer, died in an attempt at magic gone wrong. Before she died, she passed down a story of a Landgraab ancestor, Lord Demetrius Landegraab, and his bitter feud with a pirate queen named Clarissa Darktide. Demetrius and Clarissa clashed over shipping in the Simlandia Sea, and their hatred grew with each passing season."

Heather listened intently as Mortimer recalled his great-grandmother's tale. "Clarissa had a daughter, Misty, and Demetrius had a son, Dacian. These two didn't care about their parents' constant feuding and fell in love, but they kept their relationship from their antagonistic parents. Lord Demetrius had Clarissa banned from half the ports in Simlandia, and Clarissa had enough. She couldn't compete with Demetrius' growing empire, so she sought out a pod of mermaids who placed a curse on Demetrius and his descendants."

"But the pirate queen didn't know her daughter was dating the lord's son!"

Mortimer nodded. "Misty was pregnant when the mermaids laid the curse, and as long as Demetrius and Clarissa's descendants have survived, as the story goes, so has their cursed fate."

Heather smiled. "It is a good story, but I don't believe in curses." As she said it, Malcolm’s own words at the Romance Festival – that his name was a blessing and a curse – flashed through her mind. "No...it can't be true." She forced a laugh.

"My great-grandmother was a lover of tall tales," admitted Mortimer. "But you should still be careful with the Landgraabs. My family has nothing to do with them today, but our histories are littered with conflict."

"Sounds like an even longer story might be in order for another time," said Heather with a grin.

"I could write a book! The only reason I don't is the Landgraabs would sue until Bella and the kids lost the house. Your life is your business, but your uncle would never forgive me if I didn't at least warn you they can be trouble, with or without a curse. The Goth x imprint and its board refuses to do business with the Landgraabs for a lot of reasons."

Heather wished she could say the same about her clinic, but she shook off the story and returned home. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: My Landgraab family tree plays on Sims lore and tries to connect known canon Landgraabs. Demetrius and Clarissa and their children are supposed to be from The Sims Medieval but to simplify the tree for this playthrough they're colonial era pirates and nobles.

NOTE 2: Quick recap on Karl and Mortimer. I gave Neal (Heather's dad) a long-lost brother late in Gen 1 who had been a random townie tossed into the world by the game and given the last name Nesbitt. Felt like fate, had to use him. When I put Karl onto a residential lot and checked his stats he was friends with Mortimer and they had a romance bar. So I invited Mortimer over, had them flirt, and suddenly the notification pops up that they're soulmates (thank you @janesimsten's Soulmates mod!)

So I played out Mortimer having an affair, telling and leaving his wife and remarrying Karl at their penthouse in the city, but Bella was never all that bothered by the divorce and they're still great friends. His kids are also cool with it (Cassandra, Alexander, and a third son Bella had when the older two were teens named Dexter) but he doesn't get to see them very often since they're in Brindleton Bay and he's in San Myshuno.

[ross-hollander]

Folk tales from the...

...reaches of the Sphere and beyond. Larger than life and maybe, but then maybe not, based on true stories. Nonetheless, firmly embedded in the hearts and souls of those who have grown up on the stories of their exploits and adventures:

Tall Ricardo, the pilot who didn't fit his cockpit. Tales range from "Tall Ricardo had to shoot the top out of his cockpit to let his head poke out" to "Tall Ricardo piloted an Atlas by wearing it like a mascot suit in a kiddie restaurant".

Jump Jet Jackie, who pilots the Stellarhawk, a modified Phoenix Hawk, and who waited at the (completely wrong) spaceport for her ship to come in for so long that she tinkered up her 'mech to fly between systems, and fights pirates and strange aliens in many a comic or storybook.

Aino Tiffany, youngest spy in the Combine. She combined a photographic memory with a natural curiosity to crack many cases of smugglers or infiltrators in her spaceport hometown. (There was also a TV adaptation, but most viewers agreed that the producers somehow managed to make the original plots even more nationalist, and the political intrigue ruined the simple mysteries.)

Mad Vlad Mavis, who stopped an entire strike fleet during the Third Succession War by donning a crazed mishmash of official-looking military apparel and screaming orders on every comms channel until he was red in the face, succeeding in making the invaders believe their own HQ had ordered them to return to base. To this day, spouting nebulous authorizations or pulling rank for matters that really don't need it is called Mad Vladding.

David Friedwald the One Shot Kid, who was facing down bankruptcy when he spent his last cash on a 'mech with a single autocannon round. He always brought in his marks for mercenary work, but never managed to keep enough of the bounty (due to misadventures, repair costs for the 'mech, bills to pay, etc.) to afford any more than another single shell to replace the spent one.

Big Nancy Brown, a mesa of a woman with an invincible smile and arms thick around as truck tires, who had a hundred suitors in any port of call, and with nothing but grit, wit and her trusty multitool pocket-knife survived everything from the Isle of Man-Eating Crabs to the Trackless Polar Wastelands. A 'child of Nancy Brown' is someone who relishes the need or chance to rough it.

Kumar Langdon, the pirate's pirate, a privateer legend who dismantled whole corsair armadas with rusty old freighters and a few dozen marines. They say he studied tactics so closely he could recite each move of each battle of each Succession War, all off by heart. He could win a fleet battle with a metal pail, an oxygen tank, and an automatic pistol.

[iamthemaestro]

would you perhaps regale us with tales of your time at sea (i am so curious what reenactment is like when youre traveling on an actual historical ship)

Ah, I *wish* I could say about the reenactment part but unfortunately the Lady Washington does not do much in terms of historical interpretation anymore—they definitely used to but they've gone through a lot of major changes in the past few years and it seems that was one of them. Frankly that would have been the only thing that could have made me more excited to be there lol.

However I appreciate the chance to infodump though since my brain is still very much in Ship Mode with nothing to do with itself... not sure if I have many *tales,* per se, but I did tons of fun stuff and tried to push myself hard in terms of trying things that scared me. On my last day I went up to furl the fore t'gallant (topmost yard on the foremast) which was probably the most physically difficult thing I did during my whole stay—while the climb up the t'gallant shrouds was fairly scary it was honestly much harder to just remain upright against the yard because the footrope was so shallow. On the topyards it's quite comfortable because you can functionally "stand" upright and lean against the yard at about stomach level while you're working, but here if you tried to stand upright the yard wouldn't even come up to your hips so you have to put all this weight into your knees, sort of crouching in order to have it in a good position to lean upon. I'd like to say I got pretty decent at furling in general but man... that one was a doozy. If I had had more time to practice it maybe it would come easier, but as it was we only set the t'gallants twice while I was there anyway. I will say I was surprised at how non-panicked I felt while I was hanging out there on the shrouds waiting for a wake to pass, not clipped into anything, held there by my own strength probably 50ish feet in the air—initially one of the hardest psychological parts of going aloft was staving off the intrusive thoughts, being a person very prone to them, but by the end I was actually quite impressed with how calm I felt up there. It's the best seat in the house, after all, second only to that of the main t'gallant: at first it feels dizzingly, unfathomably high, and when you look down you have this gut instinct of fear—I don't think humans were ever meant to be this high up, frankly—but the wind is whipping past you and your crewmates are like ants on the deck below you and all around you the shore disappears into fog on the horizon, and you're here; you swallow your fear and think, despite everything, "isn't this wonderful?"

My last day was a good one; during our transit from Port Orchard to Everett, the Seattle Krackens sent a film team out and had us set every sail we physically could along with a bunch of Kracken flags for their promotional video this season—we even rigged the main royal just for fun, despite the fact that it was too late for it to be caught on camera. Though I doubt I will ever see it, hypothetically there's some awesome footage of me loosing the bunt from the fore topsail with that fantastic WHOOMF as all that canvas drops—it looks so graceful from afar but when you're up there handling all that canvas it feels powerful more than anything else, all held up by the singular little midshipman's knot you undid with one hand, clinging to the jackstay with the other and watching the sail fall from the sky below you.

That night we also had a "shanty night" which I am very glad I got to experience, given my background as a musician, and it was a great time. Unfortunately I had no way to travel with my mandolin so I was armed only with my tinwhistle, but some crew members seemed genuinely pretty impressed with my ability to pick up tunes, which, at the risk of sounding extremely pretentious (forgive me) I am accustomed to thinking of as a rather mundane thing, but it was nice to feel appreciated. One of my crewmates, very drunk at the time, told me very earnestly that my "improsov" was very good and a "skill I should cherish," and honestly I don't think I'll ever forget that—when I picked up with the verse to Spanish Ladies everyone else had forgotten he cheered obnoxiously for me and kept up a steady stream of enthusiastic interjections where he didn't know the words, and while I am not generally fond of being the center of attention, I was fond of him for that.

Over the course of the trip I was introduced to a great number of tunes I'd never heard—which is something I value deeply—most of which I probably won't remember the names of, but of those I do I am making a point to learn. I love this sort of exchange—folk music at its most authentic—especially in a place like this, late in the evening on what, by the end of my time, I had decided was the most beautiful ship in the world, where our singing and our laughter carried across the water and into the night and my heart, though saddened by the air of finality that pervaded it all, was full.

Excuse me for getting a little prosaic—it's hard to describe the feelings you experience sailing a vessel like this one, at least to me, and it's been a dream of mine for a while. I miss it already and have full intentions on returning in coming years, but for now thanks for the opportunity to talk about it lol!

[primus-why]

More on that Dropout Band AU

I can't find it right now but I once pitched an AU idea where TFA Optimus and his gang dropout/are kicked out of the Autobots and end up scraping their remaining credits together to form a traveling band to stay afloat, which ends up becoming really popular with Decepticons.

Well I just imagined a random little tidbit for that today: what if our starving artists literally ate their old Autobot insignias?

Hear me out! This comes from the idea that before they become a successful band they're low on essentials, like fuel. And perhaps they're too far from a planet to make a pit stop anytime soon... so, what's left to scrounge together for a quick snack or meal to get you through to the next space port? Why, literal scrap around the ship, that's what!

Imagine all they have left are some nickel shavings and a dream, as well as some scrap and their own insignias. Perhaps they had dropped out/defected suddenly, so they didn't get a chance to return the badge. Perhaps they were made to keep them, as a way for Ultra Magnus and the Autobot high command to keep an optic on them by tracking their location...

Extra funny if it's the latter, as after they crush and chew the insignias they obviously no longer work, so the Autobots who were tracking them assume they've all died some horrible deaths while stranded out in space lmao.

Anyways the insignias hold very little nutritional value but they'd be enough to fill their tanks with something until their next stop. Kinda like how folks strapped for a meal in famine will boil and eat uncured leather. Also it would be hilarious because it only adds to their street cred with the Decepticons... I'd imagine Bumblebee would be the one to spill the beans. He'd spin the tale so as to make it sound more like they were "sticking it to the man" and less like they were just starving lmao. Meanwhile the 'Cons are like "damn that's badass... they literally ate the symbol of the oppressors wow"

[habit-poxly]

father neptune (pt.1)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 

sea monster-hunter au!

description: Ghost is a crew member aboard the Bravo 141, a large sea monster hunting ship with decades of battle experience. Upon docking in a small, remote island the crew of the ship are warned by the locals of a spirit that wanders the beach at night- waiting to drag unsuspecting passersby into the depths of the ocean. Disregarding the villagers cautions, they stay the night; unknowingly invading another ghosts haunting ground. 

warnings: alcohol, no sea monsters in this pt >:( , harpoon, strong horror elements 

word count: 4.1k

masterpost | Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt.3 

The year is 1809. Simon Riley -better known as 'The Ghost of the Sea' by other monster-hunting vessels- was a member of the crew on the Bravo 141, a large three-mass ship. In the earlier years of the vessel Simon and his crew would be out for months, travelling the open waters in search of high-bounty kills. Yet over the past couple of years, after the loss of crew, friends and family over and over, after the deep wounds that have changed the survivor's bodies forever, after taking beatings and battering- the crew had decided to begin to slow down. Their once bustling crew now reduced to just four: Captain Price, Ghost, Gaz and Soap. It was more honest work now, mostly just drifting their large hunting ship up and down the coastline looking for creatures that wandered too far in; nothing like the massive firefights and battles of their heyday.  

As of recently they had been using the same route, taking them sailing into the same small port village for minimal supplies and trading every journey- It had been the Captain's favourite stop and it was not difficult to see why. The coastline would dip and rise, falling into beautiful rocky beaches and climbing into sharp, nearly completely vertical cliff faces. The out of place looking dock was wonderfully maintained and big enough for them to dock, the small bay it rested in deep and void of undercurrents. The lighthouse was always in working order despite the Bravo 141 being the only ship to regularly pass through other than a few small personal vessels. Inside the village was quaint- only a hand full of buildings scattered distantly across the hilly, grassy landscape. The crew only ever saw a handful of people about- there was almost always a few men in the pub, maybe they'd see one or two men walking through the winding dirt road that lead from the dock into the village centre, but never any children or women- always just older men. They had found it odd, yet they were so few people living in this area the crew had presumed the men shipped their families off for education on the mainland- or perhaps none of these men had anyone at all. 

They had never stayed for more than a few hours during daylight, never having needed to do anything except resupply and head to the dusty pub. The old men inside would tell tall tales on end of a ghost that haunts the coast, walking up and down the beach with a lantern in hand looking for men to drag into the sea to claim for her own. No man on their small crew of 4 was superstitious despite their odd profession- the only ghost they knew to be real was the Ghost who draws their sails, aims their harpoons, and sleeps soundlessly in his bunk. The local's warnings went firmly unheeded by the experienced monster hunters, quickly being discounted as fiction and promptly made fun of, becoming something of an inside joke amongst the crew. After all, they had faced beasts larger then their ship- no ghost, no woman, no chance of death was anything to fear.

After a particularly gruelling chase and fight, the ship had come up empty-handed. The giant, grey monster they had wrapped in their net managing to wiggle free and dive back down into the deep, refusing to resurface. The creature itself hadn't caused any incidents yet- but was massively large with thick rows of razor-sharp teeth, a beast deserving of a hefty bounty. They had suffered three weeks of tracking, chasing and running in circles only to limp back to the only port near empty-handed was a unignorable blow to the crew. The journey home would be long and tedious, far too long to not rest beforehand. Yet the closest large port was days away in Dublin-  in the opposite direction of London, where they were located. It was a simple decision, they'd stay in port for a few nights- possibly a few weeks if they could find a bed in town- and enjoy the peace of the cliffside while they recuperate. 

Sunday evening air blew a chilled but comfortable breeze over the ocean, the ship softly bobbing up and down in the calm water of the bay. As night fell, the men gathered on the ship's front bow for a few drinks as they did often, looking out into the pitch-black landscape ahead of them. They had gone into town earlier in the evening to head to the pub- only to find it closed and the town completely dark. It appeared that all the villagers had turned their lights out the moment darkness had settled over the landscape. 

"It's odd, yeah? They must really believe this place is haunted." Gaz hummed, swirling a glass of whiskey in hand as he leaned over the ship railing. The group of men had long abandoned properly putting on their gear, settling for tunics, breeches and leather boots- all except Soap who still managed to pull enjoyment out of dressing extravagantly. 

"Turnin' out all their lights like that is making it worse. They're scarin' themselves." Price quips with a scoff, drunkenly slurring his words "Hysterical, the lot of em" With a wave of his hand he refills his own glass and takes a long sip. Simon could swear the drink in his hand had to be his 5th or 6th since they started- everyone else having had about the same. It wasn't uncommon to see the men aboard heavily intoxicated while no work needed to be done, it happened almost every evening recently in fact. There were never any conversations over sensitive topics, everything felt far too tender, and drinking was the welcomed substitution. 

"Even if there was a lass walkin' up the beach lookin' for poor bastards to drag in- they could just not go to the beach at night, right?" A wide, cocky grin stretches across Soap's face at his words, face flushed red from the booze. "Would solve the whole issue... And they can keep the lights on." 

Simon had half been paying attention to the conversation happening beside him, his focus mainly on the swishing of the liquid in his cup. The whole thing was ridiculous to him, anyways. Giving it any thought at all was a waste of energy, yet the others had been speaking endlessly about it. Out of habit, he readjusts the piece of cloth covering the lower half of his face- messy blond hair sticking up in every direction. Perhaps that's why Gaz and Soap had insisted they had drinks on deck tonight- to watch for the ghost. Simon guesses Price was just as interested- as he did nothing to stop it, even bringing out his nice whiskey glasses. The only light for miles was what was softly radiating off the lanterns and candles scattered across the vessel, making focusing on anything but the black outline of a shore and waves very difficult. During the evenings when the moon is covered, the ocean swallows any light, making everything below a pitch-black void.

"Can't be that simple, bastards must have a reason to be actin' this way." Ghost grunts taking a swig from his glass, eyes fixating on the ground. The ship's floorboards creaked under his weight as he shifted, leaning his back against the ship railing. 

"Wait- fuck. Look." Gaz loosens the collar of his red tunic and points down the shore to a small, glowing yellow dot. "Someone's on the beach with a lantern all the way down there- didn't even see it 'till now" Gaz announces, gathering everyone's attention to where he was looking. About 500 yards from the ship was the soft silhouette of a woman- wearing a long, loose white dress that hung heavy from the waist down with water. The light from the flame inside wasn't enough to shape any distinct features from her- just her clear outline. She wasn't facing them, not at the moment, her gaze was turned out to sea- ankle-deep in the no doubt freezing ocean water. 

"Someone's fucking with us. One of those bastards from the pub." Soap grumbles, his body leaning over the boat in an attempt to get a better look. Price nodded, taking another long sip. 

For a moment Simon can see why the people in town would be frightened, seeing her there was certainly jarring against the jagged black rocks and swirling waves. She looked like a woman, a real, human woman standing in ankle-deep water.

"I don't think so." Simon says, voice deep and tense. Shuffling closer to the edge he focuses on the figure. Silence falls over the crew as she takes another step deeper into the water, it reaches up to her knees now. The bottom of her loose white dress bubble to the surface- riding on top of the waves. 

She wasn't bothering them, nor had she called out for their attention in any way, she was just standing on the beach alone. Maybe she was a real person who was just someone who liked to linger, or maybe she was a ghost- haunting the beach waiting for one of them to drunkenly wander to her so she can take them away.

"Creepy." Gaz hum's, leaning back onto the ship. "If she gets any closer I'm going to shit my pants." The men chuckle, quickly brushing off the instance as all three turn back to the table on the deck. Quickly the topic is discarded, the group arriving at the conclusion that it was nothing worth worrying about. The men begin a game of cards, enjoying the pleasant evening and indulging in, even more, liquor- yet Simon can't help but stay glued to the railing watching the woman in the water. After a few moments still, she takes a few steps back onto the beach, the sound of the metal clanks from the lantern managing to reach the ship. There she stays, feet planted to the ground facing the open ocean. 

Loud laughter busts out behind him, the smell of liquor wafting over the ship as the volume increases. Ghost nearly flinches when he watches the woman's head snap towards him, her gaze no doubt locked on his form. She raises her hand and turns off the flickering blaze- plunging the beach back into complete darkness, shielding her completely. If she hadn't been aware they were watching her, she was now. He straightens, eyes running over the dark area in an attempt to catch her figure again; yet he doesn't. No shadows of movement flicker, no sounds of footsteps are heard, it was as if she had simply vanished from her spot. 

"She's gone." Simon said flatly turning back to the group, he hears Soap choking down a hardy laugh as he hiccups. "Like she walked away?" He asks, Scottish accent thick with drunkenness. 

"No. She turned the light off. I can't see her anymore." He replies sternly hands gripping the railing in front of him tightly. It was worth no mental energy, he had told himself, yet still, he sat there with eyes mulling over the dark evening for the ghost's figure. 

"Creepy!" Gaz says again shaking his head, the three men glance at Price who simply shrugs. "Suppose we could head down and see." 

Gaz and Soap visibly tense, quickly exchanging glances. "All of us, Captian?" Gaz asks. 

Once again he shrugs. "Doubt it's anything more than a woman on an evening walk, I'd like to get out for a walk myself." He says placing down his glass and beginning to walk to the main floor of the ship to disembark, he wobbled slightly in his steps- yet it was nothing anyone was worried about, the rest of them were nearing that point themselves.

The three other men quickly grab their things, following the Captian wherever he decides to take them. Soap had grabbed a harpoon while exiting the ship, earning a stern look from both John and Simon. Silently, the men made their way down the dock and onto the empty beach. From this vantage point, the ground was much clearer, yet still far from perfectly visible. 

" 'right." Price grunts, adjusting his light and turning in the direction they had seen the woman. A thick fog had seemed to begin to quickly rush in covering the path ahead in a thick sheet of it. "Why'd you bring that stupid harpoon anyways?" He raises an eyebrow, half turning to the man behind him. Price was leading the way, followed shortly by Gaz and Soap and lastly Ghost lingering behind at the back. The sound of boots displacing the rocks that covered the ground echoed off the tall wall-like cliff beside them. If she wasn't wearing shoes Simon doubts they'd be able to hear her footsteps- and that was more than likely. 

" 's for protection!' Soap held it up proudly, earning a chuckle from the group.

"From the ghost? That'll come in real handy." Simon grumbles and rolls his eyes, Soap stopped and turned back to him- it only takes a few moments for the two to meet and begin walking together. 

"Only you said it might be a ghost, Ghost." The man smirks, fixing his gaze back on Price.

"Didn't think you were the faithful type, Simon." John muses- a large, drunken grin steadfast across his face-, holding the small light strong in front. Simon wasn't faithful- sure: he had been raised protestant, had gone to church every Sunday his parents made him, had been a choir boy at the city chapel, but he was never faithful. The word held no meaning to him, he had seen the sea swallow many good, capable men,-in his youth he had prayed to women, to bourbon, to money and what it could buy but the only god he prayed to nowadays was Father Neptune. Silent prayers for safe passage leaving every dock, every harbour. No one knows he does it but him, but Simon was never 'faithful', or at least he'd never admit it out loud. 

Yet, clearly, someone haunts these shores. His personal stalking ground was elsewhere- just beyond the breaking waves not two meters from him. This was someone's place they came to pray, he was sure of it. He had hoped their God had been merciful to them, but their pacing of the shore begged to tell a different, more unsettling story. What pain must they have gone through to be so tortured? No person could force him to suffer a fate as he imagines hers to have been- perhaps her story had concluded, and she was left scattered in the aftermath. A ghost like him was difficult to come by, regardless of if they were of the flesh. 

" 'm not." He replies sternly, it was more than controversial to not follow the crown faith, especially after the rise of Napoleon, yet all men who stepped onto the deck of a hunting vessel such as their own would no doubt leave an atheist. Simon had lost his faith long before that ship, though; it dwindled over time as experience after experience cast chisel marks into the stone. 

"But you believe in ghosts?" Gaz quips, chuckling softly. Simon shakes his head, deciding to end the conversation where it stood. 

As the group slowly stumbled further down the beach, it was clear inebriation had begun to make the trek undoable, Soaps steps swaying- feeling slipping over the large rocks that bade the beach- Price and Gaz were not much better. Simon hadn't drunk nearly as much, feeling far more capable here than the others must have. 

Suddenly, Price stops and motions for them to be quiet, causing the men behind him to go rigid. Almost instantly upon the silence settling over them, they heard it. 

Coming loudly from a dark dip in the rock face ahead echoed soft, haunting cry’s- a woman's voice spattered and sobbed, merciless noises racking from the cave and bouncing down the beach. It was as if she was in agony, as if she had lost something so unbelievably valuable to the dark waters that she would never recover, she would walk in mourning forever. The wailing grows louder the more small steps forward Price takes sending shivers down the spines of the men. 

"Hello?" He drunkenly calls out, receiving no response. The crying doesn't fade, instead staying at the same level of distress. John calls out again, this time a decent bit louder while taking a few steps closer. 

"You 'right?" Soap screams louder, his voice bouncing off the walls of the cliffside and bringing the crying to a sudden stop. After shooting Soap sharp glances the men sit in dark silence for more than a comfortable amount of time- frozen, waiting for any other noise. But when none come Price scoffs. 

"This is definitely someone fucking with us, Cap." Gaz asserts, taking a wide step back in the direction of the boat. "Let's just go." His face quickly dissolved into a look of worry, he moves to grip the Captain's shoulder with his hand but Price takes a staggered step back. 

" 's not a thing to worry about, son." The man shakes his head and takes a few more steps toward the cove. 

Simon steps forward, walking after John slowly. "Come on, let's go." There was a threatening tone to his voice. Gaz and him exchanged looks, both now suffering from the same sinking feeling. "John, come on." Simon says again, it coming out as a plea this time, Price now walking full speed towards the entrance to the cove, light held out in front of him. 

The three men paused as John stood outside the entrance, placing his lantern down onto the beach he calls into the cave again, receiving yet again no response. Simon watches him place his two hands on the rock walls of the cove and lean his head in to look around. 

"You 'right in there, love?" Price slurs out. For a moment, theres nothing- no noise, no movement, just the crashing of the waves and the breeze through the rocks. 

Two hands shoot out from the darkness of the cove, violently shoving John's chest. Frantically he slaps the hands away and lets out a loud, terrified scream  and sending him reeling back. The hands retreat back into the darkness, the sound of footsteps echoing from inside stop as suddenly as they start. Price falls onto the rocks with a loud thud, eyes wide and face panicked- he isn't on the ground for more then a second before he begins sprinting back in the direction boat, running straight past the group and losing both loosely tied boots in the process. Gaz and Soap are quick to follow, immediately retreating with the Captain with frantic screams. In the panic the Harpoon clinks to the ground, abandoned. The footsteps fade as they disappear into the fog- not even the light from the ship was visible anymore.

Simon, though, had remained locked in place, eyes fixed on the cove's entrance. He had seen his crew scared, he had seen these men say final goodbyes to each other on rough missions, had seen them face death and accept it, yet this had terrified them. Sent them running with tails between their legs. It was the booze, Simon told himself, the booze they drank at nausea every night finally driving them all mad. He had no reason for staying, no reason for standing motionless and weaponless outside the cave in wait, his breath ragged and heart thumping in his ears. 

Slowly the crying begins again, sniffles growing to silent sobs.

"Leave now aswell, Man." The woman’s voice staggered out through hiccuped breaths. Despite the demand, her voice sat hollow and soft- only audible due to the echo of the cliffside. "Less I drag you into the deep." Her words seemed unsure, as if she staggered over saying them.

"You'll drown me?" Simon takes another step forward, as if guided to her by her voice- as if she was pulling a string attached to him and dragging him forward. 

"Begone, Ghost." The woman's gentle voice pleaded. 

"Me? I? The ghost? Out of the two of us?" He muses, a nervous smirk settling across his covered features. "Only you haunt these beaches, only your lantern lights these shores, you are the ghost. You've earned the title far more than I." 

"Leave me be, sailor, I beg." Her voice tightened as he further approached, not deterring his speed. "You'll be cursed if you come any closer, I'll swear it!" She began to sputter another sob, the sound of which echoed down the length of the beach. By the time she had finished and Simon had paused it was too late, him standing beside the small entrance- close enough to rest the bare palm of his hand against the cool rock. 

"I am cursed." He huffs, the scent of booze wafted off of him. Simon stood in spot for a moment, thinking over the night's events as clearly as he could. "Tell me 'ghost', what will you do if I've always been cursed?" He hum's, a drunken smile plastering his face.  

The crying quiets at his statement, leaving only the sound of the gentle evening waves in its wake. 

"I'm sorry you have always been cursed." The voice responds, tenderly, far too tenderly to be meant for him. 

The salty night air blew easily threw his thin clothes- the oceans breeze nipping at the little skin he had exposed. Distantly, a panicked voice calls his name- Price, he imagines; finally sobered up enough to realize the possible severity of the situation. Turning back his eyes scan over the still lingering fog. 

What was he even still doing here?

Why had his feet remained in place- why had he been drawn into her? Why did he want to stay? 

A sudden wave of nausea washes over him, his face suddenly heating and his gut turning in his body unbearably. Turning back, as if broken from a spell, his feet move on their own- sending him barreling down the beach towards the Captain's increasingly frantic yells. In what felt like a blurry instant, Simon was hung over the balcony of the boat, the evening's dinner -a worrying amount of alcohol- lost to the ocean tide. Soap had rushed to his side, Gaz tending to Price who was currently sprawled out on his back across the main deck. 

"Fuck! Fuck." Soap grunted. "What the fuck was that? Ghost, what happened?!" His voice was frantic, clearly having sobered up the most out of all of them. 

"I don't- I-" Regardless of how hard he fought, how hard he tried to formulate a proper sentence- he just couldn't. Vomit stained the front of his black tunic, face covering abandoned somewhere on the ship deck

"You broken?" Soap asks, the worry on his face melting into a strained smile as Simon shakes his head no. Soap patted him on the back before turning his attention to the -now passed out- Captain. The four of them managed to hobble into the sleeping quarters and retire safely for the evening- not before Soap pulled the plank they used to exit the boat off the dock. 

When the sun rose, the men were up as always. There was a brief discussion of the previous night's events, but with Simon and Price's aversion to speaking about it Soap and Gaz quickly stopped asking questions. The line of conversation concludes with Price grumbling about losing his boots. Swearing obscenities and curses non-stop. Apparently that morning he had gone down to the shore himself and found nothing, not a trace of anyone had been there. Of them nor a woman. He had said to Simon in private that the tide must have eaten everything, yet Simon knew Price well enough to tell something was bothering him about it. 

In spite of hangovers, the crew went about their daily business of upkeep and cleaning, quickly deciding to visit the pub as soon as it opened. By the time they were staggering back to the ship, it was well past 7 in the evening; with the sun about half an hour from setting, the men had felt silently rest assured of their eventless walk through the beach. As the group approaches the dock, they notice Price's pace in front begins to slow to a halt. 

"Captian?" Gaz calls, eyes scanning Price. Yet, the captain's eyes stay coldly locked onto the dock. 

Pushing past Soap, Simon takes a few steps closer, eyes intently trailing Price's gaze. There, on the top step of the dock, were Price's boots and lantern- shoelaces tied and delicately placed. The men stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, the captain's gaze intensely glaring down the dock. 

After a deep breath in, the captain lets out a strained chuckle, the crow's feet beside his eyes wrinkling under the forced smile. He turns his gaze to Gaz, who looks down the dock with a confused look. 

"You're right-" Price strains, smile draped across his face yet eyes void of such emotion. "Creepy."

Soap pushes forward, being the first to approach the dock. 

"The harpoon is still missing." He notes, turning back to face the group. The captain's lips pull into a tight frown before nodding and beginning to walk to the dock himself. 

Regardless of their previous plan- Simon imagines they'll be back in London sooner than they had anticipated. 

taglist: @blueoorchid @@hoe4myers @yjhariani -luvurwriting @lexi-zsy09 @galaxieshearme

[inukag-archive]

Hi inuarchive!! do you any stories, where kagome is the badass pirate and Inuyasha a stowaway or prisoner???

Hi anon, thank you for the ask! This was a toughie because, as you probably have already discovered, most InuKag pirate AUs have Inuyasha in the role of the feared pirate and Kagome as the noblewoman who gets kidnapped.

That being said, we did find two stories that fit your request exactly! They are at the top of the list below, and we included other types of InuKag pirate fics after a divider.

Happy reading!

(Gif by fic-finder @lostinfantasyworlds )

[Pirate Kagome, Captured Inuyasha]

The Captain and the Hanyo by @goshinote (T)

In a world in which youkai have been forced into hiding after the Great War, Captain Higurashi is known as one of the cruelest youkai-hunting pirates. After Captain Higurashi kidnaps Inuyasha, a prized hanyo, a plan is set in motion. Inuyasha will find out Captain Higurashi is nothing like the stories say, and he will discover that nothing is truly as it seems...

--

The Hanyo's Parlay by @fawn-eyed-girl, @neutronstarchild, & @ruddcatha (M)

Inuyasha ends up seeking refuge on a boat before collapsing, having challenged and killed two demons who were harassing a hanyō. When he wakes up, he realizes the ship has left port, indeed, the boat is moving, and he’s tied up, on his way to the Black Shikon, an infamous pirate ship. When he arrives, Inuyasha believes he is destined to walk the plank. When the Arrow of the Black Shikon invites him to parlay, Inuyasha finds he is in for a lot more adventure than he ever bargained for.

--

[Kagome & Inuyasha Both Pirates]

Shards of the Sea by @starlingchildgazingatthestars (M)

She is wild, she is on the loose, she is nigh uncatchable. But when the pirate captain Inuyasha is given the chance to be pardoned in exchange for her capture, will he take the chance of a peaceful life or will he follow her to the ends of the earth, never quite reaching her? A story told in snippets and drabbles.

--

[Pirate Inuyasha, Noblewoman Kagome]

Shikuro: A Caribbean Fairy Tale by Inuma Asahi De (M)

Inuyasha was as bad as pirates came, according to his legend. Kagome was a woman of propriety, destined to marry for her family's honor when all she wanted was to live on the sea. What happens when their eyes meet by chance or perhaps by daring fate?

--

Heart of the Sea by Eowyn Organa (T)

The girl who is awaiting her destiny, and the pirate who is running from his past. A mysterious jewel, a terrifying pursuer, and a long lost friend will bring them together on an adventure upon the waves...

--

Kagome and the Pirate Captain, The Silver Hanyou by Chocolatechick101 (T)

Kagome is diplomat's daughter kidnapped by the most dangerous pirate captain of the 7 seas to secure a deal. But they didn't know they were about to embark on a great adventure together! 

--

Song of the Sea by DeletedAccountNotChangingMind (T)

In the days where Singers are hunted like dogs, one hid in the crowd hoping never to be caught. But all that changed when she is captured by the fierce pirate Silver. Now she must protect her life and even her heart from the theiving pirate.

--

Pirates and Princesses Inukag OneShot by @heynikkiyousofine (T)

Kagome was never to marry and settle, but as the kingdom's princess, it was her life. When she meets a thieving pirate, will her whole life change?

--

Kagome and The Silver Hanyou by xxxshikonxxx (T)

Kagome Higurashi finds herself captured on her 16th anniversary by The Silver Hanyou, the most worst natured pirate on the 7 seas. What will happen after?

--

Seadogs by jellophish (M)

When Lady Kagome is stolen away by pirates, will one of the most feared pirate captains of the 7 Seas hurt her? Or possibly need her help to keep a certain jewel safe? As they travel the seas, romance blooms, but what is the price?