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fluffmothy · 1 year

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Tentacle Vacation Fun

The inspiration for this piece came from a cheesy nsfw audio I listened to recently that did something to my neurons.

Tw: egg preg and monster fucking

This fantasy starts as I’m chilling in a secluded sandy cove with a portion of flat rocky shore I can stand on. The regular beaches are normally packed with people for the summer, so I wanted a calmer experience for summer vacation. I’m wearing an open-backed one-piece swimsuit with a cropped short sleeve over it to complete the look.

As I’m walking over the rocky shore watching crabs scuttle, one of them crawls over this weird vine of what looks like a mix of kelp and octopus tentacle. I stop to observe it cause I’ve never seen a type of kelp like this, and I love marine life, so I’m excited to learn about something new. Since it looks like it has suction cups, I don’t know if it’s alive or not, so I poke it with a stick. No response. I get bolder and poke it with my finger. No response again. Now convinced that it’s just some weird kelp, I pick it up to observe it. The rest of its mass descends off the shore and into the water, so I give it a tug to try and dislodge it.

Big mistake (depending on who you ask)

It suddenly springs to life, entangling my wrists and ankles. It wraps around my arms, thighs, and torso, ensuring that I can’t escape. The tentacles start exploring my body as I’m now lying on the rock, bewildered and scared. They rip off the cropped shirt and slip into my swimsuit through the back. The tendrils rub up and down my stomach and ribs before quickly swiping over my nipples. I let out a whiny yelp, and this catches the beast’s attention as it starts doing it again and again and again. It’s playing with my nipples as it pokes and prods at other parts of my body, seeing what draws a reaction out of me.

A tentacle slips over my clothed cunt and starts focusing its attention there, rubbing over my folds and drawing out louder moans with the help of the tentacles now tugging at my nipples (Revenge for before) It’s just groping me for what feels like hours, teasing me and making me wetter. Sometime during its torment, the tentacles feel slicker as they begin secreting this weird blue slime and rubbing it into my skin. My body starts heating up and my mind feels a bit fuzzier. In my desperate moaning, a tentacle uses this opening to slip into my mouth and pour more slime down my throat. It all feels so good and overstimulating. Its onslaught is so rough, but it treats me so sweetly and I’m enjoying its touch. This thing is going to ruin me.

After what it deems is enough time, the monster raises my wrists above my head and spreads my legs further apart. It uses another tentacle to grab the crotch of my swimsuit and move it to the side, exposing me. Suddenly, another tentacle, thicker than the ones holding me and with a pointed but dull tip, appears and approaches my cunt. I start struggling, but the monster keeps its hold. The tendrils binding me heat up and pulsate with an almost comforting warmth. It pours more slime down my throat as it enters me, the stretch is surprisingly less painful due to the wetness and a little help from the dizzying slime, but there is still a pinch with the new feeling.

It doesn’t wait for me to adjust but thankfully isn’t too harsh with me, starting with a slow rhythmic pace, not reaching too deep. As time passes, the pain goes away and is replaced by ecstasy. I lost my virginity to this monster… and I’m loving it. The tentacles on my nipples are replaced by ones with suction cups, they latch on with incredible strength. After some time, it picks up the pace, ramming into me as I start groaning and panting from the roughness. In my hazy state, I start sucking on the tentacle in my mouth with fervor, crying from how good it feels and how overwhelmed I am. Looking down, you can see the bumps the tentacles make in my swimsuit, the ones over my nipples, the ones holding my waist, and the bump of the tentacle pushing into my cunt through my stomach.

It removes itself from my mouth and another unseen tentacle approaches my ass and prods at my hole. It’s slimmer than the rest but still enough to create a stretch. It secrets more slime as it prods and slowly slips in. It starts thrusting at a moderate pace compared to the rapid thrusting of the one in my pussy, it’s getting hard to focus on anything at that point. The tentacle in my cunt starts pounding into me and heating up and throbbing. Next thing you know, it spills inside me. There’s so much cum that it gushes out and stretches my stomach a little. There’s a brief pause where I’m able to catch my breath before it starts back up again with its rapid thrusting.

It spends the next few hours like this, fucking me in various ways and at various speeds, sticking multiple tentacles in my holes at a time, and cumming in every hole. Next thing I know, it's sundown and my stomach is distended with its cum, but it’s still going with as much fervor as before. It’s untangled its tentacles from around me except for a few to hold me and caress my sides, after all, I’ve come to enjoy this experience so much, I’m in no rush to get away. I’m sucking on another tentacle with two fucking my cunt as they suddenly speed up and start ramming against my cervix. They’re getting rougher than before, and I start screaming against the one in my mouth. One of them finally pushes past my cervix, and a smaller tentacle unsheathes itself from inside and writhes around in my womb. I squirt and cum with a scream as it beats against my walls and the other continues its thrusts. I’ve only barely retained sense after its onslaught, despite the aphrodisiac effects of its slime, but this might make me lose what little is left of it.

Both tentacles are unbearably hot as the one in my womb finally stops thrusting and cums in me. It’s so warm and thick, it comes as a comfort after such sudden rough treatment. The comfort is short-lived as the other breaches my cervix alongside the first, stretching me wide. This one doesn’t cum, but large rhythmic bumps appear in its tubed length, approaching me. Once the first one approaches my entrance, it stretches my cunt further as it pushes its way inside and into my womb. As it enters my womb, I gain a new pressure and weight in my gut. Did it just place something inside of me? Are these… eggs? (They are) I struggle to pay attention as the sheer pressure makes my head fuzzy. Next thing I know, I’m weighed down by 15 large eggs in my womb, stretching me out to make me look like I’m 5 months along. The tentacles finally release me and back away towards the shore’s edge but stay there as if watching me.

I should run, I should go get help since I was just impregnated by an actual monster, but I can’t bring myself to be alarmed. It felt so good, and my body is still so warm. This monster was so kind and gave me so much pleasure. It might be the weird slime talking, but I can only think of making sure these eggs are hatched and taken care of.

This monster has ruined me.

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fanaticsnail · 10 months

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El Tango de Mihawk (Dance Series)

As promised, although arriving much sooner than anticipated and only half beta-read (apologies, but over-eagerness wins again). Warnings: dancing, flirting, danger, peril, kissing, touching, pining, prior relationship hinted, enemies to lovers.

Word Count: 5,223

Masterlist here.

Song Suggestions: Tango de Roxanne, La Cumparsita.

Arm hanging loosely within the crook of the young marine’s elbow, you took in the incredibly intricately decorated large, circular room. It was not difficult to feign wonderment; your eyes widening, a gasp falling from your parted lips and a coy cock of your head as your eyes danced around the room.

It seemed almost too easy for you to swipe an invitation at the bequest of the marine to attend as his date. As soon as your mischievous, scheming eyes fell to the advertisement plastered to the notice board; you knew the opportunity for finery-theft was too great to pass up. Feigning a stumble, you fell within the open arms of the marine who blushed at your praises of heroism. Fingertips dancing over his cheeks, a small flutter of your eyelashes, and spoken words of: “how could I ever repay such a valiant sailor?” had him baited and hooked as your prey for the evening.

He was old enough to know better, but ill-seasoned in the art of feminine flirtation and suggestion. Just how you liked your prey: pretty, dangerous and ill-prepared to handle your advances.

After purchasing your evening dress and lace adorned masquerade mask for you, you knew this night was to hold much more thrill than the average night of petty theft. You were simply itching for the loot the evening would have in store for you.

White and red roses hung loosely like vines cascading down the white pillars, candles thrust within the arrangement and lit with flamed wick to create a romantic atmosphere. The fragrances whispering upwards to your senses was of the tart bubbly champagne, the softness from the florals and the subtle perfume you dropped on your neck, chest and wrists. Oh, how you adored the rich. You adored them even more when you claimed their wealthy treasures as your own, adding to your hoard of finery with objects that shimmered and glowed.

The first item of the night was the ribbons of pearls clasped on the neck of the wife of a seasoned marine captain. You managed to obtain an introduction, feigning innocence in attempting to rise the rank of your date for the evening. Charisma, charm and innocence was the part you played; always the coy flatterer and encourager. Once you felt the clasp of the brass hook behind the woman’s neck within your fingers, it was immediately unhooked and fell within your skilled and feather-light hand with neither care nor acknowledgement from their prior owner.

As the music began, you twirled with a smirk; placing the beaded sea-gems within the crevices of your cleavage to fall slowly between the mounds of your breasts. Once established within their home for the evening, you allowed the marine in the attempt to sway his body with yours. This appeared to be the first time this particular nameless gentleman has ever graced a dance floor, his fluster adamant in his movement.

The orchestral arrangement of pieces thus far was mainly waltzing and an odd foxtrot falling within the air to paint it with their artistry. Your body had been trained by your mother for years to gather the confidence and skill necessary to surpass her abilities to steal and burgle your way up to the higher class; dance falling as a necessity to obtain such a goal.

Rings, bangles, necklaces, tie-clips, a small wad of berry; child’s-play to follow after the first item with similar ease. You even managed to snag a small switch-blade on the belt of one of the marines, much to your delight. The only hinderance halting your less-subtle advances on fine material was a small feeling that your maneuvers were not as discrete as you would like it. You felt eyes. Eyes watching, waiting in the wings and ready to pounce. As you spied a large diamond ring, you halted your advance as the burning eyes scorched your fingertips.

Seeking their origin, you would subtly gaze from the corner of your eyes to search them out; never locating their source. You would huff your chest, readjust your mask and plaster a false smile on your face to gaze in feigned awe up into the eyes of your date in lieu of your prize.

Feigning a small lip bite and praising his dance moves, you finally managed to trace your fingers atop his gold marine pin of honour, effortlessly removing it without the notice of your date; rolling it against your inner palm before stooping to lay your hand against the brush of your hip to fall the small object within the open back of your dress. The opening was high enough to be tasteful, but low enough to gain ease of access with one of your many hidden pockets.

You had three major points you had managed to place upon your person for ease of concealing your many finds: your bag attached to your left hip, the crevices of your breasts down into your cleavage, and a small bag above your hidden daggered holster on your right thigh.

Every good thief has their specialty weapons. Your father used a blow-dart with toxins to paralyse their victims, your mother used a sword: both options you would prefer to steer clear of for agility and the thrill of the chase. Toxins were too easy, swords were too bulky: throwing knives were a perfect fit for you.

After the completion of one dance with the marine, he bowed lowly to you and offered to retrieve refreshments on behalf of you both. You bit your lip, a large sigh falling in thanks with more slow and deliberate eyelash kisses in thanks and encouragement had that similar light blushed pink once again gracing his cheekbones and upper ears. After he turned to walk away, you felt your character slipping in joy of the ease the role took to you; a smirk tickling the corners of your lips.

“Too easy,” you whispered in a light sigh, rolling your shoulders back and rotating your neck to relieve the tension. At the lull of your neck, you felt the familiar sensation of being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck prickling to attention at the unwanted gaze, with the skin elevating behind them in subtle bumps. Slowly dragging your feet around the floor, your toes raking deliberately against the polished marble, you attempted to find the owner to the unwanted attention you seemed to snare.

You raked your sights around the room, first falling to the orchestral ensemble as they once again made to equip their instruments to begin their melody; before your sights fell onto the silver-haired Vice-Admiral, Garp. He was engaged in deep conversation with another higher up amongst the marines. Your mind was screaming: “Danger, Danger. Do not approach,” yet as soon as your eyes dropped to his platinum and gold-plated pocket watch; your mind was immediately persuaded to halt all warnings eclipsed by desire to obtain the item.

Eyes glazed, you began your approach from the rounded dance floor to only feel the inner arch of both of your elbows clasped within the talon-like grip of unfamiliar and unwelcome hands. Your breath hitched, back arched outwards as the familiar and dangerous oaken-fragrance of the person behind you overwhelmed your senses before his voice cut through the silence.

“One wrong move, vixen,” he uttered in a low tone, “and I’ll reveal you to the masses.”

“Dracule Mihawk,” you whispered in a small hiss, your lips curled into a small grimaced snarl, “why are you here?”

“I could ask the same of you, little thief,” you felt his signature taunting smirk rise up within his bored tone, prompting your scowl to deepen further atop your brow. He tugged at your arms, your body responding by laying your back flush against his bare torso, his lips falling to tickle his wine-scented breath against the outer shell of your ear.

“I see you have come chaperoned this time,” he whispered into your ear, your eyes darkening beneath your ornamental mask concealing the upper half of your face, “how very clever of you.”

A small growl fled from your lips as you continued to hold your sights forward, lulling your head to the side to reveal more of your neck to him.

“I’ve learnt from my prior mistakes, warlord,” your scowl turned into a small smirk, unwrapping your right arm from his tight grip by circling it around itself; raising your arm behind your head to trace the outer neck of the broody swordsman behind you, dragging it slowly downwards.

“So it should seem,” his voice taunted you, allowing your small gesture to fall against his skin; your fingertips dancing in a small brush down towards his collar and torso.

He twirled you to face him, your hips swaying against his guidance as the silent hall gathered to couple up for the next musical interlude. Your gaze met with his honey-coloured eyes, his finely manicured facial hair rising against his lips as his smirk broadened to meet your face.

“Here is what’s to happen,” he uttered darkly, his smirk dropping as an air of dominant superiority fell in its stead, “you are going to return all of these items to these fine people,” you huffed out an exasperated breath, “and you are going to leave.”

“And should I refuse?” you challenged him, angling your chin upwards in defiance. His lip curled upwards into a frustrated snarl.

“I will have no choice to reveal you,” he informed you, arching his face down in a stoop towards your own. You hummed at him, tilting your head and swaying it innocently.

“Reveal what, exactly?” your coy smile returning to your lips, batting your eyelashes up at him with a small air of confidence, “I have done nothing wrong, and I have a formal invitation at the hands of my young chaperone.”

The warlord’s hand clasped firmly against your lefthand hip, grasping a handful of your flesh alongside the satchel containing some of your hoard. A small whimper fled from your lips at the unwithheld gesture, eyes immediately fleeing from his hunted and accusatory gaze to search the room for your date; praying he wasn’t watching the interaction.

Mihawk chuckled, leaning down further into you; yourself feeling small under his dominance as your back again arched away from him. The musicians began their open-stringed tuning of their instruments before the lectern was tapped by the conductor with their long, steel rod.

“As uncooperative and stubborn as always, I see,” he smirked down at you as the conductor began to tap the introductory beat against the wooden frame, “then I shall simply have to rid you of the items myself.”

You twirled from his grasp, your back arched as you stooped low with your hips swayed to the sultry arrangement; “you may certainly try, swordsman.”

It had been years since the Mihawk had first laid his eyes on you, and you had blossomed beautifully under the guidance of your parents. You had just reached the cusps of adulthood, your abilities as a thief had only began to be explored in the field where he first saw your flirtatious advance of some decrepit and disgusting marine with his travelling hands making you uncomfortable.

Of course he felt hooked to free you from the cusps of the uncomfortable exchange; and the price he paid for such a valiant feat be the relinquishment of his berry clasped within his leather-bound wallet. Only one small kiss was paid against his cheek in the exchange for it, without his knowledge of being parted from the object in the first place.

Your youthful and innocent eyes were what snared him then, but your sultry and tempting expression is what captured his attention now. Challenge rose within the chasms of the broody warlord’s chest, a small rotation of his shoulders rid him of his inhibitions, as he raked his feet along the ground to engage you in this dangerous dance of flirtatious conquest.

His hand reached for yours, outstretched and demanding rather than requesting your own. You smirked before tracing the palm of his hand with a dance of your fingertips to claim it; his hand firmly wrapping his digits around your own with haste and confidence in response.

This was not the Mihawk you remember. The valiant saviour, the all-too willing to draw his blade, the desire and eagerness to win your heart and hand was long since fled from his demeanour: an overly confident, arrogant and almost bored gentleman now rose within the shell of such a man. A dangerous man. A man who was purchased by the World Government in the stead of leading a life of piracy.

Twirling your body within his own and falling back to press chest to chest, your senses were once again filled with his signature cologne; a scent he had not changed in all the time fallen between you. The oaken undertones, the smoky and oceanic middle and the almost sweet floral hint enchanting you as he held you so tenderly pressed against himself as he engaged you in dance.

His curled, raven locks shorter than they once were, his moustache and beard grown and shaped into a fine art piece atop his face; and he had you cornered as a predator would his meek prey. His guiding hand found the small of your back, cradling your body firmly against his as he swept you throughout the circular hall to the seductive and tantalising music. His hand travelled once again to your left hip, thumbs tracing the outside of the material flush against your thigh.

“My, my,” he commented with his smirk once again gracing his lips, “so many fine additions to your hoard today,” his hand dipped against the leather satchel, expertly unhooking the clasp from your hidden girdle and falling the bag to your knees, “it may even cover the berry you took from me all those years ago.”

Your lips formed into a small pout as he gathered the satchel within his open right palm, twirling you to place the bag on an empty table framing the dance floor before turning you both to the centre of the room again.

“But that was such a long time ago,” your breathy gasp was laced with a slight sarcastic whine as you allowed him to continue leading you through this dance with danger, “surely the amount of berry has been recovered by now.”

“No, no, little thief,” he cooed at you his left hand falling to your right thigh and drawing your knee over his left hip; raking his broad fingers against your exposed flesh to draw closer to the concealed blades, “in fact, the interest gathered alone from your theft has left me in complete ruin.”

“You will not take my arms,” you firmly stated, Mihawk twirling you to the rhythmic swell of the melody.

“I will take as much as I desire for your ill-cooperation, vixen,” he taunted you, fingers tracing lower to fall to your thigh as his breath tickled your neck in a seductive taunt.

Eyes widening, Dracule Mihawk teased the circular daggers from your holster one by one and expertly threw them silently to imbed within the rose-covered pillars within the room.

You breathed out an air of irritation, your snarl once again rising as you warned him; “then you will also take my fury, alongside my revenge.”

“I am simply quivering in anticipation, vixen,” he chuckled darkly, lips trailing over your jugular as he toyed his index finger against the outer ring of your final throwing blade. Your eyes fluttered shut against his adventurous touches, arching your back to press your torso into his own as he breathed in the subtle florals of your perfume.

His mind became foggy from the thrill of the hunt, you falling so easily into the role of prey to his pursuit. The vixen and the hawk: both as dangerous to one another without having one truly triumph in their battle of victor. He was now winning, and he was relishing in such a victory.

Your prized daggers, now effortlessly disarmed from your body, now became a part of the scenery surrounding the dance floor. Your breath haltered in your throat; now not having a failsafe method to protecting yourself, you felt you had no choice but to allow Mihawk to continue prying your treasures from your body.

Annoyance fell to your face, committing the landing points to memory regarding your blades as Mihawk dropped your thigh back to fall your feet to the floor. Both of his hands now raked slowly from your shoulder blades down to fall to your hips; his right hand locating your bag on the righthand side above your holster.

“Clever again, vixen,” he praised you in a small, sarcastic purr, “you thought I wouldn’t frisk your dominant side again in my search.”

“Truthfully, Lord Dracule,” your addressal caught his attention, his yellow eyes snapping back to your own, “I did not prepare myself adequately to receive such attention from your travelling hands.”

His hands faulted in his retrieval of your secondary pouch slightly; just a whisper of hesitancy before he continued on his journey of ridding you from your lifted wares.

Necklaces, rings, bangles; everything the wealth of the evening you could’ve brought home to add to your hoard was now collected from you within the sultry dance Mihawk was guiding you through. The swell of the music in addition to the dangerous aura he engulfed you within had you set on a slight disadvantage. You needed something to even the odds, something to bring the control back to you as you held it for the majority of the evening.

His eyes fell to your cleavage, noticing the glimmer of a pearl beneath your brassier. Floating his eyes beneath his dangerous, dark eyelashes, back towards your own; he made to reach his hand down into your chest to retrieve the fine item. You immediately broke from his embrace as you spun away from his direct withdrawal of the object from your breasts.

Stalking and calculated in his approach, he circled himself behind your back; drawing your left hand to thrust delicately and horizontally within the air. He trailed the ghost of his lips along your forearm, your eyes flittering shut under his flirtatious advance.

“I will not leave here with less than what I arrived with,” you whispered your warning to him, his lips now falling to your outer neck.

“Then by all means,” he flicked your hair to fall over your other shoulder as he continued to circle your body, “retrieve your daggers and be on your way,” trailing his lips down and firmly clasping your right hand within his own and turning your wrist to face the inner, soft flesh to the chandelier above, “if, that is, you can find them.”

He drew his lips down to press a tender kiss against your inner wrist as the character you adorned for the night began to truly slip away; the smirk beneath his moustache rising more of a hateful blush to your cheeks as he continued his flirtatious tirade of insults with his words and actions. You wanted to stab him with something sharp, something that hurt for the embarrassment he was pulling to best you. Having no such blade upon your person would make that feat all the more challenging, but truly delicious should you pull it off with success.

He again drew you to himself and danced you around the floor in slow and calculated strides, his smirk not once falling from his controlled face; relishing in the knowledge that he had bested you truly. His eyes once again were drawn to your cleavage, the ribbon of finely beaded pearls once again within his sights as he decided this time to dive his face within your breasts in lieu of his hands.

Shock would be the first emotion to fall against your face, your innocent character behind the masquerade mask the only thing keeping you firmly held within this dangerous game of cat and mouse; or hawk to a vixen. As his lips fished out the pearled end of the long piece of ribboned ornate string, your hands instinctively fell to the back of his neck to hold him in place.

But what was that your fingertips brushed? Was is a solid bayonet clasp holding a priceless metallic necklace against the chest of the warlord; a warlord currently distracted by his own task within your breasts? Why yes, it appears it was.

Stampeded by the will to not leave this arena of seductive taunting empty handed; you ushered any inhibitions away from your mind as you convinced yourself to once again thief from the warlord in front of you.

Immediately, your fingertips expertly pried the clasp open with ease; you holding the chain in place beneath your palms and feigning freight beneath the swordsman’s ministrations, as his teeth reclaimed the lengthy necklace shamelessly from within your breasts. He unlaced one hand from behind you to collect the necklace from his mouth, his eyes holding his gaze as piercing as the hunter’s arrow against your own.

You danced your eyes between the two of his, glancing down briefly to meet with his lips as he completely withdrew the necklace from his slacked jaw. Sensing a slight shift in your emotions, his eyes narrowed to seek out the source for the shift.

“What are you playing at, little thief?” he asked you with an air of dangerous caution, “you’re staring at me like you’ve won, whereas I am clearly the victor in our little charade.”

Immediately, you dropped your right hand from the back of his neck to fall onto his cheek; caressing his bearded skin within your palm as the other held fast to the clasp around his neck.

“You have won this round, my lord,” you confirmed with him, ushering his face closer to your own, “now allow me to present a reward for your victory.”

You drew him truly downwards, cradling his face within your right hand as your parted lips captured his own. Where once was an innocent kiss parted onto his cheek in your youth, this amorous exchange felt like opening a tabbed chapter of a long-since neglected novel. Mihawk’s breath was stolen from his lungs as you held his lips fastened in a dance of passion against your own; your own heart beginning to swell as he reciprocated the tryst of your lips.

As he leant further into the kiss, his shoulders stooping as his hands wove around your shoulders to dip you in a low arch perpendicular to the floor. You almost felt bad for the way the chain around his neck fell so easily into your hand beneath him. The gold cross, now clasped firmly within your left palm, was to be your prize for the evening. Your hoard of trinkets worthless against the excitement this item brought to you.

The musical decrescendo began to dip, informing the two of you, and the other dancers on the circular floor, that the melody had come to its conclusion. Unbreaking the kiss, Mihawk rose you from your dip and nudged your chin with his own; his tongue darting out to brush with your own briefly before retuning behind his lips as briefly as they opened.

Not truly desiring the moment to end; you rewove your left hand, which now clasped Mihawk’s neck-chain and cross within it, behind his neck to hold him firmly to yourself. Your lips opened to pry more of himself against you, his gasped breath again claimed by your unwithheld ministrations. Eyes closed, you tilted your head and drew your torso completely flush with his as you stood on your toes to bring yourself fully flush with his chest.

The warmth radiating from his open shirt, the heat pouring from his skin was enough to hold your attention captive entirely. Mihawk again arched your back to chase your lips with his, unbreaking and unwavering in intensity before he closed the exchange of romance by withdrawing his lips from their proximity against your own.

“My, my,” he teased with his hawk-eyes half-hooded as he gazed at you, “what a reward that was for my efforts, vixen.”

You sighed against his teasing, your heart almost breaking for what you were about to depart from the ballroom with; but not enough to halt your strategic withdrawal.

“I will take my leave then, warlord,” you curtseyed low, the cross within your palm concealed by the gathering of your dress out to the side as you dipped in respect; a curt bow of his own with his feathered hat falling to your view.

“Until next time, little thief,” he rose from his bow as you did from your curtsey, “enjoy wallowing in your own pity as I relish in my victory. May you win the next round.”

You bit your tongue, opting to not give yourself away from his taunts while fighting the blush his voice drew out of you. Desperately hoping to never see him again to keep his golden cross all to yourself; while hopelessly longing for another chance to best him and greet him with an embrace had your heart racing, judgement clouded and eyes glazed.

“May our next meeting arrive sooner than the time parted between our first meeting and our now,” you offered him a warm smile, “I do miss your charming face and your way with words, Mihawk.”

“Flatterer,” he purred at you, before clicking his boot heels together in a curt tap while turning to rejoin the gathering of warlords and representatives of the world government.

Opting to not seek out your blades, nor locate your chaperone for the evening; you immediately danced yourself away to withdraw to the shadows of the event. Raising your right hand up to fix your mask in place, you located the nearest exit from the venue: a large arched doorway with glass panel windows on a white frame. The roses hung low from the tall arch, ivy and baby’s breath sporadically placed in lieu of the candles.

This was not the large entrance you originally entered through with your young chaperone, but the ally entrance to the finely and meticulously maintained labyrinth of green hedge-ends.

You paused, turning one last time towards the dance floor to seek out the warlord with your sights. Upon your eyes tracing the floor to meet your sights with his form, you were immediately met with the piercing yellow-eyes you were craving; he, too, seeking you out to set his eyes on yours once more before your departure.

Lips parted, a small quivered tremble in apprehension and pity fell to your face as the valuable metal remained secured within your left hand. You raked your eyes over his neck to the place his cross was once hanging, noticing how truly beautiful you found his statuesque physique.

Unfortunately for you, his brows furrowed at your sights dancing on his skin; his chin dipping, his jaw hanging slack as soon as he found vacant space instead of his inestimable necklace. Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes widening as he snapped his sights back to your face.

Anger. Pure and unadulterated fury fell to his face, prompting you to shy backwards through the archway while holding his burning gaze.

The first time you bested him with your thievery, he only noticed what was taken from him as he made to purchase a pastry from a nearby bakery on his journey retuning to the inn he’d purchased for the night; finding vacant space where his wallet once was. He was angry and upset then, he was enraged and his fury burned brighter now you remained behind to witness it.

Seeing no other option, you scurried immediately to your feet as you stampeded towards the entrance of the labyrinth; the moon the only illumination for the dark emerald and navy hues of the circular leaves. Tunnelling through corner to corner of the confusing muddle of gravel, dirt and shrubs; you continued to swiftly barrel through the winding road to seek out the true exit to the maze.

Not a sound was uttered, the music far from your ears within the large ball-room not travelling far enough to grant you the pleasure of its company. Your breath picked up in hitch as you panted against the hasty retreat, your body propelling to the centre of the maze; well lit with domed fire pillars with an ornate marble table at the centre.

Five openings surrounded the table: one you just exited from, alongside three options to trap you in your doom and one to throw you into your victorious freedom. Your head bobbed frantically between the options as you debated which path to fall your feet towards. Finally choosing for the path closest to the north; your steps were halted as a knife was thrown to whistle past your eyeline and imbed itself within the cement, torched pillar beside you.

“As you have learnt from your mistakes, vixen,” his voice relayed in an agitated tone under the cover of darkness, “I, too, have learnt from mine.”

“M-Mihawk,” your voice wavered in your throat as another blade cut through the air beside your head to imbed itself lower in the pillar.

“You stole from me once,” he taunted from the shadows, “made me out to be a fool,” another blade whispered it’s sharpened edge against your cheek, not quite making contact but enough as a warning, “I despise looking to be anything less than what I am.”

“And what are you, Lord Dracule Mihawk?” your own agitation drawing itself to your brow.

“I,” he began, stepping into the light of the central area in slow and steady strides, “am the consequence you have brought upon yourself this evening.”

His feathered hat atop his head danced within the whispered wind, his eyes hidden beneath it as you stepped back to fall your lower back against the marble top of the circular table.

“And what such consequence must I prepare myself for?” you asked him with a pointed tone, “turning me over to the World Government would be low, even for you.”

He hummed a small shadow of a chuckle within his throat, tilting his head up to grace your vision with his yellow-eyes; wild with a sadistic joy above his smirking mouth.

“Turn you over?” He approached your body, raising his left hand to caress your cheek while his right sought out the blade clutched within the palm of your left hand, “such a simple solution for a complex vixen. I hardly see that as a fitting consequence for your crime.”

You swallowed a dry breath, your body screaming as you were finally captured within the talons of the mighty warlord of the sea. His fingertips brushed a stray hair behind your ear, the pad of his index finger toying at the ribbon clasping your masquerade mask close to your right eye.

“I am going to work you hard to settle your debt, little thief,” he informed you in a low whisper, his fingers trailing to the bow unifying your mask against your face, tugging on it to fall the laced object from your eyes, “from this day and all to follow, you are mine.”

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #opla mihawk #mihawk x reader #mihawk fanfiction #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk #mihawk fic #mihawk x you

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 4 months

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Between the Pages

Summary: grappling with his violent past, Ettore is unexpectedly challenged by the silence of his unassuming cellmate | Word Count: 3.4k~ | warnings: mentions of noncon as a crime, violence

A/N: I've been wanting to kind of do a character heavy fic for a while since I read the interview about Ettore coming of age aboard the ship, so enjoy my take on it 😘

The darkness nibbled at the edges of him. From his feet and fingers, to his ankles and wrists, up his arms and legs.

It curled deep in his gut, sliding around like oil inside, slick with a morbid curiosity that had lingered there for years. It crept up, weaving through his arteries and veins like vines, choking what purity there used to be, an innocent ignorance, and tainting it, into a sort of murky, sunless void.

He thought that once, he was capable of feeling anything else. Perhaps once, he was capable of love. Of some kind of affection. Maybe even deserved it.

After all, the ones you loved unconditionally, were supposed to give that same love back.

Right?

The day that darkness reached his heart, sucking the soul out of it like the way tendons and fat stick to meat as it’s torn up into chunks, was the day that Ettore understood this truth. Nobody was entitled to love. Not even him. And those people who were supposed to care, supposed to protect him, had abandoned him. What use was there in hoping for it now? He thought so often to himself.

His body felt so heavy, felt so fucking heavy. The hatred marinated inside. Festered. What was there to do, but simply let it stay and rot? To allow it to become you.

How foolish of him to think that those who participated in making him, who chose to bring him into existence, would be able to give him the nourishment and support he wanted. That he needed. It was a story so often heard. That caregivers cared not about the people they assisted in bringing into this world. Their own children. At first, he admitted, he brushed it off.

It’s just the way my family is. Every family has different dynamics.

Until he couldn’t remember the last time his father had ever spoken to him. And then he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him. And then finally, his face. How he spoke. How he rolled up his cigarettes. He only remembered the smell of him. Fusty and deep. Like how old pubs smell. And the stench of whisky on his breath and yellowed teeth.

He remembered being on the end of his fist most often.

And when he was gone, though it was softer, he remembered then the palm of his mother’s. She didn’t have the strength of his father’s, but all the bite.

Trying to stay out of her way proved difficult most days. More often than not, he’d be out, even in the midst of winter as the wind nipped at his bones and the chill sank into his skin, he didn’t want to see the hysterical, screaming mess of a woman that was once his mother to be the first thing he came across when he got home. God forbid she ever spotted him.

He thought she must have thought he looked too similar to his father or something like that. Perhaps it was the eyes, the temperament or the expression. He hoped, somewhere deep, that it was perhaps the crime. Then there may have been some explanation for the way he was.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t figure it out for the life of him, so it was often easiest, to be out of her eyeline altogether. He wasn’t much better at staying out of trouble outside the confines of his home. Out there, in the big, wide world that he was so underprepared for, it was still difficult to be accepted. People had to want to be his friend, after all.

Eventually, he just didn’t even try. Though there was still a desire for acceptance, one he didn’t get by befriending men of a similar age and temperament to him.

It felt only right, that he used the only things he felt he had, to his advantage. Looks. Talk. Confidence. Three things he was never short on.

And also the three things that fed easily into how he coped and how he eventually morphed into the person he was today. The looks got him into women’s beds, and in between their thighs too. The talk got them to stop fighting, to stay still and let him have his way. The confidence was the one thing in the end that worked to his disadvantage, thinking that the ones who he’d let get away wouldn’t say anything, and the ones he kept quiet by clamping his hands around her tiny, little necks, would inevitably fade away into non-existence.

He still remembers the way their blood roared against his palms, how their breaths stuttered in his grip, and that addictive wide-eyed look, and the slow, blinking fade of life from their eyes. He thought there was nothing more powerful than holding someone’s very life-blood in his grip, and that was when he knew the rot had taken hold inside him.

If he could, he would have wiped every judgemental glare off everyone in the courtroom that day. What use was there in pretending to be remorseful, as if he didn’t savour the memory of choking the hell out of those women with his dick so deep inside them still he could feel the way their bodies tried to reject him. Those are the memories he thinks of in those lonely nights in the Box. Those are the cold dark hands that drag him further and further. Until perhaps there is nowhere further to go.

Which is why she confuses him. His cellmate sleeps above him, a woman who he has strangely paid little attention to and can’t for the life of him figure out why. The narrow confines of their shared cell, with its cold, steel surfaces and harsh fluorescent lights, force a proximity that is usually unbearable for him. Yet, with her, there is an unspoken truce that puzzles him further.

There is a suffocating silence in the cell at night. Ettore’s usual trigger lay dormant for a while, an uneasy peace reigning in the small, padded space he shares with her. Unlike the other women aboard the ship, callous, loud and obnoxious, this woman keeps to herself, hovering just beyond the reach of his understanding.

Each day that goes by, he tries to solve the puzzle that she is. Why doesn’t she flinch at his gaze? Why doesn’t she cower? It’s as if she moves through a different realm, her demeanour calm, almost detached, unaffected by the chaos that typically surrounded him and the others alike, or the violence he is known for.

She is a question without an answer, unsettling him more with each passing day. He sometimes imagines her figure from his bottom bunk, and how she would look while she sleeps, often with her eyes glued to the pages of a book. And he knows from the gentle thud of her tired hand and the half-opened novel on the mattress, that she has likely exhausted herself to sleep from reading and straining in the dark.

So he starts to look for signs, any clue that might explain her indifference, her silence. But she gives nothing away, her routine meticulous and quiet. When she reads, she never looks up. He supposes there is no reason for her to. Does anyone even know her name? Or do they do what he used to do, and just pretend she never existed in the first place? Perhaps that’s where she feels most comfortable.

It gnaws at him more than any confrontation could. His history with women was fraught with aggression, violence and brutality, but it provides no playbook for this experience. There is no anger in her silence, no fear. She merely exists in a state of complete neutrality, leaving him to wonder why she is even in prison in the first place. This indifference to life itself, it seems, is more disarming than any verbal or physical challenge.

He hopes for a flicker of annoyance when he makes too much noise coming back to their shared cell some nights. But nothing. He hopes for the one day she glances up from her book, eyes clear and calm, as if nothing is wrong.

She was like a candle unlit. A sheet of snow upon the ground without a fault or a footstep to taint it. Like a notebook you kept but didn't have the heart to write in for the first time, for the fear of ruining the very first page.

So it is that night, he lays with his hands behind his head, ever kept in a state of wide-eyed curiosity, when he hears the familiar thud of her tired hand dropping her novel. She never seems annoyed when she loses her place in her story, she simply gets up in the morning, and places something flat where she thinks she was, and is more than happy to start all over again.

Despite the silence, his mind races, thoughts swirling and colliding in the shadows. He’s grown accustomed to the rhythms of their cohabitation, the sound of her breathing, the slight shifts of her body in the bunk above him, the soft rustle of pages turning. These sounds punctuate his nights, a constant reminder of her presence.

And yet, tonight, there’s a different kind of awareness, a curiosity that edges toward something he can’t quite name. It’s not desire, not the kind he’s known before, which was always tangled with aggression and control. This is something else, something quieter, more invasive. He wants to see her as she sleeps, to witness her in a moment of unguarded vulnerability, not to disturb or dominate, but to understand.

This thought, this need to see her face relaxed in sleep, strikes him with a pang of guilt. Even in the dim light of self-awareness, he recognises that this impulse feels like a violation, an intrusion into her silent world. He’s used to taking space, not just physically but emotionally, imposing his will on others as a way to affirm his existence. But with her, the dynamics are different. She offers nothing to conquer, only a silence to be filled, and in that silence, his own reflections become too loud, too clear.

Lying there, Ettore wrestles with the pull of his curiosity and the weight of his past. He knows too well the darkness that lives within him, the ease with which he could turn a moment of curiosity into something far more sinister. The battle within him is a quiet one, but intense. The thought of crossing the boundary, even just to see her in her sleep, stirs a deep-seated fear that he might revert to the man he was, the man he still is, underneath the surface of this uneasy peace.

His limbs move as if detached from his will. He places one hand on the cold metal of the ladder, then another, his movements slow, deliberate. Every rung of the ladder creaks softly under his weight, a grim soundtrack to his betrayal of self-promises. His heart pounds in his ears, not with excitement, but with a dread that feels both foreign and familiar.

As he ascends, each step feels heavier, burdened not by physical weight but by the gravity of his intentions. He pauses halfway, his body tensed, his mind screaming for him to retreat. But the pull is too strong, the need to see her, to understand why she affects him so profoundly, why she can exist so close to him yet remain a world apart.

Reaching the top, Ettore pauses, barely breathing. He is close enough now to hear her gentle breaths, the soft exhale of sleep that seems so at odds with the storm raging in his soul. She is a portrait of peace, her eyelids fluttering slightly with dreams he cannot begin to fathom. He yearns to understand her not because she is an enigma, but because in her quiet resilience, he sees a reflection of what he might have been, what he still could be. It's a longing not only to understand but also to be understood, to be seen not as the sum of his past actions but as the person he struggles to become.

He approaches her bunk with a reverence that surprises him. As he lays down gently beside her, he is acutely aware of the sanctity of the moment, of her trust not to be breached and of his own resolve not to revert to the man he knows he really is deep down.

But there is a vulnerability that is roused in him when he watches her like this, and he doesn't recognise or like it one bit. It'd be so easy to just wrap his hands around her neck, like he had done before so instinctively, and be rid of her. Maybe then he wouldn't question this side of himself that has bubbled to the surface.

The mere idea of putting his fingers around her throat has adrenaline soaring in his veins.

But Ettore pulls back from the precipice of this dark impulse almost as quickly as it arises. The primal, instinctual urge to eliminate what confuses him, to destroy rather than confront, surges within him, his hands tensing at his sides. Yet, as he watches her, her chest gently rising and falling with each breath, he finds himself caught in a storm of conflicting emotions.

It's horrifying, the ease with which violence still beckons to him. The quiet, once a cloak she wrapped around herself, now envelops him too. The battle is not with her, not even with the world outside, but inside. But this realisation does not bring peace. Far from it.

Feeling as if his heart in his throat, his palm hovers above her body, starting from her legs. He is trembling, leaving an inch of space that feels like a chasm. And yet he can feel the heat of her form, as if radiating from her skin and pulsing into his.

He passes over her hips, his eyes zeroed in on a slither of skin that has become visible beneath her sleeping shirt. It beckons to him like a test of his will. If she were anyone else, one hand would hold her down, while the other would rip her sweatpants off and-

He clenches his fist tight, his eyes mirroring the struggle. Every moment he chooses restraint, he is redefining himself.

And yet as he descends the steps down from her bunk, she hadn't moved an inch and the prospect of her being a deep sleeper makes the intrusive desire to do this again ever more prevalent. It doesn’t reassure him at this point, rather it feeds into the dangerous allure of doing it again, and again, and again.

And each time in the days following, what he does becomes more bold, skirting around the edges of darkness he knows full well lurks beneath. He waits every night for the thud of her book on the bed, for her quiet breathing to let him know that it is safe to venture into what feels like dangerous territory.

Hovered hands become soft brushes against her flesh. Initially, these contacts are mere brushes, fleeting and barely there, against her arms, perhaps unintentionally grazing her leg, or the slope of her shoulder. With each night, his touches grow slightly more deliberate, and when he has straddled that line too closely and she stirs or readjusts, he feels his heart quicken and chest tighten. Sometimes he almost wants her to wake up, just to see what he would instinctively do.

This dangerous game continues, each touch a test of his self-control. His fingers linger a moment too long on the soft skin of her cheek one night, the warmth of her breath against his hand, and the next day he struggles to even glance in her direction alongside the torrent of emotions within him. The fear that he is becoming the monster he dreads appears more real than ever. The very act of touching her in her sleep, though innocent, yet an invasion of her privacy and autonomy, is a stark reminder of the control he once wielded without thought.

He understands now that this cannot continue. The path he is on, though it started with a quest for understanding and connection, is veering dangerously close to old patterns that had once felt familiar. And yet with her of which he cannot even envision.

He knows the only way to break this cycle, to truly change, is to confront the situation directly and honestly. No more silent, uninvited intrusions in the dark; he needs to face her in the light, to speak to her and gauge her response, to decide his next steps based on a genuine interaction rather than his own conjectures and impulses.

All the scenarios run rampant in his mind, stealing every quiet moment in his day to day life seemingly without effort.

He is desperate to hear her voice, just for him, a sound to anchor the whirlwind inside.

If he speaks and she glances up from between her precious pages, with a look of fear, judgement, anger…there just might still be violence screaming in his gut. He imagines, with a chilling clarity, how he might react. To watch those eyes that have never landed upon him, wide-eyed and panicked with fear, her hands that would usually hold those delicate covers as if they were sentient, thrashing and scratching at his skin for escape.

However, if her eyes meet his with calmness, a soft but unyielding clarity, it might signal a different path. Such a look could secure him, pull him back from the brink, offering a glimpse of a different kind of interaction, one rooted in mutual respect rather than fear.

Throughout the day, Ettore wrestles with the decision to approach her at an unusual time, a moment outside their routine interactions, which are typically defined by the unspoken boundaries and silent acknowledgements of shared space. The weight of this choice, loaded with the potential for a shift in their dynamic, presses on him.

Finally, as the day bleeds into evening, he steels himself and walks towards their cell, a path he has traversed countless times yet now feels distinctly different. His footsteps echo slightly in the empty corridor, a hollow sound that seems to beat in rhythm with his anxious heart. He pauses at the doorway, his hand resting against the cold metal frame for a moment. He had never been short on confidence, until right this moment.

She is there, as always, perched on her bed with a book cradled in her lap, her attention fully absorbed by the pages. The familiar sight of her, so engrossed in her literary world, momentarily steadies him. "Hey," he calls out softly, his voice slightly rough around the edges from the turmoil inside him.

At the sound of his voice, she looks up, her expression shifting from concentrated reading to mild surprise. Her eyes meet his, clear and calm, carrying none of the fear or judgement he had feared. "Hey," she responds simply, her voice a quiet echo to his own.

In that brief exchange, just a single word spoken by each, there's a palpable shift. It's not a definitive answer to all his internal questions, but it grants him a moment of reprieve from his fears of eliciting a negative reaction. So he stands there, momentarily rooted to the spot by the simplicity and normalcy of her response. And it is this moment where her eyes are piercing right into him that he is offered his first real glimpse into her as well. Features he had usually seen undisturbed by the quiet of sleep felt familiar and yet uncharted now, such as the flutter of her eyelashes and the decorating of freckles across her cheeks, and the small, curious pupils looking between his eyes as if for an answer.

Realising he's been standing silent for too long, Ettore scrambles mentally for something to say, to break the growing awkwardness that feels almost like a first encounter. His lips part, ready to forge some semblance of normal conversation.

No sooner are his lips parted that he is rendered into silence he once would have expected from her. She dog-eared the page, closed her book off her lap and brushed her hair from her face, and spoke with a soft tone laden with genuine concern. It feels like an invitation, a door opening to endless possibilities where she has seen past the facade of toughness to the raw, uncertain man beneath. She invites him into a space where he can be vulnerable, and yet he is still unsure if he even wants to be there. Can those raging, endless violent impulses ever be quieted by just a couple of words?

“You okay?”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy

@justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3

#ettore high life #ettore imagine #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore fanfiction #ettore fic #ettore fanfic #high life fanfiction #high life 2018 #high life movie #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #ettore smut #ettore x you #ettore x oc

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girlactionfigure · 25 days

Text

1 Nobel Prize in Chemistry - The Development of Multiscale Models for Complex Chemical Systems

2 Nobel Prize in Chemistry - Quasiperiodic Crystals

3 Nobel Prize in Chemistry - Decoding the Structure and The Function of The Ribosome

4 Nobel Prize in Economic Sciences - Repeated Games

5 Nobel Prize in Chemistry – Ubiquitin, Deciding the Fate of Defective Proteins in Living Cells

6 Nobel Prize in Economics - Human Judgment and Decision-Making Under Uncertainty

7 Fields Medal Award in Mathematics

8 Turing Award - Machine Reasoning Under Uncertainty

9 Turing Award - Nondeterministic Decision-Making

10 Turing Award - The Development of Interactive Zero-Knowledge Proofs

11 Turing Award - Developing New Tools for Systems Verification

12 Vine Seeds Discovered from The Byzantine Period

13 The World’s Most Ancient Hebrew Inscription

14 Ancient Golden Treasure Found at Foot of Temple Mount

15 Sniffphone - Mobile Disease Diagnostics

16 Discovering the Gene Responsible for Fingerprints Formation

17 Pillcam - For Diagnosing and Monitoring Diseases in The Digestive System

18 Technological Application of The Molecular Recognition and Assembly Mechanisms Behind Degenerative Disorders

19 Exelon – A Drug for The Treatment of Dementia

20 Azilect - Drug for Parkinson’s Disease

21 Nano Ghosts - A “Magic Bullet” For Fighting Cancer

22 Doxil (Caelyx) For Cancer Treatment

23 The Genetics of Hearing

24 Copaxone - Drug for The Treatment of Multiple Sclerosis

25 Preserving the Dead Sea Scrolls

26 Developing the Biotechnologies of Valuable Products from Red Marine Microalgae

27 A New Method for Recruiting Immune Cells to Fight Cancer

28 Study of Bacterial Mechanisms for Coping with Temperature Change

29 Steering with The Bats 30 Transmitting Voice Conversations Via the Internet

31 Rewalk – An Exoskeleton That Enables Paraplegics to Walk Again

32 Intelligent Computer Systems

33 Muon Detectors in The World's Largest Scientific Experiment

34 Renaissance Robot for Spine and Brain Surgery

35 Mobileye Accident Prevention System

36 Firewall for Computer Network Security

37 Waze – Outsmarting Traffic, Together

38 Diskonkey - USB Flash Drive

39 Venμs Environmental Research Satellite

40 Iron Dome – Rocket and Mortar Air Defense System

41 Gridon - Preventing Power Outages in High Voltage Grids

42 The First Israeli Nanosatellite

43 Intel's New Generation Processors

44 Electroink - The World’s First Electronic Ink for Commercial Printing

45 Development of A Commercial Membrane for Desalination

46 Developing Modern Wine from Vines of The Bible

47 New Varieties of Seedless Grapes

48 Long-Keeping Regular and Cherry Tomatoes

49 Adapting Citrus Cultivation to Desert Conditions

50 Rhopalaea Idoneta - A New Ascidian Species from The Gulf of Eilat

51 Life in The Dead Sea - Various Fungi Discovered in The Brine

52 Drip Technology - The Irrigation Method That Revolutionized Agriculture

53 Repair of Heart Tissues from Algae

54 Proof of The Existence of Imaginary Particles, Which Could Be Used in Quantum Computers

55 Flying in Peace with The Birds

56 Self-Organization of Bacteria Colonies Sheds Light on The Behaviour of Cancer Cells

57 The First Israeli Astronaut, Colonel Ilan Ramon

58 Dr. Chaim Weizmann - Scientist and Statesman, The First President of Israel, One of The Founders of The Modern Field of Biotechnology

59 Aaron Aaronsohn Botanist, Agronomist, Entrepreneur, Zionist Leader, and Head of The Nili Underground Organization

60 Albert Einstein - Founding Father of The Theory of Relativity, Co-Founder of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem

61 Maimonides - Doctor and Philosopher

Source

@TheMossadIL

#Israel #Nobel Prizes #Contributions to the World

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 15 days

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Hi, Can you for Nezuko!reader x Whitebeard crew. So just basically in the Demon slayer world Nezuko was hit with a blood demon art and just appeared on Whitebeard ship.

(Extra if you want: Nezuko wanting to be friends with Izou because he has pretty kimonos)

-They didn’t know where you came from or even what you were, when you suddenly dropped out of the sky, literally, from what looked to be a fiery portal made of black fire, landing hard on the desk of the Moby Dick.

-You looked like a teenage girl when you first arrived, looking terribly injured, one of your legs and both of your arms missing, growling darkly at them all like you were some kind of animal.

-When you suddenly grew your missing limbs, instantly healing your wounds, many thought they were in for a fight, until you realized you were in the sunshine, which used to hurt, but it didn’t, and you calmed, looking up at the sun in awe.

-Whitebeard lowered his weapon first and the others quickly did the same, following his example as you calmed down, not aggressive anymore but you shocked everyone by your form changing to that of a child’s, shrinking down before you tipped over and were fast asleep.

-You slept for several days, curled into a little ball in Marco’s room, as he was the one watching you, minding your status, as well as inspecting you, finding that you had fangs and claws like a demon, but no demon they had ever seen before.

-When you woke up, you wandered around like a lost puppy, like you were looking for something, peeking into rooms, looking under tables, following others around, hoping they would lead you to your brother, who didn’t arrive with you.

-When you arrived on the deck, looking up at the massive man known as Whitebeard, not being able to find your brother, you fell to your rear and tears quickly welled in your eyes as you started crying, your mouthpiece falling from your mouth.

-You quickly sent the ship into a panic, wondering why you were crying, but Whitebeard could feel something, like he could sense the reason behind your tears as he easily picked you up, putting you on his knee, trying to comfort you, “It seems Y/N is missing someone- perhaps that portal she came through had someone she left behind and can’t get back to them now.”

-You looked up at him through teary eyes, his words sounded right, like what he was explaining, as you couldn’t find your big brother. Whitebeard announced that you were now adopted by him and his crew and everyone on the ship became your big brothers.

-You were a curious child, always exploring and popping up in the oddest places, and you would follow certain crew members around like a duckling, with your favorites being Izo, because his clothes were familiar to you, Thatch, because he always made you tasty food, which you could now eat, Marco, who was like your protector and you slept with him, and Whitebeard, because he felt safe and comforting.

-Despite not looking overly powerful, you quickly proved yourself when the marines tried to attack, attacking your new family, and they were all stunned when your form changed to your teenage form, showing that you were able to change forms based on how much power you had stored.

-When you shifted into your adult form, however, the vines covering your skin, your fangs and nails growing, you quickly handled business, easily taking care of the marines who dared to attack your family.

-When you arrived back on the ship Izo ran to you, scolding you for being so indecent, as your kimono had fallen open, showing off your chest and legs, while you tilted your head, confused by his anger before you shrank back down to your teenage form.

-Whitebeard just boomed with laughter, finding it amusing that you were so strong, at least physically, as they all knew you were a bit fragile mentally, as you would cry at random times, looking up at the sky or out across the ocean, missing whoever you were missing.

-There were also times when you would remember your mother, when you would see one of your brothers needing comfort, mimicking her, comforting them in your own way, doing your best.

-You were a surprise on the ship, but you weren’t unwelcome, and you felt safe with them, and while you never stopped looking for and missing your brother, you at least had a family who you could call your own in this new world.

#one piece #demon slayer #whitebeard #one piece marco #one piece thatch #one piece izo #nezuko

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sereisstuff · 2 years

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

- a new family has arrived on the metkayina lands, facing grief, responsibility and her connection with Eywa. Renaia catches the attention of the eldest sully boy, is she ready for it.

This story contains - slight heartache, swearing, mentions of death. Slow burn but not really if you look closely.

Word count - 4K words I think or more.

Part 2

I’m making a part two to this but this was just how they met and a little background on the reader, I’ve also given you guys a name because the story feels more complete when the character has a name, but feel free to let me know if this doesn’t sound like neteyam. Might’ve indulged a bit I guess.

Anyways do enjoy x

Being reclusive was a prominent trait of yours, preferring the serene sounds of the water clashing against the sand while boaring a heavy oddity towards being around others.

You were an outcast to a lot of the village, always wandering off alone. Never really speaking because you never felt the need to, solitude was something you found importance in. In order to grow with your surroundings, to gain a deeper connection with eywa and your ancestors. You always felt different from the rest.

As a young girl your first feeling of grief that drew you into your reclusive personality, happened when you were around the age of 8, the only friend who truly saw you. Was killed, during the marine biologist's hunt for the tulkun. Weapons of mass destruction and large explosives were amplified and being used against your spirit brothers and sisters.

Manisa, a beautiful girl with a heart as mighty as eywas wrath, she was an unstoppable force but despite these traits she was kind, loyal to the metkayina. Loving and most importantly, my sister by fate.

In desperation to help the tulkun, her 12 year old self snuck off during dawn. Riding past the reef and further out to sea. She was fearless and in an attempt to save her very own spirit sister, she was shot. Left for dead at the bottom of the sea where my father, the olo’eyktan of our village. Found her lifeless body, her soul returning to eywa where her spirit would know peace.

Your chest tightened and your heart cracked when you were watching her body being cradled as she returned back to the our ancestors, sinking further and further into the ocean floor.

That night you climbed the highest tree you could find in a desperate attempt to get away from the memory of manisa. although your limbs were growing weaker, used to the tides rather than the vines of the forest behind the village. you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but determination.

Resting idly on a branch that stuck out more than the rest, giving you a clear view of the village miles beneath you and more liberty to gaze at the other islands.

You took in account every star in the dark blue sky that night, every ring around the planets surrounding your own. Standing on your two feet, steadily balancing yourself with a huff.

Then you saw it, the shooting star. It held a kaleidoscopic of flashing colours, the vibrancy bringing a comfort into your life, you felt the warmth in your heart grow as if Eywa was speaking to you herself. It was a sign of hope, to preservere and in spite of manisa being welcomed by the ancestors. She was still there, in spirit and around you.

You’ve grown since then, now at a peak in your adolescence. You’ve found a love for the children of the tribe, aiding the new mothers of the metkayina village or supporting them by caring for their infants.

Although you were young, you were experienced. Having been taught by your mother, the tsahik of the metkayina people to heal and to nurture.

In spite of your sister tsireya being the eldest, she found her passion in the water. Not paying much attention to the teachings of mother, it was heavily disapproved by your mother and father. You were always in tsireyas shadow, what she could do you couldn’t do as good, she was a treasure to your father. She was perfect in the eyes of the village, compassionate, beautiful and the next tsahik by right.

“What is wrong, Rini. Speak to me” I released tenderly towards the young child before me, her innocent eyes staring off into the distance. Her head turned my way making the small beaded braids on her head sway.

She shuffled to my side, not uttering a single word. Her small hands attempting to wrap around me, without a reply to my question Rini proceeded to tuck herself under my shoulder, She often did that when she didn’t feel the strength to speak. So out of pure feeling. I lifted my hand, patting her head in the process.

“Whatever it is, sweet child-“ you tapped lightly against the placement of her heart “this is all that matters, strong like the tulkun but soft like the ilu. Unlike me, my heart is feeble like the sand, that’s why I need you to keep me up don’t I” in an attempt to cheer her up, rini smiled up at you, her fangs slowly developing to full sized teeth.

“Because you are weak” she mumbled under her breath, I caught a glimpse of the smile peeking through her facade.

Your hand reached for your own heart, feigning surprise.

“Weak? Me? How dare you” you tapped her head a little, lips jutted down into a pout.

Rini giggled but stayed adamant “yes very weak like a baby” she mimicked the cries of an infant, falling onto her back.

“Like you then? You are a baby” you joked, standing on your two feet with a pointed look.

Rini shoot up from the ground, stamping her feet onto the ground “I’m a big girl, bigger than you”

A smile fought against my cheeks as you tapped your chin with a curiosity dawning in your eyes “well, a big girl can catch other big girls. If you are, catching me would be very easy for you”

Rini gained a mischievous look, her six year old build towering as high as it could, puffing her chest with pride “easy” she promised.

Next thing you know You're jogging through the village, Rini struggling behind you as she shouts incoherent promises that she’d catch you.

“This is no challenge” you teased making the younger girl huff, pushing her little legs as fast as they could go.

Just before you, Aonung, your brother had appeared alongside rotxo, running towards the beach in a hurry. You paused, watching them join a group of villagers piling by the entrance of the metkayina lands. Then you heard it, the putatara.

A warning call spreads throughout the village, halting both yours and the younger metkayina girl in your tracks. Rini looks at you with fear in her eyes. After all, she was a child. So you did what you usually do to comfort her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it ever so gently.

You were the tsahiks daughter and it was of great importance for you to be by your family in a moment like this.

As you drew closer, Rini closely stood behind you whilst strengthening her hold on your hand as a reminder she was still here. You managed to make out the figures standing ahead of you, you weren’t generously tall but you were lengthy enough to see the family that had just arrived.

Gently pushing through the crowd until you reached behind your mother and father, your mother was the first to notice your presence, choosing not to speak, just moving silently for you to stand near your siblings.

“Come here child” your mother called, whisking Rini away from you.

The tsahik shot you a look, a demanding one. To stand beside your brother and sister, you complied obidiently, except as you turned around to face the family. Head bowed in hopes to not garner too much attention. You felt a pair of eyes shift your way, almost burning holes into your skull.

“Where were you” you heard your brother aonung whisper in your ear, looking up at him you scowled “none of your business” Aonung squinted his eyes before he rolls them back.

“Don’t do that you’ll scare yourself seeing how small your brain is” you retorted, rotxo standing beside your brother sniffled a laugh.

“it looks like tsireyas not the only one who’s got those forest boys' attention '' Rotxo announced under his breath, moving the attention away from you, making both Aonung and I look at him with question.

You followed his gaze meeting a pair of chartreuse eyes staring right back at you, his little brother so it seems couldn’t take his eyes of tsireya.

But this one had his eyes on you, your own grew wider before you relaxed yourself again and drew back from noticing it. You were not going to falter in your path for a boy you’ve just met.

He seemed to be the eldest out of the pair, holding himself strongly beside his brother. He was wearing an ionar and it made sense with the ikran he had standing behind him and his family, he was an Ikrana maktoyü. You knew this as you’ve ventured far and wide on your own, often visiting different islands and people.

He was tall in height, braided hair falling against his back and the stance he had was one of protection. He was putting himself in front of what could possibly end up in a fight between clans, standing just a few inches ahead of his brother, he stood out from the rest. I knew from the look in his eyes he meant well, he also lifted the burden of responsibility placed on him at a young age. You knew because you had the same. He was moulded by knowledge and knew right from wrong by the looks of it.

“My children will teach yours the way of the metkayina people during your stay”

Oh shit.

Before you could step in to say something Aonung placed a hand infront of you, stopping you. You shoved his hand off of your chest, daring him to do it again, “mother will have your head if you embarrass her” he spoke slowly, this made me stop. One thing I hated was being the fuel to my mothers disappointment. Oftentimes I was and today I wasn’t feeling like starting the fire.

Neteyam watched as you struggled to accept the news, wanting to do anything but that. He felt a tug in his heart when he first laid eyes on you, seeing the way you brought the child with you, reassuring her with nothing but your eyes. The way you walked before your family with a mind of your own.

To say he was interested was an understatement.

“This here is Aonung, our oldest,” he pointed towards Aonung who was already glaring at the younger brother, neteyam seemed uneasy by it, his eyes slicing from me to Aonung with a fiery look.

“Tsireya, our daughter” your father pointed to tsireya, whom you were standing behind. Tsireya lifted her hand, waving gently with a bright smile. Your beautiful sister.

Then he moved the attention on to you “and this is Renaia”

You meet gazes with the eldest boy again, he examined you from head to toe. Engraving your entire self into his mind with a single glance, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

Lo’ak nudged his brother with a cheeky grin, gaining nothing but a slap at the back of the head by neteyam.

My father announced for the people and the family “Ronal and I will show you where you will stay while with us, Jake sully.”

And just like that, you walked towards your mother as the crowd dissipated. Latching on to Rini and lifting her away.

Ronal gave you a stern look “if any of these children are hurt, I expect you to take care of it. You know the ways better than your sister therefore you are responsible if any of these newcomers are injured”

Your mother isn’t always like this, she was a kind woman, compassionate and caring. Except being the tsahik came with its highs and lows, having a mother who was the tsahik was a different story. She loved you but she was very strict with her approach, in order for you to learn, she was hard on you. You had to remind yourself she was doing it out of love but oftentimes it was impossible.

Tsireya, Aonung and rotxo jumped into the water to start immediately with the new arrivals. Swimming in front of their Kelku (home) to wait for them to come out for their first lesson.

You, on the other hand, left the beach with rini. Returning her to her parents for the time being “did you see the little girl? Tell me you seen her. I wonder if she wants to be friends, do you think she wants to be friends with me??” Rini rambled continuously, finally taking a breath of pause. She gasped for air before rambling again.

Your ears flicked back and a smile dawned on your lips, stretching out your cheeks “I saw her alright, I just know she wants to be best friends with you.” I tapped my chin in thought again, something I often did with Rini.

“I’ll make you a deal” she perked up

“If you let me braid your hair, I’ll ask the little girl if she wants a new friend; by the name of Rini” Rini squealed, grabbing your forearm in her small hands. She loved when you braided her hair so this deal was nothing to her, she’d get the best of both worlds.

Before you could set the girl down by her kelku, you felt a heavy wave of anger wash over you “Renaia” your mothers voice echoed throughout the village, “you are meant to be helping your brother, what are you doing here with Rini”

You jutted your head in the direction of Rinis home, the small child latched onto your leg in an attempt to hug you, running off into the distance away from you two.

You stood strongly, knowing you weren’t here for any bad reason. “I was just making sure Rini got home safely, you know how clumsy she is mother.” Your heart was always a weakness, is what your brother often reminded you of. Your heart was too empathetic, too kind, too caring. It was too much.

Your mother sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder “one day, your disobedience will get you in trouble. I tell you one thing and you go do the opposite, the quicker you start becoming aware the faster you’ll learn.” She lectured, you knew she meant well but she never failed to make you feel dumb.

You had a good reason too.

After being lectured for nearly an hour in front of some of the villagers, you had arrived at the edge of the beach. Diving into the water to meet your brother and sister, “Follow us, it’ll be fun” you heard tsireya say, you slid under the water. Making sure there was no splash. You dove as deep as you could before popping out and scaring Rotxo.

“Shit” you heard a huff of surprise, the youngest brother held a hand to his chest. Eyes wide as they landed on your soaked figure “how long were you down there for?” He asked, perplexed.

“Longer than you know”

The eldest of them both came out of the water, gasping for air. You giggled a little, finding entertainment in it, “Lo’ak, my name is Lo’ak and this is my brother-“ he was shortly cut off by the eldest “neteyam” he said, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Sorry about my skxawng brother, he’s very curious about things” neteyam said, voice laced with his own curiosity as his gaze settled on you “and you aren’t curious about things?” You questioned, still having distance between them and yourself. You stayed silent, waiting on his answer.

Neteyam didn’t know how to reply, for the first time in his life he couldn’t come up with some intelligent, well thought out excuse instead, he spoke before thinking “I’ve never been more curious than now” he exposed, you couldn’t tell what he meant, his tone and his gaze signifying something completely different. You confirmed by the look Lo’ak shot him, that same cheeky grin he had before.

“Oh yeah? We all know what you're curious about?” Lo’ak teased, he was too busy fluttering around like a child to notice the glare coming from Aonung.

“That’s enough forest boy, do you want to learn or do you want to drown? Your choice” Aonung threatened the pair, aiming mostly towards lo’ak, two more began swimming towards us and I took notice of them being the younger sisters.

“Neteyam, Lo’ak” the young girl yelled, her screeching voice alerting all of us. Neteyam, out of instinct. Swam towards tuk, placing her on his back so it would be easier for her in the water. Neteyam, couldn’t help but look at you. There was something to it, you didn’t just hold your beauty on the outside, you held it on the inside as well. He needed to know more.

The loving and warm gaze you shot Tuk was comforting to him and he didn’t understand why.

“This is Tuk, the baby of our family” neteyam introduced, gazing up at Tuk with adoration in his eyes. “Hi Tuk,” you all greeted, Aonung grumbled it under his breath, showcasing his displeasure.

Tsireya then spoke up “the first thing about the water, that you must learn is that breathing plays an important part, every living being breathes. We’ve seen how long you guys can hold your breath so now we must teach you how to do it, properly.” She then took a decent breath of her own, waving for them to join her moving forward under the water. Rotxo latched onto kiri, pulling her down under the water.

Lo’ak shrugged his shoulder, showcasing a piece sign motion. Or you assumed it was a piece sign.

“Your very pretty” Tuk spoke up earning a hiss from neteyam, your cheeks were starting to hurt with the amount of times you smiled, you were only really like this with the children of the village. Having a soft spot for them.

But the more neteyam spectated the interaction between you and his youngest sister, he too couldn’t help but smile.

“Not prettier than you Tuk, you are the prettiest girl here” you complimented, tuks lips thinned, trying her best not to smile. You looked down upon Neteyam before speaking.

“Follow me, I’ll show you where we're going” you kept it simple and short.

Quickly diving under the water, you began swimming. Glancing behind you in search of the two omaticaya villagers, yet the further you swam. The slower they got, huffing under the water before remembering your mothers words.

“They are your responsibility”

Despite that, the moment you turned around was not because of her words ringing through your ears, it was purely out of concern. Tuk was immersed in the water, neteyam learning quickly but you knew it would take a while to get to the rocks if this was how they swam.

neteyam already had his eyes locked on you, almost like he knew you needed to say something. You pointed to the surface, signing ‘we’ll take some air and I’ll lead you the rest of the way” Neteyam only shot you a confused look, you kept pointing for him to swim up.

He grabbed tuk, swimming to the surface.

He gasped for air again, his braids falling elegantly infront of his face before they were pushed away “what’s wrong” he asked, voice laced with worry.

“It’ll take us too long to get there if we continue swimming like this, I’ll take Tuk on my back and you can hold-“ you gently grabbed his hand, the softness of his palms escalated the beat of your heart.

“Here” he was quick to latch on to your shoulder, stammering in his response, his grip was secure. He couldn’t seem to look at you for long before gazing at the sky again.

Tuk wrapped her slender arms around your neck, diving once more into the open water.

You’ve always loved the sea, holding it dear to your heart. The water to you was like speaking to eywa, it was a connection. An entirely different aspect of the world around you and above you, when you swam you felt grounded, controlling your breathing was another form of connection to your people. It was the first thing many of you learnt as children, if you had control over your breathing, you could always find peace.

You swam further into the ocean, you were quick. Neteyam noted, very swift. It was almost as if you had been born from the water, you did it without effort, weaving through the floating seaweed and masses of rocks like that of a dolphin.

He couldn’t help but admire your skill.

Arriving at the rocks granted you space from the eldest brother, that entire time consisted of you holding back from slapping his hand away out of fear of what could be, you didn’t want to feed into your own delusions.

Your brother was right, your heart was weak.

“Just sit on those rocks over there” you muttered under your breath, wanting to escape the area. far from the visitors, “are you not staying?” neteyam asked, eyeing you with hope glimmering in his eyes. Or so you’d wished.

Tsireya perched in her spot, “she is staying,” she said, more so an order than a question.

Aonung shook his head, earning another laugh from rotxo who shot you a look of stupidity, reflecting his stupid self. You’ve known rotxo since you were children, he was always there. Always around, it was to the point you had even asked if aonung and rotxo were mates.

Rotxo fed into it, Aonung not so much.

“Renaia would rather swim with the fish and talk to the rocks” Rotxo joked, I lifted my hand out of the water and pointed it at him “Talking to you is like talking to a rock, only difference is the rocks smarter” Rotxo shot you a glare but that didn’t stop the others from laughing.

You lifted yourself from the water, flicking your hair back off of your shoulder. You had two thick braids circling your head, while the rest of your curls were left to silk down your back. A few loose strands hung from the crown of your head.

Neteyam was in awe, his mouth hanging as he tried to compose himself. Tuk giggled watching her elder brother panic under your presence, everyone noticed except you.

“Breathing is a life form, breathing gives you life and takes away that very same essence. You breathe from here,-“ she huffed in a breath, holding her chest with one arm “and here” moving the other to her stomach.

“In order to be one with the people you must learn how to control your breathing, it’s one of the most important parts of being metkayina. If you have control over your breathing, you have control over your life.” Rotxo finished.

All of them copied Rotxo and Tsireyas movements, Lo’ak whom was sitting by tsireya struggled to adjust to new knowledge. This made you curious as to how neteyam was adjusting, you could tell he was a quick learner but being the eldest he’d still carry past teachings with him, very dearly.

The rest were all too busy helping the others, glancing towards neteyam who sat cross legged on the rocks. Eyes closed, his eyebrow bone knotted together in frustration, you could immediately tell he didn’t know what he was doing.

You reached out to him, not uttering a single word as you placed your hand on his chest. His eyes shot open, wide and big in shock. His breathing rapidly escalated at the touch of your hand, you go to remove it but stop when his hand grasps your wrist.

“No it’s okay, I’m sorry for scaring you” Neteyam held a gentle look on his features, guiding your hand back to his chest “there’s only one way I’m gonna learn, go ahead” he consented, acknowledging you.

You pushed the emotion rising within you to the far back of your mind, you trained yourself how to not show emotion at a young age. This was a walk in the park.

Your smile faded, eyes rested, there was no sign of emotion in your face but the eyes speak for the soul and Neteyam was no fool.

“Breath in from here” you held his chest, tapping it with your middle finger, reaching your other hand over and placing it on his stomach “then you breathe out from here”

You breathed out from your own stomach, showing him how to do it. He mimicked you, not once breaking your gaze. His stare was strong, powerful. He was very relentless but you could see he didn’t mean evil.

I felt pulled to him, feeling no need to break the tension, I found myself wanting to drown in it. In his warm forest eyes, his gentle smile. But you barely knew the boy and you’d be damned if you’d gotten caught showing attraction for someone you’d just met a few hours ago.

After multiple attempts, you finally broke his gaze. Coughing slightly from the lack of air you took, although you were used to holding your breath, this somehow felt different.

“Good” you hummed, removing your skin from his. Then turning around to watch as Lo’ak fell prey to his feelings, he seemed to be the rebellious one. The way he held himself was awfully similar to the free spirited tulkun.

“Your heart rate is fast.” Tsireya teased, Lo’ak quickly glanced her way before lowering his gaze again “yeah sorry”

It seems like these boys apologise a lot.

After hours of teaching them how to breathe it was time to return, you had disappeared before the group could notice. It was a nightly ritual for you to go sit on that same branch and fall in love with the stars all over again.

You could see them from where you hid, choosing the spot just before the large bush of leaves to keep yourself hidden. Not even your own family knew of this place, thinking that you’d been out swimming every night since Manisa's death.

You had healed from that, as you looked upon the islands. Watching the water cascade with the tides, when they pulled back you’d imagine the hurt you’ve endured being pulled with it. Washing away your fears, your pung (hurt).

It was always beautiful sitting on top of the tree, weaving through the vines and gaining your balance rather easily now, you’ve endured so much but spoke so little of it. It was your responsibility to help, it was your job to uphold the honour of the olo’eyktan, everyday was a chore for you when all you wanted to do was be free spirited, one with eywa.

You could feel her presence in everything, you could hear her voice in the trees as they swayed. Eywa was always there, around you, above you and infront of you.

With your eyes closed, ears perked. You began listening to her, her heartbeat was mighty. Breathing in and out to the rhythm of the beat, it was a gift being so close to her, to the all mighty power of eywa. Your chest felt full, like her solace had been placed into your heart.

You’d rather be anything but who you were, Eywa has taught you that it’s not you who is deceitful it’s the people who convince you so.

The crunch of branches alerted you, you sat up quickly. Searching around for the intruder. You had a knife strapped to your thigh. It came in use during hunting, but this time it wasn’t going to be used for such a thing, before you could register the voice being used. You shot around, grabbing the intruder by their chest, pushing them into the tree swiftly with a knife against their throat.

“I didn’t mean to scare you” Neteyam choked, your breathing harsh against his as you dropped the knife onto the forest floor. Watching it drop further and further, “what are you doing up here?” You asked, more annoyed than shocked.

“My father told me and my idiot little brother that we can go exploring, I wanted to feel more at home so I came here” he truthfully spoke, “you could have died if I didn’t realise it was you”

Neteyams brow lifted in question “I don’t doubt your skill but I’m sure I would have been fine” he laughed. Of course, he was the son of olo’eyktan too, by the looks of it he’d already been trained in the ways.

You granted him no reply, sitting back down on the branch, remaining what you came here to do. The boy had no clue as to what that was, so he sat next to you, thigh touching yours. His shade creates a dark contrasting blue against your emerald skin. He was much taller than you, broader too. His shoulder rested by your head as you looked up at him for a slight second, then returned to your sullen features.

“Why do you come here, all alone?” Neteyam pointed out, so curious as to why you're always alone. Somehow this piqued his interest, your solitudious personality didn’t go unnoticed. He noted your disinterest in partaking in the activities with them but only when tuk was around did you finally enjoy being there.

You grumbled in response “because”

Neteyam shifted his gaze from your touching skin, to your blue eyes. He noticed how they had gold specs in them and a freckle, if he looked close enough it seemed as though the freckle was a second pupil.

The answer didn’t suffice “because?” He dragged on.

“I have my own reasons like you have yours, why do you put them before yourself? I see the way you step in when it comes to Lo’ak, the way tuk is like your child. Kiri is the same age as you, is she not? Yet you treat her too as if she’s a baby.” You rambled, feeling called out. You enjoyed your privacy, for once. You’d thought about sharing it with someone else, but for now you had to make it clear you were not easy and never will be.

Neteyam scoffed lightly, nodding his head as if you’d just analysed his entire life and been correct “it’s my responsibility”

You nodded in understanding, nudging him a bit to continue. Neteyam glanced your way, searching for safety in your eyes, he didn’t understand why he’d find it so important to do so but something in his heart told him too, and he always listened to his heart.

“Being the first born always means you sacrifice everything about yourself for them. They mess up? It’s on me for not teaching them to do better, they fall and hurt themselves. I should have been there to protect them, in some way they are my children but I’d never admit that to them. That’s just the burden of being born first, that’s how I’ve been raised”

You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, he was wise beyond his years. Being the first born meant so many things and one of them that held importance was responsibility, although in that sense Aonung would fail miserably.

After a few moments of silence, Neteyam mirrored your actions of enjoying the eclipse.

“You're a good brother” you released, your voice weak.

The forest boy snapped his head in your direction, you continued “Aonung would rather die than have to bare the burden of me or tsireya, he comes off protective but at the end of the day it’s me protecting him from his own stupidity.” You reached for his shoulder, anywhere else was off limits to you. Reassuringly patting it.

“That's an admirable trait, you’d make a great olo’eyktan one day.”

Neteyam couldn’t help but to take in the moment, staring into your eyes with a glimpse of confusion flickering in them as he searched around for the answer in yours. You couldn’t bear meeting his gaze, before he could open his mouth and utter the words he wanted to.

A voice from below called out to you both “Neteyam, mothers looking for you” Tuks high pitched voice called from below, how she found you two was a mystery. She noticed your presence, getting giddy already. You had nearly forgotten to ask her the question you’d promised rini.

“I guess being the oldest has its perks, you get your own watch team” humour was never really your forte and even you didn’t find the joke in that but Neteyam sniffled a laugh.

“Yeah, one step and tuk is threatening me that if I don’t take her she’ll tell everyone everything about me” this made you laugh, children were stubborn but tuk had a new level of stubbornness. Almost like she’d go to war for an adventure.

Before we could start climbing down, Neteyam grabbed a hold of my wrist again. A pleading look on his features “do you think I could come back with you tomorrow, same place, same time” he asked politely so as to not alarm me, his hold was soft and gentle. Like he was almost afraid he’d break my wrist if he held it with security.

I looked down towards tuk who held her thumbs up in a yes motion “your free to do whatever you want, Neteyam”

He couldn’t help but feel the pull dominate one side of his lips into a grin “so that’s a yes?”

“Yes, it is”

.......................

I tried proofreading but i'm lowkey blind so sorry for the little fuck ups guys.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #avatar : the way of water #na’vi x reader #lo’ak

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my-naughty-writings-and-musings · 1 year

Note

You suggested some merformer based asks, so consider this: Merformer! Shockwave x reader? Maybe the reader is a marine biologist and isn't used to being studied, especially this... thoroughly?

As usual I went way overboard, and with a slightly different vibe than you might have intended so I hope you like this, anon!! I was imagining a TFP Shockwave but of course you're free to imagine him as you choose!

For those who don't know: if you like my writing style, you can always commission me, and please reblog to help spread my work! Thank you!

Note: Thalassicon is just my word for what merformers call themselves.

Holding on tightly to Shockwave, you reminded yourself that oxygen was limited as you sucked in each careful breath from your scuba tank, and that he'd promised you it was just a quick swim through these dark tunnels to reach his lair. You trusted him completely, but it was impossible to shake your instinctive anxiety as his massive frame pulled you through the underwater caverns without a trace of light. Time seemed to drag on until a light blue glow at the end of the path caught your eye through your goggles.

As the light grew brighter, the water around you became warmer as Shockwave had promised, and you clung less tightly to his back to raise your head for a better look, almost forgetting to breathe when he finally swam clear of the tunnel and entered a massive underwater cave.

Bioluminescent plant life gave the water a beautiful blue glow, their long, delicate tendrils swaying with the currents Shockwave left in his wake as he pumped his tail without urgency to swim forward. You barely remembered to hold onto his back as you tried in vain to mentally catalog the rich biodiversity before you, wondering if the mech had cultivated it all himself just to keep his home suitably lit. As you stared in open awe, a sudden gesture for you to let go caught you quite by surprise, and you blushed at having lost yourself to the beauty of it all. Releasing your hold on his back, you allowed the merformer to take control when he spun to face you, trusting him completely as he cupped your tiny body in one servo and pointed upwards. Overwhelmed by everything, you merely nodded and allowed him to take you to the rippling surface overhead.

The air above was thankfully far fresher than you could have anticipated so far beneath the ocean, and there was also no shortage of light to see by either, thanks to a similarly breathtaking species of bioluminescent plant casting its soft glow down from the high ceiling above.

"You can breathe freely. I installed air scrubbers to keep oxygen at an ideal level." Shockwave instructed, holding you at the surface so you didn't have to waste your energy treading water. Happily removing your mask, you took a deep breath and massaged the creases left on your face, savoring the feeling of unimpeded oxygen before you looked around for a better idea of your surroundings. The cave was absolutely massive, and had a number of adjoining caverns with varying levels of exposed stone atop which Shockwave stored his less water friendly technology and salvage. More than a few boat engines the size of automobiles were stacked about and waiting to have their parts repurposed, along with a number of shipping containers you doubted had been pulled from shipwrecks. All in all, his lair felt just as much like a pirate's treasure cove as it did a scientist's lab, and you loved it more than words could convey.

"I never thought you'd actually bring me here. Am I your first visitor?" you asked in awe, allowing him to pull you in as he floated on his back. Setting you down atop his ample chest, he ensured you were lying comfortably on your belly before he answered your question with a single word and a nod.

"Affirmative."

You smiled and looked up at the glowing vines swirling along the stalactites overhead, sighing softly at the beautiful scene and the warm water lapping at your wetsuit. Despite rarely understanding his technological feats thanks to your biology focused education, you were awed by everything he'd accomplished, and were beyond grateful to be given the privilege to behold his home. More than a few conversations had alluded to how his culture considered visiting one's home to be a great gesture of trust saved for only the closest of friends and lovers. Considering the hidden depths of your feelings for him, that thought carried far more weight in your head than you'd intended, so you quickly pushed it down as you always did such things. "Thank you for trusting me, Shockwave. I'm honored."

"You have proven yourself to be my ally." he affirmed, gently taking your hand between his thumb and foredigit. The touch made your heart flutter, especially as you met his single red optic and saw his helm accents twitch as they did when he was processing deeper than usual emotions. "I am not one for my people's superstitions, but I do believe in our custom of reciprocating gestures of trust. You gave me reason to trust you completely, and I wish to do the same."

Straight away, your mind snapped back to the fateful day he spoke of, the terror and uncertainty still raw thanks to how little time had passed. It had been a blur; the ambush by government officials, the net that had unintentionally caught you with him, and his shock when you took the time to cut him loose after freeing yourself. Echoes of the shots that had so narrowly missed the both of you were still clear in your mind, and you could easily recall how he'd held you close to take the hits as he swam for your lives... In the moment freeing him had just been a matter of course, and looking back on it you couldn't imagine doing anything else. You needed him to know that, even if he still seemed to struggle believing it. "You don't have to reward me for what I did. It was the right thing to do, they were going to hurt you."

"Perhaps." he mused in deep thought, going quiet and averting his optic. You allowed him time to think, able to tell from his twitching antennae that he was running over something very challenging in his processor. Looking ready to drop the topic and move on for several defeated seconds, he suddenly steeled himself and met your gaze, holding your hand all the more tightly as he carefully enunciated every last word. "But you have done far more than earn my trust. I have found our time together... enriching.

Though he obviously didn't expect a reply, you were in no shape to give him one, the shock on your face giving him another moment of pause before he forged ahead. How like him, you'd have thought if your brain weren't frozen, to drop something like this so suddenly... Neither one of you excelled at handling your emotions.

"You are unlike any human I have ever met, observed, or would have theorized possible." he continued to confess, obviously struggling but feeling a deep need to get through this. Your heart flipped at his words, beating strongly enough you were halfway worried he'd be able to feel it through your wetsuit, though if he did he didn't let it stop him. The merformer looked to your tiny hand in his, sharp optic tracing all the details imperceptible to the human eye as he allowed himself a rare emotive sigh from his vents. "I have grown very close to you, even if our relationship started on purely academic terms."

"Shockwave..." was all you could say, your voice locked in your throat and your eyes damp with more than seawater. Perhaps in your most self indulgent dreams you'd have allowed yourself to fantasize about such a moment, but to have it happen in reality, which was hardly known for its kindness, you simply couldn't dare to believe you'd be so fortunate. Then again, hadn't your entire relationship been a kind of fantasy made reality? Bumping into this brilliant mech, earning his interest with your scientific endeavors, beginning a relationship of mutual academic benefit that had deepened into something more... You only wished you could find enough words to tell him you felt the same, and had for such a long time. Some of the other feelings he created within you could be discussed at a later date...

Before you could try to force out a reply, Shockwave shifted once again, his antennae twitching backwards and his gaze dropping more out of what you dared to call bashfulness than simple nerves. It seemed the merformer wasn't done surprising you with shared yearning

"For my people, bringing another to your home means more than displaying trust. It is also intended to express a certain amount of... desire." he explained in the most halting voice you'd ever heard from him, usual confidence nowhere to be found.

"O-oh?" you squeaked, hopeful the glow wasn't bright enough to betray the blush turning your entire face to fire. He couldn't possibly be speaking of the same kind of desire that had made you wonder what his servos would feel like on your bare skin, or the kind that had you theorizing what certain parts of his anatomy looked like and hoping to find out... Thankfully for your sake, he seemed even more overwhelmed by what he was trying to say, enough that he didn't even seem to notice your struggles.

"We... do not approach such matters like humans. When a Thalassicon wishes to have a relationship that is more... intimate, there is not a period of courting. That is not to say we do not engage in courtship, only that it is not a prerequisite for physical relations. Intimacy is more for... expressing a certain level of trust, as well as desire, and..." he drifted off, the uncertainty in his voice so thick it weighed down every last word. Slapping his face into the palm of his servo, he mumbled in total defeat, too overcome to continue. "This is very hard to articulate."

The last thing you wanted was for him to stop, especially when you could swear you understood what he was trying to say, and very much wanted the conversation to continue in the direction it seemed to be heading. Taking a firmer hold of his hand, you pulled it close to yourself and sat up quickly. Something primal within you gave you the capacity to speak. "Then... show me? Use your hands?"

"If I have your permission-" he began, holding his servos just shy of your wetsuit.

"My full consent, and ask questions if you need to." you explained as you stripped off your mask and oxygen tank in record time, fully motivated to get things moving. You dared to hope you really understood just what he was getting at, that he yearned for your relationship to be more physical, and that your own desire for the same was soon to be quenched. It was much harder to be bashful with such giddy excitement fluttering through your belly.

A surge of similar energy moved through his massive frame, and you felt all thirty or more feet of him become alive beneath you, making your position straddling his chest all the more exciting. Biting your lip to hold back an overwhelmed whimper, you welcomed both of his servos as they lifted from the water, taking a hold of each one and guiding them to your body until his digits settled on your hips. Straight away you felt how different the contact was from any time he'd touched you in the past, a realization that only intensified when he began to explore, sliding his servos over the tight fabric of your wetsuit with all the deliberation one would expect of a scientist. You sat up straighter to open more of your body to him, jaw going visibly slack as his thumbs massaged up your front and stopped just shy of your breasts.

Recalling that you also had a pair of hands that were very skilled at studying aquatic anatomy, you let out all of your pent up curiosity and arousal and began to explore his massive frame, tracing the seams on his chest and savoring the smoothness of his mesh. As his touches stirred something in you, so did yours in him, the hum of his spark intensifying beneath your very fingertips. You were flattered and awed by the mech's receptiveness to your obviously desired advances.

"May I see you as you are?" he asked suddenly, tapping a digit over the tiny zipper on your front. Thoroughly pleased by the bold request, you met his gaze to find far more of his usual confidence had returned, a change you hoped was here to stay. Your certainty that it would intensified when his other servo traced your curves and took their time savoring the softness of your organic body. "I wish to know you without obstacles."

"Here, let me..." you began helpfully, pulling down the zipper in a manner you hoped read as inviting. He'd made his fascination with human anatomy known only in passing, but as you unzipped your suit and revealed a thin sliver of skin beneath, his optic betrayed far more than just academic interest. Loving the attention, you tried to play it cool as you peeled the wet fabric off your shoulders, moving slowly thanks to how the swimsuit clung to you when it was soaked. You managed to free the upper half of your body without too much trouble, baring your breasts to the open air and earning a quiver of excitement from his frame before you decided help would make the remaining process much easier.

"If you could help me pull off- oh!"

To your continued surprise, he didn't hesitate to follow your instructions, peeling off your wetsuit in a series of precise movements and leaving you naked on his chassis as he tucked it away in a convenient subspace.

Completely bare and wet, you looked to him in a brief moment of total vulnerability, fears of rejection rising up only to be quickly squashed down when his optic dilated and his voice rumbled more deeply than you'd ever heard it before. "Fascinating..."

Shockwave did just as you'd bid and began to explore, starting at your legs that had so often fascinated him as a being with a tail. Tracing the shape of your muscles and somehow finding every sensitive nerve along the way, he made a point to massage your thighs, encouraging you to spread them but not yet focusing between them. The mech was approaching your body as one would an exquisite meal, savoring every last bit and saving the very best parts for last. You were a bit too overwhelmed to be impatient when he made it to your ribs, circling his thumbs over the tender flesh on the sides before he dipped inwards to heft your breasts, making your breath hitch as he finally got to your erect nipples. Biting your lip was the only way to hold back a moan.

Beneath you, his frame grew heated, and you felt an almost crackling energy building in the mech as his arousal increased with your own. All the little feelings for him that you'd pushed down over the past few months were returning with interest, creating a fire between your legs that refused to be satisfied by simple touches and demanded attention. Granted your own boldness by your pent up needs, you took a hold of his wrists and pushed them downwards, sitting up to bring your pussy into view in the hope he might skip exploration and go straight for experimentation. A needy whine was your attempt at an invitation.

To your delight and near overwhelm, Shockwave growled at the sight, his desire letting you know the move was the right one even before he spoke with the same level of open, feral want. "How do you prefer to be stimulated?"

"Clit, circles, please." you begged, incapable of anything more eloquent. Thankfully he was quite the master of blunt communication, and seemed to find the invitation more than sufficiently invigorating from the desperation with which he slipped his servo between your legs. Supporting your weight entirely, he began to rub his way from the tender skin between your legs to the sopping lips of your entrance, where he found a wealth of lubrication to get started with.

Your first moan echoed along the ceiling when his digits met your throbbing clit, the smooth mesh delighting you more than you could have ever imagined as he began to circle the erect bud as you'd requested. It occurred to you that you'd never once described such human anatomy to him, and even though you'd learned your species were shockingly similar in this regard you were confident the speed with which he'd found your sweet spot meant he'd been doing research. That thought alone had you moaning far more shamelessly, your hands holding on tightly to his servo as he adjusted you to press his thumb into your clit whilst his foredigit fingered your entrance to test its flexibility. Your eyes rolled back when you felt the heavenly stretch of him slipping inside.

"Need this. Need you." he said quickly, tail slapping the water as your open enjoyment egged him on. Dropping his spare servo to his waist, you had just enough scientific curiosity available to whip your head around in time to see his modesty plating retract, which allowed for an erection nearly as long as you were tall to swing forth with a splash. Beholding the full size and intensity of his arousal made your walls pulse around his digits, something that was not missed on the mech as he began to pump with a groan of pent up, frustrated arousal. You were hypnotized by the impressive purple length, watching in open mouthed desire as his digits moved up and down its streamlined ridges and simple rows of red biolights.

"Shockwave..." you moaned again, grinding down into his palm as the water around you grew choppy from your shared exertions. Hearing his name had exactly the effect you wanted, his thrusting digit going deeper and curling up into your sweet spot as his thumb pressed firmer circles into your clit. The warmth of your arousal running down to pool in his palm made the scientist all the more eager, his tail churning the water as his other servo splashed into the waves with every pump of his erection. Though you wanted to watch him work, you found your eyes rolling back as a familiar coil began to build in your lower body, the promise of a long overdue release making it more or less impossible to care about anything beyond the ecstasy of the moment.

"I'm so close!" you announced to encourage him, cries spilling out of you with every thrust of his wrist. Thighs quivered on either side of his palm as you practically bounced in his grasp, moving yourself to the rhythm of his masturbation and praying both of you could reach completion at around the same time. Judging by how his every sound was some animalistic growl or moan of want, you doubted it would be long, especially with his noises adding so much to your own enjoyment. There was something unspeakably flattering about having such a massive, beautiful, intelligent being moaning over what they were doing to you...

A sudden twist of his deeply buried digit and an increase in the pressure on your clit did you in without warning, making your entire body spasm in his grip as you came hard around him, throbbing walls sending waves of ecstasy through your very being. Stars swirled in the spinning lights overhead, forcing you to grab him for balance as you rode out the release you'd needed for weeks without relief.

Seeing you so overcome pushed Shockwave into his own explosive release, his spinal strut arching as he came in plentiful ropes of transfluid that gushed over himself and grazed your bare back. Moaning in euphoria, he somehow managed to keep you balanced and upright as his hips twitched into every throb, the remainder of the mess being washed away by the waves even before reality came hurtling back. You managed to catch a glance of his near theatrical release before your own orgasm faded into the afterglow, and by the time he did the same you were much closer to unconsciousness than you would have thought possible.

Collapsing in his grip, you very nearly fell off into the water before he released his spent spike to hold you up with both servos, chassis rising and falling as he ventilated hard to cool off. Naked and completely satisfied, you allowed the warm water to welcome you as you were laid flat on his chest, your own ribs expanding repeatedly for deep breaths of exertion. You weren't sure you'd ever been more spent in your life...

"I built a small station on the far side of my lair. There is a platform on which you can rest and dry off." Shockwave said suddenly, total exhaustion belying the monumental step forward the two of you had just taken. It didn't even really hit you when you nodded for him to proceed, your limp body staying just where he kept it on his chassis as he swam slowly in the direction indicated. Purring, you noted the lingering warmth of his release on your back with a bit of pride. Shockwave had needed this just as desperately as you had...

Laying on his chest as the two of you lazily floated towards your destination, you wondered what might come next in your relationship, but admittedly couldn't think of much of anything in depth with so little energy to spare. It was enough just to be happy with him, with how everything had turned out since the fateful day the two of you had met... Judging by how tenderly he cupped you to himself as he swam along, you dared to believe he felt the same way, and if he preferred to show such emotions the way you'd just experienced you were more than fine with it.

#valveplug #transformers #lemon #maccadam #robot x human relations #tf #self insert #human reader #merformers #mermay #shockwave x reader #transformers x reader #x reader #nsfw////#tf imagines

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