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botanicallyinclinednerd · 2 years

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honestly i loved talking to you (and thank you for that <3), i'd love to yell at this show with you some more and i'd love to hear about your thoughts (esp about your own blorbos from this show) -i very much appreciate the tangents you've gone on. feel free to rant <33 -🏴‍☠️

I've loved talking to you too!! <3

:D Alright, brace yourself, this may get long, I have a lot of feelings about my blorbos.

So my blorbos are Billy, Silver, and Jack, with Gates and Anne secondary blorbos and most of the walrus crew also in the "I adore them" category, but I'm more normal about them 😂

When I started the show, the only character that was familiar was Billy, since his actor, Tom Hopper, was in Merlin and it was this fact that motivated me to start the show. And while I tried to stop myself from getting attached to Billy because of his actor, I would have been screwed either way, cause smart (and he IS smart, he is not a himbo, he's very intelligent) kind guy doing his best for himself and those around him and also has a kind father figure he cares about is like, a weakness. Father son dynamics are one of my favorite things. Did you know Gates directly called Billy "son" three times in the first six episodes? And every single one of them destroyed me? And did you know that Billy and Gates' love for each other was their dooms? Gates loved Billy, thats his son. So when he "died" he of course was devastated. And he thought Flint killed him. And for all Gates cared about Flint, he loved his son more. And thats what got Gates killed: putting his feelings about his son first. And then there's Billy. The second thing he asked for when he woke up, the first establishing he was back in Nassau, was asking for Gates. And he wasn't happy when silver told him Flint murdered him. And here's the thing: everyone assumed that how Billy got into the water would be the issue, Flint included. But Billy said it didn't matter if Flint let him go or not, and he said that. And Flint got visibly confused by that, because it makes no sense. It SHOULD matter. But it didn't, because Billy wanted to stick by Flint in order to some day watch him fail and die for what he did to Gates (as he more or less tells Ben when Flint was about to duel Teach). And we know Billy hates Flint, that was made abundantly clear after he got reunited with the crew. And when Silver was no longer on board to kill Flint, Billy reminded him how much they lost because of Flint, all the brothers they lost because of him. I very strongly believe that Billy's hate for Flint and desire to kill him is because Flint killed Gates and he wanted revenge. And that revenge is what led Billy to his very tragic ending.

Speaking of Billy. His character arc is, to me, the most tragic on the show because he goes from this kind guy that everyone likes and who cares about his crew very much, to a man so consumed by revenge who is alone without the crew/family that defined him for so long. He starts with everything and ends with nothing and it hurts. And all because he trusted Silver completely, created an enormous power for him because he believed in him, and Silver used it against him. And Billy, understandably, took that personally (just like he said he would back in that tent in season 2 "The longer you keep me here, the more likely I am to take that personally") and with Silver's betrayal, setting Billy up to be killed, chosing flint over him, (even if he did change his mind last second and chose to spare Billy's life) Billy lost the rest of the crew too, as they chose to turn on Billy as well, even though they all seemed to recognize that what Silver told them wasn't true. Am I a fan that Billy's response to being betrayed by nearly everyone he cared about was assisting in killing them all? Nope. I'm really not. But it does make sense for the character, and I can't say I completely blame him for being fucking pissed. And something else that I noticed, back in I believe early season 2, was small similarities between Billy and Flint, and I got worried Billy would become a mirror to Flint. Yeahhhhh. I don't always like being right.

Season four pains me a lot because of Billy's arc, and because of the dynamic between Silver and Billy (also known as my favorite dynamic on the show. Season four destroyed me, send help) Silver cares about Billy, he does, his decisions regarding him tear him up and he looks near tears several times. But he still chooses flint. And it doesn't matter in the end cause he still gets rid of him cause he finally realized that Billy was right about him (and I realize there was manipulation there so silver came to that conclusion, I'm aware) Just the inevitability of it all, the feeling that it was always going to end up this way is maddening.

On a less depressing note, I also love the dynamic between Jack and Anne. The love they have for each other makes me very happy, how fond they are of each other. Seeing a relationship on screen that isnt all about sex and romantic love means a lot to me, they love each other and will be together til they die, they mean so much to each other, but after s2, that relationship is not sexual, and it doesn't make it any less important. And that means a lot to me as an asexual individual.

Sorry this got long and I'm not sure it entirely makes sense 😅😂

#liv answers #black sails anon #i have so many feelings #i didnt even get into the individual walrus crew or dufresne or my feelings on ships or the end or anything #this show is so much #the writers are insane for taking this prequel to treasure island and going 'billy bones is obviously afraid of and on the run from long #john silver. theres a bad history there. yoy know what we should do before we get to that bad blood? make them best friends!!'#they are fucking insane for that #black sails #black sails spoilers #like so much #i also didnt get into the fact that Billy not falling off the bow literally changes everything and that also makes me insane

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runawaymarbles · 7 months

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top five reasons people should be watching black sails

1. It is a four season story arc that ended when the writers thought it should end, and didn't get dragged out or cut off though season 4 should have been longer.

2. It sticks to its fucking themes all the way through so that when it circles back to them in finale it feels like a concluding paragraph and not a last minute grab for meaning.

3. The character arcs are beautifully consistent and all the main characters get a complete story, regardless of where that story ends. They're also informed but not exclusively characterized by their demographics in a way I appreciate-- no one is there to be The Gay or The Black Guy or The Woman, and no one "just happens to be X": their experiences of being gay and/or Black and/or women impact how they see and interact with the world in ways that are unique to each character's personal experiences.

4. The women have varied and complex relationships with each other as friends and lovers and rivals and mentors (supportive) and mentors (derogatory) and enemies and allies, and those relationships are key to huge swaths of the plot. Even the character archetypes that are traditionally Smurfetted (the #girlboss, the One Of The Guys) are just. Surrounded by other women. It's great. Especially since Treasure Island has no women on purpose.

5. They show boobs but they also show dicks and that's equality.

#black sails #op #ask meme

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heartsforseo · 28 days

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Strawhats with an author member

Summary: You're an author (you go by anon), and one day you ate a devil fruit. Now you can trap people inside your novels. (I think you BSD fans know where I'm going...) The straw hats found you and decided to invite you. (You said yes...cuz that's literally what this story is abt and cuz u were bored).

You live on a small island somewhere in the new world. You work as an author who goes by the pen name "S".

Usually, pirates would come to your island twice a month. The townsfolk were very friendly and you sometimes stepped in when pirates crossed over the line.

One day, you and your friend were hanging out in a small secluded alleyway. Your back was against the only entrance and you were facing your friend who was already opening the mystery novel.

"Good luck," you had said.

Your friend only nodded. Bright yellow light surrounded the both of you. When the light finally disappeared, your friend was gone, and the closed book fell to the ground. You picked it up and turned around, ready to leave the alleyway.

Your eyes locked in with a black one. A 5'11 man with a straw hat was staring right at you with mouth agape from amazement.

Your eyes widened, and you were about to open the book facing his way. But his arm suddenly stretched and took your book before you could open it.

"COOL!!! How did you do that?!" The guy wearing the straw hat asked.

"Shh, don't be too loud or the others will catch us," you walked towards the man, "they don't know about my ability. And I would like to keep it that way."

You took the book from the stranger's hand and walked away. The rubber man beside you said, "That's an awesome ability. How about you join my crew?"

You stop walking and look right into his eyes. "Crew? I don't know anything about you and would like to keep it that way."

The man only smiled back and responded, "Is information all you want? Well then, I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I will be the king of the Pirates!" He raised both of his hands and made a fist. All this while smiling.

"King of the pirates? Don't make me laugh. Plus, I decided to live here for all my life."

"Really?? But don't you want to go on an adventure? I and my crew always go on fun adventures. You will never be bored!"

Before I could say anything back, a woman with long orange hair came up to me and Luffy.

"There you are! We're gonna leave in 2 days. Next time don't dash away and wait for us, Luffy!" The tangerine girl said.

The girl who was scolding Luffy finally noticed me and apologized. She then introduced herself and dragged Luffy by the ear. I watched the scene until they vanished into the crowd and walked off. I hope that my friend is almost done with the book.

I went to different places for inspiration. Being a mystery writer was no easy task. Especially if you only have a limited view. The sun was almost setting, and my friend was still stuck. My new story really did a poll on them.

I walked into Naty's bar and ordered a drink. Luffy's sentence rang into my head. An adventure? I wonder what it'll be like...My books had always sailed the sea, but shouldn't the author, too? No. Being a pirate is dangerous. My view may be limited, but my mind is not.

As long as I have a paper and pen, I can do anything...is what I would like to say. I took a few berries, placed them on the counter, and left the bar. Today took a sour turn.

A/n: This was supposed to be a head cannon but I accidentally made it as a story...so uh... ALSO PLEASE REQUEST IM BORED AF :((( part 2 getting posted...tomorrow? BTW WHAT SHOULD BE THE DEVIL FRUIT NAME BE???

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heycarrots · 1 month

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There’s been a lot of discourse about the nature of James and Miranda’s relationship. There’s even been a lot of discussion on my podcast about it. One thing I want to make clear is that my podcast is a platform for discussion on all points of view. I’m not going to agree, 100%, with everything that’s said, but it makes the views of my guests no less valid. There’s no right or wrong, here, because this is art and therefore, it is subject to interpretation.

My intent, however, is to attempt to get as close to the original intent of the actors as possible because we look at a show or a film or a play as going through several layers of distillation. Each level purifies the intended narrative leaving its truest essence.

When we make a reduction sauce using an alcohol of some kind, let’s say a red wine, the heat applied to it burns off things we don’t need for flavor. You’re never going to get drunk off of red wine reduction because there’s almost no alcohol left in it. That all gets burned off, leaving only the flavor components, which is what we wanted all along, anyway. We want that extra element that enriches the flavor of the steak, by adding nuance.

So let’s take apart that meal.

We start with the birth of the idea. The story kicks around in an author’s head, trying to get out, growing bigger and more persistent until it outgrows the confines of the mental box inspiration is stored in and has to be let out. That idea, that’s the cow.

The author raises that idea, feeds it, watches it grow, and then, ultimately slaughters it. That sounds awful, but once you have that idea pulsing, growing, evolving and then finally commit the final draft on paper, it is a kind of death. The life of the story comes to an end and it becomes memorialized in a mausoleum. Readers will come to visit, spend time with it, lay down flowers, cherish it, and mourn its passing.

The next level is adaptation. That’s the steak. There are many ways you can slice the story, large roasts encompassing the whole story or a smaller, hyper-focused character study fillet mignon.

A writers room gets hold of the cow and carves it up. They choose what gets cooked and what gets tossed. A GREAT group of writers saves the bones. They take in the entire supporting structure of the piece and while the whole story may not make it onto the screen, they will have slow roasted the bones for a stock. When you watch a show like Black Sails, where themes are introduced that won’t fully be explained or explored until several seasons later, that’s what that is. It is the stock being used to flavor the whole dish. You’ve distilled the entire cow to its purest essence and so every scene, every line of dialogue, every acting choice, encompasses the entirety of the story. A line from episode one is defined by knowledge of the finale and in regard to dialogue, defined by an actors’ knowledge of a character’s backstory. There are many writers rooms who are creating the bones of the story as they go, which means they aren’t starting with a rich stock. You can’t trace back character motivations or choices to begin with because those motivations changed throughout production.

Black Sails, again, isn’t one of those shows. Steinberg and Levine came into the writers room with their stock pot full and sloshing, spilling story everywhere. The richness of the details they were laying can make season one a bit hard to consume unless you are ready for a story on that level. Viewers need to come to the table with some bread to sop up all those character details because we WILL need them later.

Over the course of finalizing scripts and blocking out episodes, the steak is cooked. Like any great steak, this story is medium rare. More juice comes out with every bite. It’s what makes the show infinitely rewatchable. It continues to cook on the plate, but because it wasn’t overdone, it never dries out.

When the actors get ahold of it, that’s the reduction sauce we were talking about. That sauce provides nuance and flavor. That’s the emotion. A line of dialogue on a page is just ink. It’s nothing until it’s spoken aloud. And like any bit of language in this world, it’s subject to interpretation. In this case, it’s the actor who does the interpreting.

I spoke on the podcast about the art of subtext and how huge a role it plays in Black Sails. One example we used is Jane Eyre. It’s one of the most frequently adapted novels in the English language and with each adaptation, we get a new version of our characters. The most volatile and subject to change is Rochester. There are MANY versions of Rochester that I find appalling (including the original beast in the book), but each actor has formed him into something else, based on their performance. Toby Stephens takes Rochester and turns him into a silly tragic romantic, broken many times over by a society he never really fits into, despite the status of his birth. He connects with Ruth Wilson’s Jane because she fully and happily inhabits that space on the fringes that Rochester thinks he needs to climb out of. Jane takes his hand on the outside of the wall, turns him away from the guarded palace and shows him the wild world that was at his back this whole time.

This is what Toby Stephens, Luke Arnold, Louise Barnes, Zethu Dlomo, and really all the actors for whom their subtextual choices make them reflect like prisms, have done with their performances.

In the final distillation, character motivations and emotions are finalized by the actor. Writers can pontificate, the source material lies dead in its lovely tomb, but stories live and breathe by their storytellers.

What we’re left with is Toby’s face telling the world how deeply Flint loves Silver. Every single choice tells this story.

We’re left with Luke showing us how much Silver is repressing in his feelings for Flint. Luke’s face shows us an incredible depth of feeling and a door slamming shut.

We’re left with the incredible intimacy between James and Miranda, which speaks of a decade of shared physical intimacy. There’s an openness, a freeness to it until the moment in episode 3 when Miranda learns that James has found the Urca and is leaving soon to pursue it. She gives some of it away when she says “I thought I’d have you all to myself”. She is mourning the loss of intimacy that she only gets in short windows of time. They aren’t strained because James isn’t attracted to her, but because he’s rarely there. She has him for a few days at a time before he’s off on another hunt. The coldness starts from the moment he tells her he’s leaving in a few days because I believe she thinks he won’t be coming back, that this is the hunt he won’t survive and she’ll finally have lost both James and Thomas. From the moment Richard Guthrie darkens her door, she’s looking for a way to weaponize him and get them out. For her, it’s a race against the clock and she’s willing to sacrifice a bit of her relationship with James in the present to secure happiness for them in the future.

This is also why James still has sex with her before leaving, even though he’s furious for her reading Meditations to Richard. This is how they connect. They connected through physical intimacy in the flashbacks, as well. Him stroking her thumb in the carriage before the kiss. Tactile contact to seal their understanding of each other. Miranda bracing her hands on his chest during important moments in the Hamilton’s home, something she also does to Thomas, to show physical connection, physical intimacy. Miranda thrives on physical touch.

To think that, for 10 years, James is lying there like an object for Miranda to use, is, to me, short sighted. To think that James doesn’t love Miranda outside of a group, is also ignoring the fact that, 10 years on, James will not leave on a hunt (angry as they both are) without physically connecting with her, trying so hard to reach beyond his anger and the wound freshly opened from sight of that book he’s chosen not to look at for probably the better part of those 10 years. The way his hands hover over her back after she comes and he desperately wants to be with her in that moment, like the best of their moments, but he just can’t, speaks to the depth of his love for her.

So many fans of the show point to this sad sex scene as one of the most important character moments for James and Miranda, but I consistently come to the opposite conclusions about WHY it’s important and what we learn from it, because I’m taking my cues from the actor’s choices, not the director or the writers. On the page, in plain ink, he hates having sex with her. Toby and Louise show us, however, that they are trying to recapture a thing that is fleeting, reaching out to each other to patch up an old wound from which the scab has been picked off, leaving it seeping and raw.

From Toby’s performance, regardless of the words he uses years later to describe it, we see not a character who “loves men” or a character who “loves women”, but a character who LOVES. I don’t see Flint defining that love in terms of boxes and parameters. He’s a character who must be coaxed out, but then loves without reason, without a safety net, as he proves with his love of Silver. As was also referenced by a guest on the podcast, he places a sword in Silver’s hand and says “do it”.

Anyway, this post got away from me and took several turns, but the love between James and Miranda being dismissed by so many in the fandom has been bugging me for a while and I just needed to emotionally vomit on tumblr.

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dimepdf · 1 year

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★ 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄. + 𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. he had already made up his mind that you were going to be his the moment he had caught your attention in class, but who knew that Eren would be the one that ends up down bad for you instead .

─── ☆ notes. big needy tough boyfriend trope at your service while i try to get over this horrible writers block. let's all just start putting the blame on @shawtuzi @mollyville & @chrollohearttags the baddest bitches on here with Eren fics that got everyone in a chokehold and falling to own knee's for a FICTIONAL man,, y'all cmon on now .

─── ☆ length. 2.1k (17 min read) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, nerd!reader, popular!eren, college au, black coded, soft dom, kinda possessive, fuckboy taming, praise kink, guided masterbation, edging, orgasm denial, cock warming, mommy kink, bratty Eren, yay whiny men!, not beta'd | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

The idea was unusual, yet it made so much sense: the girl who was the obedient teacher's pet that would fall victim to the charms of the popular kid who did nothing but slack off.

The moment Eren had sat next to you, the only student who was twenty minutes late for the first class of the semester. The professor hadn't even bothered to pay him any mind when Eren had given him that apologetic toothy grin, in his sweats and a muscle that clung onto him with his sweat from sprinting out of some random chick's dorm room.

How he had managed throughout the entire rest of the class without falling flat on the table and snoring was beyond him. Lulling off as the professor just talked on and on in the same flat tone, Eren thanked the gods that he was easily entertained watching you instead counting how many times you would bounce your leg up and down while you struggled to take your notes.

It was your thick-rimmed, clear-circle glasses that were the first to catch his attention. How your pretty brown eyes had hidden behind your prescription lenses, lashes fluttering with a confused crease in your brow. He would catch you reacting so adorably to whatever nonsense would come from the professor's mouth that you tried your oh-so-best to keep up with.

Eren was a bit annoyed that you never bothered to give him the time of day. Not even during the times when he would ask to borrow a pencil would you bother to mutter anything but a quick "no problem" before returning to your work and completely brushing him off. You seemed to be the only girl to not seem just a bit into him, and for Eren, that just wasn't going to work for him.

From that day forward, Eren had planned to taint your college experience with nothing but trouble—nothing really on the extreme side—but you just had to catch his attention, didn't you? so he made it his own personal vendetta to try to break you out of that shy shell you had locked yourself up in away from him.

And for so long everything was smooth sailing, with Eren and you even bonding on a first-name basis, but then it started to get more complicated. Once he had finally knocked you out of that shell, you were a completely different person and sure that was exactly what he had wanted but it was just a surprise to him seeing you be so comfortable with him.

What surprised him, even more, was the realization that had hit him like a truck: Eren was starting to fall for you. His little crush was only getting worse as you two continued to hang out outside of class and got closer, yet there was a slight thing that had bugged him, and that was that you had never returned any of his flirty comments and compliments that he would give you.

In short, Eren over time had gotten smitten with you.

You were just a very pretty girl, and Eren was a very attractive young man who had a track record with women to prove it. Which was why something was just bound to spark at some point along the span of your friendship.

He had mostly blamed it all on you for how long it took him to prove his worth, given your naturally skittish personality you thought he was just asking you out as a sick joke (like how the other boys used to do to you back in grade school). It only took some elbow grease to pick the bar up from the ground and a push and a shove to finally convince you that his feelings for you were truly genuine.

Eren had thought that it would be like all the relationships he had been in before at first—all the hookups he would promise a future of commitment with just for some pity pussy—but you were different, and that was another surprise.

You weren't like the other girls that he had collected on his Snapchat, whose messages were probably the size of a phone book from how much he would swipe through messages just to leave all the poor, heartbroken girl's messages to be left on read or delivered.

Imagine all of his old flings, surprise swiping through Eren’s feed seeing you, the first and only girl he had ever posted on his Instagram story all cuddled up into his torso with a movie playing on the screen.

None of them mattered in the end, since the start of your relationship, Eren’s attention has been switched entirely to being your loyal boyfriend. You don't know what you did or how you managed to tame him, but apparently, it was all entirely enough for him to be wrapped around your finger, totally obsessed with you to the point of brain rot.

You were the prettiest girl in the world, that was what Eren had concluded by having you as his lock screen and wallpaper and changing his phone password to your birthday. Every time he would post online, it always had something to do with you.

Sure, he might have been a bit biased and probably most likely obsessive, but there was just something about your relationship that made him feel like his emotions were something out of one of those cheesy rom-coms you would make him watch with you.

You were the first to make him feel so flustered, pining over every little thing that would just be so natural to you. Eren would love how he would notice every little detail about you, from how you would chew on the back of your pencils when you were stressed, the way you push his face away every time you get too flustered while making out, to how you would smile every time he said your nickname.

Which was why it was no surprise that Eren had refused to keep his hands off of you behind closed doors. Needy not being enough to describe how the boy would cling onto you like a magnet in private.

Rather it was just innocently laying down next to you just to end up cuddling or makeout sessions that would turn into something more just because he couldn't help but not keep his hands to himself.

Eren wouldn't always be the one to forward things, his touch seemingly unlocking some sort of sexual awakening inside of you as his hands would linger against your body.

You craved to have him touch you, but that didn't mean that Eren would give it up so easily. He took enjoyment in seeing you squirm a little bit. “ah ah, go slower.”

His voice guided your fingers, with the brush of his breath against your ear as you laid with your back against his chest. With your thighs spread over his legs, the view was perfect for him like that. His chest pressed against your back as he loomed over your shoulder, watching as you used your fingers to toy with the bundle of nerves that was between your thighs.

Eren had practically known every muscle and curve of your body, knew every flinch and twitch and what they meant like the back of his hand. “don’t let it go yet,” he softly ordered, taunting you as he pushed a few strands of your braids behind your shoulder.

The feeling of his cold fingers against your warm skin sent a shiver up your spine. “listen to yourself baby, you sound so pretty playing with your pussy like that.” With each coo that parted from his lips more vulgar than the last, you were too far gone to react with anything but small whines.

Listening to him praise you over the sound of your own wet squelching pleasure that coated your fingers and the small sounds that came from your throat.

You had learned over time that Eren was huge on teasing, both in general and mostly in the bedroom, where he would pout and whine just for you to never seem to be affected by his charm.

Your ability to keep a straight face in public as he would spew about some of the lewdest things that he wishes to do to you in public is so good that some of your friends were convinced that you were the first woman to not be affected by the Yeager charm.

Unbeknownst to them, that mask would fall and the roles would switch the second you two got behind closed doors, not to help yourselves but to be caught in Eren's web of lust.

“no, Eren, I can't please.” Any other time you would have been so embarrassed at how pathetic your voice sounded, embarrassed for the way that you were begging out his name. But you had been edging yourself for a while now, and the overstimulation of rubbing your clit was starting to make your body tremble all for his sick pleasure. “please…I need to, so bad Eren.”

“hm, I don't wanna let you though.” Your boyfriend was evil, that is what you were convinced of. Eren gets off on watching you come undone over and over with his every command, getting off on watching the knot in your stomach undo.

Your orgasm would hit just as hard as the last, continuing to egg on the next to build up like a shaken bottle of pop ready to explode with just the twist of the cap.

You listened since you could process anything but being obedient. Your hand shook as you halted with a drawn-out exhale, parting your lips, and hearing him chuckle at your sexual frustration. the feeling of his cock throbbing in his basketball shorts as the outline of his erection pressed against your spread thigh, “can you sit on it while you touch yourself, baby?”

You wanted to glare up at him, anything to let him know that you thought he was an asshole, knowing that begging you in the tone of voice would just make all your senses go haywire as your brain had already been turned to putty his words alone making you melt into him even more.

Yet there he sat tucking his chin into the crook of your neck, placing wet against your skin and nipping at your ear. “please mommy, I just wanna feel you make a mess on it. I promise I won't do anything else.”

Eren knew that if he begged he could have gotten anything that he truly wanted, that was just how the world would warp in his hands being the spoiled brat that he was.

Sure, it wasn't as easy with you, you would actually make him work for something, but even still, it would take some pouting and a few whiny pleas for you to allow him to fall to his knees and give you the best head you would ever receive anywhere that he wanted to have you spread out.

Which was how you ended up in his dorm now, coaxed over after class with a promise that you would help him study for a test, only for you to end up on his bare lap. Your cunt took him inside just perfectly as he stretched your lips apart. You both watched as you lowered yourself onto his dick.

Folding the bottom of your shirt up to expose your lower torso, Eren's hand reached over your thigh to have his pointer and middle finger spreading you apart lewdly. “fuck, you feel so good.” Eren made sure that you both could see that you two had slotted together like two matching puzzle pieces.

His other hand grasped at your breast through your shirt, pinching at your nipples, as you took your own form of pleasure by grinding your hips against his lap. Your movement came to a stiff stop as his hands flinched to still your hips. “touch yourself first.” Despite the order holding authority, a moan was drawn out from his lips as you clenched around him.

You weren't one to disobey. Making work of your finger as you followed his orders, once more spreading your legs further apart, your stomach knotting aided by the feeling of being impaled by Eren’s dick. “I know momma, I know.” He was entranced watching your fingers probe and curl at your poor stimulated clit, how your face scrunched each winch making your cunt strangle his length pulsing and twitching around him as you whined for him. “you just wanna cum so bad.”

Eren had thought you looked so pretty, obsessed with the noises that you would make as that knot finally came undone. No matter how many times he would make you cum, it would always feel like the first time for him. Eren wanted nothing more than to watch you play with yourself for hours, which meant you’d whine out his name.

All because he was smitten with you.

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#eren yeager #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren yaeger smut #aot smut

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Text

kelp

summary: after being taken captive by a band of pirates, Y/n is caught off guard by a gentle soul that roams the barbaric ship.

warnings: Remus Lupin x reader, smut, angsty, pirate au, historical au, pirate!remus, reader is taken prisoner by the pirates, alcohol consumption, kissing, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, remus being a strong boi, desperate you have to stay quiet kind of fucking

word count: 3160

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We have a code. No women, no children. So, today is your lucky day, miss. You get to live. For now at least…

The captain's words still rang in your ears, even now as you were fighting hard to stay awake, jerking every two seconds to rip yourself out of slumber. Even with cold and heavy manacles restricting your movements and effectively keeping you upright on your tired feet, sleep was still inevitable, no matter how uncomfortable or scared you were.

You were down in the makeshift brig below decks, it was really just some chilly quarters used for storage purposes but being chained to one of the thick wooden pillars standing tall by one of the forever-dampened walls made this room on the black sailed ship seem like as much of a prison as any to a young and wide-eyed lady such as yourself.

Suddenly, the heavy door creaked open, letting in a sliver of moonlight from above. Stirring, you jolted upright and warned the unwanted guest still completely enveloped in the shadows, “don’t come any closer! I swear, I-I’ll scream!”

“Miss,” the man's tone was careful not to spook you, “you forget you’re on a pirate ship.”

Suppose that was true. You had screamed yourself hoarse till the sun went down and not an eye had come down to check on you.

Stepping into the low light, you saw a young man. Catching you off guard, behind the scarred and rough exterior, peeped a pair of kind amber eyes. His unkempt chocolate hair was tied together with a thin leather cord and in his clearly yielding, upturned hands were what looked like a stale piece of bread.

“I just thought you might be hungry,” he offered, but when your frightened expression didn’t waver, he said, “tell you what,” and unholstered the small blade at his side, causing you to flinch, “how about I set this down right here,” letting it clang atop a barrel by the door, “I promise that is the only weapon on me.”

When you didn’t reply, he simply accepted that would be as much of a confirmation as he would get under these pressing circumstances.

“Here,” he held out the chunk of bread for you to take a bite, but when you simply eyed it mistrustingly, he added, “it’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Why should I believe you? You’re a pirate after all.”

Tearing off a corner of the crust himself, he chewed, “see, if it is, then I’ll join you in the grave.”

Holding his gaze, you slowly opened your mouth just ever so slightly. Lifting it up to touch your lips, you eventually bit down on the rough bread. Chewing on it for what felt like forever, it completely dried out your mouth and made the swallowing part even more difficult. Maybe because he himself just had a taste, “oh, here,” he got out his waterskin, “this might help,” and popped off the small cork.

Carefully helping you take a sip, the strong drink within it made you cough and nearly choke on the last remaining crumbs.

“Sorry,” he apologised for the unexpected beverage and instinctually caught the drop of rum that trickled down the corner of your mouth with his knuckle, unfortunately causing you to jump back at the contact.

After an apologetic glance, he aided you in the consumption of the rest of the simple meal, till no crumbs were left.

You didn’t remember seeing him on the boat when the rest of the pirates pillaged and slayed the small crew you travelled along with to get to your destination on the other side of the ocean.

As the man turned to leave, you finally spoke up, “wait,” and he turned to look at you, “what’s your name?”

“Moony, miss,” he answered out of habit, but then corrected himself, “or that’s what the crew calls me. My real name is Remus. Remus Lupin.”

As Remus sneaked down to see you, scavenged food in hand, every night for weeks, the primal desperation to simply settle your rumbling tummy gradually turned into something else. He became an unexpected comfort on this horrid ship.

Early on in his visits, he had pushed one of the heavy barrels over towards you, giving you a spot to sit on and a chance to rest your sore legs.

When noticing how you slowly began to relax more around him, he found his mouth running off as he helped you eat, telling you cautionary tales of creatures of the sea. Everything from mermaids to krakens flowed from the natural storyteller’s lips, legends that often stretched out long after you had had your last bite.

But tonight, when he wrapped up his dramatic fable and turned to leave, you yelped, “wait! don’t go! Please, not yet. Just stay until I fall asleep.”

Not needing to be convinced, he simply smiled and scooted a large crate over beside you. Feeling a couple of butterflies flutter around your belly as he moved it with surprising ease, you averted your gaze. As per usual, the sleeves on his tunic had been rolled up, making it easy for you to spot how his burly forearms flexed and danced under the strenuous work. Taking a deep breath, you tried to settle the flutter, though it didn’t help much when the crate finally came to a stop right beside your makeshift chair, and he hopped up to sit down right next to you.

“Just as long as I get back before people start to wake up, then I can stay here as long as you want,” he bowed his head to catch your eye, offering you a kind smile.

Feeling your shoulders relax, you asked with a low voice, “could you maybe tell me another one?”

The corners of his lips curled up once more and he breathed out, “sure,” leaning back against the wall, he found a spot on the ceiling to fix his gaze upon and let out a soft hum, thinking of what story to tell next.

When he finally began, it didn’t take too long for your tired neck to give in and bend down to rest your head upon his broad shoulder.

“What’s with all the yelling?” you asked as soon as you saw the face of Remus appear and before he even closed the door completely causing him to shoot you a nervous look, wordlessly telling you to lower your voice, and flinched to look around the outside before carefully closing the door behind him.

“They’re not yelling,” he scratched the back of his neck, “they’re singing.”

“That’s them singing?” you quickly silenced the burst of laughter that bubbled out of you, flashing your companion an amused yet apologetic look.

“Yeah, they were bored, so they decided to throw a bit of a party tonight.”

By now you were well aware of how he usually waited to sneak down to see you till the majority had fallen asleep and only the unperceptive night watch was there to fear. “Won’t they come looking for you?”

“No, they won’t notice that I’m gone, they are all drunk out of their minds.”

“Remus…” your tone made him avoid your gaze, “should you really be down here and not up there? What if they notice? I mean, why even are you down here? Wouldn’t you much rather have a night off, relax a bit?”

“Like I said, they’re drunk out of their minds,” he bit down on his lip and admitted, “I just got a bit nervous that’s all. Couldn’t stop imagining what a drunk group of pirates could come up with as entertainment when a beautiful lady was in their reach…” had he just called you beautiful or had you imagined that? “So, if you don’t mind, I’d very much like to just stay here and sleep by the door, just in case.”

“You're willing to miss a party in order to protect my honour?”

Finally meeting your gaze with just the hint of a smirk, he said, “who says I didn’t bring the party with me?” and conjured a bottle filled with dark liquid.

Could you call it a party if it was just two distressed people sharing a drink? Who knew, but at least you tried. Keeping your voices hushed, not wanting to call attention to your small gathering, he expertly helped you take small sips, being quite good at the motion by now.

The strong liquor warmed you up and quickly brought on a wave of hope and happiness that you gladly let wash over you.

In order to be able to hear each other's soft whispers, Remus had periodically moved closer and closer to your bound form. Leaning against the barrel, you rested your now slightly dizzy head against the beam you were chained to and let out a warm giggle at the amusing yarn Remus was spinning you.

Tilting your chin up again, this time he seemed to be standing even closer, causing your laughter to die down. The room was spinning, and you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or the proximity.

And in a flash, before he had even finished his sentence, you lifted yourself up onto your toes and pressed your lips against his.

It took him a long moment before he realised what was happening, but when he did, you felt his large hands glide over your waist, pulling you in closer. In the haze of it all, he had completely forgotten about your limited field of movement and began to sway back, pulling you with him.

You let out a small hiss as the manacles stopped you from straying any further.

“Ouch,” you stumbled back, making the chain slacken and giving your bound-up hands the opportunity to rest somewhat more comfortably against your heaving chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Shut up,” you caught just the essence of his tunic between your knuckles and tugged him closer, “please,” your short words came out sounding breathy and desperate.

The corners of his lips curled up into a genuine smile before he gently grabbed both sides of your face and bent down to kiss you once more. And in time, as his lips moved over yours and his tongue snuck its way past to dance across your own, you felt the terror that was your reality slowly drift away.

Sliding his palms down your body, he tugged at every inch of your dress just to somehow ground himself in this dreamlike moment. As he pressed his body impossibly close to yours, even through the fabric of your dress, you felt the rapidly growing bulge, chasing after your warmth like a compass searching for its north.

As he instinctually began to grind against the fabrics of your skirt in pure desperation, you let out a gasp and parted from the kiss. Halting his movements, he stayed there, completely close to you, nose still ghosting against yours as he searched your eyes and watched as they grew heavy at the thunder he had started inside of you. And after many heavy shared breaths, when he finally confirmed the obvious storm that was brewing under your skirt, he pushed back in, kissing you passionately once more.

Palming your bottom through your dress, he quickly grew more desperate and started to gather up the material. Sneaking a hand in from behind, palm curving around and under your ass, he supported some of your weight with a tense forearm as his fingers found your weepy cunt.

As his bullying fingers found your swollen pearl, your side of the kiss faltered, letting out a shaky moan instead. Your lips were parted, and your glistening tongue still rested against your bottom lip.

Slowly, he stuck out his own and swiped it over yours, swapping even more saliva and licking up your whimpers.

Sinking his fingers into your waiting hole, his dark eyes bored into yours as he mocked, “oh, now who needs to shut up, huh?”

You tried to answer, you really did, but only more mewls escaped your lips, mixing in with the sloppy sounds of his fun beneath your skirt, as your heavy lids fought to stay open.

Placing a small peck on your parted lips, he reluctantly withdrew his fingers and pleaded, “come on darling, we have to stay quiet,” swiftly lifting up one of your legs, resting it nearly all the way up on one of his shoulders.

Biting down on your lip in an attempt at stifling your sounds, you saw him quickly free himself from his breeches. Since your dress had bunched up around your waist and he had already cracked you wide open, nothing stood in the way of his bulbous tip to brush up against your drooling folds. Feeling the head nudge up against your clit, you felt his right hand flex and fondle your ass, moving your frame against him.

But as he bucked his hips, stuffing you full in one fell swoop, his left palm came up to clasp over your lips, silencing your shuttering sob.

“Please stay quiet,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours, “don’t let the others find us, I beg of you,” you could easily hear how hard he tried to stifle the filthy sounds that so desperately wanted to escape his lips, “don’t let them take you away from me, please, I’ve barely even had a taste.”

You tried to keep quiet, but with every hard thrust of his hips, whimpers bubbled out of you and vibrated against his rough palm. Digging your fingers into his shirt, loathing the fact that it was the only part of him within your limited reach, you felt him kiss your brow and bathe you in quiet shushes.

Clenching your jaw, you finally managed to swallow most of your moans, although when he pulled back and removed his hand, the eye contact that he ignited made the mission to stay silent seem unbearable.

Scooping you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing, nearly folding you in half in the process, the gentle pirate then continued to bounce you up and down his rock-hard length, sinking impossibly deep within your fluttering hole.

How could you feel this good when you were being held captive on a ship seemingly sent from hell itself? Why did you have to be in the wrong place in order to find something this right?

Within just a few more overwhelming flashes of him repeatedly impaling you on his dick, the floodgates opened, and you creamed all over his cock, soon thereafter, his movements eased down and you felt his own essence begin to leak down your inner thighs as he needily kept on stuffing your sensitive hole, right until you assumed that his painstakingly slow thrusts might just pick up again.

Though when he finally pulled out and carefully set you down on your wobbly feet, leaving you a dripping and trembling mess, you heard his heartsick voice find your ear, “I promise I’ll get you out,” as he held you tight in his arms, “whatever it takes.”

“Did you get them?” you asked frantically as Remus returned. The visage of him in the doorway made you feel as if you might start crying out of pure relief that his risky stealth mission had gone to plan.

“Damn nearly woke up when I grabbed them, but yeah,” he proudly held up the captain's jingly ring of keys, “I got them.”

Rushing towards you, he reached up and worked to free you of your binds, huffing and cursing damn near every time the key didn’t match. But when one of them finally did fit and your left bruised wrist fell free, a triumphant breathy sound escaped your lungs, half a cry and half a laugh.

Feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes, within but a moment you had reached up and kissed him, effectively choking out your sob against his lips. Finally tangling your fingers into his soft hair, you heard the keys fall from his grasp and onto the floor in a soft clang.

Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his for but a moment before he recalled the task at hand and swiftly bent down to snatch up the keys, freeing you completely.

As soon as the last lock clicked open and before you could begin to blubber out an affectionate string of thanks, he informed, avoiding your teary eyes completely, “Smithy is asleep at the helm tonight,” his voice was shaky but sure, as if he was attempting to hold back tears himself, “so no one should notice you till you're long gone on the dinghy.”

“Remus…” you raised up a palm to cup his cheek, letting your thumb dance over his cheekbone, ready to catch any tears that dared to escape.

“No,” he kept his eyes on the floor and shook his head lightly, “I already know what you’re gonna ask and please, I beg of you, don’t.”

“Remus-“

“No, I can’t go with you,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze, “I am a wanted man. Even though the claims aren’t true, it is still my head the bounty is still out on and not the actual person who killed them.”

He had previously told you about how after a mysterious murder, his hometown had turned against him, pinning evidence against him, and forcing him into the barbaric life he now led, simply in order to not rot in prison for the rest of his days for a crime he did not commit.

“They’ll hang me if I go back there,” his fingers gently wrapped around your bruised wrist and pulled it down, removing your hand from his cheek, “do you know what the punishment is for hiding a fugitive? They’ll probably hang you as well if you try and help me, for all I know!”

But with your heart burning for him the way that it did, his warning didn’t overrule your stubbornness and you exclaimed, “then let's go somewhere else! Someplace where no one can find you, where it’s just the two of us.”

Almost taking a step back, he blinked down at you, “…you’d really do that?”

“I would do anything for you,” you caught both of his hands in yours, “I don't-… I don’t have anyone… not anymore…”

That was the reason why you had been on that ship the pirates pillaged. Your parents had gotten sick and soon thereafter had died, leaving you to be shipped off to some far-off relative that you had never even heard of. Someone who was undoubtedly going to marry you off as soon as you landed on shore, just to get you out of their hair.

“You have me,” he promised you, a single tear slowly rolling down his cheek, glistening as it caught in his scraggly beard, “from now until the day I die, you will always have me.”

“And I you.”

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