#great for breast pumping

[sleeptoome]

Jordan Ashley 

#sexy beauty #high heel pumps #sheer pantyhose #short dress #sexy breast #great legs #blonde mature #beautiful model

[belovedmusings]

Am I Playing All Right Now?

Kento Nanami x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Kento Nanami has been your respectful, loving boyfriend for two months now. All you’ve done so far is kiss, and you want more with him. He refuses for your sake, warning of his roughness. So, you take matters into your own hands and convince him to put in ‘just the tip’. 

Relevant tags: just the tip challenge, dom! Kento Nanami, clothed sex, couch sex, clit slapping, brief use of leather belt, hard and rough sex, doggy-style, hair pulling, manhandling, big dick-Nanami <3, dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, creampie, I don't use "y/n" for immersion

Music recommended while reading: Dollhouse (The Weekend, Lily Rose Depp, …baby one more time (The Marias), Like U (Rosenfeld)

A/N: this is filthy and I love it, my first Nanami piece <3 enjoy!! (Read on Ao3 if you prefer!)

Read below cut:

The night had gone great. You two had a fantastic dinner at a fine restaurant, and now you’re at his house, getting hot and heavy on the couch. You’re sat in his lap, straddling his waist, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs as the fabric gives to accommodate him between your legs. Your hands are running over the muscles of his chest, only the thin layer of his dress shirt between your touch and his skin. His palms are on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you so firmly against him that you can feel the blunt heat of his hard cock beneath the confines of his slacks. 

You can feel adrenaline pumping through your veins–tonight is the night. Every time you two get close to having sex, he pulls away, saying he isn’t ready, but right now it feels so different, so electric–

He hums, punctuating the kiss and pulling back, giving you room to breathe. Your stomach sinks, no, this isn’t what you want, you want–

“We should stop here for the night,” He murmurs, and you look into his eyes, a frown tugging your lips down at their corners. 

“But you’re hard,” You protest, “Kento, please…we’ve waited long enough, and you clearly want this…”

His jaw tightens as he takes a breath. “I do…but we can’t.”

Now you’re just confused. “...can’t?”

He sighs heavily, giving you no explanation, but nodding. “Now, let’s m–”

“No, hold on,” You interrupt him, “Kento, tell me why? I-is it me? Do you…not want…?”

“It’s definitely not you,” He dispels quickly, “It’s me, okay?”

“What about you?” You press, searching his eyes. “Is it…are you…worried about your performance?”

That gets him to widen his eyes a fraction in surprise. “N-no, it’s not that. It’s…alright, look, it’s…it’s that I don’t want to hurt you.”

It isn’t enough of an answer for you. “And…what do you mean by that?”

“You…you know me to be this nice, gentlemanly man, don’t you?” He asks, a sort of resigned weight to his eyes. “Which, I am. But not when it comes to sex.”

The wheels turn in your head. “So…you’re…?”

“I’m rough,” He finally states, “And it’s…it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m afraid to hurt you or scare you away. Of course I wouldn’t do anything you don’t want, but…you just seem so sweet and–”

“Woah,” You stop him in the middle of his sentence. “Do you think you’re the only one with duality? You don’t think I can be different in bed? Do you think I’m some porcelain doll you’ll break if you’re not careful?”

He considers this for a moment before sighing. “You don’t understand.”

“So then make me understand,” You challenge him, running your hands up his chest. “Please, Kento. I can take it.”

“No,” He denies, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Seeing his hesitance, you decide to switch tactics. You reach for his hands on your waist, taking his wrists and raising his palms up to the front of your dress. You guide them to rest over your breasts, allowing him to touch them through the thin cloth. You’d decided not to wear a bra for the night since the article had thin straps, and he immediately can feel that, a flash of desire flitting within his eyes.

Riding the wave of his interest, you tell him, “I want you bad, Kento.”

He inhales forcefully, allowing himself to knead the soft flesh beneath his hands. His thumbs graze over your hardening nipples, your teeth dragging over your bottom lip instinctively. To drive your point home, you grind down on him, the only thing on beneath your dress being the panties you’d hoped he’d see when you had put them on earlier in the day.

“You’re playing dangerous,” He warns, voice thin and strained. 

“Maybe I want dangerous.”

He finally lets out a groan, surging forward and capturing your lips in another kiss. It’s more forceful this time, and all you can do is give complete control to him. 

He flips your positions so smoothly, you hardly feel it; you just suddenly feel your back hit the cushion of his couch, a gasp pushed from your mouth. His hands make quick work sliding up your dress, fingers hooking underneath your waistband.

Kento speaks against your mouth lowly. “Lace?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Expensive?”

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, no, not r–”

A swift, harsh tug and the sound of fabric ripping later, he holds the scrap lace in his hand, now mangled and unusable. He just tore them clean off.

“Holy shit,” You breathe, now suddenly aware of how bare you are beneath your dress. He must become aware of that fact too, because without a moment to spare, he’s pushing the article up to your waist, exposing you to his eyes. A rosy flush spreads over the bridge of your nose as he looks at your naked lower half unabashedly, a type of hunger you have never seen before nor known he was capable of in his eyes.

He tosses your ruined panties to the floor and fiddles with his belt, undoing the buckle. Your gaze follows his movements, watching his hands expertly tug the leather strap from its loops in his pants.

Then, he surprises you by holding the edge without the buckle and running it along your inner thigh. You shiver, observing him and wondering what his next move will be. He runs it all the way up, reaching the apex of your leg and placing it right over your mound. The cool leather feels unfamiliar there.

“Can I?”

Your attention is pulled to his voice, and for a moment you aren’t sure what he means. Then it dawns on you.

Oh.

No one’s ever done that to you. But…you aren’t opposed. You’re curious.

You nod.

“Words.”

Oh, damn.

“Yes, you can.”

“Good girl.”

You don’t have time to pay attention to the rush of hormones that praise gives you, because a harsh sting of pleasure suddenly hits your senses as he brings the end of the belt down, slapping your clit with it.

“Ah!” You jump slightly, shock, arousal, and fascination flooding you all at once.

“How was that?” He asks, watching you carefully. You take stock of yourself…and are intrigued to find that you liked it. As soon as you realize that, you understand that Kento is about to show you an entire new world previously unexplored to you.

Your eyes lock with his. “It was good.”

A mixture of relief and desire swarm his gaze. “You liked that?”

“Yeah.”

Without warning, he does it again, a little harder, and you cry out this time, unused to the strangely welcome sensation.

“Still good?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Your next breath is shaky. “More.”

He wastes no time in delivering exactly what you want. Over and over again, until your pearl is red and swollen and the folds beneath are glistening with need, belt shiny with a bit of it. He stops once you reach this state, making sure you see as he licks it off the belt. Your lips part, entranced, and he drops the accessory, instead moving to undo the front of his slacks. Your heart begins racing–but then he pauses, seeming to deflate slightly.

“I’m not gonna go all the way,” He states, “I don’t have condoms.”

“What?” Your voice is more than a little indignant. “But…how?”

“I wasn’t planning to do this tonight.”

He pulls his cock from its restriction in his briefs, pushing his waistbands down to the tops of his thighs, and the sight of the thick, red shaft as your mouth watering and your core pulsing around nothing. 

You think he’s changed his mind as he lines it up, but then he just glides it against your folds, coating it in your essence and using it to rub against you, the feeling intense due to the sensitivity of your previously abused clit, but not what you crave.

“Kento,” You whimper, watching him rub himself off as he plays with you using his cock. “Please…”

“We’re not risking a pregnancy,” He maintains, “It’s not wise.”

You are beyond frustrated at this point, entrance weeping for attention, and you swear the desire is so bad you can feel your entire core sore and empty, vying to be filled and stretched.

What can you say that will get him to do it, even just a little bit?

Wait. Just a little bit.

“What about just the tip?”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“Just the tip,” it comes out needier than you had intended, but god damn it you’re horny and all out of shame twice over.

Kento takes a good look at you, at himself and the position you’re in, sucking in a controlled breath for the umpth time that night.

Then, he lines up again, cockhead pressing against your entrance. “You’re going to regret asking for it.”

Is he challenging you? Whatever. What. Ever. You’ve reached a point where if you don’t get his cock soon your heart may actually give out. 

“Let me decide that.”

His jaw sets tightly before finally, finally, he cants his hips forward, pushing the tip of his shaft inside of you. 

As soon as it’s in, your head falls back on the couch, hips starting to roll without your permission. Your body wants him all on its own, and you’re no longer in command of it. He groans, pulling out and then pushing it back in, only the tip again, and you whimper in half bliss and half frustration.

You want more. 

You understand the true meaning of temptation now. You’ve had the first bite of the proverbial apple, and it’s shocking how eager you are to devour the rest to its core.

Everytime he pushes in, never going past the smooth head of his cock, you moan, wordlessly begging for more. There’s a worry in his brow and a tenseness to his jaw that indicates just how much self-control he’s exercising, and as you look up at him, you realize he’s still pretty much fully clothed—his tie is pristine around his neck, shirt fully buttoned up, only his dick out and vulnerable to your eyes. 

It’s unfair, and you seek to change that.

Your hand loops into his tie and yanks him down by it, taking him by surprise. He has to catch himself on his hands to avoid falling on you, a grunt escaping his lips as it causes him to slide further into you.

In a lowered hiss, he asks you, “what do you think you’re doing?”

The tone is so vindictive it has any words dying on your tongue. All it takes is a moment before he’s forcefully breathing out and lifting himself off of you, cock withdrawing from between your legs.

You open your mouth to protest, and that’s when your world spins. 

You were face up, but now you’re on your hands and knees on the couch, having to brace yourself as he manhandles you silently. There’s not even a moment for you to acclimate to your new position before you feel his fingers loop through your hair as you’d done to his belt, and in one motion, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams all the way into you, pulling your hair back hard to make you arch for him.

A loud cry splits through the air and it’s only when he starts repeatedly fucking hard and fast into you with the entirety of his monstrous size that you realize the sound was from you.

“See what happens when you push me?” His voice is hoarse and gritty, more like a growl than a whisper, a dull ache inside of you where he’s currently remolding the shape of your walls.

All you can do is make incoherent noises, and you aren’t sure whether they’re from pain, pleasure, or a mixture of both. His grip on your hair isn’t letting up and it hurts, but you’ve also never felt so completely out of control of yourself and somehow it just feels freeing to you. 

“Huh?” He asks, and it’s then you realize you never replies to him verbally. You muster up the strength to speak.

“Y-yeah…” it sounds breathy and whiney, completely foreign in the contours of your voice.

“You happy now? Happy you got me to fuck you like the greedy whore you are?”

The harsh word ripples through you hotly and you moan, nodding as good as you can. “Yes…”

“Yes?” He asks, breathless, and he lets go of your hair in favor of wrapping his hand around your neck from behind. “You like being screwed like a whore?”

Apparently, you do. This is new information to you as well. You nod, gasping as he grabs your hand and presses it over your abdomen, where you can feel the flesh rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Feel that?” He asks, “that’s me inside of you.”

“Oh god,” You rasp, the knowledge of him so deep inside your body going right to your head. You can feel your mound weeping all over yours and his thighs, the wet slap tell-tale of just how much you’re enjoying this. Just the realization has you fluttering around him, a sensation that isn’t lost on him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You really do like this, huh?”

You nod. “Yes, yes, Kento…”

He groans, leaning forward and kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, brushing your hair out of the way. 

“Such a good girl for me…my good little slut.”

You shudder, eyes squeezing shut as he speeds his movements up, the hand that was pressing yours to your stomach moving down to the slippery mess that is your swollen clit.

The big palm of his on your neck slides the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders and dips into the neckline of it, grasping your breast as if to claim ownership of it. 

“Oh my god,” You breathe again, hips twitching at all of the stimulation, face hot, entrance thoroughly fucked open and sloppy, debauched by Kento like a destructive form of artwork.

His middle finger massages circles into your sensitive pearl as he continues the grueling pace of his hips, lips pressed to the back of your neck, and all at once it becomes too much.

It crashes into you like the unforgiving wave of the raging ocean, sweeping you into the depths of pleasure.

You cum so hard on his cock he physically has to stop moving, your hold on him so tight he’s locked inside of you. That’s the moment that he follows, spilling his pent up, heavy load into you with a hiss of pleasure. 

Your arms and knees feel like jelly. Your walls are sore and throbbing, completely exhausted from his ravaging. But all you feel is feather-light. Finally, finally you did it. And it was better than your wildest imagination.

Lips place a tender kiss on your shoulder, his labored breaths slowing back to regulation. You feel his cheek rest upon the skin of your upper back. Both of his hands massaging along the sides of your hips.

“I’m sorry we waited so long. I just figured it would be too intense for you.”

You shake your head, turning it to look back at him as he straightens up and carefully pulls out. 

“Don’t do that again.”

The corner of his lips turns up slightly. “Oh no, I won’t make that mistake twice. In fact…there’s something else I want to do now.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to test your limits.”

__

A/N: here's my Nanami masterlist :) this is the first piece but lmk what else you want me to write for him! Hope you enjoyed.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagines #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #nanami fanart #nanami x you #nanami x y/n

[satoruwiki]

AIR THAT COOCHIE OUT! — NANAMI KENTO

minors, ageless and blank blogs dni.

content: nfsw; smut; afab!f!reader; porn w no plot; cunnilingus; fingering; unprotected sex (oops); facial.

w.c: 1.3k

n/a: nanami reacting to you not wearing panties <3 reader is a freak for that ngl. this was supposed to be a multiheadcanon but i got a huge block and couldn't finish the last two, i might post them if i ever get back the inspo. not proof read! any interaction with this post is very much appreciated! :b

"No panties?" Nanami says after lifting your dress up. The sight of your bare pussy greeting him already was a surprise for him, a very pleasant one.

"You don't like it?" You stare at him with doe eyes and a subtle pout on your lips, wagging your ass to coax him into touching you. You've been craving your husband all day since he left for work -- time felt agonizingly slower than usual while waiting for him to come back; you even thought of going to his work at some point but finally decided against it. Wouldn't it be nicer to be welcomed by your wife, all hot and bothered for you?

"What do you mean? Of course, I do; it's just-" Nanami sighs, placing his firm hand on the soft skin of your ass, massaging it gently. He laughs softly, kneeling down to face your pussy, "I don't know what to do with you, you naughty little thing," he says, planting a kiss on your puffy lips, earning a soft mewl from you.

His mouth is gentle to you, always taking his sweet time to lavish in your juices, eating you out so sensually words falter to describe how sexy he looks pussy drunk.

You moan softly, murmuring how good his tongue lapping at your cunt feels and to not stop. Your husband brings your ass closer to his face, the warm and heavy breaths he exhales sending a shiver down your spine. This is just what you needed, you think, a good pussy sucking by your husband as his thumb circles your clit.

Drenched in your essence, Nanami pulls away for only an instant, parting your folds open with two of his thick fingers, your tight little hole clenching around nothing, enticing him to shove them inside. He glides his fingers inside your ringed muscles, drawing a cute moan from you and begins to pump them slowly, providing enough stimulation for you to feel good but not enough to cum.

Your husband always thought you looked lovely with your face scrunched up, his name delicately falling from your lips. He leans down to suck on your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking on the sensitive bud, "feels good?" he asks, the corners of his lips curving into a smug smirk, though he already knows the answer. He knows he's doing a great fucking job at pleasuring you - your walls clamping and ambitiously sucking his fingers gives it away.

"Mhm- yeah-" you hum, shutting your eyes as his fingers curl inside you, teasing your sweet spot. The arch of your back deepens as you search to feel his index and middle finger deeper within your pussy, soft sighs escaping your mouth as his thrusts increase in pace. Nanami flips you to lay on your back and latches his mouth back on you, making sweet love to your cunt.

You trap him between your thighs; your hand cups and fondles your breast while the other one reaches to run your fingers through his golden hair, tugging it as you feel that familiar heat spread over your body. Your husband's ministrations on you soon enough make you reach ecstasy - a thread of curses falls from your lips as you gush and your walls flutter around his appendages.

Nanami chuckles and presses soft kisses on the side of your thighs, nipping at the smooth skin as he patiently waits for you to come down from your high.

"Hngh- Kento..." you mumble, the post-ecstatic smile of someone who has just been fuck divinely plastered on your face. Despite just orgasming, you know this isn't over yet, at least not on your end. This was only the entree, now for the main course.

Nanami hovers over you and brings his soaked fingers over your mouth, prying you to open it. A sound of satisfaction escaped his throat, his pupils dilating at the obscene sight of your tongue swirling and lapping on his fingers, cleaning the remnants of your orgasm from them. One of your hands trails down to palm at the prominent bulge in his slacks, drawing a low hiss from him.

"You tease," Nanami breathes, pulling his fingers out of your mouth to replace them with his mouth instead, the taste of your sweet cunt still on his tongue. He kisses you just as lusciously as he previously ate you out, cocking his head to the side to deepen the kiss and sliding his hand to support the back of your head. 

You decide to be more naughty, biting his lower lip and tracing it with your tongue as your hand continues to caress his member over his clothes. Nanami can feel your mischievous smile on his lips and curses between kisses. There is no way he can get enough of your antics. His lips descend from yours, slowly tracing a path from your mouth to your neck, depositing wet kisses on your skin that bristles at their contact. "I'm sorry, love. I know you like it from the back, but I want to look at your pretty face this time," he says, loosening his tie and tossing it somewhere in the room.

Your husband helps you to finally take your dress off, only to discover you didn't wear any bra either. 'Of course, she wouldn't,' Nanami thinks, though he can guess you already knew what he was thinking by the vamp look you give him while biting your bottom lip. He has to hold back a laugh at how impatient you're being, hastily unbuckling his belt and tugging down his slacks along with his underwear, his hard cock springing out of its confinements.

Before you can engulf his cock in your mouth, Nanami pushes you back on the mattress, bringing your legs to rest on their shoulders and lifting your hips to put a pillow under them. He aligns himself with your entrance, teasing you a bit by nudging your needy pussy with his tip and gliding it over your drenched fold to poke at your swollen clit.

You let out a soft cry, enough for him to finally sink into your heat. The burning feeling of his cock stretching your walls make your jaw slack, gasping for air. Your toes curl and draw a lengthy moan as he bottoms out, the pillow underneath your hips angling them for him to reach deeper.

Nanami babbles a bunch of curses as his hips begin to snap against yours, his hefty balls slapping on your ass at each thrust. Your muscles throb and squeeze around him, driving him into a hazy state of delirious lust. "Shit- You feel so fucking good," he huffs. He's fucking glad he got to claim your tight cunt before anyone else got to put their paws on her. "So fucking nice to me, so perfect."

His fat mushroom head gets to bully your sweet spot a couple times. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm, you cum earlier than expected, letting a loud cry of his name as your walls contract and spasm around his girth. Your back arches off the bed, the intense climax stealing your breath away.

Nanami lets a guttural groan and gives a mean squeeze to one of your tits, letting his head fall back and his eyes close as he chases his climax. "Fuck- I'm close. Where d'you want it, baby?"

As much as you wanted him to blow his load in your womb, you knew you couldn't risk getting pregnant now. "Face- In my face," you mewl out, your teeth latching at your bottom lip to stifle the loud moans that threatened to come out.

He pulls out of you and begins to stroke his dick, the veins adorning his cock throb on his fist as warm ropes of semen spurt out of his urethra, landing on your fucked out face. Nanami groans, his half-lidded eyes staring at your pretty face, wincing and glazed in his seed. He'd take a picture if he had his phone on him, "so fucking cute," he breathes, pulling back to kiss the corner of your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

#KY000 ★ #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jjk kento #jujutsu kento #kento nanami #kento x reader #kento smut #kento x y/n #kento x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk x y/n #jjk x poc!reader #jjk x plus size reader #anime smut #tw smut

[klyette]

8𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍+ 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 !

# 𝜗𝜚relationships: multiple x fem ! # 𝜗𝜚contains: fem reader, smut, older men, tit playing + fondling, pussy spanking, choking, rough sex, squirting, clit rubbing + pinching, making out, pornhub themed, filming, big dick

𝜗𝜚 notes ! So each part has different kinks or smth like, tit play, clit toying, etc . ໒꒰ྀི ⸝⸝⸝ ꒱ა !

HE whispers in your ear, his big hand rubbing at your smooth skin, a camera in his other hand as he films your legs. He lifts the camera up to your lips, filming your soft lips that he adores kissing. Your breaths are heard, your chest going up and down, he moves the camera down at your tits. His calloused hand groping at your tits as you let out a whimper, the camera is still on your tits. His fingers playing with your nipples as he does it like he strums a string instrument. "Shh, you pretty thing~" He says, he kisses your breasts and fondles it before he changes the camera view.

HE points the camera at your wet sloppy cunt, his palm connecting to your wetness, he shows the camera. "Isn't she just a cutie? Already all wet, just cuz I played with her tits.." he says, his palm spanks your cunt, his finger rubs along with your slit. Your leg trembles as his finger rubs circles around your clit, his finger slightly touching your bud. "My pretty girl, aren't you?" He says, the camera filming your clit, as he toys with you. His thumb goes up to your clit, his big thumb hiding your clit behind his digit, he pushes slightly down on it, then he rubs at it. His thumb rubbing your clit as he films it, kissing and nibbling at your skin.

HE rubs your clit before sticking two of his fingers in your wetness, your juices staining his fingers as his fingers move in and out of you, his thumb still lays on your bud. His fingers do a scissor motion inside of you, your legs tremble as his fingers move faster in you. "Taking my fingers so well, aren't you just great, doll?" He says, grinning, he sticks another finger in and thrusts them into you, he slips them out of you, slurping up your juices off his fingers before he puts them back into you, he films himself coming closer to your wetness. His tongue licks at your cunt, his tongue flicking at your small bud, he smirks against your wetness. "Mmh, don't you taste amazing, atta girl~" he whispers against your cunt, moaning at your taste. Your legs shake and you cum, getting your juices on his tongue before he gets up and places the camera on the bed.

HE takes off his pants and his dick is so hard, it's standing tall and proud, his big dick twitches as pre-cum slightly comes out. "You are going to take me all, aren't you, baby?" He grabs your legs and hooks your legs under your arm, he kisses your tits before slipping his dick into you. His tip is only inside of you yet it feels big, the rest of his dick enters you, half of his dick is now into you. He slides easily, his hand grips your hips before he slams into you, groaning. The camera view is still on you, recording this sexual act between you two. "So tight, you are made for me." He says, closing his eyes as he fucks you, hitting your special spot which makes you clench around him harder. His head goes slightly back, your legs shake, and he kisses your inner thighs. Fucking you more harder, his hand goes down to your clit and his hand goes for the camera, recording his thumb rubbing your bud. His dick ramming into you, his dick aches into you, your cunt clenches around him so tight, his hand goes around your neck, choking you as he fucks you. You look up at him with tears brimming at your eyes, his hand still around your neck, your eyes roll back slightly. He pulls out, his dick pumping out his semen, coating your stomach in his whiteness, he furiously rubs at your clit, he lets go of your neck and points the camera at your wetness as you squirt. Getting your juices all over him and the bedsheet, it lands on the camera lens. "AHh!" You scream, your mouth opens and your eyes roll back to your skull. "You did so good for me, good girl~" he whispers, the video ends at the good girl.

Nanami , Toji , Alhaitham , Zhongli , Blade , Aiku , Gallagher , Chris Prince , Sanemi , Muzan + ur faves + other fandoms !

©kylette; no other claiming

#💋𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 #໒꒰ྀི kylette writes #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #jujutsu kaisen x readrr #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kny smut #kny x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #zhongli x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #Blade x reader #Gallagher x reader #aiku x reader

[l1tw1ck]

bottom!ftm!yandere!stepson x top!male!stepdad reader

AFAB Language Used

CW: Non-Con, Stepcest, Obsession, Drugging, Daddy Kink, Pregnancy Mention, Baby Trapping

Ever since you moved in, your stepson couldn't help but fall in love with you. He adores you and hangs onto every word you say. He wishes you loved him instead of his dad. He knows you would prefer him if you just gave him a chance. He's tried so many times to seduce you and get you to fall for him but you never seem to realize his intentions. He got tired of it and extremely impatient so he decided to take a not so great route to make you his.

~~~

You wake up in a dimly lit room tied to a chair. You're naked. In front of you is your...also naked stepson. He grins when he notices you're awake. He climbs onto your lap, avoiding your hard length. "good morning, daddy." He looks at you demurely. You look at him weirdly, dealing with the after effects of whatever drug he used on you. He takes your hands and brings them to his chest. You squish his plush breasts, earning a soft moan from him. You rub your thumbs against his nipples, happy to play with his chest. He rubs his t-dick against your cock. "d'you like my tits, daddy?" He asks sweetly. You make a noise that means "yes". You're too drugged to realize the situation you're in and too focused on his chest to speak. He blushes in response. "you can touch them whenever you want.." He brings his hand down to touch your length. "do you wanna fuck me too?" He asks. Ironic that he's asking for consent in a situation like this. You nod. He lifts himself up and lowers himself down onto your cock, biting his lip and grinning with pleasure as you stretch out his previously virgin pussy.

~

He bounces happily on your cock, overjoyed that you "accepted" his love. He notices your expression. "Are you gonna come?" He asks, grinning even wider. "Gonna- gonna come inside and knock me up, Daddy?" He moves faster. You nod and grab his hips, making him ride you at the pace you decided for him. He lets you do it, his grin somehow growing even wider as you slow down. You stop completely, pumping your load into his cunt. He giggles softly, tracing his stomach with his finger. Now you can't leave him.

#wicks🕯️shorts #top male reader #male reader #male reader smut #tw stepcest #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere smut #dark content #tw noncon #tw daddy kink #ftm character

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

FROM FAR DISTANT WATERS

PAIRING: Merman!John Price x F!Artist!Reader

SYNOPSIS: There’s something in the water - you're going to figure out what it is, and why it chose to save you.

WORDCOUNT: 16.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, murder, death/near death, assault, injury, gore, mystery, mentions of suicide, angst, protective!John, pining, sickness, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The little boat rocks as it slips through the expansive water, a thin hanging of mist in the air. The curtain-like film it leaves makes it nearly impossible to see the dark rocks of the shore a far distance away, and the dip and push of the oars through the chilled waves leaves splashing droplets connecting to your cheeks. You touch the flesh delicately, brushing away the spray as your eyes slide over dark, lapping water—deeper than anything. 

In your lap, sitting below the high waist of your skirt, was your sketchbook; the tweed material was all the rage these days, though you never focused much on that. The thick item kept out the chill of the, very, early morning, and that was all you cared about, though, it seemed you lacked the foresight to pack a proper coat. A large woolen shawl sat over your shoulders, hiding the plain white blouse but not its cuffs; not the slight poof of the bottom part of the sleeves. 

Your numb fingers fiddle with the pencil in your hands, your open sketchbook filled with page after page of images ranging from the common sea-bird to great ships and shorelines. 

“I still have to ask why you feel the need to tag along,” is the voice that breaks the silence, and you blink away from the cloud of condensation from your exhalation. Your ear twitches, but only a small flick of a smile pulls your lips at the older man’s garbled words. “So cold my damn hands are going to fall off. Why am I always the one bloody working the oars?”

Otto Whitworth was a man far into his later years—one who entertained your fascination with the raging waters and the need to immortalize them on paper; that draw to the sights and sounds. Graying, covered now in a large coat and his boots, with the long fishing rod knocking around by your feet, he grumbles more than he speaks sentences, content with only the pipe in his breast pocket and the promise of fresh fish for breakfast. 

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” you chuckle, glancing over at his wrinkled face—the glare of dark eyes set into a deep browline that’s more for show of annoyance than genuine emotion. “Gets the blood pumping harder, Mr. Whitworth.” Your vision slides to the shadows of the black rocks, and your pencil finds your palm before the sound of it meeting parchment echoes over the nothingness. “Isn’t it lovely? Listen to the Gannets.”

“Don’t need my blood pumpin’ harder,” the old man grinds out, scoffing. “Gonna make my fuckin’ heart stop, Girl…” Otto sighs, shaking his head as you chuckle. He growls under his breath. “And, no, I’m not listening to the birds—they’ll be trying to steal my fish soon enough. Greedy bastards.”

Your eyes roll in their sockets, pencil shading in the rough shapes of misty rocks, your face cold but still eager for something. There was a type of magic to this place—to Southern England and the small coast town you had settled in nearly a year ago: Redthorpe. 

It seemed your talent for the arts was appreciated here, you had a shop to your name and friendly compliments from the locals every time the door was pulled open. People here liked the attention to detail in a place where they had most likely lived for a good ninety percent of their lives.

You tilt your head at the paper as Otto lets the oars drop back into the water, grasping for his fishing rod that you kindly move closer with your foot. 

The man takes up the item and sets the line, whipping back the pole and snapping it forward with a wizz and a grunt—a cracking of old bones. 

“Now hush,” Otto sighs, settling back. 

You send a silent look upward, and at the same time as he does, you say out loud in a soft voice.

“You’ll scare away the fish with all that blabber.”

A heavy glare is leveled at you, but you raise a hand innocently and laugh under your breath. 

“I’m as silent as the fish, Mr. Whitworth.”

“Cheeky Bird,” Otto sighs loudly, shifting in his seat until he faces the water, eyes glinting. “You’re too wild for this place, then, eh?”

“For most places,” you breathe, smiling as you study the rocks again before going back to your work. It’s only after there were the wiggling bodies of three fish set into a fisher’s basket that the oars are taken back up and the silent water is again forced back by ripples. 

Pencil finding the middle of the spine, you close your sketchbook, the routine is as simple as it always is. Otto will complain about having you at his dock, he’ll begrudgingly invite you in and cook three fish: one for him, the second for his cat, Harriet—older than England itself and missing most teeth; as blind as a bat—and then, finally, you. After that you’re back in your shop finishing up your piece of the misty shoreline, working until the candle burns through both ends and the oil paints are swirling colors as your eyes bug. Bed, and finally, repeat. 

A splash of water makes you blink quickly, your head jerking over at the slide of movement from the corner of your vision. Eyes wide, you swear a fin had cut the surface of the water like a knife through butter. 

Your body moves closer to the side of the boat immediately, leaning over eagerly. 

“Hey!” Otto barks, steadying himself as the vessel shakes back and forth. Your eyes shimmer, a smile overtaking your lips. “Watch yourself—you’ll send me overboard!”

“Did you see that?” Your eyes dart over the water. “I think I saw a fin.” 

“You got excited over a fish?” The older man’s voice is unimpressed, hissing in the crackling of age. “Hell, I got three in the basket if you’re that bloody impressed.”

“Shh,” you wave one of your hands, unblinking. “It was bigger than a fish, Otto!” 

Your ears twitch to his scoff, his hands grasping the oars harder before he shoves the boat forward. Body looming, the intense pull of adventure dims the longer nothing happens, and after a minute or two of dead mist and water, you hum under your breath like a fool and sit back.

“Lost it,” your numb lips murmur, breath puffing out softly. “Damn.” You shake your head as the wooden dock gets closer, more boats tied and shifting with the waves. “It was strange,” you admit. “Like a deep navy color—with specs of silver along the spine.”

Otto pauses, his hands tight over the oars. He blinks over at you, face for the first time showing an emotion other than annoyance. You barely notice before the sheen of crafted blankness is back. 

You smile down the length of the boat, curiosity plain to see. “Do you know of any animal like that around here?”

“No,” Otto grunts out quickly, and your excitement dims sharply, blinking through shock. 

Your brows furrow after the silence falls stiffly—the boat had never been uncomfortable to you, the atmosphere quiet, of course, but always easy to charter. Now the air was…muddy. Something had changed as fast as a fish being yanked out of water. 

Fingers twitching, you sit back slowly onto the plank, pulling your sketchbook the tiniest bit closer to your abdomen. Face open, Otto continues to row and the entire ride is silent until the boat is docked and tied to the pole by calloused hands. Your digits grasp your shawl and wrap the fabric harder, shifting down to hide your chin into the wool as you shiver. 

“...Need help?” You ask, eyes still shifting back to the water like always. 

There’s something now that makes your attention drift like the waves themselves—and it wasn’t only the shadows of the rise and fall, it was Otto’s strange behavior. The man wasn’t one to just say one word and nothing more. He could bounce off you like it was a game; you often thought he enjoyed your company just so he could insult someone. Jokingly, of course. It was the companionship he craved, it was why he always let you on his boat in the mornings. 

Otto lived alone. You never asked about it. 

“Don’t need any help,” he grumbles out, tying off the last knot to the pole and stepping back with a smirk of satisfaction. “M’not in the grave yet, Girl. Been working the boats since I was out my mum’s womb.”

“Feel sorry for her.” Your mutter meets the air as light streaks through the mist. Breathing hot air into your free hand, you rub it over your arm repeatedly and sigh, fingers of the other limb tightening over your book. Absentmindedly, your head turns back to the open water one last time, for one last glimpse of anything you want to commit to memory while you paint—

The fin is back. 

“Otto!” Feet swiftly dart to the end of the dock, you stop only an inch away as your skirt whips over. “It’s back! Look!” 

A hand grasps your wrist and yanks you away. 

Gasping sharply, you stumble until the harsh bark of, “Get back!” echoes across the dock just as it does through your ears. 

“Whoa!” You’re quickly let go of, a shadow shielding you from the view of the water as you scramble to make sure your sketchbook won’t slip from your hold. Head jerking to stare in shock at the middle of Otto’s curved spine, your heart stutters in confusion and a bit of hesitation befitting one who was just manhandled. Standing up straight again, your tight face pulls in, the pound of your heart telling you something is wrong. 

Glancing past a still frozen Otto, the water is utterly devoid of life again—only ripples to show there had ever really been something there at all. 

“You go back to the ocean,” Otto yells, spittle flying from his mouth, fishing boots stomping against the wood as he moves forward a step, pointing. “Go back to the bloody hole you swam out of! There’s nothing for you here! Nothing!” 

You watch, struck dumb. 

“...Mr. Whitworth?” Your lips mutter out, eyebrows shifting from the waves to the man—utterly confused down to your chilled bones. Who was he talking to?

Perhaps time had caught up to him—was he mistakenly taking the rocks for people? The waves for whispers? All you had seen was a fish’s fin, nothing more, nothing less.

“Otto,” you call again, concerned. You should get the man inside; get him warm and let him cook his breakfast. “Let’s just go.” Your eyes blink lightly, fingers twitching over your book. “Alright…? My eyes must have been playing tricks on me, it’s nothing important.”

His form waddles past you, more in tune to his sea legs than the ones on land, and under his breath, you hear him snarl out a low, “You’ll not take her like you did Eleanor. Mark my words, I’ll be stringing you up by the tail first.” 

Withered hand connecting with your shawl’s edge, you’re dragged back with more force than you’d anticipate Otto still having, but you go with him nonetheless. 

Looking at the water, there’s nothing to see beyond the stretch of nothingness.

—

You dare to ask when you’re pushing the fish bones over to the side of your plate, slipping some mashed-up scraps to Harriet who lays in your lap purring. The rough scrape of a tongue licks your fingers, and deep gray fur caresses your palm.

“Who were you talking to back there?” Your voice carries over the small hut that Otto calls his own, the sounds of the water meeting the rocks plainly heard seeing as his property was as close to the cliffs as you could get without going over them. “I never took you for someone to believe in spirits.” The joke was a small jab, but even your own amusement was dim in the situation. Your hand puts down the fork and moves to rest along Harriet’s back, lightly petting the old cat as her half-missing tail flicks in satisfaction.

The man’s back over at the sink tightens. 

“You watch yourself near the waters, Girl,” Otto grunts, dark eyes glancing over his shoulder. “By God, you watch yourself. There’s things out there—terrible things.” 

“What kinds of ‘terrible things,’ Otto?” Your head tilts, sketchbook resting still on the table, your gaze flickering to it. Terrible had a nice ring to it. But something else was swirling in your gut now, a hesitation of a special sort that only comes out with the unknown paths of life. 

What could make a man born and bred on the waters so reserved when speaking about them? Your interest had been piqued—your curiosity unsated until you were given a clear answer. You’d only been here a year, that wasn’t enough time to know the secrets of Redthorpe; to be let into those deeper circles. 

Otto licks his cracked lips, the wrinkles of his face leaving behind something akin to a scrunched dog’s visage—worn by time and improper care from the damage of the sun. He’d been at work on his boat for decades, and while you took his advice with a grain of salt usually,  this time he carried himself differently: you wanted to know why. 

He glares with no venom, taking out the scrubbed pan from the soapy water and barking, “What’s it with the younger generation and their bloody pushing? Listen to what I’m telling you and take it as it is, Girl. You don’t go on the water,” he blinks, face grim, “unless I’m the one ferryin’ you through it, eh? That’s the end of it. I’ll say no more.” 

Frowning heavily, you sigh under your breath and shake your head. Letting your eyes slip down to Harriet, you scratch under her chin and stare into her milky eyes as she lets out a little chirp.

“So much for answers,” your lips mutter. 

But a fire had been lit in your breast now—a low simmering pull like a rope had been tied to your wrist, drawing you closer and closer to the rocky shore, to a boat tied on the dock which you knew was steadily rocking to the deep, dark waves of this isolated place. 

To a navy-colored fin in the water, and a shape far larger than any you’d seen before. 

Blinking to look out the window of Otto’s home, your eyes find the ocean, and the longing that you’d always had for it grows ten times larger as your sketchbook begs to be filled.

—

It was only fate, you guessed, that you had come to Redthorpe—a tiny, unimportant dot on the map—when the way of life you’d chosen had led you astray. This place was a way to start over. Fix yourself. You’d picked the least-known town in all of Europe, and that was exactly what you wanted.

One trait, though, that could never be squashed from your psyche was the lust for the unknown. It was an obsessive lover; a toxic hand on the back of your neck that dragged you back over and over, until there was only yourself to blame for the repetition of disappointment. 

It was the reason you found yourself on the shore two days after you sighted the dark fin that cut the water. 

Your lace-up boots were atop a large boulder, shifting as your body turned from left to right, eyes patiently dragging the expanse of nothing. Waves lap only inches below, spraying up to get absorbed into your skirt, shawl whipping with the wind. The breeze is stuck with the sounds of birds, the very beings darting above your head, playing their games with varying cries that sound like throaty groaning. 

Bending, your arms wrap your waist, lips flickering. You were cold, limb-numbingly so, but even if you saw nothing today, or tomorrow, the push and pull of the ocean was enough—the call of the birds, the hypnotic sway of water. Calling to you, even if it had no lips to do so. 

Taking down a lung-shaking inhale, you chuckle, sketchbook sitting in the small purse around your shoulder. 

“What am I doing?” You ask yourself, shaking your head. “It was just a big fish—that old man was just being paranoid, anyways.” Eyes caressing the line where water meets the sky, your smile pulls your chilled cheeks. “There’s nothing out here worth my time. I need to finish my work.” 

Leaning back, you rub your hands up and down your biceps, nonetheless enjoying your time despite the burning of something in the back of your head. A knowledge that the fin was nothing documented before? A hope of discovery? A need for adventure? Oh, who can really say—what can be known are only three things: 

One, the weather was getting worse, two, the water was getting wilder, and, three, you had forgotten the way the rock you were standing on had shifted when you stepped up to it. Shuffling, your boots connect to the right corner, and your hands extend to keep your balance as you hiss a low breath, purse beginning to slip. 

There’s a gruff call from the water.

“Careful, then.”

Your head snaps up to the sound of a man’s voice, and you startle sharply, gasping as your foot slips. A quick cry is all you get out before you’re suddenly plummeting downwards headfirst into the frigid water. 

The feeling of liquid is all-consuming as it seeps into your nostrils and ears, all sound muffled entirely beyond the roar of it leaving you so stupendously—a flare, and then nothing. Eyes bugging, limbs slashing through the waves, the chill hits you in the chest with the force of a stone, smashing through your ribs to weigh you down with concrete stuck in your lungs. It was entirely a bodily reaction to gasp. 

Through the blue and the bubbles, you start to drown. 

Fingers twitching, you claw at nothing as the darkness settles its hands over your panicked eyes, not for a moment thinking about who had called to you in the first place—or who was poking a head out of the water before you’d gone over. Obviously, it was a trick of your senses; no one could survive being out in water like this.

You certainly weren’t going to. 

Legs slashing, something is darting in the corner of your eye before your vision fails, but the rapid fear in your heart masks the hand gripping at your shirt’s collar. It hides even the feeling of strong arms until the point where you’re yanked upwards with little effort as one curls your waist. It doesn't hide, however, the way you vomit up water as you’re heaved to the rocky shore moments later.

Choking, you hack up salt that burns your esophagus until your lunch quickly follows—all spilled with little care for your hands caught in the crossfire. Spine arching as if a cat, air can’t come sweeter as it is drawn in rapidly; nearly hyperventilating on the ocean-smooth stones as your clothes are utterly ruined. 

Panting, gasping, shivering violently, your head pulls itself weakly upward. It doesn’t take long for your mind to scream at you, and your head snaps behind you in a panic.

But there’s nothing but the raging water and the splash of a large navy-colored tail as big as your entire body disappearing back into the depths. 

Your fear can only stay for so long before the threat of a frigid death becomes more and more probable. In your race back up the cliff face to your shop, your purse is completely forgotten, trapped on the top of that shaky rock where it had fallen from your shoulder before the great plunge. 

Your shawl is seen floating out to the open water before it’s grasped from below and suddenly plucked—vanishing without a single trace.

—

The fire rages with the inferno of a million suns, and it’s not nearly hot enough. Wrapped in every blanket, sheet, and warm item available, you still can’t stop shivering hours later. A teacup was stuck in your hands, the liquid sloshing over the edges to slip over your quivering fingers and absorb into the cocoon of heat. 

Breathing through your shaky lungs, you keep the rim of the cup to your lips, eyes wide and horrified. In the still moments after you’d stripped and tried to stop the onset of sickness that you could already feel coming, there was a flash of realization from your strange and fantastical ordeal. 

There had been a man. 

The sensation of hands around your waist—the gruff voice that had spooked you so violently. A man. In the water. Every time you blink, you see a shadowed image, a tiny glimpse as you’d turned to the sound of human speech above the shriek of birds. 

Short brown hair and narrowed blue eyes set into sockets of pale skin. A bearded face, mustache…square jaw…

“What in God’s name?” You stutter in question over your tea, shaking your head. “That isn’t possible.” 

Outside your shop, the wind screams, pushing against your exterior shutters as night sets in. A storm was coming; there’d be no other adventures for you. Sipping your drink, you shiver again, curling in tighter to yourself as wood crackles. The light dances over your easels and side tables, piled high with jars of brushes and pallets—bottles of linseed oil and liquin, labeled with little pieces of hanging paper at the necks. 

There are paintings in the tens—in the twenties—hanging on the walls and set to the corners, all blue and gray; misty and clear. The water is a staple in all of them, and the cliffs as well. Perfect imitations of this place, as if you could reach a hand through the canvas and enter a mirrored world. Great ships are in some of them, or little fishing boats, with the birds overhead. Sometimes, it’s only the water itself, and to you, those were perhaps the best of your work. 

There was a beauty in the nothingness. A mystery. Who knows what’s under that thin surface? Well…apparently, it wasn’t human. 

You swallow down saliva and your lips thin. 

The thing in the water wasn’t… unattractive, you had to admit. Beyond the waterlogged hair and dripping beard, a large nose sat—full cheeks with an odd mole over them. The more you thought about the brief flash of a visage, the more you grew to hang onto it, strangely. And that navy tail? It had been incredibly unique. 

Spiney, nearly—four thin bones going down on both sides, branching out from the tail starting with the shortest that was perhaps only as long as your hand until the final was as lengthy as your entire arm. There was webbing between each spine to help the thing through the water quickly, it spread to the end of the barb until it sunk back in a ‘U’ movement, before once more arching out again to connect with the next spine. Small gasps in the caudal fin calling to either battles or a natural state of being—for show in it…his?...species. 

Could you even assign it a human gender? 

You close your eyes tightly in your shop, trying to will the image away from yourself. “What in the hell is going on?” Your voice is scratchy and low. 

Yet, the undeniable truth was that the fish-man had saved you. It couldn’t be overlooked. Not by you, who now can sit in front of this very fire because of it. Like a moth to the flame, the surge of cautious confusion is burning your wings. 

Deep blue eyes like the ocean. A navy tail. A gruff, hard voice.

You open your eyes and glare into the fireplace. 

“What has this place been hiding in the water? And why did it bloody save my life right after it nearly ended it?” 

More importantly…you had to think of a way to get your sketchbook back without getting on its bad side.

With a heavy chest, and more than a little fear in your heart, it was resolved to do something about all of this tomorrow. There was no use leaving the shop now. Glancing at the shaking window, you could hear the ocean rampaging over the cliffs; hear the slam of the rain hitting the roof like pounding feet. 

But that voice played in your ears like a gramophone's bleated chorus. 

You shiver again, not from the cold.

Careful, then. 

—

There was no question if you’d gotten sick because of your impromptu bath in the ocean—the evidence was in your salt-covered shirt and the stockings that were still drying on the hearth. 

Pressing a handkerchief to your mouth as you cough haggardly. You’re bundled in a nice fur dress coat, walking along the street with a skipping heart, a simple cloche hat over your head to protect you from the elements; dark blue in color.

The irony was not lost this morning when the hue had a striking familiarity to a fish-like tail, but it hadn’t stayed in your hand. A small drizzle slapped the fabric, and you were thankful you had brought the hat and coat along with you on the move from the big city. 

You weakly smile and nod to the locals you consider friends—at the very least acquaintances. But before long, you’re at the place you feel you need to be to gain answers, too nervous to go back to the shore immediately.

The library.

Something Otto had said came back to you last night, in the throws of insomnia. The two sentences he’d called out on the docks that day—You’ll not take her like you did Eleanor. Mark my words, I’ll be stringing you up by the tail first.

Eleanor? Who was that and how did it correlate to the beast in the water that wears a man's face? Maybe, the local records would tell you the answer—there had to be something about this person, ‘Eleanor,’ in them, right?

If not, there was only one option left, and that was going down to the shore and getting the results first hand…you’d rather exhaust all of your resources on solid land first. 

Slipping into the library with a deep breath and a cough in your throat, you sigh and nod slightly. Time to get to work.

“Oh,” the librarian looks up from her desk, standing as you shuffle over. “Hello, Dear,” she breathes through a chuckle, eyebrows pulling in softly. “My, you look a bit under the weather, don’t you? Would you like me to get some tea going…?”

“No, thank you,” you wave an easy hand. “I’m here on a bit of an errand, actually, and I was wondering if you could help me with something? I need to ask about your records.”

“Records?” The woman’s face shifts to confusion, her body slipping out to stand next to yours, you bring back up your handkerchief and sneeze into it, groaning. “What kind were you thinking, then?”

After you can push away the sheen of sickness to your eyes you take a breath and clear your throat of the stuffiness. “Births and work records? Addresses?” You make a small noise in the back of your mouth. “I guess I don’t know…anything that might help me?”

The librarian chuckles a bit, amused. “How about you tell me what it is you’re looking into, and I’ll try and grab any public knowledge that I can find. We’ll work together, then.” 

Weight is loosened from your shoulders and you nod appreciatively. “Deal.”

“Go on then,” she walks over to a shelf on the far side of the room, standing as her fingers run the spines. “Occupation I can start with, Dear?”

“Well…” you pause, shuffling after as your head looks from one sizable book to another. “No, unfortunately. Only a first name.”

“You’re lucky Redthorpe is small,” the woman laughs. “Otherwise I would have told you you’re lacking your senses with only something like that to go off of.” 

“Eleanor,” you comment, licking your lips and staring at a spine labeled ‘1890-1900 financial records - Redthorpe’. “E-L-E-A-N-O-R, or at least that’s the common spelling, I believe.” 

The librarian’s body is stone-still. Comparable to the immovable rocks of the shore as the waves bash against them; the raging of the wind. When you glance over, confused at the silence that infects the building, you’re reduced to a meek hesitation at the blank eyes that dig into your face. 

“...Or…maybe it’s N-O-R-E?” 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” is the hurried answer, and then the woman moves past with fast feet, heels clicking over the hardwood rapidly. “There hasn’t been an Eleanor in Redthrope. You’re mistaken.” 

“Wait,” you follow, stuttering. “I don’t understand, there has to have been—Otto was talking about her not days ago!”

“You’re mistaken,” is the repeated, firm answer, the librarian’s body swirling to face you again, pointing a finger at you. “Go back to your shop. Mr. Whitworth is old, he sees things that aren’t there. Don’t take what he says to heart—”

“I saw it!” You bark, fed up. Your mind was sick of these games being played, left out of the loop like you hadn’t formed a relationship with the people of this town. 

The woman’s mouth locked shut with a clack of teeth, something darting over her expression…fear?

She backs up slowly. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dear.”

Your lips twist, a threatening sneeze in the back of your nose. “I’m done with the word games! It dragged me out of the water like a sack of flour and tossed me to shore! It saved me!” Her hands are held in front of her as you stalk closer, trying to brush what you’re telling her aside as she struggles to string words. 

“It…it wouldn’t do that—that’s not how it acts. You’re just imagining things; you’re under the weather!”

“Who’s Eleanor?” You huff, stubborn as you cross your arms in front of you. “And what in the hell is a man with the tail of a fish doing living just below these cliffs?”

Wide eyes meet glaring ones, and the librarian’s lips move up and down in a panic. 

“I…” she begins, feet tapping the floor nervously as the rafters creak above the both of you. “I can’t talk about it. It’s not something to be said out loud—especially so close to the water.” 

You bark incredulously, “There’s a bloody monster that lives down in—!”

A hand is snapped over your mouth and you startle, blinking through the twitch of your body. 

“Shh!” The librarian panics, shaking her head, with flaring eyes. “Stop it or you’ll end up being dragged down to the ocean floor like Eleanor was!” You tense behind the hold, shoulders pulled in. It’s a quick spit of whispered words like a fast breeze. “Do you want your body showing up on the rocks?! Stay away from it!”

Your heart pounds in your chest, vision darting back and forth before she finally lets you go in a quick jerk of her body. The woman backs up, quivering as her eyes go to the window, nearly panting from fear. 

She looks back at you, blinks, and mutters out a quiet, “If you’ve already seen it, it wants you. Don’t go back to the water,” before she rushes into the back room and slams the door shut with the slipping of the lock. 

Left standing in the open library, the shelves sit stationary as if sentinels to your raw distress—this had only left you with more questions and a handful of jumbled answers. 

“Careful, then.”

You shake your head harshly and pivot to leave the library in a stupor, shoving your chin back down into your coat’s collar as the wind slaps your face once more. The call of the ocean is like a knife to the back of your neck.

—

Call you whatever name in the book, but you wanted your sketchbook back.

No one in town was giving you anything that was of use, and Otto was tighter-lipped than a lockbox. There was only so much you could do��could speculate—before the need for your belongings was too strong to ignore. It took two more days of pacing your shop before it was decided. 

Taking up the heavy cast-iron pan above your fireplace, you slip the thing into your coat, shove on your hat with a defiant grunt, and force the front door open. It’s a ten-minute walk to the shore, and all the way there, dread fills you up like soup until you’re bloated with it by the time your boots hit black rocks. Yet, there’s a point where a woman’s courage outweighs the sense of caution, and today was currently that day. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you grab your skirt and hike it up, placing your boot carefully on the first of the larger stones leading out to where you’d been previously. 

“Don’t look at the water,” you mutter quietly as you move, not shuffling forward until you know the rock isn’t going to topple this way or that. “Don’t even think about it.”

But that tail…that face…

With a growl under your breath, you grind your teeth and continue on. 

The weather today was much more agreeable, but cold. It was always chilled in Redthorpe—dreary as if the clouds never left far above. You didn’t mind, and in your coat pocket, the reassuring weight of your pan left you much warmer than you’d like to admit. 

The heat of protection, so to speak.

“Even a fish-man can die, I’d wager,” you utter, grunting as you ascend a larger rock, palm slapping the wet stone before you heavy upwards, slamming your boot to the top much like a schoolboy as your skirt bunches. “If I hit him hard enough in the skull. I wonder though,” you sneeze, shuddering, “if he even bleeds? If I crack his head open…will blood seep out, or salt water?” 

You shiver, and it’s not from the cold. “Fucking hell, you do like making it harder on yourself, don’t you.”

Lightly panting, you brush down your coat on the top of the rock and turn to look at the boulder where you’d fallen previously, blinking. Pausing, your eyes find not only your sketchbook sitting there…but also your shawl. 

Struggling for a moment to try and justify your actions, you swiftly look over the surface of the water, seeing the gentle push and pull of waves. No fin. No tail. 

You aren’t sure if the feeling in your chest is joy or disappointment.

Licking your lips, you take a large breath before your face turns grim.

“Grab it and run,” your voice echoes in your own head, heart pounding with adrenaline the more steps you take to the boulder, water sloshing at the sides. You had thought perhaps that the rain—the storm—would render all of your lost belongings null, but as you bent and snatched your items to you, shawl hanging from your arm, you were pleasantly surprised. It was all dry; impossibly so. 

Amid your shock, your slack jaw, and the weight of your pan in your coat, your shaky fingers open your book with bated breath. 

Everything was in pristine condition, if not only slightly curled at the corners due to…your eyebrows pull in, expression struggling to take on the emotion of anything other than pure awe.

“Fingerprints?” 

Eyes slipping from one page to the next, flipping them only to see the press and pull of a long gone thumb, shiting the paper to gaze at the back, where a forefinger would have been. A hand laced in water had been turning the pages, just as you do now—and, yet, there wasn’t an inch that was damaged; nothing smeared. 

Shoulders loosening from their tensed position, your wide stare is utterly transfixed as your digits rub the material softly, feet shifting. 

Lowering your sketchbook, your small huff of amazed laughter, mind running. 

He’d been going through your drawings—he’d somehow protected these items from the rain and salt. How? Why? But another question wrapped its hands in your skull.

Did he like them?

Shuffling the book into the crook of your arm, you carefully wrap your shawl over the material to further keep it safe, not able to find your purse, though the only thing it ever held was your sketchbook in the first place; it wasn’t too important. 

Rising your head again, you gaze openly outward, lips opening and closing in a small stutter. Was he out there, this strange creature with a strong face and those deep eyes? That navy tail, looking like a beautiful imitation of kelp…was it just under where you now study the waves?

So many questions, so few answers. 

You clear your throat, holding your items tighter. There’s magnetism in your blood, and it sits on your tongue like salt.

“Thank you!” Your voice calls high, joining the chorus of birds far above on the cliffs. Eyes skating the rocks, the shore, the ocean, everything. Call you prideful, but perhaps the best way to gain your favor is to know that someone, whatever bit strange and fantastical, had enjoyed your work to the smallest degree. 

The way your eyes spark is still embarrassing, though, but it comes naturally after the heat that simmers over your face. 

“Truly,” you shout to the wind. “You have no idea how much this means! If you’re listening, I’d like to extend my gratitude…” Your face is beaming, and you can convince yourself that all of your fear over this is gone, even if that would just plainly be untrue. “My artwork is everything to me, I do hope you enjoyed it!” 

A creature so easily curious about your skills wouldn’t drag you to the bottom of the ocean…right? 

Hell, he’d already had a chance to do that—a perfect one—and yet, here you are. What the Librarian had said had to be false, it made no sense otherwise.

Seeing nothing, and knowing that you were needed back at your shop, you chuckle under your breath and back up swiftly, walking the distance back to the surrounding rocks and slipping off softly. Grunting under your breath, your boots hit the stone, and you carefully begin back-tracking. 

“You’re good at it,” you halt in a fraction of a second. “The images. Where’d you learn to do that?”

It’s a long moment before you turn with a cautious tilt to your head, and find the very same visage as you had a glimpse of days ago. You fight a fast inhale, but your straightening spine tells all the story it needs to. Like a fool, you lose the words in your mouth, as if trying to catch a bird of prey with a butterfly net.

A strong face is poking out of the water only a mere five feet away.

Your eyes slip to the soaked beard, the peak of bare shoulders—broad, of course—and the prying orbs that you feel will never leave; he wades there, arms under the dark water only a flash of pale skin before they’re gone again. 

“I…” you lick your lips, blinking through the moment of animalistic panic. You were on land, there was nothing to fear. The sight was still something to be remembered, though. “I was self-taught, Sir.” 

Blue eyes blink, serious face only made more so by the twitching of his large nose, which water drips from periodically. Droplets stay stuck to his dark lashes, and you’re near bursting with questions. 

But silence persists long after your sentence filters out to nothing.

“You pulled me from the water,” you state slowly. “And I don’t even know your name.”

The man looks you up and down, not arrogant, no, but in a way that is comparable to how you did the same to him. Studying you as if your body was strange to him. The realization almost made you laugh—perhaps it was strange to him.

You want to see that tail of his again. Your fingers itch to sketch its likeness and commit it to muscle memory. 

“I scared you,” he grumbles, sighing. “It wasn’t my intention to send you over.” Eyes still stay stuck. “My own fault.”

“I won’t deny you there,” you huff, gaze shifting away for a moment before filtering back. A slash of amusement curls in the thing’s eyes, and he hums. “Forgive me,” your breath wafts out over the air, face going what you can assume to be sheepish. It astounds you, though, that the conversation comes easily. “But I haven’t the faintest bloody clue as to what to call you.”

“John,” is the reply. Accent like gravel. He doesn’t waste his breath, seems. 

“John?” You lick your lips, legs shuffling over the stone. The name leaves you holding back a loud laugh. “Well, I suppose I could have guessed that, then. I’ve met more than enough ‘Johns’ so far.”

“Funny, are you?” The response, however dry, is tinged with something you can’t name. 

“I try,” you nod jokingly, motioning with a hand. “Just didn’t expect a man with a fishtail to act so….human. Certainly not be named like one, either.”

“Hm,” John grunts, blinking slowly. A hand slips above the water, and you watch it flex and drag to itch at the back of his neck, hair over the arm slick to the flesh. Your face heats, and your eyes dip to see the small shadow under the water almost graze the surface, rippling the waves intimately, as if tail and liquid were of the same sound mind. 

It wasn’t out of the question to say you longed for a glimpse. 

What would it feel like to touch it?

“You live here?” Your voice is hoarse before you clear it quickly. “Right below the cliffs?” 

“You’re the woman that goes out in the boat,” John firmly interjects, and you blink, taken aback. 

“Yes, that’s me.” You explain, pulling at the lip of your hat to force it down further over your head. “Otto goes fishing in the mornings—I like to sketch the shore. He isn’t the worst company, of course. He’s kind enough to let me along with him.”

But you won’t be kept down. There’s magical curiosity in your chest now.

“Your tail,” you take a step forward, boots being licked by icy water. John’s eyes widen a smidge, not expecting you to actively move closer. His head tilts as if a bird, confusion brimming though he hides it expertly. You imagined he considered you a bit mad. “Forgive me, Sir, but I must know,” your uttered rambles make his hidden lip twitch, a little twist to your expression that shows wonder. “Is it attached to you, or do you slip out of it like a pair of pants? O-or even like wearing a stage costume? Oh, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

John can’t find the words for a moment, only able to watch and assess as he always did in times like these. You were…different, he supposed. But he knew that the moment you had shifted your body over the side of that old man’s boat—looking for a glimpse of something unknown. He could see it in your eyes. 

The water calls to you. It lives in your veins already, waiting. More salt and seaweed than earth and grass. Sand, rock, gulls, they all cry in the back of your mind, and your fingers itch to catalog them into immortality in a way that John was fascinated over—the skill of parchment and memorization. Mastery over detail.

He doesn't know why he’s speaking to you, truly. He’d done his penance; saved your life. But he knows he doesn’t dislike it, and that in and of itself needed to be understood. John couldn’t leave his analytical brain lacking an answer to a question as big as that—a woman of all things? A human one? 

Blue eyes can’t seem to slip from yours, as you await a gruff reply.

“No.” You blink, pulling back a smidge when John’s voice is low and graited. “Go back to your home. It’s late.”

“Hey, wait—!”

But he’s already gone under the waves, and you’re left with a waterlogged boot, a cast iron pan, and the two items that had survived because of a grizzly creature's compassion. Your lungs heave, and the cloud of condensation rises into a gray sky.

You stay there far longer than you’d like to admit.

—

You struggled, slipped, and climbed your way back to that point on the rocks every other day, and yet, there was nothing more to be seen of the man with the tail. You knew he was out there, felt it in your bones, and still…you were left here staring out at far-off boats and half-hopes. Wondering. Waiting. 

In the days that passed, you would explore the shore further, going in nooks and deep bends that extended into the cliffs during low tide, cringing away from the slippery fingers of kelp stuck to the walls. Dead fish, mucus-lined snails—you had made the important decision of leaving your sketchbook at home, the pages already filled with the perfect reflection of a man’s face peeking above the water. 

Taking off your hat, you huff on a similar day to those others, this time slipping inside a cave with a direct connection to the ocean. There wasn’t any wind in here—and you sigh in relief as your breeze-bitten cheeks can finally get a rest. You didn’t know what you expected to find doing all this fruitless searching, but it didn’t erase the fact that you enjoyed it; looking for a glimpse of something out of the ordinary. 

Brushing your hat of sand and other such items, your head swivels softly, a delicate smile on your face as water drips from the rock ceiling, stalactites like broken fingers reaching for the ground. A pool of sorts takes up most of this place, the thing extending to the ocean through a medium-sized opening in the stone.

You turn in a half-circle. 

“Beautiful,” your lips murmur, voice echoing. 

Walking forward, every so often your body stoops to carefully grasp shells and smoothed shards of colored glass, beaten down by waves and reduced to harmless trinkets. Continuing, you care little about your boots or your coat, only for the pull in your chest that tells you to keep going until your legs are weak and weary—shaking from a day long spent in selfish adventure.

When you find the pile of rings, sitting in soft kelp, you nearly walk right past them until the glint of metal takes you by surprise. Pausing, your pulse warms as your eyes slash to the side, getting sucked in as easily as cookies to a child. 

Only hesitating a second, you slowly walk until you’re inches away, seeing different styles and gems like starlight sitting as if unaware of their raw beauty. 

“What are you doing in here…?” You ask yourself, your own voice responding from the walls as it bounces. 

Picking up one of pure gold, you shift the band to stare openly at an emerald nearly the size of your knuckle set into it. Lips parting, it’s as if your breath is stolen by a quiet thief. But the sudden arrival of splashing snaps you out of your stupor quite quickly.

Dropping the ring immediately back into the pile, your hand jerks to your chest as an increasingly common face shows itself once more from the water. 

You clear your throat, face burning as John raises a slow brow, glancing at the stash of rings silently. 

“One day you’re going to make me keel over,” your voice berates, pointedly avoiding his blues. So the items were his. 

“A thief as well as an artist?” John asks after a moment, tilting his skull as his body drifts closer to the rocky side of the pool. The next sentence is no question, only a statement. “You’ve been looking for me.”

You take a long breath, sighing, before you shove your hat into your coat’s pocket, glaring lightly. “You left so abruptly, I never got to ask my questions. Quite rude of you to keep a lady waiting, John.”

As you say his name, he glances over, but not before his sizable hands slap to the side of the rock and he hoists himself up with a single push of his forearms. The man grunts, lips pulling, before you’re left breathless. 

Eyes stuck on the upper half of his body, the water dripping down the hair-layered bulge of visible muscle, your wide vision skates from one point to another, flesh on fire the more you stay mute. But the tail—that was something you could never describe. 

The beginning was all you could see; scales of dark navy and a spread of muddled silver-like dots, nearly impossible to make out except at this distance. They began at the top of where hips should be, the scales, smaller and blending into the skin easily, only becoming larger the more the tail extended down; the appendage was far larger than legs would be, that you can tell easily. You can’t see all of it, as perhaps a little less than half still sits swaying in the water…but even this was enough for now.

This moment would be stuck in your sketchbook for all of eternity. 

It’s only after your jaw is slackened that you realize John has been watching you the entire time.

Forcing it shut with a tiny clack of teeth, you try to regain any composure you can. The being’s beard curls in a smirk, cheek pushing to show the lines near his eyes. 

“If someone’s avoiding you, Sunshine,” he grunts out, voice low. From the corner of his eye, he watches as his hand rises to itch at his beard. “They usually don’t want to have a conversation.”

��I think it’s fair,” you huff. “You can’t just disappear when I have so many unanswered questions.”

John blinks, attention not moving for even a second. Your own is less than firm, fighting to not dart down to openly study every dip and bend of his bones. He was so…stoic. Gruff. But there were moments of amusement—even annoyed interest. 

“I don’t have time to fuckin’ entertain others,” he thins his lips. 

Your arms crossed, face dripping into seriousness. “And what else is so much more important, then?” You raise a brow. “Scaring other women into the water?”

He huffs under his breath. “It was an accident—wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so jumpy, eh?” 

“It’s not like I expect to see fishmen pop out of the water,” you defend. 

“Mer-man, Love,” he licks his lips, sighing, as his eyes shift to glance at the opening of the cave. Your face bleeds into a slight expression of satisfaction, arms over your chest tightening as your feet rock back on their heels.

“Well,” you chuckle. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

An emotionless glare is all you receive. 

It was no surprise that you ended up blurting out inquiry after inquiry—what does having a tail feel like? How do you breathe underwater, or do you only hold your breath like a human? Do you have gills somewhere, or lungs? What other creatures are out there like you?

You have no idea what time it ends up being, and you have no intention of stopping soon. It’s a pleasant surprise, then, that John answers all of your quick words with full answers; giving slow, but not condescending explanations. 

A few times there had been tiny chuckles, and the little conversations amounted to you sitting on a rock right near the water, only feet away from where the tail drifts in the waves; John’s hands keeping his upper half straight as his palms meet slippery stone. 

“And the rings?” You breathlessly wonder, attention darting to the pile. “Do you find them out there? Keep them?”

John tilts his head in an affirmation. “Shipwrecks. There’ll be hundreds of them—I’m not one to keep many belongings, but the bloody things were nicely made.” He sighs. “Seemed a waste to leave them down there.”

You huff a sound of amusement. “I see. Fascinating.”

In the small pause, your eyes once more study the cave, seeing little breaks in the walls where cubby-like indents are. In them, your focus drifts from one glimmering object to another, all previously missed by you when you’d first entered. 

You blink. “You live here?”

“Affirmative,” John stares. His body shifts, tail flickering as your focus snaps back to it, almost lost in the way the ends so nimbly slice the water. Like wispy fabric. Your eyes soften like molten metal. You look back at him and find his eyes already locked to yours. 

Breath caught in your throat, you chuckle meekly to dispel your embarrassment. John’s face minutely relaxes, stern brow loosening.

“And…” you lick your lips, knowing it was time to leave. The sun no longer shines through the crack in the rock. “If I were to come back, would I be able to find you here?” 

There’s a flash of that same indecipherable emotion as before over his bushy face. 

The man was anything but small—everything to the swell of his tail; body hair for, what you assume, is to keep out the constant chill of the water. You’d never imagined that you’d find it all so attractive down to the navy scales that shimmered above the push of his side. That healthy layer of meat was eliciting far more of a physical reaction than you’d care to admit to anyone, let alone a priest of any religion during a confession.

Perhaps that fall into the water really had killed you.

“I’ll be here,” John responds lowly, gravel in his throat.

Swallowing down saliva, you push back the ravenous smile that threatens you.

“...Okay.”

—

And this affair became such a constant, that most of the people in town had begun asking about you as you snuck to the waters. Otto was largely concerned, but would not say anything more for some unseen fear—nor the Librarian, who avoided your eyes any chance she got. 

Dragged to the ocean floor. Body on the rocks. 

The sheen of discovery could be a powerful vice, and for those first two months, you never asked John about the woman named Eleanor or who she might be—what correlation she had to beasts of the water. Then again, you didn’t have to ask. He managed to get around to it himself. 

Your eyes blankly stare at the page of your sketchbook, the merman’s rough shape chicken-scratched with small lines into the parchment, and your pencil stays still to it, immobile. From across the cave, John’s face tightens as his eyelids narrow. You’d been quiet today, he had noticed. Usually so bright with your words, the walls had barely echoed with the symphony of your speech, and, more importantly, John’s ears hadn’t twitched to it. 

He had become fond of your company, he admitted to himself. A strange human woman with her fur coat and hat, the little sketchbook that held such wonderful imitations of life. John was anything but dull—he knew you drew him, and he entertained the activity. In fact, the thought at one point or another may have made the brute of a man blush a bit. So, when you were as still as the stone you sat on, he had concerns. 

He liked it when you spoke, even if it was only a tease. And the tightness of his chest when you don’t look his way is enough to leave his tail twitching in confusion as it sits in the water.

“You’re quiet today,” he starts, frowning. 

Your fingers jerk, sending a line over your paper as you blink, looking up as your heart skips a beat. Glancing at John’s face, the thoughts inside of your head slip until you can understand what he said. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, and the man’s face pulls. “You can speak if you want. I'm just a little distracted.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Love, yeah?” John grunts, hands shifting over the stone. He looks you up and down, tail sitting still below him. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” your lips mumble, and you shake your head. “It’s one of my questions again.” You pause, closing your book. “A difficult one.”

John’s lips flicker. “Well, we’ve been at this for ages. Can’t see how this one is more difficult than the others.” He nods softly, voice a low and somewhat smooth mutter. “Go on.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you huff, standing and placing your sketchbook in the driest part of the cave before walking closer. Bending right in front of John, your face is tight. The man likes it like this—having you closer. He can feel the heat roll off you, and his eyes flutter even when nothing on his face gives away the pull he senses in his chest. 

John hums and swallows stiffly.

“Why not?” His head tilts, and he clears his throat to get rid of the raspy scrape of his vocals. “Something going on up there?”

Up there. 

The Merman had asked about Redthorpe, as well as the rest of the people who lived there. The atmosphere, the way of life. Your meetings were more of an exchange of information and stolen glances than anything else, the other none the wiser to this magnetic attraction. It was a delicate thing, knowing that there was something more and yet unable to fully express the way it makes you feel. Neither of you knows what to call it.

“More so in here,” you smile tinily, pointing at your head as your cheeks grow hot. 

“Then speak to me,” John frowns, trying a low smirk. “Think we both know I’m a good listener then, Love. There’s time,” he glances at the entrance. “Won’t be near dark for a few more hours—don’t want you climbing at night.”

“Awe,” you breathe, beaming suddenly with that glint back in your eyes. John hides the sagging of his shoulders, only offering a hum under his breath as he looks over at you. His kelp-like fins twitch, and he wonders what it would feel like to have you touch them. It was obvious you wanted to.

Not yet. 

“Hurry up, Sunshine,” John grinds out, that accent all the more sandy. 

There’s a small grunt and a shuffle, and, soon, a warm body is plotting itself next to his own, arm touching his, and a pair of bare feet slipping into the pool. Blue eyes widen in surprise, head darting to where your form rests so simply—so near the crook of his shoulder that he could reach over and draw you to him if he so wanted. 

Your feet shift as the hem of your skirt gets soggy with water, and John barks out a firm, “You’re going to get cold.” 

“It’s not as cold here as it is out there,” you shrug to him, smiling with a side-eye. “Besides, I’m right next to you—you’ll keep me warm, won’t you, John?”

“Fucking hell,” he puffs out, shaking his head as he rips it forward once more, clenching his jaw. Your scent seeps into his nose, and when your leg slips along the side of his scales under the water, he all but goes a blank-faced scarlet. 

You hide a chuckle, shivering at the chill but more so at the unimaginably smooth sensation of John’s tail over your flesh. Your legs move through the water to cross at the ankles, your right hand resting to directly touch John’s left. With every pump of your blood, his own mirrors.

Yet, your mood sobers, and the joy leaks. 

“There’s a woman that no one speaks about in Redthrope,” you begin, and John settles to listen, brows furrowing in concentration as your skin sits so well next to his own. “Eleanor.” 

The man pauses abruptly, and you keep talking.

“And for some reason,” you sigh out a low breath, turning to look at John and his still face; emotionless. “Everyone seems to blame you for whatever happened to her. I don’t know if she’s missing, or…”

Your words trail off, insinuation clear.

Not noticing any chance on John’s face, you lightly bump him with your elbow, expression going concerned. “Hey, are you alright?” Your opposite hand raises, moving out between the two of you. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything, I would just really appreciate anything you might know about it.” Eyes imploring, your heart pours itself. “I don’t think you’d do something like that.”

John blinks slowly, finally opening his mouth. “What makes you say that?”

“If you were some murderous creature,” you shrug, “I don’t think you would have tried to pull me out of the ocean in the first place.” Lashes caressing your cheeks, you smile. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” the man huffs, quirking a brow. “No, you’re not wrong.”

“Knew it,” you whisper, eyes crinkling as you side-eye him.

John chuckles, half rolling his eyes as he leans to your ear as he grumbles. “Gettin’ cheeky, are you?” 

If you were a bird, you’d be preening your feathers, eyelids narrowed. “Perhaps, John.” 

It is a wonder, then, that the two of you don’t lock lips that very instant—long fins curling around legs and shoulders stuck together, pinkies unconsciously sitting atop the others as if pieces of parchment. Blue eyes shift smoothly to your lips, but before you can register that they have, John’s head is already moving back and his spine is straight. 

The man flattens his lips, tilting his skull. 

“I knew of a woman named Eleanor—she would come down with her husband, Noah, and they would walk along the shore. Got close to this place a few times.” Dark brows tighten. “Found her body in the water after a storm about two years ago; brought it back to the rocks so someone could retrieve it.” Your face loosens as the information settles in. John makes a noise in his chest. “Interesting that I’d be roped into it, but it’s understandable. Always someone to blame, eh?” 

“I don’t blame you,” you whisper. “That must have been horrible.”

Blue slips over to you silently, and it’s a long moment before John only hums under his breath, blinking away softly. 

“Scared me when you fell in.” Listening, your heart clenches in your ribs. To think about what must have been going through his head at that instant was sad to you, and even worse so when you know he would have blamed himself if you might have ended up seriously hurt.

“Well,” you lean into him, face on fire, “it was a good thing you were there to drag me out, then. A little water never hurt anyone, so long as a handsome merman is there to take them back to shore.” 

John huffs out a laugh. “Handsome?”

“Oh, very,” you joke. “The tail is a bonus.” Your expression lightens, eyes glinting. “Since when did you know that navy is my favorite color?”

The feeling of the cold water is only a back-drop to the way John’s fins twitch against your bare legs intimately, and you chuckle as the beard can only hide so much red skin. 

“Bugger off,” he grunts. 

You’ve never heard a smile so clearly before in your life.

—

Your paintings were selling far better than they ever had, and you had to thank the new muse of them for that fact. 

John’s appearance in your work had started small—a glimpse of a fin, the presence of a shadow in the water—and had steadily grown. Now, hidden like a present, there was the image of some fishtailed man somewhere in all of them, a steady injection of magic into the veins of cerulean blue and ivory black. It showed you that fewer people knew about John than you had previously thought. 

Initially, you had imagined that everyone knew and the reason you didn’t was because you were relatively new here, but no. Most had been enamored by your work when they found the ‘strange fish-man’ in one, pointing and chucking to themselves, talking about how adorable it was. No one was shocked, no one sent looks. 

By the end of the week, you had been convinced that it had been narrowed down to Otto and the Librarian—

The bell of your shop dings.

Looking up from your easel, you smile and stand automatically, thinking about closing soon so you can go and see John. Nowadays, even the thought of him makes your blood pump heavy. 

“How can I help you today, Sir?” Your brushes find the side table you had set up, locking eyes with a tall, thin man in his late thirties. He wears a suit, and in his breast pocket, there’s the gleam of a gold chain attached to a pocket watch. 

“I’m here to ask about a detail in your paintings, Miss.” He’s well-spoken as well, and you’re shocked to know you haven't met him yet if he lived in Redthorpe—he doesn’t seem familiar at all.

“Of course,” you nod, perplexed. “I’m sorry, I think I missed your name.”

“Noah Moore,” is the even response. Noah is already walking around, bending to look into some of your work which hangs on the wall. “My neighbor brought home one of your pieces; I found I liked it very much. Had even considered commissioning.”

Noah? You blink slowly, watching. Wasn’t that Eleanor’s husband?

“Thank you,” your lips move, thinning. “That’s very high praise, Mr. Moore.” 

“This creature,” Noah stands, and dark eyes set on you. For some reason, the hair along your arms stands on end. “The man with a fish tail. Have you seen him?”

Your instant reaction is to lie, and that in and of itself is a telltale sign that something is wrong. Noah makes the alarm in the back of your head go off for no reason other than the way he’s trying to pry with that unblinking gaze of his. The rich apparel; the attitude. He isn’t right.

“Seen him?” Chuckles echo off the walls. “Who? The beast? No, Sir, that…thing…is just something I made up.” You wave a hand, but back up a step, trying to create distance. Your hip lightly bumps the side table, and your materials jerk. Gasping under your breath, your head snaps down, catching your brush before it can fall. “Oh my, clumsy me.” you laugh stiffly. “Apologies, Sir, but that’s the truth. I wanted to create something that all of Redthrope might enjoy; a local legend of sorts, see.”

Your eyes had siphoned back with a dread in your heart. The man mutely stares, a deep frown pulling his lips. As if the conversation had never happened, after a long stretch of tension, Noah smiles widely. 

“Ah,” he huffs, “of course. It was silly of me to ask.” Dark eyes are emotionless, and the pull of his eyelids is not there. Spine so tight it could snap in half, and your fingers curl around the brush before you place it down stiffly. “Though,” Mr. Moore clicks his tongue, taking one step closer. 

Your eyes widen, but you say nothing. Your mind flashes to John, and there’s a longing for the ocean so strong, it seems a good idea to you, to rush out the door right now and sprint for it; hurl yourself to the waves, if need be. He’d find you—you know he would.

“Though,” Noah continues, tilting his head. “There is a striking resemblance to a creature I recall seeing from the cliffs, the day my wife’s body was found at the rocks.” 

Backing up another step, your muscles ache with how you hold them like a shield to your organs. 

“As far as I know, only two others were searching at my side that day. And in it I am certain,” he hums, “you weren’t even here.”

Otto and the librarian, you think quickly, mind a mess of information and fear. It’s why they’re so spooked. They think John actually killed Eleanor and left her—they saw him bring her body to shore.

It’s a lack of foresight on your part, that the next bark is more of a reaction to the panic than proper knowledge, cracking under pressure. 

“John would never kill an innocent woman!” 

It’s as if a switch goes off, and, suddenly, there’s a ruthless hand grabbing at your throat. Yelping, you stagger back and snap your fingers to Noah’s wrist, clawing until there’s blood under your nails; air is sucked in with a wheeze. In the back of your head, there’s wild screaming, and you can’t tell if it’s the pounding of your blood or the internal sensation of primal fear. 

Raging eyes shove themselves right in front of yours, faces so close you can feel Noah’s hot breath moving over your burning face. You try to cough but find you can’t as one of your hands struggles to slap to the side table—searching fruitlessly. 

“John?” Noah sneers, holding tighter. “The thing has a name?”

Your easel clatters to the ground, back being shoved right into it. Mouth opening and closing, the cut of oxygen reduces your mind to acting purely off instinct—breaking down like glass to fracture to only one thing: survival.

“It was perfect,” Mr. Moore growls, eyes ablaze. “I had it all planned out, only to be ruined by a freak of nature at the last moment!” 

Your nails gouge the wood, dragging, searching, slapping. Anything—anything at all to help as your boots scrape from under you. You can’t even comprehend the words being said; all of it is a blur as blackness peels the side of your vision. 

Tears splatter down your cheeks.

“Two years, and then you had to come along and fucking speak to it! What did it tell you? Eh? What did it see that night?”

Your hand curls the glass bottle where you store your brushes and without another thought, you slam the side of it to Noah’s head. 

Shouting, the man releases you in an instant, glass leaving long lines of blood splattering out to sprinkle your face as it shatters, collapsing into itself. Connecting to the ground, your hacking can only take place for under two seconds before your boots scramble for purchase, stumbling and flailing at least once; lungs gasping. 

Shoulder connecting with the side of the door frame as you bang it open, an enraged scream follows you into the rainy afternoon, the rumble of deadly thunder far overhead. 

Running, you don’t know how to stop, and it’s even harder to catch your breath by the time you’re down to the rocks, looking over your shoulder as if Noah would be right behind you. He wasn’t—but the fear was enough to keep you going until you were bathed in sweat and barely strong enough to fall into the entrance of John’s cave, fingers cut up and raw from grappling over stone.

There’s a quick call of your name from across the enclosed space, but your ears are ringing too loud to hear—whipping around to stare at the entrance as you struggle back on your hands, legs shaking. 

“Love!”

Your eyes slash to the side, and through the quivering of your lashes, through the blur of tears, you lock onto the desperate slash of grayish-blue that’s a near-perfect reflection of the ocean itself. Painting, the realization comes a moment too late, as pale fingers touch your cheek and you flinch back with a deep pain in your neck. 

Pulsing veins echo along your entire body, but there, at the point of where hands had wrapped your flesh, it burned with a horrible fire that made thin noise escape your lips.

“Hey,” John breathes, having dragged himself at a moment’s notice across the floor of the cave. “Hey,” he repeats slower, eyes slashing you up and down for any sign of injury. 

His hand is outstretched, but he doesn’t try to touch you again seeing how you’d jerked away. The man’s heart had stopped at that—his concern shooting up similar to how he felt when you’d raced through the entrance as if a fire was on your heels. A near panic at the fear on your face, leaving his body on high alert; eyes skating the surrounding quickly.

But the splatters of blood on your face were something to reduce him to an enraged beast.

“What is going on,” he tries to keep the rough anger from his tone, attempting to leave it soft and smooth. There’s only so much he can do, though, as you shake and pant. 

Your body gradually slows itself, attention seeping back to allow you to take control of your limbs. The first thing you see clearly is John’s outstretched hand, and, then, the clench of his jaw—the eyes that follow every teardrop down the flesh of your cheek.

Openly gazing, when John sees you’re back, his blues slip to a softened caress. 

“Love,” he mutters, face tight. 

You shove yourself into his arms and let off a sob that echoes louder than any laughter could. Curling into his chest, water seeps into your shirt, but the all-expansive hand that keeps you close is worth every clothesline you would have to hang. 

“Shh,” John breathes, knowing that he’d get an explanation when he calmed you down, even if his mind was breaking itself to try and understand. “I’m right here, Sunshine. Breathe, then…I’m right here, yeah?” 

His nose pushes itself into your scalp as your head hides away, quivering body curled like a cat around a fish—no air between the two of you, chests running across the others. So little space, and yet this breathlessness was one you could welcome time and time again.

John watches, eyes always open as he glares into your hair, grip tightening the longer you cry; a feeling so potent brimming in his chest, he would be a fool to ignore it.

You were more precious to him than any ring, than any trinket he could stash away and forget about. The way his heart bent to yours was stronger than any storm. 

Breathing down your scent, John sighed, kissed the top of your head, and lightly rocked you back and forth. 

He’d wait as long as it took.

—

When it became apparent you couldn’t speak beyond broken little coughs and wheezes, John was quick to bring you to the water of the pool.  

Now, perhaps hours later, you sit with the burn and fatigue of crying eyes, sniffling as you shove away the stain of red on your cheeks. 

“Careful,” John lightly comments, grasping your hand and pulling it away. His own replaces it, wet from the water he now wades in to help. “Let me get it, eh?”

Your eyes stay stuck to his nose as fingers push away the crimson of blood easily, firm but still utterly delicate. 

“I’m not glass,” you croak, one hand near your throat. 

Blue eyes blink at you. “Never said you were,” he grunts, frowning, and you see his Adam’s Apple bob. “Don’t like seeing you with blood on your face, Love.”

Like it had never happened, the fingers return, and a moment later, he grumbles out, “And stop talking—you’ll make it worse.” 

You hadn’t explained, not yet, but by the utter rage you see John trying to hide from you, you know he understands how you might have gotten the swelling now present on your neck. His heart had been visibly pumping the entire time you’d been here; you could hear it when he was holding you, a relentless, thump-thump-bump, thump-thump-bump in your ear.

The brunette had been clenching his jaw more as well, grunting as if a boar after every sentence, a nervous habit, perhaps. He was trying to mask it for you, but you weren’t blind. 

John pauses his cleaning, glancing at your throat. 

He studies your face after he hums under his breath, having to dart his gaze away for a moment. 

“...Can I?” You pause, swallowing as the burn persists. 

Nodding after a minute of slow contemplation, cold hands shift to press carefully—not tightening, not holding you there—resting to give relief. You only tense a little, but as the seconds draw, John watches you sag forward with a large sigh through your nose. 

He lets a small sliver of calm enter him.

“Easy,” John whispers, blinking. He keeps the chill of his hands at your neck, fins shifting the water to keep him still. “When you’re ready, explain it to me, eh?” His head tilts, voice a low tease. “Glass or not.” 

Your lips twitch, and the way your eyes melt could only be compared to safety. You open your lips, and John mutters lowly as your fingers brush over his own, “Quietly, now. Can hear just fine—don’t push yourself.” 

Blue flickers to your touch, fingertips trailing his knuckles as the man grunts, attention fluttering back. 

All you say is one name. 

“Noah.” 

There’s a moment of confusion on John’s face, skin wrinkling, before the understanding settles swiftly—he wasn’t a fool. From there, his expression changes ten times over; that rage, then fear for you, confusion, and stubbornness. It’s of little surprise to you that a man so loyal was reduced to a dog. 

A dog with scales, that is.

Your body is still running hot—your heart still pumping, though the adrenaline has left with all of its stimulation. You’re tired, yes, that much is obvious. But you want John to hold you again. 

When you shift your body, the man’s eyes widen, and he blinks quickly in shock as your legs then slip into the waves inch by inch.

A noise exits the back of his throat, and John’s mouth moves in serious question. “What are you doing? Fucking hell, would you just stay still and let me have a look at you—”

Arms grapple around his waist, and a warm head burrows into his neck. 

You rest against him, body suspended in the water of the deep pool, a merman’s tail swishing to shove you the tiniest bit closer unconsciously. John’s chest bounces with every emotion, but all he does is stop you from sinking by holding you. Your eyes close at the dig of his hands, and, letting the water move the both of you, the smooth scales along your legs feel as if the finest silk. A thumb caressing up and down your spine; breath at the top of your head.

You both say nothing, and it’s a long while before either of you takes any action to leave.

—

When your words could be strung together and not broken every other sentence, you explained all of it, and the hunch you’d strung together in the meantime.

You fiddle with one of John’s rings—the emerald one—as you glance up and speak softly, voice still delicate. The pain still blossomed, but some things needed to be explained.

“I think he killed his wife.” 

By the way John stops massaging the flesh of your neck, letting you rest your head in the crook of where his tail begins and skin ends, you knew he already pieced that together a while ago. Your clothes were still heavy with water, and a puddle had formed around the both of you on the rocks.

“Hm,” is all John says, fixing the position of his lips as he looks away.

He shakes his head, growling out, “You’re not going back up there. Not while he’s still walking the streets.”

You frown, but John glares without any venom. “It wasn’t a question, Love.”

“What will you do,” you whisper, voice hoarse. A brow quirks. “Run after me, John?”

The man stares, not taking it as lightly as you. “If I have to.”

Your breath hitches, hands resting numbly over the ring as John’s fingers once again continue their touching—as if he can rub away the swelling; the damage of the veins. 

“You don’t have legs,” you utter, having to pause in the middle of the sentence to breathe deeply. 

“I’ll crawl,” he grunts.

“The rocks are sharp.”

His face is immobile. “Then I’ll bleed.”

Your mind memorized the stubbornness of his expression—the pull of the crow’s feet beside his eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of a joke in John’s eyes; no lie. Watching him, your face is loose with wonder, and water drips from your temple to connect with those dark navy scales, glinting with the light from the outside sun growing low. 

The ring in your hands is frozen, stopping its turning as your pulse soars.

John licks the corner of his mouth, glancing at the item of gold and green. 

“Keep it,” he mutters, tilting his head to the ring. “More of a use to you.” 

Larger fingers capture yours, and in one deft motion, the elegant item is slipped onto your digit, sitting comfortably as if made just for you. 

John shrugs. “The rest of ‘em, too, if you want the damn things.” His blues card over the view of your hand, and imagines fingers filled with every bit of gold and silver obtainable to him, brought up from the ocean just to sit pretty atop your flesh. Necklaces, bracelets, belts, and accessories; the things he’d seen from far distant waters. 

Oh, but they’d pale in comparison to how you would wear them. 

A muse to a song. A painter to a portrait. 

A women to the water.

He’d seen your latest sketches—you’d brought them down to him here—and when you were exploring this cave, he had taken a peak. Unlike him, yes, but there was a pull to it, that parchment bound by leather. He’d not seen anything like it, and as he had watched you work on occasion, he was entranced as he’d listened to you explain it. You’d told him that you could even manipulate color, and that had left his eyes widening in awe.

You were incredible, and when he saw his own likeness littering page after page, John had been unable to take his eyes off of you. A silent appreciation—a voiceless devotion. He’d never been…captured like this, so to speak. A mirror image. Details he didn’t even know himself, and yet there they were. 

Beauty marks across his cheeks and nose, the scars that littered his flesh that he’d all but forgotten about, the list was endless. 

But he looks at you now, and he can understand why there’s a draw to immortalize the mortal. 

His fingers stay at yours, and they brush skin as they dip along your hand, falling to your wrist. You stare up into his eyes, he stares down into yours. There’s little air to be taken in between the two of you. 

“John,” you utter, blue gaze stuck to your lips. 

He hums, tilting his head, his body looming over yours like a shadow. By the time his face is so near to yours, you don’t want to fight it, you don’t want to think about the strangeness of this predicament you’ve found yourself in—a creature living in the cliffs, handsome and half-inhuman.

When smooth lips brush over yours, and your eyelashes begin to flutter, the shouts from outside break whatever spell had just started weaving itself. 

Head snapping up, John’s body tenses as you push upward quickly. Attention slashing to the cave entrance, it’s not long before you realize what’s going on with a sharp breath and a leap to your pulse. 

The smash of something connecting to rocks echoes like a feral killing song. Yells. Yowls. 

“John,” you say hurriedly, flinching from the pain in your throat. Your eyes dart to his tension-ridden form, his arms wrapping above your body. “You need to run,” you choke out. “Go! Quickly!”

You only get a glance, and the clench of his jaw is as stubborn as it always is. Your brain already knows it’s fruitless. He won’t leave you here alone.

“They’ll kill you!” Your hands push at his chest, finger grasping at the bristle of hair to try and shove at an iron will. 

“Stay under me,” John mutters, voice low and nothing more than a chilled order. Yet, even he knows there’s little that he’d be able to do. His eyes flashed to every trinket and bauble he had collected, the new ones he’d yet to show to you, but there was few in the way of weapons. A dagger or two from a trench, a sword from under a ship—a spearhead. All too far away and rusted for it to even matter. 

There was a sharp feeling in John’s chest. A need. An oath that he gave to himself the moment he’d seen the way your little stick could breathe his image onto a sheet made of fibers. 

He was to watch over you whenever you were in his sights, and that had extended itself to gliding through the water as he watched you climb and grunt your way to his cave; a careful eye that he had no need to tell you about. That was just how he was. 

“John!” You try to bark again, growing desperate. 

Yet, it was already too late, and the merman hadn’t shifted even an inch before Noah, Otto, and the Librarian burst through the entrance like bats from hell.  They hold all manner of weapons, though the more you blink in a panic, the less afraid of them you seem, at the very least, the older man and the woman.

Otto held a cut-up and dented club, nothing more than something you’d keep for a home invasion beside the bed—the Librarian, a heavy book that seemed to contain every bit of information available to the world, so large it strained in her hands. Noah, though, was a different story. 

He had a sharp, long knife and eyes that could cut flesh by themselves. 

Half of Mr. Moore’s face was sliced up, cuts leaking blood to the ground—skin hanging and an eye completely poked with glass; shards in its gentle makeup. 

You swallow saliva and stutter through a shaking breath, and John’s glare could burn cities as he feels it reverberating against him. 

“There!” Noah shouts, balking closer. “See! I knew it was here—seducing the next woman to take to the ocean!” 

Your wide eyes try to take it all in, hands slapping the ground sending droplets of collected water flying. John’s face hones in, digging in like how the glass from your brush container had into Noah’s visage, and, somehow, you think that dead stare can cause more damage. Grasping the merman’s waist, you attempt and silently urge him to go. 

“Girl!” Otto calls quickly, eyes darting from you to John and back. Even if you could yell, you’re not sure you would. You wouldn’t even know what to say. “Get away from it!”

“I’d put that down,” John grunts to Noah, disregarding the old man and the librarian entirely. He clenches his jaw. “‘Fore you end up hurting yourself. Leave.”

“Otto,” you start, glancing at the woman beside your friend who looked like she was about to pass out when John had started to speak. The man in question’s face pulls, wrinkles thinning. “You have to listen to me, please, it’s not how Mr. Moore told you—”

“It speaks!” Noah barks, pointing his knife harder at John. “Freak of nature, it already has its hold on her.”

“Oh my,” the Librarian gasps. “Noah, it’s horrible—look at the tail.”

Your eyes flare with rage as John doesn’t react.

“Hey!” You shout, but instantly slap your free hand to your throat, coughing raggedly until your spine hunches. The merman brings you closer, but you’re already pushing until you’re on your feet, stumbling for a moment as John gives you a sharp look.

“You watch your bloody mouth,” you grid out, glaring, whipping your hands to get rid of the water droplets. Noah licks his lips as John grabs onto the back of your knee, fingers resting firmly. Sending a look down to him, your shoulders loosen at the expression he levels. You can almost hear the words.

 Steady. Keep your head on.

Though, a slash of silent pride made your heart stutter a small bit.

Your eyes glint. “Drop your weapons,” your sentence is crackling but nonetheless sharp. “Leave. John is innocent—he told me all of it.” You turn to Otto. “Mr. Moore attacked me in my shop, I smashed a glass container into his head so he would release me.” Otto tenses, club getting strangled by his fingers. 

“Noah killed Eleanor,” you breathe, John’s grip pulling a bit tighter as if sensing something you have yet to see. Noah shifts quickly, boots squeaking along the rock as he growls. 

“Absurd—!”

“He pushed her over the rocks and blamed John when he saw him bringing back her body,” you interrupt as fast as you can, pain bouncing off your throat. “You all saw it on the shore, the lie was simple enough for a man like him. Saying she drowned to a creature.”

It didn’t surprise you that John was quiet, that he was studying more the stance of men instead of talking or trying to defend himself. While he could be hard-headed and stiff, he was never dull—he never missed ques. So when Noah launched himself at you, Otto and the Librarian more confused and concerned than anything, there was only a heavy push on the back of your knee that left you buckling with a gasp, and then the explosion of water as John sent you both quickly to the water.

Hands whipping to snare around the merman’s shoulders, you’re only able to get a quick breath in before you’re completely enveloped in water, with John’s hand setting itself over your mouth just in case. The sudden rush is comparable to a heavy wind, yet far more cold and nearly like a slap to the back of your spine. 

You both disappear into the deep with a spray, Noah’s muffled yells of terror seen far above near the surface, arms captured by the Librarian and Otto—held at his sides. There’s a flash of those dark eyes, horrible things, and then John’s fins hide the rest as they slash through the water. 

When you both resurface, retreating far back near the watery entrance of the cave, John keeps you firmly behind him, your arms around his waist as you gasp for air. He keeps his head slightly turned to the side—always having you in the corner of his vision. Above the spread of his shoulders, you peek softly, legs suspended below. 

“Lier!” Noah screams, face contorted. “She’s lying!”

You look at Otto and see the grim way he’s already looking back, struggling to keep the younger individual from breaking free. He was sensical, but stubborn in his ways. Otto had a choice just as the librarian did—believe a woman who’d been here a year or someone they’d known nearly their entire lives.

“Noah,” Otto grunts, gritting his teeth. “Breathe, boy! Stop spitting, let her speak—”

The knife in Noah’s hands slashes the air, and suddenly there’s a yell from the librarian and a spray of blood. 

“Otto!” You scream, fingers flinching. 

The old man stumbles, hoarsely crying out as he grasps at his neck. Your eyes widen, mouth ajar as John pushes his hand into your head, shoving it into the back of his hair as he watches blankly, eyes glinting with a deadly hate. 

“Don’t move,” he utters quickly, sternly, to you as your breath breaks, mouth slack to stare at nothing. Scales skate your legs, great kelp-like fins curling your ankle. “Keep still. Focus on my words, Love.” Under his breath is a tight, “Fuck!”

John speaks above the gargling—the spillage of blood to stone. He mutters through the screams of the Librarian as Noah slips trying to run to the entrance, scrambling with bulging eyes. 

“Don’t look,” John says to you lowly, shifting his body as he keeps your face hidden away and let him hold you like a corpse to the earth. The sounds…oh, the sounds were horrible. 

But the man holding you tries very hard to hide them.

Your body quivers violently as the slam of a body hits the ground, the frantic calling of the woman still here with the both of you; the loud calls from the fleeing murder outside the walls.

“That’s it,” John’s fast lips are on the top of your head, muttering and trying to make his voice as even as possible. “That’s it, then. Doing good, don’t move until I say so, alright?”

When you don’t answer, only shoving your visage deeper into his neck, his spine-breaking-hold squeezes once, and his pounding heart bounces opposite yours. You don’t have to say you know him to understand that he’s only holding onto a thread of good manners, and that was certainly only for our own sake.

Otto was dead.

John leads you out, the gold and emerald of your ring glinting in the moonlight as he holds your body to his, the powerful make of his tail doing the work as it shines in the water. He leaves you outside, where the still running form of Noah is visible, yet the only person noticing is John himself. Your hands are so shaky that it would be impossible to hold your sketchbook, let alone a pencil. 

John takes one of them as Mr. Moore gets too close to the shoreline, slipping and getting his foot caught in between two stones. He panics, yelling loudly, as water is lapping up to his knee.

“Hey, hey, you hear me?” John asks, uncaring to the man, as he sets you down softly on a flat rock shelf. Fingers move to sit at your chin, and, through tight sniffles, you make delicate eye contact. He blinks, trying a tight smile—a flash nothing more. “There she is. Good...I need you to listen one last time, yeah? Just like before; don’t look until I say so.” Your face creases lightly, blinking through a haze of senses and horror. Otto was dead. 

The man that brought you out on his boat—the man that cooked you fish and acted as if a guardian to you. His cat, who would take care of her? It seemed a silly thought given the circumstances, but you can’t stop your mind from running. The house, the boat, the cat. The blood. 

“There’s nothing out here that can hurt you,” John grunts, grasping your hands and holding them, letting calluses and scars speak. “So long as I’m here, I won’t let it.” 

He nearly growls out the words. In one movement, he puts your hand to his heart, and your brain latches onto the rhythm as your own rampages in your ears. 

Noah is still screaming, but now it’s for help.

John’s voice lowers as he utters, “Hey,” the man licks his lips, eyes dancing to the side every once and a while. You stare, swallowing down bile. He says as fluidly as possible, keeping constant locked gazes. 

“Stay here. I won’t be long.”

Fingers glide down your neck again, feeling that swelling, and just as you register the kiss that’s leveled to your hand, to that gifted ring, John’s already away; his tail slipping over your flesh, fins gripping, writhing with their film. 

Yet, you have no trouble following his advice. 

The rising screams from Mr. Moore are numb to you, and the following wave of water that swallows him is only accented by the hand that grapples for his neck. 

John always seemed the one for revenge.

—

With the Librarian's newfound cooperation, the story became simple. 

Mr. Moore, distraught over the death of his wife, had finally lost it all when down on the beach with Otto, yourself, and the local Librarian—attacking and killing the old man in response to being so near to where he and his wife always traveled to. Afterward, he’d walked into the sea and had taken his own life. 

The authorities weren’t going to dispute it. 

You sold Otto's house a week after his death, seeing as he’d named you the sole inheritor of his estate and belongings. There was no need for two properties, and sitting in that small place was akin to torture. After all, he’d been doing what he thought was right, and dying for a lie is nothing short of cruel to those left behind who knew the truth. 

Harriet stays in the shop with you, where she’ll probably live out the rest of her nine lives peacefully. She’s quite fond of the fireplace. 

Most days, people find you near the water, and it’s something that wasn’t going to change even after Noah’s body was found in the rocks—freakishly close to where Eleanor’s had been. Some were calling it poetic and you’d have to agree…but for different reasons.

“You shouldn’t be giving me all of these,” you huff months later, sitting on the rock looking out over the water. A large collection of John’s trinkets is piled high in a wrapping of seaweed, shining bright as you mess with your pencil, leaning to stare at him.

John’s lips flicker into a smirk. He hums, content to watch you, from where he rests not an inch away. You lean into him, sighing, as the innumerable glinting rings on your fingers shimmer. 

“Want to,” he grumbles. 

Rolling your eyes, you look back down to your book, three of four replicas of the man’s scale pattern sitting, shaded and duplicated—lifelike. His tail sways with the water, half of it lost below. 

Your hands reach for them now, the scales closest to you, and you lightly poke and prod as John grunts above you, silent but willing in a way that speaks volumes. He’d let no one else touch him like this for the rest of his life—the softness of your fingers and the care on your face more precious than gold. You revered that tail of his; as if it gave over magic like a wishing well. 

Shivering, John’s breath hitches as your exploring moves, pushing lightly at where the top of his hips would be.

Your talent was fascinating to him, just as you were. If you wanted to ‘paint’ him, he’d allow you to do all the studies needed. Not only to give you a distraction….but because he can’t bear to be away from you anymore. It makes him nervous, and that in itself is an incredible feat.

“Where do you come from, John,” your question moves the air, and the man moves to pull your jacket higher up your body to stave off the chill. You glance at him, smiling, before your attention returns to your drawings. Sketching more, John resets his lips and tries not to stare at your face. It was getting harder to deny that pull. 

That near kiss.

“No answer, Love.” You stare as he quirks a lip, voice lowering. “I won’t be going back to distant waters anytime soon.”

John glances down at your sketchbook, seeing every scratch and bend of care. The both of you were strange creatures, perhaps. Unique—made for one another despite the obvious. 

He nods his head to it softly. The water laps at your boots from below, but you care little before John shifts your feet carefully further up with a push from his tail. You chuckle at him breathily, face heating.

“Getting water on you, Love,” he breathes. “New painting soon?” John asks when the silence settles once more, with you shifting your legs to sit under you. He still isn’t sure what painting entails, but you had told him that you would show him soon, so he knows to be patient. But yearning for anything regarding you is ingrained into his mind now—instinct.

“Mhm,” you smile softly, sending a look at your paper and the images. A huff escapes your mouth. “I think I’ll make this one a portrait.”

John blinks, tilting his head slightly. “Portrait? Why’s that?” 

Your lips find his, moving back up in an instant. 

For a second, the man’s surprised eyes pull back; only lowering as he hums moments later, fingers curling up under your chin as he sags. Lids flutter closed, and his tail twitches lightly.

“I have a subject that’s caught my eye.” You mutter into his flesh when you pull back, face burning as deep blues sear your mind, turning it into mush. Your skin tingles as chilled digits trail your chin, dripping water down your healed throat.

John watches, lips parted, as you continue on. 

“And I’d be a fool if I let him swim off.”

The both of you were going to be perfectly fine.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #cod mw22 #mw2 #mw2 2022 #john price cod #john price #captain john price #captain price #cod mw2 #cod john price #john price call of duty #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x you #x fem!reader #cod price #price x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x you #captain price x reader #cod x female reader

[beatrixstonehill2]

"This stupid professor of mine is such a sadist. Of course all the guys in our Health and Wellness class, which is mandatory at my university, are just being instructed to take supplements and get more muscular, maybe grow their cocks a few inches.... All of the girls are getting pumped full of hormones and fertility drugs. Like I get it, getting in the habit of reading our own levels and writing essays on our physical changes is a lot of fun and we're all bonding over it. Plus the guys get some great eye candy watching all of us get massive tits, which we have to show off and discuss in front of the class like science experiments......

Sooo, I totally get why more colleges are doing this. Like it's such a huge ice breaker for the guys to be showing so many people their growing cocks, and us showing our huge breasts. Well, both in the case of trans girls.... But this is so annoying from like a day to day life perspective. The guys have, what, like three to five more inches of cock to worry about? All of us are growing these massive, fat, milky boobs. We can't go anywhere without getting groped or sharked. It's out of control..... And I'm lucky I was just a C-Cup when I got here. Some girls had natural JJs and shit, poor girls' perfect breasts are sagging to their knees, totally destroyed, and they have to stand in front of class discussing how ruined their boobs are.... The guys still find it hot, I guess most dudes really just want to see girls humiliated.

Oh well, two more years, I keep telling myself. I guess we'll need to get reductions or something.... Or invest in wheelbarrows to carry these things around. I'm so over having giant tits already, they're so heavy and sweaty and I lactate everywhere.... but the amount of guys that want to fuck my brains out is kinda nice..... Now if only we were allowed to have birth control and I wasn't going to be dumping twenty some kids on my parents before leaving college. Oh well, can't have everything I guess..."

#enormous breasts #breast expansion #be #breeding k1nk #huge titts

[satorusluver]

Dating Nanami Kento

Minors DNI

Word count: 500 ish

Tags: smut, fem reader, masturbation, oral (m receiving)

Nanami Kento has a decently high sex drive, you just wouldn't know it for a long time because he's such a gentleman about it. He won't kiss you on the first date, except for a peck on the cheek. Even when the kisses start to get heated one night a few dates in, he still won't touch you anywhere intimate, definitely no groping. He won't mention anything about you two sleeping together since he's waiting for you to bring it up when you're ready.

Of course that doesn't mean he's not sporting a raging hard-on from you wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your breasts up against his chest when you kiss him, because he definitely is. And it also doesn't mean he's not fisting his cock to the thought of you as soon as he gets home from your date, needing to let all that built-up tension out (although not before he sends you a quick text that he got home safe and had a great time with you ❤️).

He's never asked you to send nudes, he wouldn't want you to think he only wants you for your body, but that doesn't mean he's not jerking his almost painfully hard cock to one of the selfies you sent him that he thinks you look especially beautiful in. His hand is a blur over his thick girth as he pumps a fat load of cum onto a paper towel with a low groan of your name while he looks into your eyes on his phone screen. He looks incredible when he cums too -leaned over slightly, his blonde hair falling forward, his face flushing and his mouth hanging open, the hard muscles of his stomach clenching and flexing as his orgasm peaks and his cock pulses with the force of all that hot, thick semen shooting through it.

He'd be ashamed to admit how often he cums to the sight of your face alone, or how one time his cum shot out a little farther than he thought it would and landed on his phone, covering your selfie in it, and now he secretly fantasizes about getting to cover your gorgeous face with his load in real life. You'd never be able to guess any of this from your new boyfriend's overly courteous behavior, but when you offer to go down on him a couple of weeks later, Kento's brain short circuits for several seconds before he manages to sputter out a "o-only if you want to, darling."

And he tries so hard to stay reserved, but the moment you wrap your lips around the swollen tip of his dick and your warm, wet mouth envelopes him, he's throwing his head back and hissing out a soft "fuck!" And when those beautiful eyes of yours look up at him while your mouth is stuffed full of his fat cock, he knows he's absolutely done for.

#kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami imagine #kento nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #jjk #nanami fanfic #nanami kento #nanami jjk #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami fic #kento x reader #kento x you #jjk fic

[mellowwillowy]

𝐃𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐬 NSFW

⤷ Synopsis: Your boyfriend loves it when you show him that stupid face of yours, cum drunk as he fucks you raw nonstop, and perhaps the imaginary love that forms in your gaze.

⤷ warnings — hints of manipulative behavior, oral receiving and giving, overstimulation, GN

Yan! Boyfriend is the nicest boyfriend you will ever have! He is a prodigy so he is naturally great in everything that will help you, including fucking you dumb until you feel like nothing but his cocksleeve.

"You like it when I angle my hips this way right?" Your boyfriend teased you as he rammed your insides, his tip hitting that one spot at a steady pace. You could not bring yourself to word an answer, all you could do was to be vocal with your moans.

"Pukuku, you really are adorable," Blue licked your tear-stained cheek upward, tasting the saltiness in your tears, "fucked dumb now? I still have a lot stored in me." You did not doubt his words, this was nothing but a 1/3 of what he could really do to you.

You complained, arms flailing around to push him off from you, legs thrashing against him and mouth blurting out curses at him. He just wouldn't budge, if anything, his erection did not soften up despite the ejaculation he had earlier inside of you.

"Still have shit tons of cum unloaded for you hun. Don't pass out on me just yet." He flashed you a toothy grin as he mouthed your breast, sucking it like a baby. His teeth occasionally grazed your perked-up nipples while his tongue circled your areola. "My favorite milkers, aren't you?"

He started out slow and steady again, his hand feeling your throbbing sex again, offering you another relish of pleasure as your body still trembled from your previous orgasm. "Hmm~ always ready for me to take you aren’t you?" He pulled himself out and shifted his mouth into your sex, tongue working itself skillfully, fingers squelching inside your cum-filled hole. He relishes in how your thighs squeezed his face, hips still instinctively bucking toward his face, "There there, eager aren't you?" he spreaded your thigh open with one of his hands, "Patience, love."

Your arousal was built to the brim again, evident by how you were squirming beneath him, your consciousness at his mercy now. "Ohh, it must have felt so good, to have my tongue edging you to the point you are brimming with tears honey!" You were not sure whether he was demeaning you or being attentive, he had always been an enigma in your eyes.

Even so, you managed to question him, "Is that, khk- s'posed to b-be degrading me?" Blue looked at you doe-eyed, cocking his head to the side, "You think so dear?" Was that supposed to guilt trip you again? You clenched your jaw as you tried to contain your moans, unbothered to answer him. It didn't go unnoticed as he started to pick up his pace, fingers, and tongue diligently working even harder to coax more noises out of you. You have always had the best voice in his opinion after all. "Pretty things with pretty voices shouldn't be this silent yeah?"

You could hear how he might actually slurp your bodily fluids like a thirsty beast, "Cum" His fingers pumped in and out of your hole fast and steady now, "Come on, cum for me yeah?" God, just how was he so skillful with his mouth and hand? Blue's attack did not falter, at least not until he had you creamed in his mouth, swallowing everything you had for him in a large gulp. The way his Adam's apple bobbed was so arousing to watch, especially how your fluid was all over his lip. Blue dragged his finger and tongue to make sure none of it go to waste, sucking his cum-coated fingers clean.

"Tasty aren't you? You are just so addicting honey." His eyes watched your panting figure, overstimulated again after rounds of orgasms. You wanted to spit at his words, to do just anything. You tapped your lip, "Mouth," Blue raised one of his eyebrows, "I want a taste of you, hun." Blue smirked, his pearl-white teeth visible as he gave his cock a few pumps before lining it in front of your lip, "You sure honey? I might rut into your mouth like a rabbit in heat."

You grinned at him, "Anything for my bunny in heat."

You knew oral would not be enough to save you from another round of being pounded raw but at the very least you could have a taste of what was overflowing inside you ♥

#Blue the Boyfriend #LIfE Project #yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere works #yandere smut #yandere writing #reader insert #x reader #oc #x gn reader

[moronkombat]

Can you write mk1 men with a pregnant reader who wants to have sex? What are their reactions, are they down for it or not.

spoiler alert, they're all okay with it tw: pregnancy, afab anatomy

Definitely not opposed to it. Reiko's reaction is...intrigued. Typically, sex is a battle in itself with bites and bruises a natural consequence. However, sex with his pregnant partner will look a bit more subdued in terms of physical marking. Expect more hair pulling than usual

Kenshi is initially surprised by this request but he is, ultimately, rather happy to oblige with such a task. Hands will roam your flesh so thoughtful and tender, he wants to feel every inch of you. And so, he will. He spends hours just feeling your body before even oh so carefully filling you with his cock. Does he mean to tease you like this? Of course

Syzoth would be the one to initiate sex during your pregnancy. He finds you terribly attractive when filled with his child. He simply cannot keep himself away from you. A secret he keeps rather close is that he finds you the most beautiful when you are rounded out by his offspring. If he could keep you pregnant forever, he would

Havik is not one to refuse sex with his partner. You being pregnant does not stop him, in fact, it encourages him. Absolutely obsessed with glorifying all the changes your body is going through. He's very descriptive when detailing the swell of breasts, the curve of your hips and, of course, the growth of your stomach. He becomes very possessive with your growing stomach during sex

Wouldn't deny you the pleasure that is sex. It is a natural and primal desire, after all. Rain is happy to have sex with his partner at any time and any place. He quite enjoys the look of you bouncing on his cock while heavy and milk filled breasts wave at him

Knowing that you're pregnant with his child is enough to turn a man like Shang Tsung on. He would not refuse taking you to the bedroom and absolutely making a mess out of your wet and begging pussy. Will fondle your breasts and chuckle as he watches oh so sweet milk drip drip drop

Quan Chi would want to massage your body before fully devouring you. He wants to feel your flesh bend and mold under his fingers. He takes quite the time on the plump of your ass. He is quite fond of your shapely and "motherly" hips

Tomas is actually quite the pervert when his partner is pregnant. Eyes linger upon your curves, you look so beautiful like this. Thoughts most impure overwhelm him and he is practically jumping for joy when you approach him for sex. He's very eager and doesn't want it to end. Once Tomas gets a taste of having sex when you're pregnant, he will not give it up

Raiden is always enthusiastic in regards to satisfying his partner's needs. Would gladly rock your world with the power of thunder until you can barely think. Your body oh so numb after he's done with you. Don't worry, though, Raiden is great with the tenderly aftercare

This man has just been waiting for the chance to absolutely ravage your pregnant body. He is exceptionally proud of himself for getting you pregnant and is invigorated by your changing body. Your growing stomach is a perfect reminder of just how potent he is and Kung Lao quite gets off on that

He's nervous, afraid he'll harm you or the baby. Though, Bi-Han would be a liar if he thought you didn't look attractive when pregnant. Seeing you carrying his child is intoxicating, his head is spinning. When having sex with you, his hand is clutching and resting on your stomach and you swear you can feel him shuttering and trembling with ecstasy just from that

Shao is always wanting to have sex with his partner. Pregnant or not, he will completely envelop you with carnal passion. Will tease you with playful words about how you'll give him many strong sons and that he'll keep pumping you full of his legacy

Johnny would find it fun. He would playfully refer to you as his "baby mama" during foreplay. Very touchy and feeling all of you up. When fucking you, he is quite drawn to your breasts and will whistle while commenting on their size

Not opposed to it at all. Liu Kang is happy to make his partner feel good and, let's be honest, he is feeling good too. He will be much more tender during sex, pampering you and giving you heavenly aftercare

Kuai Liang is very practical. He well aware of how libido increases during the course of pregnancy and is expecting you to eventually come to him all needy and wanting. A man such as Kuai Liang is always happy to indulge his partner in shared desires

Very hesitant. Baraka is aware that he has the tendency to lose control when having sex and he is worried he may harm you and the baby. With some tender reassurance, he will give in. Really tries to restrain himself, holding back and straining to let loose. Should you allow this, well, it will certainly be a long night

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat fanworks #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #bi han x reader #kuai liang x reader #tomas x reader #liu kang x reader #johnny cage x reader #shao kahn x reader #kung lao x reader #raiden x reader #shang tsung x reader #quan chi x reader #rain x reader #havik x reader #kenshi x reader #syzoth x reader #reiko x reader #tw: pregnancy

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 22: Bondage - Poly!Marauders

Summary: Trying something new, you trusted your boyfriends as they restrained you in the middle of an empty classroom

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, bondage, restraints with ropes, eyemask, anonymous sex, mouth gag, dom/sub, edging, nearly caught, free-use (kinda), creampie, subspace, aftercare

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

It had taken nearly half an hour to set up. James undressed you slowly, chilling you to the bone as the emptied classroom did little to provide warmth. Remus positioned your body to allow Sirius to begin intricately moving his wand, directing the rope into unique knots he’d been practising for today.

They used a rickety old desk with numerous burn marks from past students' experiments having gone wrong on the top, but this was the base for where you would be leaning your weight. Your chest was pushed over the surface, so you were bent over. Each of your ankles was tied to the floor, giving no space to move from how your legs are spread, giving the boys the perfect view of your intimate areas. Your arms are awkwardly positioned behind your back and then the thick rope slithered and wound around your body, delicately between your breasts so they both are perked until you are utterly and thoroughly strapped to the desk with no means of escape.

Despite the odd angle and the sensation of the rope, it was surprisingly comfortable, especially as your head was left to dangle off the edge of the desk and had free movement.

“How’s this position feeling?” James asked, squatting down so that you could look him in his hazel eyes.

“It’s good, Sirius did a great job”, you respond with a grin and, earning a satisfied whoop from Sirius.

“Good. Now tell me what you need to do if you want to use your safeword”, James asked with caution, lacing his tone.

“Shake my head or tap my fingers three times”.

“Good girl”, Sirius praises from where he stood out of your line of vision, but you could feel the journey his fingers were taking down your spine, between the ropes. “Now, it’s time to say bye-bye”.

This was all part of the plan. First, they placed a ball gag into your mouth, Remus doing so delicately before kissing your temple and easing the silk eye mask to cover your vision. All you were left to depend on was your hearing as you listened to them walking away and out the door.

Alone, you attempted to try and move, testing the restraints, and all it did was tighten around your body, the rough material burning slightly from the friction. Everything seemed to be much louder, from the creaking of the ropes to your own breathing; it was all emphasised as you tried to listen for the door opening again, but you were unsure who it would be. This was the idea for today's antics, somewhat anonymous sex but with your boyfriends, bound and gagged, for them to come and touch and fuck without getting caught.

It was exhilarating, blood pumping with adrenaline, which helped to keep you warm as you waited patiently, a pulse forming between your thighs for what was about to happen.

The door creaking open was your first sign of someone else in the room. You stopped breathing to try and listen more closely to the steps, but you could not decipher who had walked through the door. The ropes strained more as you attempted to shift your position, to prepare for what was to come, and already forgetting how thoroughly you were tied down, so all you managed to do was stay entirely still.

The zipper unfastened was almost deafening with how loudly it echoed around the classroom; all you could tell was that whoever it was was directly behind you. He did not touch you with his hands; the first touch from his body was the tip of whoever's cock had just been released from the confines of his trousers.

Your breath hitched as he swiped his hardness up and down your folds, adding extra pressure onto your clit that had your body tightening in tension and then relaxing with the pleasure that came from the stimulation. The lewd sound of your wetness being rubbed against had the tips of your ears warming, but you couldn’t contemplate the embarrassment as you slowly were penetrated.

You gasped, but it was muffled by the round plastic ball shoved in your mouth, holding your tongue to the bottom of your mouth and making saliva challenging to swallow that it was already beginning to dribble down your chin. It was blissful, that first stretch and burn that came with it, the wider your hole became, clasping around the cock like it was your body's lifeline.

The desk creaks under the weight of the movement of your body, especially as more warmth crowds your lower back as your boyfriend begins to lean their weight over you, pressing their hands into the desk on either side of your hips. Using that as leverage, he began to fuck you with hard, deep strokes.

Your head fell forward, fully dangling off of the edge. The entire experience was disorientating, not knowing which cock was inside of you. Either way, you loved it; even the ache building in your shoulders from the awkward angles of your arms couldn’t fault the overwhelming pleasure through your body.

Your moans increased in pitch, the fire in your abdomen blazing as he kept fucking and fucking until you thought it couldn’t feel any better; the urge to scream out with your orgasm was overwhelming. Until that is, the very thing giving you pleasure decides to vacate its warm home as the cock pulls out completely. Your cunt fluttered as you groaned with agony and frustration as the orgasm disappeared before reaching its full potential.

Only after you had calmed enough to stop whining that the cock fucked into you again, chasing their pleasure until their thrusts halted and warmth filled deep inside your cunt as their cum spurted into you. They stayed inside of you until their cock had softened. You wish you could have seen them, surprised they hadn’t even made a noise through it all, as each of your boyfriends was usually quite vocal as they ejaculated.

Whoever it was, leaves without so much as a ‘thanks for a good fuck’, as all you're left with is the obscene drip of the cum oozing out of your vagina and onto the stone floor. It matches the same noise of the saliva dripping down your chin and onto the floor, creating a tiny puddle.

The door opens and closes again, the similar steps as before, a zipper and then a cock pushing in. You gasped just as lewdly as before, especially as your arms were tugged by whoever was fucking you, using your roped hands as something to hold onto as he fucked.

You were once again lost in pleasure. Anonymous sex with one of your boyfriends, bound, gagged, edged with each orgasm that threatened to become a reality. You were so close to cumming twice, your clit swollen and throbbing, and yet, you had to continue the endurance of not being able to cum. He would simply pull his cock out, take a step back and then continue once you’d calmed down enough.

You were close to begging, not that they would be able to understand what you were moaning about around the gag ball.

Just as the thrusting increased in strength, cock smacking into your cervix with the power behind it, did the door suddenly burst open.

“Someone is coming!” You could not tell who had spoken as you felt dizzy and fuzzy through the edging and bondage play. All you knew was that the pleasure had disappeared, and a hand was cupping your cheek. “I’m going to cover you in the invisibility cloak, but you need to stay quiet for us”.

The weight and warmth of the cloak were welcomed, giving you something to ground you in the moment, bringing you back to what was happening and moving past just throughs of cock and orgasms. Shit, you thought, someone was close to catching you all. Of course, this was all the thrill that came with fucking in a somewhat public space, but the realities of it had dread pooling in your stomach uneasily. Especially as you had no means of escape, thoroughly stuck in the position with no way out, or even seeing where anyone else was.

“Boys? What are you doing here?” came the lovely, soft voice of your best friend, Lily.

“Why are you snooping around, Evans? Can’t three boys be revising without any interruptions?” James responded sarcastically from where he stood in front of you from the sounds of it.

“You revising… in a dusty old classroom… You really make everything sound suspicious without even trying. And anyway, I was just on my rounds as head girl, and I spotted you hiding outside the door; of course, I’m going to follow and-” Lily pauses, taking a moment to think before asking with accusation thick in her voice. “Where is she?”

“Where is who?” Sirius asks, from bedside James.

“You know who I’m asking about, Sirius. Where you three are, she usually is, so where is she?” Lily asks, obviously referring to your whereabouts.

“I don’t know who you are talking about. Do you know who she’s talking about, Prongs?” Sirius asks James casually with a hint of arrogance.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Hello? Anyone else in here?” James shouts around the room, obviously not getting a response and earning a very sincere eye-roll from Lily. “Nope, not in here. Maybe whoever it is that you’re looking for is in the common room”.

Lily gives an exacerbated sigh, “Whatever, I won’t ask any more questions. Just make sure whatever it is you’re doing doesn’t lose us any house points”.

“Nothing like that is happening, I promise you that, Lily”, Remus answers, stepping forward and gently easing Lily out of the room. A few dreadful minutes pass before the warmth of the cloak disappears, and you’re nuzzling into a palm cupping your face. “Are you ok?” Remus asks gently, moving both hands to your face and tenderly stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

You nod your head as you answer that you are ok. “Good. Do you want to continue?” Once more, you’re nodding your head, yes. You mewl slightly as Remus’ hands leave the comfort of your face, and then two footsteps are heard leaving the door.

You’re left in the room with one of them, but once more, you’re unsure who it was that was circling around your body. Two fingers then swiped down your pussy, making you jolt in your restraints as they push in. You’re drenched from the side of it, and for once, they don’t stop until you orgasm, curling into that beautiful, sensitive spot within.

You were shivering through the orgasm, eyes clenching tightly closed, even though you were still covered in the eye mask. The waves of pleasure continued as a cock was replacing the fingers; from the size and feel of it, it was the same person as before you’d been interrupted by Lily.

He continued the pace as fiercely as before, your body now humming with pleasure and adrenaline and slipping further into the submissive space you enjoyed so much. Especially as you were restrained and putting your complete trust in your three boyfriends, it was easy to feel more vulnerable and submissive like this.

You came again as your boyfriend also finished, his hot seed joining the previous man as your walls milked him of every single drop in tight, clenching waves of pleasure.

By the third person, your body is past aching and is not hurting. Pins and needles run up and down your limbs, the rough rope is rubbing against your delicate skin, and you're slightly light-headed due to the position your head is hanging.

The cock filled you completely, lubed by your juices and two other men as it entered you to the brim. Your pussy is throbbing and slightly overstimulated from the orgasms and fucking. The moans are hoarse, jaw aching just as badly as your restrained limbs from being kept open with the ball gag. Your eyemask was damp around the yes from where you’d cried in euphoria. It was all so fucking good but verging on being too much.

With the constant stimulation from whoever was fucking your pussy, it felt like the pulses of your orgasm didn’t want to settle, so you were left with that heightened sensation. But, then, a firm hand was holding yours behind your back, which was an odd sensation due to the pins and needles, but it was your only sign that you were able to be full once more as he breathed out a heavy sigh and came.

The hand he’s holding is released as he eases himself out of you carefully, zipping himself up before whistling to notify the others who enter immediately.

The eye mask is removed first by Sirius, who is now kneeling in front of you. Your eyes are closed, but wetness lines the lashes, which he quickly wipes, cradling your face so he can look at you properly.

“Hey, sweetheart, you with us?” The way he talked so gently to you made your heart beating harder with love, helping you draw your tension away from the pain and to him. Nodding your head, he praised you, delicately kissing the tip of your nose. “You did so good for us; we’re so proud of you. We’re just going to remove your gag and the ropes. We’ll be as careful as we can”.

Nodding your head in understanding, Sirius unbuckles the gag from between your lips, spit coating the plastic. He carefully massages your jaw, helping you to shut it, and you now realise just how dry your throat was as you take a second to try and coat your mouth and swallow a few times to relieve the burn. With the back of his sleeve, Sirius cleans your mouth, chin and throat of any spit that had dribbled out.

Remus and James ease the ropes from your body, starting with your arms. You shout out in pain at feeling the material's roughness, and even though it was nice to have movement back, your joints and muscles were aching, so any movement caused pain. Remus thankfully used his significantly warm hands to massage over the soreness.

“Shh, I know it hurts; we’re going to take you to the prefects bathroom and use the bath in there”, Sirius informs you, still cradling your face and talking through the movements.

As the last of the rope from your ankles is unbound, you were scared you’d roll off the desk and onto the floor and for a second, it felt like you were. But, it was actually Remus who had been tilting your body so that he could scoop you into his arms, your head resting tiredly on his shoulders, ignoring the fact that cum was still seeping out of your hole and onto his arm.

“Throw the cloak over us, will you Padfoot?” Remus asks Sirius, who does as instructed.

“I want to sleep”, you whisper, voice breaking with the effort in doing so.

“You can sleep, we’ll look after you”, Remus reassured.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders smut #james potter x reader #james potter smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #harry potter smut #mine* #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[thebigbadbatswife]

Day 12 - Somnophilia

Pairing - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Warnings - 18+ content, if you're under 18 leave immediately! Consenual somnophilia, off screen negotiation, fluff, softdom!Bruce Wayne, masturbation, praise kink, cockwarming.

Summary - Bruce makes your dreams come true.

It was late. Again. So late that it was early as Bruce quietly made his way through the manor and up to the master bedroom. The door to the bedroom had been left ajar and light spilled out into the dark hallway, making him wonder. Were you still awake? He pushed the door open and entered the room, making sure to close and lock it behind him.

You were laying on your front, fast asleep. You hadn’t pulled the covers over you body beforehand, leaving your completely naked body on display. He had a great view of your ass and there was enough light coming from the lamp on the bedside table that he could see how your lower lips glistened. Had you been touching yourself to the though of him before you had fallen asleep? That, mixed with him drinking in the sight of your naked form, already had blood heading south.

He approached your side of the bed and sat down on the edge, being careful not to wake you. Starting at your ankle he trailed his fingers up your leg, getting closer and closer to your pussy. Stopping just before his fingers could brush against you there, he moved his hand to your ass, groping and massaging the skin there first. You murmured something softly, too quiet for him to actually hear whatever it was. His eyes moved away from your ass and to your pussy. 

You looked absolutely irresistible. So he didn’t even try to resist.

His fingers easily slid through your lips, your walls already starting to squeeze his fingers. He groaned lowly. You were absolutely soaked. It would be so easy for him to slid inside of you with no resistance because of how wet you were. His cock was only half hard, but his grey sweatpants were already extremely uncomfortable. 

He freed his cock from the confines of his pants and kicked them away. Now he was as naked as you. As he stroked himself to fully hardness, with his other hand, he began to slowly rubbed your clitoris. There was a slight hitch in your breathing as he played with it, but no signs that you were anywhere close to waking up. You were deep asleep tonight.

He stroked his cock at the same speed that he was playing with you. He forcefully exhaled through his nose, swallowing his noises down as he grew thick and hard in his hand. Bruce ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting the precum that had been forming at the slit, using it as lubricant and continued to pump his cock.

You had started to moan softly now and your hips rocked slightly at his touch. The moans were mostly muffled by the pillow, but he could still hear them. Had he started to influence your dreams now? Were you dreaming of him touching you? Whatever you were dreaming about, mixed with him touching you, you were only getting wetter. Your slick dripping out of you, coating your lips and his hand. You were dripping so much that you were now starting to stain the sheets. Not that he cared. He had more than enough money to replace them as needed.

He pulled his fingers from you, chuckling softly at your small whine. Asleep, but still willing to complain when he stopped pleasuring you. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and breathed in deeply, inhaling your scent, before he started to lick them clean. He groaned at your taste. Your scent and taste went straight to his cock. If he was more patient tonight he would take the time to eat you out, really ruin the sheets and cover the top half of his body in your slick.

But he wasn’t being patient tonight.

Instead he grabbed your hips and moved you until you were sprawled out on your back. The movement had your breasts bouncing. Your pussy was on display even more now, looking absolutely delectable. He swallowed thickly. 

Bruce draped his body over yours. He caught your earlobe between his teeth, gently tugging on it, gauging your reaction. You sighed softly, murmuring his name. He smiled. You were still asleep. Though he doubted that would last for much longer.

“I’m here, baby,” he muttered, “I’m here. I’m going to wake you up in the best way.” 

His lips skimmed across your skin, pressing kisses here and there. You smelled like your favourite shower gel. He sat up and lifted your hips up off of the bed, wrapping your legs around his hips. He pushed the head of his cock between your lips, but didn’t breach you just yet. He lingered, raking his eyes down your body. You were so incredibly sexy and gorgeous and he had no idea how he had got this lucky. 

He finally started to slowly push inside of you, stopping once only his head was inside. He took a deep breath. Fuck. He was more wound up than he had thought he was and your walls already squeezing the head of his cock wasn’t helping as he did his best to hold himself back instead of just ramming into you. After all he didn’t want to hurt you or startle you. Taking a couple more deep breaths he continued entering you.

Inch by inch his cock dragged against the inside of your walls. You whimpered and moaned, your brow creasing. He couldn’t quite believe that you were still asleep. You really were in deep tonight. He kept his thrusts slow, making sure to drag every inch, every vein up against that sweet spot inside of you. You were starting to get more vocal, your breathing picking up and eyelids fluttering. You were getting close to waking up. Now it was a question of whether he could get you to orgasm before you did.

He pressed his thumb to your clitoris, rubbing it to the same rhythm to his thrusts. Your hips started to move with him, like you were urging him to start moving faster. So he did. Your orgasm gushed around his cock and he fucked you through it. You were definitely awake now, looking up at him through your eyelashes, still dazed. He leaned forward, almost folding you into half, to capture your lips with his. You moaned into the kiss, your legs locking around his hips and your fingers finding their way into his hair.

“I’m home,” he murmured. 

Your brow creased again and you swallowed thickly as you struggled to find the words, your brain still waking up. He kept his thrusts shallow, barely coming out of you before bottoming out again.

“I can… I can see that,” you replied. He gave a particularly hard thrust, making your eyes roll back and your back arched as you whimpered.

Bruce set a more brutal pace, now that you were awake, chasing after his own pleasure. Your nails began to dig into the meat of his back and your legs locked around his hips, bringing him closer to you.

"Such a good girl,” he growled, “Letting me fuck you whenever I want. You’re so good to me.” 

“Yes,” you gasped. You were still struggling to string sentences together, your brain overwhelmed from waking up in the midst of pleasure. “Oh Bruce!”

His kisses had become sloppy and his rhythm erratic. He felt his orgasm quickly approaching. One. Two. Three more pumps of his cock and he was burying himself as deep as he could get, releasing deep inside of you. He collapsed against you, catching himself on his forearms so that he wouldn’t crush you. He kissed your neck, making his way up to your jaw, cheek and finally your lips. You sighed softly, parting your lips to let his tongue slip inside of your mouth. Your legs were still wrapped around him, keeping him inside of you, exactly where you wanted him to stay. Despite being soft, he rolled his hips enjoying the way you groaned.

“Thank you,” you murmured before kissing him again. “Better than I thought it was going to be.”

“You were dreaming about me,” he stated.

“When aren’t I dreaming about you?” That was true. There had been plenty of times in the past when he had come to bed or woken up in the night to you moaning his name in your sleep. Plenty of times when Bruce had wanted to wake you up with his cock deep inside of you, but hadn’t made a move of any of those thoughts because he hadn’t had any idea it was something you were into.

He rolled over, pulling you with him so that you stayed seated on his cock. Like that was where you belonged, what you were made for. You rested your head against his chest, pressing lazy, sleepy kisses to his body. 

The two of you laid like that for a while. He could feel the mixture of both of your fluids dripping out of you and running down his cock, making a mess. A mess that he would worry about later. He didn’t want to move right now and it was clear to him that neither did you.

Instead he closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around your waist, securing you to his chest. Feeling very, very content.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne smut #batman smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #1k #softdom!bruce wayne

[jamespotterismydaddy]

the Birth of Venus

daemon x reader smut

A/N: reader is mentioned to be Valyrain but I don't think I really describe features. This is based off a request here. hope you like it!!

word count: 1,106 words

TW: smut, allusions to possible incest, breeding kink, pussy slapping, pushing down on the tummy hehe

Is this the third or fourth time he’s been exiled? Daemon can’t seem to keep up. His own sweet niece was the cause of it this time. He couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, keep his hands off of her. He heads to Lys this time. He enjoys Lys, mainly taking pleasure from the appearance of Lyseni whores. That’s what draws him to you. You sit in the pleasure house, surrounded by the other girls who all try to look desirable. The madam has you posing as the Birth of Venus. She gave you the honour of portraying the love goddess herself, encircled by the nymphs. His eyes fill with lust at the sight of you. Who better to play as Venus than a girl who looks so inherently… Valyrian. 

“I want her.” He says to your madam as he looks directly at you, his gaze piercing.

“My Lord, I am afraid I am reserved.” You say with a little smirk on your face. You were told to speak these words every time you were asked for until a bid for your virginity is accepted.

“No she’s not.” The madam says quickly. “But she is a virgin… a very expensive one, my prince.” You bristle at the title. A prince?

“No price is too great for such a pretty little nymphet.” He says, dropping a bag of gold coins into her hand.

“I am no nymph. I am Venus.” You say, putting yourself on a pedestal for him.

He looks amused. “I’m sure you are.” He says and holds up a hand for you to take, leading you off your watery throne.

“You are a prince?” You ask innocently.

“The Rogue Prince.” You nearly gasp.

“You’re Daemon Targaryen.”

“Who else would I be?” He holds open a door for you, letting you enter first.

“Some rich Lyseni lord who has enough money to call himself ‘prince’.” You say a bit snippily.

“I can prove it to you, show you my dragon, Caraxes.” He says as he walks up behind you, brushing your hair off your shoulder.

“Is that what you call your cock?” You ask playfully. He laughs.

“You’re quick… for a harlot.” He presses a light kiss to your neck.

“I’m no harlot yet. Not while I am still a maiden.” You whisper.

“I can fix that.” He doesn’t take the time to untie your chemise, he instead tears it down the middle and lets the shreds slip off of you, causing you to gasp. He is clearly pleased by your lack of smallclothes. You can tell by the way his fingers trace around your breasts. “Such a pretty girl. You’re no common Lyseni whore. There’s Valyrian blood in you. I can feel it.” He turns you and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. You gaze up at him. “Tell me of your parents.” 

You shrug. “My mother washes clothes.” 

“And your father?”

You shrug again.

“Hmm…” He hums. The prince clearly thinks that you’re dragonseed. He just is trying to figure out who’s you are, deciding that you are perhaps a little too old to be his.

“Is it a matter of importance, my prince?” You ask, your tone a little too disrespectful for the fact that you are speaking to royalty.

“Should you be speaking to a man who has you, naked in a bedchamber, like that?” He speaks, always with that air of amusement. He enjoys your temper. It’s the same Targaryen temper that he has.

“I have been reserving it for you, your grace.”

He chuckles. “Little seductress.” He grabs you by the chin, gently as first before swiftly tilting your head up and to the side. “Get on the bed.”  You scurry over, quickly lying on the bed. His eyes are dark as he looks over you. He pulls his trousers down slightly so he can pump his cock as he watches you. It makes you nervous, how domineering he is, how… large certain parts of him are. “Don’t be scared. I’m going to make a woman out of you.”

“I can’t imagine, with all that confidence, that some of it isn’t misplaced.” You tease because you can see how he likes it.

“Spread your legs.” Is all that he says in response. You do as he bids and are surprised when a harsh slap comes down between your thighs.

“Ah!” You wince and curl in on yourself.

“I didn’t say to close them.” He says sternly so you spread your legs again and take the following two smacks without complaint. Your eyes are watering at this point. “Not so bratty now, are you?” He gives you one of those wolfish smirks and you pout.

“Are you toying with me or fucking me? It must be hard to get it up at your age.” Now, you’ve given him something to prove. Just after you get the words out, he sheaths himself inside of you, right to the hilt.

“I was going to be gentle with you, Venus, but now I don’t think you deserve it.”

“I didn’t think that dragons were meant to be gentle.” He can see a similar fire burning in your eyes, a twinflame to himself. He brings his lips down to yours for a hungry kiss before he begins to pound into you. It hurts from his size but that only makes it better. You want him, desperately.

“Do I… please you, my prince?” You put on an innocent face for him.

“I think your tight cunt would please any man, zaldrītsos.” He says as he fucks into you ruthlessly.

“zaldrītsos?” You ask him.

“It means you’re my little dragon, my zaldrītsos.” He nibbles at your neck and you whimper, his thrusts continue quickly and deeply. “I’m going to put a baby in you. You’ll carry my heir, Venus.” He places his hand on your tummy. “Right in here.” He presses down and the action pushes you over the edge as you tightly squeeze around him, your peak washing over you in full force. “Fuck.” He murmurs. “So tight.” The way you contract around his cock has him spilling his seed deep inside of you.

He pulls himself out but quickly replaces his cock with his fingers so none of his cum spills out. “Can’t have you wasting my seed now.”

“I’ll have a baby now, my prince?” You look at him from beneath your lashes. You’ve never yearned for someone so. It is like your blood calls for his.

“If I breed you regularly, you will.” He runs his thumb over your lips. “Then… then I think that I just might make you my wife.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

#daemon #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon targeryan #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #hotd #hotd smut

[lucifersimp333]

ADULT CONTENT 18+ ONLY

Brothers Eat Out MC

NSFW

AFAB

Breasts are mentioned

Lucifer

Likes to gaze into your eyes while he's between your legs.

Long, slow, tongue strokes to make you squirm and beg for more

Likes feeling your thighs press against the sides of his head and face

Once in a while he'll very lightly teethe at your clit for extra teasing and stimulation. He also enjoys nibbling on the inside of your thighs.

He likes to curl his fingers in a C shape and slowly pump his fingers against your G spot.

His pointy nose adds extra pleasure ( if ya know what I mean 😉)

Mammon

Loves it when you tug at his white hair while he's sucks on your bud

Will hook his arms around your thighs and pull your legs closer. He wants to feel every inch of you against him

Is a HUGE fan of face sitting. He would die happy if he suffocated underneath you.

When you sit on his face he's again, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pressing you down harder. He doesn't want you to hover, he wants you to SIT.

He likes to reach over and toy with your nipples as he eats you out

Will make you ride his tongue, and when you do, his eyes are stuck on your breasts bouncing above him

Levi

Hell beg you to let him eat you out half the time

He let's out whiney little whimpers when between your folds. He gets off by pleasing you alone

Another one who wants to suffocate between your legs. Please MC, crush his head with your thighs

Likes to stick his tongue out and shake his head back and forth. He enjoys having his face covered in your essence

To catch his breath, he'll rub his thumb on your clit as he reaches himself over and sucks on your titties

Satan

He loves having your legs draped on his shoulders. It's a good way to hoiste you up a bit so he can have his hands on your ass cheeks.

He likes to give gentle kisses on your pussy lips and clit before demolishing it with his mouth

He'll tongue fuck you while rolling your clit between his thumb and pointer finger

His slender fingers are great at hitting your special spot. He enjoys sliding three of them in there at a time and making you cream all over his hand

Likes circling his tongue in circular motion, spreading your slick all over your clit. He'll even occasionally give it a quick flick just to see you jump

Asmo

The louder you are, the better. He'll do whatever he has to I order to make you cum at least 3 times.

He loves the feeling on your folds on either side of his tongue. He'll lick from your hole all the way to the tip of your clit

He'll fuck you with a dildo as he eats you out. When he tales the dildo out, he'll suck on it in front of you and remind you how good you taste

He is definitely moaning in to your pussy. You're so sexy, he can't help it.

He loves gazing into your beautiful eyes. His favorite view is seeing your face contort with pleasure above him.

Will try and slip a finger in your butt

Beel

An absolute savage for your pussy. He's a messy eater.

Will pin your thighs all the way up to your sides by the back of your knees so he has full access. He's so strong, you won't be going anywhere if you tried.

His mouth completely swallows your pussy whole

He's a slurper. He's enjoying your taste and won't stop anytime soon. Lots of satisfied groans coming from him as well

Will lick his fingers clean when you're done

Belphie

Likes to spread your pussy lips apart so he can admire all that you have

Likes to tease you by tracing your entrance with his finger, sliding it in quickly, and then pulling it out

Taunts you with words while eating you out. " you're such a slut for me, are you sure you can handle this?"

Pins you by your hips to prevent you from squirming

He'll flick your clit with his fingers. He likes hearing the little yelps you let out for him

Will suck on your clit and pull on it with his lips, then release it with a "pop" of his mouth.

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me smut #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obeymelucifer #obey me beelzebub #obeymelevi #obeymeasmo #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me headcanons

[qaxqxd]

Spider Lust

♡Pair: Miguel O’hara x Afab!reader

Genre: Smut

Warning: NSFW / Sexual content

A/n: Fulling my Janitor.ai roleplay (sigh) Also Miguel could release his venom on command if he wanted. (first time writing smut in forever.)

Summary: You and Miguel were on a mission to stop an anomaly in a lab. It was supposed to be a stealth mission. You both got caught red handed and were now hiding for it to die down a bit. Hiding in a small cramped space wasn’t a good idea, or.. Was it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Great, just absolutely great. You were in a tight space and sitting on your Boss’s lap. Just how you wanted to spend your Tuesday’s night.

“Stop moving around.” He whispered, gripping your waist.

“Your lap is uncomfortable.” You whine.

“You should have thought of that before you grab the USB.” Miguel spoke, seeming a little pissed.

“Why would I think about sitting on your lap?” You teased him.

“What?- No! You know what I mean.” He frowned. You couldn’t turn around to look at him, but you knew he was a little red.

I mean it was technically your fault that you were in this situation. You grab the USB without thinking it wasn’t guarded. You technically could have done this on your own too, but Miguel insisted on coming along. Now you know why. He probably predicted you would screw up or something.

Miguel always acted like he knew the future which was- True sometimes. He is trying to stop the multiverse from collapsing, so maybe he predicted your screw up. But goodness, his lap is uncomfortable. You tried to move a little closer into his lap. It was a little more comfortable, still uncomfortable.

“(Y/n) stop moving.” He whispers again, his hot breath on your neck. You didn’t listen and moved closer, until your back touched his chest. His grip on your waist tightens. You heard him grunt a little.

“My bad, it's just really uncomfortable on your lap.” You said. He had both hands on your waist trying to move you somewhere comfortable on his lap. He didn’t say anything after, so you scoot back to your original spot. Laying your head on his chest.

You heard his heartbeat, it was pretty fast. He was breathing heavily on your head.

“You alright, boss?” You spoke sort of concerned.

“Yeah, I’m. I’m fine.” He had his head buried in your shoulder. You felt a bump underneath yourself. You felt like you were sitting on a rock. You moved a little, not knowing you were grinding on his groin.

You felt him flinch.

“Please stop moving, (Y/n).” Miguel sounded like he was out of breath.

“What are you carrying in your pockets?” You asked, still moving a little. “My suit doesn’t have pockets.” He grunted.

A moment of silence went by when you realized what you were sitting on his cock. Your eyes widen and you turn all red.

“Shit- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

He crashes his lips onto yours. Exploring every part of your mouth. Shutting you up. You both let go to catch your breath. A string of saliva connects you two.

“I can’t resist you anymore, amor.” His words send shivers down your spine. You felt your core heat up.

“You can have me then.” You mumble. 

The look in his eyes was lust hungry. Using his claws to rip off your suit. He kissed your bare neck.

“You owe me a new suit.” You whisper. “Mhm..” He continues to kiss your neck caressing his fangs onto your neck. His hand going into your panties and feeling your folds.

“You're so wet for me, querida.” He teases, sliding his fingers inside of you. Pumping them in and out. You moan at the pleasure.

“Shh… You don’t want to get caught do you?” He coe.

As his pace picks up, you feel your climax rise. His large fingers felt so good. You jolted as you felt his fingers go deeper inside. Your back arch as he finds your g-spot. He kissed your lips, trying to silence your moans.

Miguel was using his other hand to play with your breast. Flicking your hard nipple with his thumb.

“Miguel- I’m, I’m close.” You whine. As you felt the waves of pleasure crash over you. You came on his fingers, riding your orgasm out. He took his fingers out of you, licking his fingers. You watched the nano tech disappear from his groin and his cock flinging out.

The bead of pre-cum dripping from his tip. Your eyes widen at his size. Miguel lifted your thigh up with one hand. As the tip of his cock enters you. He rubs your clit with his cock teasing you.

 “Put it in already.” You mewled as he slowly slid his lengthen into you. You felt so full, tears forming. 

“So needy” He chuckled lightly. 

You moaned out, as he started to thrust into you. You felt his cock so deep inside. He was throbbing inside of you. As pain turns into pleasure. You heard him groan as he picked up the pace. You tighten around his cock, but he was able to thrust in. His thick cock stretched your hole so much.

“Ah mami, you're so tight. Such a perfect fit for my cock.” He bullied your tiny cunt. Your eyes rolling back to the intense pleasure. Your only vocabulary was his name. As you came for the second time.

He rubbed your clit while thrusting into you. He loved that you came on his cock. He was hungry for more. His hips, bucking to your hole. His pace is a little sloppy from before. You clutch onto his back, basically digging your nails into him.

You came so many times afterwards, he fucked you stupid. You cried into his shoulder. As he release, you felt a hot liquid shoot into you, painting your walls.

“ngh.” You moaned, but Miguel covered your mouth with his hand. Your thighs trembling on his cock.

“You did so well.” He praised you. Miguel kissed your head. Exhaustion took over you, and you fell asleep. As for Miguel, he placed a long lab coat over you. Carrying you out of the cramp room as the coast was clear.

Back to HQ with the USB.

Mission succeed? 

-

WC 1k

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara

[beatrixstonehill2]

"That's right," Dr. Klein said to Carolina. "You have to sign off on your next script since it's what's known as a life-altering or debilitating medical decision."

"Oh wow..... um, I'm not so sure I understand? Sorry, I'm so horny these days I can't think straight. All these different things you keep prescribing me! I can hardly keep up." She giggled, jiggling her hefty breasts.

"I know, you're not as sharp as you used to be. But that's OK, do you even remember being that skinny, flatchested aspiring lawyer who walked through my door last year?"

"Ummmm, I don't know?" She giggled. "Why did I want to be a lawyer?"

"Sweetheart, I'm not the one who would know."

"Oh! But you know everything! I feel so much better after coming to see you. Men are obsessed with my new curves. I have soooo much sex it's crazy. I let guys pump me full of their cum whenever they want!"

"That's wonderful to hear darling. See? And you were so skeptical about taking what I was recommending you..."

"I must've been soooo dumb back then!" She furrowed her brows. "Ummm, how do I spell my name? I think it starts with a C then an A? Can you help me....? I'm not a very good speller these days!"

"That's because you're down to an IQ of 46, from 172! Isn't that great news? My prescriptions are working wonders."

"Wow, is a forty-six really good?"

"It sure is, sweetie. Now let me help you." The doctor guided her hand, making her sign.

"Oh thank you so much! You made it look soooo easy! Mmmmm, I should thank you for being so nice...." She suddenly leaned in and started kissing him on the lips, but he pulled away.

"That's quite all right, Carol. Just be a good girl and take this new script to the pharmacy and take two a day."

"What's it for???"

"Well, you know how your breasts have gotten really big and bouncy?"

"Yep!" She jiggled them for the doctor.

"They're going to get much, much bigger. So big they'll fill your whole lap and be much too big for clothes of any kind...."

"Oh my! That sounds..... really hot! How will I carry them?"

"You might need a push cart, or someone might have to escort you in a wheelchair. You could easily lose the ability to walk...."

"Just from how big my boobs are? Mmmmm, guys are going to love that! I'll be so helpless, it'll be so fun, getting set out on a blanket or something at the park on a nice day.... My boobs exposed, too heavy for me to lift. I have to ask men to help me..... God I'm going to get fucked so good! If men find my body irresistible now...." She leaned back, patting her round pregnant belly. "Already five months along with batch two! Is it true when we met I said I had no interest in having kids?"

"Correct, but we fixed that little problem. Looks like you're going to stay pregnant from now on, huh?"

She giggled, shrugging. "What choice do I have? I'm always getting filled with cum everywhere I go...."

"Good girl. Just remember to keep taking these pills no matter how big your breasts get, OK? I'll see you in three months."

"Just in time to see me ready to pop with all these kids..... you're so naughty...."

"And I better not see you wearing any clothes up top, those things should be too big for them by then....."

"I'll stop wearing tops asap!" She removed hers, tossing it behind her. "Whatever you say, Dr. Klein! You're the professional!"

He patted her head. "I'm glad you finally agree."

#be #breast expansion #breast inflation #breeding k1nk #pregnant kink #colossal breasts #immobile kink #dumbification