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lovifie · 4 days

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Fishy Business (Mermay'24)

Mermaid!Soap x Reader

4k words - masterlist

Cw: injuries, smut, oral sex, unprotected p in v, monsterfucking(?, let me know if I missed any 💙

Johnny has been living in the tank for two weeks now.

Discovering mermaids were real, shock the world, but in all honesty, only for a couple of days before the evil human mind started to think of ways to profit out of them.

Luckily, mermaids were not stupid and knew perfectly fine that they needed to stay away from the human reach; almost able to smell the putrid aroma of ill intentions pouring out of them.

But no matter how good they hide, humans still find the way to, even if not on purpose, to damage the ecosystem. And when you get the call that a mermaid got his tail tangled on the propeller of a boat and needed urgent care, you weren't really surprised.

You sent your instructions, so the poor thing could get the needed treatment while you made your way to Pentland Firth.

It only took you a couple of days to reach John Price's aquarium. Gruff, big guy that offered the empty tank at his fish sanctuary to keep the merman until it got released.

A solid handshake was his welcoming greeting when he opened the door and he let you into his house. “It's nice to finally meet you, Doctor. You’re making quite a name for yourself lately.” He said, a kind smile on his face making his beard move with it and wearing a funny looking hat more fitting of a sailor on his head.

“Well, not so hard to do so when there is so little competition in mermaid care.” You answered, not completely lying. Little was known about the mermaids, and almost every paper that got published was the first of its kind. Your name just happened to appear on most of them.

“Then I can assume you know your way around them? Sneaky little shits, with kind eyes and sharp teeth.” He said, a chuckle leaving his mouth as if he just remembered something.

“To be completely honest, you have probably seen more than me.” You admit, as you walk next to him, trying to keep up with his pace. “I hear they are quite a number up North, they must like the cold.”

“They like the lack of people.” He almost interrupts you with a low unhumorous chuckle. “This one swam a wee bit to the south… and look what happened.”

You see him shake his head, as if he felt guilty himself of the creature getting hurt. “Anyway, ready to meet him?” He asks, the kind smile back on his face as he takes a corner. He opens the only glass door on the hall, and with a hand on the small of your back, he lets you into the platform sitting over the water surface inside of the tank.

The metal platform rustles with the weight of the man walking alongside, only stopping when he walks up to the man standing at the end of the gangway. Standing just a couple of feet away from them you are able to comprehend their size, massive men, broad, strong, muscular, tall men. They definitely don't look like the classical marine biologist who would own a fish sanctuary.

But then the water splashes, making you look to where the surface of the water is rippling, but without any sign of what causes it.

“Simon, let me introduce you to the doctor. Doctor, Simon here has been the person in charge of following your instructions.” He slaps Simon's back hard, it reverberates against the tank walls but the blonde looks like he didn't even feel it. He is wearing a surgical mask and the rest of his body is covered by a wetsuit. A little contradictory thing.

“Nice to meet you, Simon. How has it been?” You ask, smiling as you look up at him.

“Like givin’ a stray cat a bath.” He mumbles, shaking your hand with a strength that has you trying your best not to shake with it.

“And him? How is it?” You ask, trying your best to be professional and not act like a kid in a candy shop. But the truth is, this is the first time you are going to interact directly with a merman.

“Hm… Like a stray cat that got splashed with cold water.” He says, shrugging his shoulders.

“You are good with metaphors…” You mumble, hearing Price snickers behind you. “So… not really happy with the treatment, then?’

Simon shakes his head, looking back into the water. “Nah, the sashimi shit doesn't want anyone to touch him, and his tail is looking more and more grey as days go by.”

You hum, nodding as you turn to also look into the water. “I'll work on some antibiotics to pour into the water… it won't be as effective, but it'll be a start.”

Price turns as well, all eyes on the water looking for the creature that seems to have disappeared into the water. Camouflage abilities are not to be dismissed taking in consideration how little is known about them, but if Simon was just dealing with him, they should be able to see it.

You look into the deep end, the hairs of your nape rising when you feel eyes on you. But the water in front of your eyes is empty, not a droplet moving out of his place and the only thing you can hear is both men breathing next to you.

“How does he look? Maybe if I have a mental image I can-”

You don't get to finish your sentence, at least not before you feel a wet hand wrap around your ankle and pull it. Hard.

It doesn't give you time to use your hands to stop the fall before your chin knocks the metal of the ground, the skin bursting at the hard hit. A single drop of blood mixes with the water underneath before two pairs of hands grab your arms keeping you from going under the water.

At the pull of your body, you feel sharp claws rupture the surface of your skin where they are holding you, only stopping when Simon stomps his foot right beside yours, threatening to step on him next.

“Enough, Johnny!” He snarls at the creature, standing between you and him, while you cling to Price's legs. If you end up underwater, you are not going alone.

It is hard for you to focus your sight on anything, panic and pain mixing in your system. Only being able to see the creature when you hear him hiss at Simon. The stray cat comparison of Simon being really appropriate now.

The merman captivates you, looking perfectly human, still knowing that no human would stand so high over the surface in open water like him, your brain forcing you to remember the fish-like tail under the water.

You can't bring yourself to pull your eyes from him, both your hunger for knowledge from finally being so close to a real breathing merman and both for the fine specimen of a man staring you up and down like you will be his next dinner.

It's Price the one that pulls you away, helping you on your feet and keeping his arm around your waist to help you walk without resting weight on your foot as he walks you out of the tank. Behind you, and without you noticing, Simon and Johnny share a knowing look, only broken when Johnny gives him a short nod before sinking back in the water, the taste of your blood still floating on it..

It's already night time when you hear the noises, like a piece of furniture falling against the floor. And against your better judgement, you walk, well, limp out of the room you were laying down in.

Turns out Simon and Price are not the only ones living in the sanctuary, and there is a third man called Kyle who was the one that bandaged up your foot and chin.

The ground trembles under your feet as you walk closer, each step you take letting you know with more certainty that the sound is coming from Johnny's tank. You see it before he sees you, standing in the shadows behind the glass door as the merman swims in circles.

Gaining inertia before slamming his body against the wall of the tank making it shake. You see his nostrils flare with his troubled breathing, the grills on his neck moving just as fast. It's such a worrying behaviour that your doctor brain makes you act on it before you can realise how stupid of a decision it is.

You turn the knob opening the door, barely managing to get a foot in before a deep voice startles you. “What th’ fuck did ye pour intae th’ water?! I'm fucking drowning!”

It takes you a second to realise it is the merman talking to you, muscular chest rising with each hard breath as his arms, big enough to crush a skull, hold his body over the water surface.

It also takes you a second to realise that what he means is the medicine in the water, the pungent taste of the chemicals probably making him struggle to breath as normal as before.

“It's the antibiotics.” You answer, almost mumbling. The lights from the tank making the water reflect into the walls in a beautiful imaginary that almost works to trick your brain into ignoring the danger. “For your tail.”

“My tail is perfectly fine! I dinnae need yer bullshit! I need tae go back!” He shouts back, slamming his fist on the metal like a petulant child.

“It is infected! If it enters your blood system you could die!” You shout back, setting both feet a step further into the tank.

“Lies! Human inventions! I'm perfectly fine!” The water splashes around his body when he waves his tail to push himself further out of the water.

“If you were fine you wouldn't stink of rotten fish!” Another step closer to him.

“I dinnae stink! That's just how I smell!” He sits on the gangway, pushing his body out of the water to do so, the massive tail that forms his lower body making the metal creak under his weight.

The sheer size of it doesn't stunt you, it being just proportional to the width of his upper body. But the scales that cover it, dazzling with the light of the reflections and looking like its own miniature sea. Speckles of blue, green and silver dancing around making it hard to look away from it, and making it impossible to miss the pink colour of the exposed meat. Not grey anymore.

“It is already looking better…” You explain, pointing to his wound as you keep walking closer. “You cannot tell me that it doesn't hurt less.”

He follows the direction you point at, quickly moving back so it is under the water; away from your gaze and making you frown at how little time you had to stare.

“That's just because time went by…” He says, almost mumbling and averting your gaze. “I need to go back.”

“Why?” You ask, the volume of your voice also lowering as you bend down to sit, crossed legged but with the injured one still sticking out. “Somebody waiting for you?”

“Yes!” He raises his voices once again, exasperated with your ignorance of his issues. “Everyone is fooling around, and next year when they all havd their wee bairns I'll be alone and I dinnae wantae! 'n' I cannae dae nothing about it cause a'm stuck here!”!”

His words slowly clicks into place, his eagerness to leave, the specially shiny scales, wandering outside of his territory. “It's mating season… mermaids have mating season?”

This is not the time to be asking these questions, you are here to help the merman heal not to study him like an aquarium specimen. But you can't help yourself to ask, only second guessing yourself when the merman looks at you like you just grew a second head. “Obviously… humans dinnae?”

You stare at him, thinking it thoroughly before answering. “Not… really, no.”

“And when do humans mate?”

“...anytime”

The disgust appears on his face as if you had just insulted him and everyone he has ever loved.

“Ye spend th’ whole year shagging, and then have the balls to call us beasts… hypocrites.”

“It's not like that!” You exclaim, suddenly afraid of disappointing the beautiful merman. There is a split second in with you remember every singles fable that talk about dangerous mermaids are, how they lure people in with pretty songs and prettier faces only to get eaten alive, how they trick sailor man to crash their boats in the rocks and then they have a feast on the corpses.

The alarm bell is loud and clear in your head, but just as easily it gets silenced when his wet warm hand lands on your injured foot, right under the bandages. He looks confused at it, eyebrows furrowed and slight pout on his lips.

You shouldn't let him grab you, last time he didn't drown you because Simon and Price picked you up. But you are alone now, and instead of pulling your foot back, you lean in, closer to the creature, and peel the bandages up, showing him the wound.

“I did this?” He asks, his fingertip grazing the skin surrounding the wound. You nod at him, your eyes glued to his face not wanting to lose a single expression of him. He furrows his eyebrows again, his hand moving to rest on the underside of your calf. “Humans are weak… I barely touched ye.”

“We are not weak… You just have sharp nails…” The sound of your voice makes him pull his gaze up, catching how you scratch the skin close to the wound of your chin, the sting from the stitches making you itch.

He pulls your leg again, softer this time, and it should worry you more with how much ease he is able to move you, with a grasp of your foot he easily slides you closer, leaving your feet hanging over the water.

He lays his hand flat beside your leg, propping himself up out of the water. With his arm completely stretched he towers over you, making you pull your head back so you can see his face. He looks down at you, cocking his head.

His other hand finds his way to your jaw, pulling your head even further back so he can see the wound on your chin. You can't see him with the new angle of your neck, but you can feel him get closer to your throat.

The feeling of his breath on the skin of your neck makes every hair on your body stand on end. The alarm bells ring in your head again, this man, as handsome as he is, is still an apex predator in the water that would be able to dismember you in seconds if he wanted to.

Still, and with that knowledge in mind, you have to bite your tongue to keep any tell-tale sounds from escaping you when you feel his face so close to yours.

"I dinnae do this one.... Are ye going to stick to yer theory that ye'r not weak? Or are ye just soft?" his deep voice murmurs, causing a shiver to travel down your spine.

His hand that was on your jaw moves down, resting on your thigh for a second before squeezing the soft flesh. Moving up slowly, dragging it over your skin to your hip, his thumb anchoring itself in the crease of skin between your thigh and your belly. Squeezing the flesh once more making you jump.

As his hand continues to move up, squeezing and whispering against your neck. "Soft... Soft from head to toe.... See? Soft, soft, soft..."

With each repetition of the word, he grabs a different part of your body. Your thigh, your hip, your tummy, your waist and it is when he reaches your chest, his hand wrapping around the soft flesh of your breast that he finally gets a sound to fall from your lips in the form of a faint moan of his name.

"What is it, my soft girl? I can feel yer pulse rising..... It's not fear, innit? Or something… else?" The whine that escapes your lips echoes against the walls of the tank, encouraging the merman in his movements.

The merman presses his wide body between your legs, forcing you to spread them apart to accommodate his width. And before you are able to form a full thought, about everything that is wrong with your actions; how morally wrong, how dangerous, what this could mean for your career... you feel the man's wide tongue travel from your collarbone to behind your ear, scorching your skin with the heat of his body.

Your hands grip his shoulders on impulse, feeling the strength leave your body as you feel him roll his hips against yours.

His assault on your neck continues, nibbling and licking until you instinctively wrap your legs around his hips. By the time you realise you are lying on the platform, opening your eyes to see the massive merman on top of your body with lust in his blue eyes.

You look down to where his hips are pressed against yours when you feel an unfamiliar weight over your pubic bone. Once again, a day's worth of interactions with this specimen is proving more productive than previous years of study, for the great unknown of how mermaids reproduce has just been revealed to you as you see the merman's member lying on your body.

And you are only aware of what kind of expression you have to have on your face when he speaks to you. "What's the matter, ye humans donnae have this either?"

"No, no, they have it, like... some do, but not so... like this.”

Once again, a deep chuckle drips from his chest making you look up to him as he looks down on where your pyjama shorts stick to your clothes when they get wet from the water dripping from his body. His fingertips bury themselves under the hem of your pants, trying to pull them down but grunting when he can't because his body is in the way.

He leans back, sinking back into the water and finally pulling your pants and underwear off, leaving you bare and exposed to him from waist down. You try to think of a reason as to why you seem so unbothered by his advances, it must be some kind of mermaid powers. The guy that took you on a date and asked to go to your home later? No. The guy you met online that asked to meet? iugh. But the merman on the tank that could ruin your career? Yeah, he's alright.

But mermaid powers or not, the way you feel his tongue lap at your soaked folds is very real and so is the whiny moan that falls from your lips. You feel him bury his face even deeper into your cunt, slurping the juices and moaning at the taste of them making you curl your toes. His hands move under your thighs, locking you in place so he can peacefully devour you.

Even though the man has no intentions of pulling back, you still grab the hair at the top of his head urging him closer which he happily complies making you moan softly. One of his hands moves closer to your cunt, dragging his claw over your skin making you shudder at the feeling.

You worry for a second that the merman will scratch you just like he did on your ankle, but instead he uses two fingers to spread your folds leaving you as exposed as he can before shoving his tongue into your entrance making you arch your back. The muscle dragging along the ribbed walls of your cunt, flooding his mouth with the taste of you.

A shameless whine escapes your lips when you feel him pull his face back, your grip on his head lacking all force. He coos at you, shushing your cries as he turns you on your stomach, keeping one of your knees bent as he slots himself behind you.

He props himself on an arm, keeping his chest flush against yours as his other arm hugs you pulling you impossibly closer to him as he rolls his hips to slide his already hardening dick between your folds, making you buck your hips to meet his movements. The heat of his wet body making you ache for more, to feel him closer, deeper.

You lower your hand, placing it between your legs and keeping his cock from moving forwards, making it sink into your welcoming walls. A harmony of moans filling the tank when he slowly sinks into you, the weight of his shaft inside of you feeling comforting in the cold of the tank.

The merman buries his face on the crook of your neck, biting softly your skin, just enough to feel you between his teeth as he moves his hips back, moaning at the feeling of your tight warm cunt sucking him back in.

He moans in tandem with you, a song of your voices accompanying the dance of your bodies. Everytime Johnny's hips move forwards, yours move back, the sound of skin slapping growing louder as his movements get faster.

Every snaps of his hips threaten to pull the air out of your lungs, leaving you unable to do anything else but moan at the feeling of his length hitting so deliciously deep while stretching your gummy walls to accommodate his girth.

“A'm gonnae tak' ye wi’ me once I'm out… would ye lik' that, bonnie lassie? Keep ye close, fucked ‘n’ dined, nae a single worry inside of that bonny head of yers but to take my big fucking cock as good as yer right now…” Every filthy word that leaves his lips, falling like melted honey into your ears making you clench around him, is accentuated with a snap of his hips making you bounce on his arms.

His arm that was hugging you moves lower, fingertips travelling down between your legs and rubbing tight circles over your clit making you whine as you close your eyes. You can hear his tail splash in the water with his movements, and you can tell when his thrust starts to become sloppier, almost losing the rhythm, but keeping it long enough for you to combust around his shaft.

He groans on your shoulder when your walls clench around his length like a vice, milking him for what he's worth, making hims moan against your skin as he keep moving his hips, slowly, letting the two of you ride out your orgasm as you try to get air back into your lungs.

Under the tank, on the underground level of the sanctuary and hidden in the shadows, three pairs of eyes see how Johnny kisses your shoulder softly.

“You know… I was feeling bad about dragging the poor girl into this mess, but… I don't think she minds it too much.” Gaz says, eyes glue to the two of you.

The thing is, that just like sailors knew that the earth was round long before anyone else; they also knew mermaids were real long before the rest of the world. But being able to communicate with one of the sea apex predators has its benefits, and negotiating with them usually translates to an improvement on the business.

And if the merman they accidentally run over with their boat says he wants a cute little partner to repopulate the north sea in exchange of pushing the fishes towards their fishing nets… they will get him a girlfriend to keep him happy.

After all, since humans always find a way to benefit from mermaids, it's only fair that mermaids benefit from humans too.

I hope you guys still wanted some mermaids, I don't know how it took me so long 🩷

Taglist: @crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z

@lyralein @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121

@spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @arbesa-mind @cmbghost

@multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles

@cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria

@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow

@loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger

@soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @thesinsoflust

@sodavrr @yuki2129 @idk-justkane @shanhalen @dukeofjjune

@vane28282 @dracu1ara @vivi2e @lordbugs @murder-hobo

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lovifie · 8 days

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Sore Loser (Ghost x F!Reader x Soap)

CW: cuckolding. Summary: Simon lost a bet to Johnny, now he has to watch as Johnny claims his prize. Word Count: 1.5k a/n: this is my first writing.

It had been all fun and games, Simon thought, telling Johnny he could have a go at his bird if he won the next game. Made them better, work harder, pushed them to actually fucking compete for the chance at a real prize: stuffing a puffy little cunt full of their cum while you wore the opposing team's jersey.

It was all fun and games. Simon had told you of their little bet while he held you firmly to the ground, dragging his cock out of your slick folds at an agonizing pace while the resistance band tempted to snap his hips back in just the way you liked. Told you he had to train harder to make sure that his was the only cock that would take the prize home. Then his hips snapped back in and his cock bullied into your cervix, bruising it with the force, "Gonna help me train, love? Make me a winner?" he would grunt with each delicious pull out as your pussy attempts to suckle him back in.

"Oh God, Simon, fuck, yes yes yes- yes! Gonna make sure you win-" you promised as the drool leaked onto the pillows and your eyes rolled back. His big, rough hand moves from your waist to your clit, thumb rubbing it in a desperately hard motion as he picks up the pace to make you both winners that evening.

So, it was indeed all fun and games, until it went tits up. Literally.

Laid out on the bench in the empty locker room, legs pinned open by strong Scottish hands while MacTavish lapped at your cunt like a dog, slick, slopping noises echoing around the room as he moans, savouring your pussy like the finest dessert. You're bent backwards over the bench while you're crying out in pleasure, white England jersey gathering at your neck to leave your tits exposed.

Simon sat on a stool at your head, his thick legs spread to accommodate the growing arousal in his shorts, the first and last thing your rolling eyes see as your hands grasp onto his calves, nails digging into the skin to anchor back to reality while Johnny delivers crashing waves of pleasure over you.

He pulls his mouth away, allowing the cold of the locker room to touch the warm, swollen slit, it flutters in response while he spreads the lips, "Such a pretty cunny eh, Simon? Real prize." his smile is cruel, thumb pressing into her clit and flicking it lazily, causing small spasms to ripple through your body.

"See tha'? Gonnae make her cum all over my mouth and fingers, gonnae take your bonnie little bird, Si." He grunts out as his thumb circles your clit, slow and languid in its pace while he lowers his mouth back down, tongue dipping into the hole and nose buried between slick folds.

Simon can't help himself, between the slick clicking noises when Johnny drags his tongue over your pink folks, the cries of ecstasy, and your nails digging into his calves, he's rock hard. The tip of his monster cock kissing his bellybutton and begging to be freed from his shorts. He rolls the waistband of his shorts and underwear down to release the length, his huge fist wrapping around it and giving it a few firm tugs as he grunts out, "Fuck love, if I didn't know any better I'd say you like watching me lose."

You gasp as your eyes roll back, the chord in your stomach starting to strain and that familiar knot forming, you see Simon's aching cock hanging over your face as he strokes it, a glob of cum leaking down onto your face as Johnny laps you up and rubs your clit.

"Fuck Simon I'm gonna- I'm gonna!" You scratch along his calves, pink streaks on the pale skin.

"Go on love, show MacTavish why you're a prize worth competing for. Show him that pretty little face, your sweet little scream." he moans, head tilting back as he strokes his angry red cock faster.

That's all it takes, the chord pulls on that knot and you see white, as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth forms an O. You let out a scream of pure delirious pleasure while your hips grind down against Johnny's mouth, squirting down his throat while he holds your shaking legs apart, swallowing every last drop and leaving open mouthed kisses along your swollen pussy.

"Fuck lass, you're so sweet, that wee cunt just aching to be tasted everyday." He gives your thighs a gentle bite, sucking a purple hickey into them, "Does it like to be fucked too? Want my cock in you, bonnie? Let Simon see what winners get?" he whispers in a husky voice.

Simon grunts in annoyance, "You couldn't fill her like I can, MacTavish." his breathing is haggard as he watches you get bent over the bench on your stomach now.

Johnny gives your ass a firm smack, eliciting a sharp moan from you, "Now, now, Riley. I knew you were a loser, but not a sore loser. Bet's a bet."

You feel the spongy tip of Johnny's cock rub between your folds, teasing your clit before he sinks into your dribbling hole. Simon watches as your face contorts in relieved pleasure, as your gummy walls clench around his rival's cock and suck him in deep, snug, and warm, a little giggle heard in your moan. He's humiliated and seething, his jaw clenching as he reaches forward and pulls your hair, forcing you to look at him, "You better savor this, pet. When he's done with you we're going right back to training until I win."

It starts slowly, a rock of the hips that bumps you forward, his cock buried deep inside you and filling you up. Then he pulls out while your pussy attempts to pull him back in desperately, and his hips snap back in, the curve of his cock scratching that little spot along your walls that makes you see stars.

Johnny's huge hands bruise your hips as he rides you, his hips meeting your plump ass in a relentless manner, his balls slamming up against your abused pussy as you soak them, a ring of cream around the base of his cock and droplets of pleasure running over the sack below. Spurned on by the name 'Riley' printed on the back of the jersey as he fucks you.

Simon is still holding you by the hair, forcing you to look at him as he hisses at you, stroking his furious cock like a madman.

"Look at you moaning like a whore for that Scot's cock."

"You better enjoy it now, pet, because I am going to be brutalizing that pussy, show you who really owns it."

"Gonna cum? Gonna be a little slut and cum on a cock that ain't mine?"

Your mouth is hanging open as these two men use you like a sexdoll, one making you scream in pleasure as he pounds into your cunt, building up that familiar snap in your stomach again. The other promising such debauched things you can't even imagine the delicious torture awaiting you at home.

Your pussy begins to clench around the cock inside and Johnny hisses, "Fuck lass, I'm gonnae cum." he bends over you, broad, hard chest pressed to your back and covering 'Riley' up with his body, he whispers into your ear with a cruel smile, "Gonnae cum with me lass? Yknow what ya gotta say, right?" A hand wrapping around your throat as you look at him with delirious, hazy eyes.

"Scotland for the six nations. Go on lass. Look at Simon and tell him who you wannae win." He grunts, his pace becoming manic as he abuses that spot inside you, and you can feel it coming to a crescendo.

Simon looks at your lidded eyes as you stay focused on not rolling them back, his balls tightening as he watches you come undone before him.

"Scot-Scotland!" You scream out, your arms and legs giving way as your eyes squeeze shut, the orgasm rippling over you and causing full body shakes.

That's all it takes. Johnny does, one, two, three hard thrusts and then his warm, sticky seed is flooding your sopping cunt, while Simon is stood, using your hair to shove his cock into your wide mouth as he pours fat globs of salty cum in, and you're so fucked out you can't even close your mouth a swallow, so it drips down your chin onto the floor.

You hope that England loses another match.

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lovifie · 8 days

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And Johnny Makes Three (Ghoap x F!Vaginismus!Reader)

CW: Anal. Thigh fucking. Vaginismus. Threesome. Summary: Simon and you have a great relationship, though, sometimes the intimacy needs a bit of help - that's where Johnny comes in.

Simon and you had a peculiar relationship admittedly. Dates were frequent, quality time spent hand in hand. Nights at home just cuddling on the sofa or massaging shampoo through each other's scalps. You were both insane about one another - that's the crux of the problem: Your poor, weepy cunt was too tight to fuck, and Simon couldn't stomach being sexually intimate.

That's where keen Johnny came into play.

Suggested by Simon first. He trusted Johnny. Trusted he would never take it too far, never push beyond a boundary. An obedient little pup that would fuck you just right, under his firm instructions. So, when explaining to Johnny the problem, the Scotsman beamed with flattery, got himself checked and then did his research.

The two men prepared you adequately, Simon with the balaclava pulled up so he could eat your pussy out, your thighs locked around his skull and pressing him firmly into your leaking cunt. This is while Johnny is holding you upright, one strong arm hooked around your chest and his eager hand fondling your tit. The other hand is massaging the fat of your ass and whispering, "Gonnae treat ye right lass, gonnae make ye cum so hard for Si."

They worked you through three orgasms - the third being the one where Johnny had three fingers in your tight ass, stretching the firm ring out, nice and loose, a little more give than your begging pink slit. Takes his time and massages the tight walls, finds a few small spots of dizzying pleasure and milks them for all they're worth.

"Look so gorgeous, love." Simon caresses your flushed cheeks, his teeth pulling on your plump bottom lip as your jaw is slack, "Gon' look so fuckin' sweet when we make you squirt, do you want that, sweetheart?"

You nod as the tears begin to roll down your cheeks, your stomach churning so pleasurably that you began to feel as though you were drunk on their attentions.

That's how you end up with your cunt slicking up Simon's firm thigh, the muscle pulled taught to spread the folds and press against your clit. Johnny is pulling at your nipples and rolling them between his rough fingers as he bottoms his cock out into your ass. Both men are placing soft, soothing kisses around your face and shoulders, waiting for you to adjust.

With every rock of Johnny's hips you're humping against Simon's thigh, soaking it in your pleasure and squealing with delight as the hard muscle keeps pressure on your swollen little clit. Your boyfriend sucking possessive, purple hickeys across your neck and collarbones while Johnny kept his hands on your tits. You're drunk off their cocks and allowing them to please you with a slack jaw and eyes squeezed tight.

"Look so good, love." Simon groans, his hand fisting his huge cock as he watches you take your pleasure from his wet thigh, watches you squeal in delight each time Johnny bottoms out his cock into you, his hips bruising the swell of your jiggling arse, "Gonnae cum for me? Show me how grateful you are?" he chuckles between his moans, his tip drooling fat tears of precum.

Johnny shifts his angle ever so slightly downward and brushes a bundle of nerves through, leaving you screaming and crying out Simon's name. The two exchange smug looks over your shoulders and Johnny pounds into that spot that makes you sing, Simon pushes his thigh firmly into your aching pussy and the two work you through an orgasm so violent you almost feel like you could pass out, your forehead falling onto Simon's shoulder as you moan.

Ever obedient, Johnny remembers to pull out, stroking himself to finish over your back, while hot ropes of Simon's cum spurt up onto your chest and chin.

"How was that, love?" Simon rasps out, stroking your hair, "scratch that itch?"

#when is it my turn #bunny 🩷#a new need

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lovifie · 11 days

Note

OOOO BABES RIDING JOHN PRICE WHILE HE SMOKES HIS CIGARS AND YOU DRINKING HIS FAVE WHISKEY AND ALSO HE HAS A MASSIVE BREEDING KINK DUH

seeing ‘breeding’ in an ask has my writing brain reacting in a fucking pavlov response

18+ fem!reader, breeding an all tha

his office is dimly lit, with only the old green banker’s lamp switched on, perched atop his desk surrounded by a sea of paper.

the leather chair behind it had been pushed back to make room for you.

you sat in price’s lap, thighs parted over his. one of your hands cups the back of his neck, fingers drawing circles through the small wisps of hair that dip down from the base of his head. your other hand has fingers wrapping about a crystal tumbler, the amber shine of expensive liquor appearing almost bottomless in the low light.

you took careful sips, your head spinning, both from the ebbing softness of inebriation, and the warm pleasure unfurling in the base of your stomach.

your captain rocked you against him with one large hand on the plush of your hip, his cock nestled inside you, your soaked cunt having taken him right to the root. like a good girl. the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your engorged clit, puffy and slick, with each gentle rock against him.

he thumbed at the cigar in his other hand, flicking ash into the tray nearby. when he took a drag, a deep and languid inhale with his eyes boring into yours, he’d exhale it away from you. he didn’t like blowing it directly into your face. but the smell permeating the air was thick enough, and mixing with his musk, had the dizzying pleasure in your head amplifying.

“that feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” price cooed, words muffled around the thick wrap of his cigar.

your eyes transfixed on the way his lips wrapped around the waxy paper, and for a moment, you recalled just that morning when he had those lips wrapped around your clit. warm and wet and so fucking good.

you nodded, whiskey strong on your tongue. you took another shaky sip, your hips rolling. the head of his cock brushed up deep inside you, stretching you out and moulding you to him.

“you can give me more than that,” john remarked, words uttered around an exhale of smoke. the hand he had on your hip squeezed gently. “come on. speak up.”

“yeah, feels good,” you answered, then downed the last of the bitter liquor. you blindly reached behind you, placing the glass onto the desk, before then placing your now-free hand onto price’s shoulder. “feels so good, john. y’always make me feel good.”

price hummed, pleased, placing his cigar in his mouth. he then used both hands to grapple your hips and lift you slightly. he then slammed you back down onto his cock, bucking his hips simultaneously, before setting his pace. his thick cock was now somehow driving deeper than before. you could feel him probing around in your gut, your chest, breathing him in. maybe he was looking for your heart. if so, he’d found it a long time ago.

you moaned, and john responded with a grunt of his own, removing one of his hands to pluck the cigar from his mouth and then place it in an adjacent ashtray. he angled his face downwards and blew the smoke across your lap— which you felt against you, tickling the bare skin of your tummy and thighs.

he then ducked forward, locking his lips against yours and licking inwards. his tongue, much like his cock, was warm and thick, heavy inside you. he licked against your teeth, your own tongue, consuming your moans before they even reached the back of your throat.

he tasted of tobacco smoke and spearmint. you tasted of expensive whiskey and a hint of chardonnay.

smooth, rich. tasting each other.

“john,” you moaned against his lips, and he pulled back, looking at you with glazed eyes and a slight rouge to his cheeks, visible beneath the hairs of his beard. “john, please.”

price looked down, taking one of his hands and smoothing his palm across your hip before sliding it across your tummy. he rubbed over your navel, pressing down as he rocked himself into you— and he imagined that his cock was sliding parallel to his hand, squeezed by your gummy walls and leaking pre-cum against the plug of your cervix.

the thought made him moan.

he pressed his hand firmly against your tummy, forcing a bubbled whine from the depths of your throat. price’s eyes darted upwards to watch the look of pleasure sweep across your face. angelic and beautiful and all his.

“my pretty girl an’ this pretty tummy,” he whispered, rubbing firm circles on the pudge of your stomach, still bouncing you up and down the length of his thick cock. “s’about time i fill it up, yeah?”

you moaned, head rolling backwards as the ball of pleasure in your stomach tightened, pulling your nerves taut with it. your body thrummed against his, heart beating wildly beneath the sanctum of your sternum. mind cloudy, all you wanted to do was nod. please.

john chuckled lowly. “aw, s’that right, sweetheart? want me to come inside you?”

“johnnn,” you whined, clawing at his shoulders now. your clit was throbbing as his cock slammed into that good spot inside you. you huffed out whines and mewls, pleasure building inside your lower stomach, right below where his hand pressed. your skin there was heating up fast. “pleaseee.”

“shh, s’alright my darling girl,” price chided, rutting the leaking head of his cock against your g-spot, grinding and bucking deep, rolling his hips. “i’ve got you, yeah? i’ve got you. an’ i’m gonna come deep inside this tight cunt.”

you mewled, louder this time, pleasure burning your lungs. you could feel him, clawing at the insides of your very being. he always stitched himself to you during intimate moments like these. it’s like he was apart of you the second he stuffed his thick cock into your hole.

“come riiiiight here,” john continued, rubbing your tummy and then moaning at the thought of it growing with his child. his hips stuttered momentarily, before he redoubled his efforts. “fill this pretty tummy up— get ‘er nice and fat for me.”

you gasped out, orgasm stretching thin across the precipice of pleasure tightening in your lower belly. “john!”

“come for me, sweetheart,” he said, pressing a chaste kiss to your parted lips. “squeeze my cock, go on.”

you came loudly, body spasming against his. the hands you had on his shoulders tightened, anchoring yourself to him so that you didn’t drift off and drown within your own pleasure.

“john, john, fuck—!” you babbled as your orgasm washed over you, and you practically missed the way john grunted with each chant of his name, cock slamming into you with heavy rolls of his strong hips.

his pace was slowing, lacing symmetry as his release dug its claws into him. it almost caught him by surprise, but he managed to ramble out, “‘m comin’, sweetheart, ‘m comin’— fuck, ‘m gonna come deep in this tight fuckin’ cunt, fill you up with my kids. ‘m gonna get you pregnant, baby.”

he came after that, head slotting into the dewy space between your neck and shoulder, mouth sucking at the scented pulse of your throat. he bucked and rolled his hips as his cock twitched, coming thick, viscous ropes of seed right up against the plug of your womb. it was warm, especially with his large hand still on your tummy, and you fought the urge to giggle amidst your blissful, post-orgasmic haze.

“price,” you whispered, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your throat and jaw. his cock was slowly softening inside you, plugging his cum inside you. “price, we’ve got to move.”

he grunted, wrapping his arms around you, still sucking at the skin of your neck. the warmth of his arms and chest put you at ease, and you relaxed into his hold, melting into the comfortable aura that your husband provides you with.

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lovifie · 11 days

Text

Well... Time to go swimming

Shark Bait (Megalodon!Simon x F!Reader)

CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Dark Fic. Non-Con. Non-Con Breeding. Ocean Horror. Death (Not Reader). Shipwreck. Size Difference, like he is MASSIVE. Monster Fucking. Somnophilia. Bloodplay. Double Penises, Double Penetration. Oviposition. Objectification. Derogatory Language. Forced Impregnation. Breeding Kink. Size Kink. Gore. Injuries During Cunnilingus. Shark Teeth. Summary: You were invited to come see the rumoured megafauna that still haunts this Earth. After a voyage gone wrong, you find yourself in the mercy at the maw of this beast. Word Count: 5.6K a/n: my contribution to mermay! if tags need fixed I am away currently, leave a comment and I'll do it asap when I'm back.

Rumour had it that there was a shark unlike any others lurking at the bottom of the sea floor – a hulking, massive beast made of a light grey colour. It rarely surfaces, but you heard that its dorsal was as large as a man, that its teeth were the size of your hand. As you turned over the ‘tooth’ in your hand, documents spread out on the table of the little bistro you sat in, you considered the offer presented to you. These people were insistent, that a megafauna still existed, and they wanted to prove it to you as a respected marine biologist. Sighing, you wipe your mouth with a napkin and call the number on the back of the business card to arrange to see this thing.

By the morning you were boarding a large fishing vessel, climbing up the ramp as the dark overcast sky smothered what little sun there was this early in the day, hanging low to threaten a downpour. The boat was well-equipped, a huge net, harpoons, and a modernised engine that would allow it to run faster than some other tincans you’ve been aboard. It gently bobs in the water as your feet thump against the metal deck to find the stairs towards your sleeping quarters so you can dump your stuff.

You hadn’t been out on the Atlantic Ocean since a trip to Florida some years ago, and even then, you had been overseeing the impact of climate change on fish populations, it was hardly anything like you were doing now. Cruising out into depths you knew some boats had disappeared in, over God knows how many underwater trenches, sinks, and creatures that hid in the high-pressure blue. Your yellow, plastic coat was tight and heavy as you leaned over the side of the boat to winch a sonar device into the water, your earbud in your ear as you listened to the gurgle of the water, a few whooshes of bubbles as smaller fish scuttled by, but nothing you were overly concerned about.

“Oi, lass, we’re gonna get some grub ‘ere, d’ya want any?” A gruff man called out.

Rumbling in your stomach cuts off your original reply of no, “-I’m a little hungry, yeah.”

Sitting around a small makeshift table on the top of the deck, a platter of food is spread out from a local bistro, apparently, they wanted the first picture of the beast when you all succeeded – a sweet sentiment if it wasn’t so insane.

As you sink your teeth into the food, you adjust your earpiece and instead focus on the crew of men and women all gossiping between themselves, while the gentle white noise of the ocean offers a backdrop to the words.

“Was last spotted a few miles from here, big massive bugger-“ “-Aye, I heard it’s been claiming boats out by that devil’s triangle.” “Get the fuck, you think that’s where it lives?” “Well, enough boats go missin’ out there it ain’t a stretch to think it, now, is it?” “Fuuuck, ‘spose not.” “I heard it has this pattern on it, a few fellas I know survived an encounter with the bastard.”

The hulking beast had apparently swum beneath the boat, the titan dorsal fin was the warning shot, and when the men scurried to come gawk, they saw it. A humongous outline of a fish swimming right beneath their vessel. A light grey that was made for sneaking up until it was too late, with a splattering pattern on its back that resembled a skull. Then just as they were coming to their senses and beginning to move, the ship began to be pulled under.

A load of tall tales, you supposed, anything to excuse how you sunk a boat and sound more like a war vet than incompetent.

Your earpiece sounded an eerie bobbing noise, a low plopping sound that cut through the water and you quickly swallowed your food. It was close whatever it was, and the timbre was sweet, deep, and echoey, like a siren’s call. Furrowing your brows you try to focus on the creature’s cry more than the other humans’ babbling.

“-She’s got him! Haven’t ya girly? That’s him, that’s him!” One of the sailors points at you excitedly.

“I don’t think so.” You admit, getting up and heading to the side of the boat the device was on. You saw it, a huge grey tail slamming down against the surface of the ocean, white spews of water splattering around in celebration of the beast’s descent.

“That’s him!”

Holding your hand up as a signal to stop and shook your head, “I don’t think so, there’s no dorsal.”

A huge round head breaks from the water for a moment, a dark grey creature showing itself from the watery depths, white markings along the top of it and a huge lip that curves downwards. Your breath catches and you immediately grab your camera, “Jesus that’s a Right Whale!” You squeal in excitement, raising the waterproof camera to snap some pictures of the elegant creature.

“A bloody what-?!” As the whale dives back under it sends a rippling wave across the water and makes the boat sway violently much to your delight. The playful bobbing sound still sounding in your ear as this whale enjoys its day.

“There’s only like eighty of these in the wild, this is magnificent!” You scream happily despite nearly being knocked on your ass. The crew stare in disappointment before tutting and cursing, trudging their way back to their food and leaving you to your whale watching.

The downpour happens suddenly, like a dam broke open in the sky and it was hurling the contents down at you. The winds whipped around you, harsh on your wet skin that it felt like tiny pins were pricking into every pore. The ocean began to retaliate to the sky and was meeting the violent hailing with brutal waves that battered into the boat and made it sway.

“Lass, ya need to go below deck, it’s gettin’ dangerous up here!” A sailor hollers over the howling wind and beating of the waves. Listening to some sound advice, you take your equipment and stumble your way below deck where the swaying and feel of vertigo felt worse, but the weather conditions were significantly better. Slamming into every wall as your tipsy legs attempt to find their centre of gravity, you eventually make it back to the safety of your room and onto the soft bed that cushioned your last fall.

Below deck churned and bounced less violently than the top of the boat, but it swirled your stomach even more. It creaked and clunked, and you could hear the violent static of the rain pounding against the metal deck right above. You could hear the thundering and sliding of the heavy boots of the crew as they secure the deck and try to keep the boat from being battered off course. With each battering wave the lights flicker and all you can think of is how you need to keep your lunch firmly in your stomach because that splattering everywhere and getting chucked around is not ideal.

The room is suddenly bathed in darkness, the lights cutting out. All you can see is the light refracting from the ocean, a hypnotic swirling blue pattern cast across your room. You sit up in the bed, bundling the covers around you as your body gently sways and attempts to balance itself, and you stare out the airtight porthole window. Only murky dark blue to be seen for miles, fish having fled the area upon seeing your boat you suspect. The boat groans and creaks, the rain like a static tv above you, the gentle burble of water outside, all accentuated in the darkness and emptiness. There, out in the vast expanse of navy nothingness you see a deep trench that trails to black, to the centre of the earth, high pressure and full of the most wondrous creatures.

Your sight goes pitch black, like you closed your eyes. The entire boat rocks as something passes by your window, a grey colour that slinked through the water. The whale. You were certain it was the whale, a bobbing noise accompanying it, so you breathe out in awe at the idea you were one small piece of metal apart from one of the ocean’s most rare creatures.

Until you lock eyes with the creature.

Abyssal, dark eyes that were sunk back into its face. Light grey with a dorsal fin. You can hear the grind and crunch of its maw as it snaps open and closed, sharp teeth the size of your hand that could shred you apart. Your smile falls slowly as your heart rises to your throat, blocking the airway – a sudden sense of dread drowning the wonder, that this was your last journey to the sea.

A horrible deep rumbling noise echoes through the water, like thunder, surrounding your boat and ringing through the hollow hallways of the metal tomb you’re stuck in. Then the lightning strikes, a huge thud against your side of the boat as this creature bashes itself up against you, its eyes still holding your gaze, unreadable and unfathomable.

Feet slamming down, your body is reacting for you, and you quickly climb the stairs as your body is jostled around by this monster bashing into the boat. As you reach the deck you hear the hollering, the screaming, the pelleting sound of the rain slamming into the metal deck, the howling wind and violent crashing waves, all while you swear that low rumbling noise is this creature laughing at your predicament. You enter the top deck, falling to your hands and knees as between the swaying of the boat and slippery surface, you are unable to get a firm stance.

“ABANDON SHIP!” You hear someone’s voice cut through the orchestra of the insidious ocean night.

Crawling across the wet surface, squelching and squeaking as you try hopelessly to get a grip, your body sliding with each slam against the boat. In the panic you see two men fighting and holding onto the anchor mechanism before a slam sends one of them flying overboard into the dark, black abyss, swallowed by the ocean and likely devoured by the beast.

Then the other man is sent flying forward, his head hammering into the deck and knocking him unconscious. The rotor of the anchor mechanism spinning around slowly before unravelling at a quick pace as the anchor drops quickly into the ocean. Vertigo begins to take over your vision as the world begins to tip on an axis, only it’s not tipping, you’re slipping away down, down, down towards the nose of the boat, as this creature takes hold of the anchor and uses it to pull the ship under.

“WAIT!” You cry out as you see the remaining crew piling into a lifeboat, leaving you behind as the boat begins to stand vertical and slip inch by inch into the violent salty ocean for the beast to claim. Blurred and frosted is your vision from the rain, but you can make out that the lifeboat drops into the waters that are now nipping at your heels, your feet already devoured by the freezing cold and soaked through. The warm tears steaming down your face cleaned away by the cold rain pelting your skin, trying to urge you into your watery bed.

As you look up towards the clouds for a God to intervene, you make eye contact with the rest of the boat. Then you watch as a titan sized, white tail slams up into the boat, effectively jostling you loose and tossing you aside while you bare witness to the boat being split into two without effort on the beast’s part. Then it’s done.

Body plunged under the warm water and being battered with the storm and violence, tossed like nothing more than a ragdoll. You force your eyes open despite the salty sting that coats the sclera and through the carnage of the metal and long strands of seaweed you can see a cloud of red and the wreckage of a smaller vessel slowly flitting to the ocean floor to be forgotten. You’re alone.

Vaguely, you remember so many safety ads over the years, the importance of floating, even in the face of total annihilation – so your arms drag through the heavy resistance of the water and pull you upwards towards the surface. Your fingers breach through first and your legs do the rest of the work, foothold on the liquid as you kick upward to take a breath that burned with salt. Shifting your centre of gravity, you lay on your back and float with the shock of everything beginning to wear off and you’re filled with a sense of pure dread that the crashing waves will not deliver you to civilization, that being saved is such a distant prospect that you should invite the beast back once it finishes the main course of people who left you for dead.

You hear it before you see it, see it before you feel it. The whirr of something cutting through the ocean, the dorsal that was fast approaching you, intent on finishing its meal and leaving no witnesses to gossip about it. Then the massive maw that opened wide, three rows of teeth to shred you to unrecognizable pieces, blend you into digestive paste. Then there’s warm, wet darkness as it snaps around you and you’re rested on the hollow floor of the shark. But there’s no pain, no constriction. It’s humid, warm, and comfy, and as you feel around you realise that what you’re inside is an illusion.

“They left ya.” A deep voice echoes around the chamber of the mouth. It’s a voice that’s deep, like that laugh you heard earlier. It sounds rough and as salted as the ocean. You can hear the whooshing of the ocean outside as it must be moving, “Can’t believe they just… left ya.”

As you stare into the abyssal cavern where the stomach would be, you can make out two shimmering glassy eyes – there’s something – no – someone in there, someone is piloting this puppet cryptid. “What- what- who- who are you?” You squeak out as you and this creature remain deadlocked in a trance.

“That is not something to concern yourself with, is it?” The voice rumbles with a judgemental undertone, “You should be scared of what I’ll do to you.”

“What- wait- what are you going to do to me?”

It chuckles, that low rumbling sound you remember from your porthole, and it vibrates through the shell of the beast and through your bones. You won’t get an answer. Like a cat looming over a cornered mouse. The guillotine before it swings downward. The calm before the storm. It was this part that made it all the more worthwhile to the creature.

It’s sometime before you feel something change, something firm underneath the creature, like the hard bed of the seafloor covered in sand. It’s colder now and you shiver, your eyes scanning around before you realise that the draft is coming through the maw that’s slowly opening, a blinding streak of white as the rows of teeth part.

“Get. Out.” The voice demands. You scramble and hop over the rows of teeth, expecting to be plunged into the ocean again. But instead you realise you’re in a tucked away alcove in the middle of the ocean, covered in rockpools and sand, a layer of shallow water all over the rock. As far as you can see is the shimmering black night of the ocean, made infinite by the reflection of the ocean, no other land, ship, or people in sight.

The creature that took you here is indeed the megafauna, you gawk at the impressive husk, only the open-mouthed head peeking out of the water. Ginormous in size, but definitely long deceased and preserved in some way you can’t work out. As you gaze into the maw and down into the belly of the beast you’re met with those cat-like eyes reflecting back at you.

“…Are you a megalodon?” You ask nervously. “Not exactly.” “What does that mean?” “I am not a megalodon, I am not, not a megalodon.”

You furrow your brows, but figure that as long as whatever this thing was, was in there and unable to come out, you were safe. So, you pad up to the back of the alcove and settle onto a flat rock that was jutting out from the rock wall. The adrenaline from your survival finally draining from your body and making you curl in on yourself, tears flowing down your face from shock, fear, relief, and your eyes squeeze shut, willing this to be an elaborate nightmare.

The sobbing turns into snores and soon the cold dark of the night and gentle crashing of the waves has lulled you into a slumber brought on through the absence of the need to stay alive. Ghost unfurls the cloak from around him, pinning it back to his sides and revealing his nine-foot-long form, mostly made of a strong scarred and battered tail. The top half of his burly form digs into the soft sand as he drags himself along with determination, his brown eyes set on your sleeping form, bundled in a stupid yellow coat. He admires your lips, softly parted and soft. Your face slightly puffy and stained from your tears, hair stuck down against your warm skin.

A perfect vessel, he supposes, the best he’s had in months. You looked… durable.

He shuffles over to you on his thick arms and carefully examines you, his thick, webbed fingers slowly undoing your cloak with distaste – flimsy, plastic-y, not nearly enough insulation like his own one. Peeling back the offending material to have a better look at your body, admiring each dip, curve, and mark as your clothes stuck to your skin – humans and their clothes. So… bizarre. Though, a huge, shark-like smile breaks across his face as he sees the firm peaks of your nipples through your shirt and he can’t help himself, bringing his fingers down to rub against them, moving the rough fabric against them and watching your body tense, watching how your face contorts in a mix of confusion, distress, and pleasure before letting out a pleasured exhale.

Pinching lightly, he rolls the hardened pebbles between the wrinkled pads of his fingers, each divot of his skin covered in the rough fabric sending a wave of pleasure jolting through your body as you squirm, pleasure clawing at your unconscious state and attempting to shake you awake despite the fatigue.

Your heavy eyelids open for only a moment, heavy vignette around your eyes as your exhausted vision blurs and blends the world around you in a state of dreamy confusion. All you can make out between leaded, bleary blinks is a man, staring at you in confusion. Deep, brown eyes that remind you of the beast from your nightmare, though these ones appear to shimmer in concern and interest. His face is long, and handsome, covered in scars and tawny brown hair cropped close to his skull. Strange frills jut out like stripes across his neck, and you know you’re making noise and moving, but everything is so confusing and heavy and exhausting – he seems to be helping you, so you close your eyes, comforted that after your shipwreck someone was alive to aid you.

And Ghost is worried, when he saw you stir, he expected to see worshipping eyes. He saved you. He chose you. Out of that shipwreck. So, you should light up as you gaze at him. But as your eyes fluttered open he was met with the marbled, braindead stare of a fish – and he can’t have some braindead creature carrying his brood.

His cold hands slide under your wet shirt that clings to you like a skin, feeling the warm flesh beneath with a pleasured hum, this warm on the outside that he can only imagine what burying himself into the tight heat of this incubator would be like. The incubator reacted well to him doing this above fabric, so his webbed paws slide to your breasts, feeling another offending, wet garment. A growl rips from his throat as his hands wrap around the band of your bra and in one motion tears it from your form and out from under the shirt. He dangles it like biohazard from his fingers before tossing it aside, and once he’s breached that boundary, he decides what’s one more.

A large maw presses against your neck, you feel a fluttering sensation of cold and sharp kisses and bites that fill your euphoric dreams with a cloudy bliss that bubbles deep in your body and wants more. Soft moans escape your lips as the shark does his best to drag these noises forth from you, his teeth shredding the skin that little too easily, like candyfloss dissolving in water. He tries to be gentle as he sucks on the flesh, until he tastes copper, until he smells metal, until he sees the red you’re bathed in – and then suddenly nothing is enough as his gut flips in reaction to such a debauched aphrodisiac. Webbed hands roam your form until they find purchase back on your tits and he rolls the flesh between his hands as he growls against your skin, enjoying the soft, warm feeling that kneads between his rough fingers and sensitive webs. The red pools and seeps into your shirt and his teeth latch onto the pathetic fabric, shredding it to pieces with a feral snarl to leave your top half exposed and wanting of attention – to watch how the blood trickles down over the flesh that has his interest there.

Slathering his hands in the red he laps some off his fingers with a moan, before gripping onto your breasts again, staining them in your own blood in the shape of his hands. His fingers pinch your nipples that little bit harder as he studies your reaction – it had woke you before, and he will rouse you again. A sweet, dreamy moan escapes your chest as your body curls upwards into the touch, that sharp electrical jolt of pleasure from the pinch easing between your legs and pulsing there.

Dissatisfied, he leans down and parts his lips to take a nipple into his mouth, his teeth pinching and clamping at the pillowy flesh that protects your organs from him, his tongue flickering over the hard bud and swirling around it in a way that makes your dream itself swirl into a sense of delirium. Polka dots and stars kick up in the meadow you’re in and then suddenly you’re opening your eyes to a man on your chest, compressing you, his brown eyes staring at you with that same concern that made you melt. Sighing and giving him a moan of approval, you loll your head back and your eyes flutter closed. Back to spotty starry delirium.

Growling in frustration he switches attention to the other nipple while his hands caress over your flesh, the only parts familiar to him – but you have no frills along your gills to play with, you don’t even have gills. No egg chambers along your soft abdomen that his hands can massage over and watch you squirm like a little maid during her first time.

In your dream state you’re laying back on the sand and basking in the warmth of the sun with a colour drink in hand. Watching the boat you were once aboard safely chug out to sea and disappear in the horizon. You’re taking a sip of your drink when you feel a droplet of rain fall onto the apple of your cheek and you glance up… a heavy grey cloud in the shape of a skull washing out the sun with a steady drizzle. Then there’s a sharp pinch between your legs and you look down as some red claw is sinking into the sensitive flesh there and you let out a scream of terror.

Fabric torn to shreds, wrecked among the sand, rock, and water, tatters to be taken out with the tide as your body is bathed in the moonlight and blood. Nectarine copper fills his lungs as the red weaves and rivers between your glistening folds, masking the sweet natural musk. Long, pink muscle pokes out from between his dangerous maw as his hands hold your deadweight legs apart, a long, fat lick of the tongue trailing through your slit and lapping up the iron and pleasure in equal vigour. A pleasured snarl falls from between his lips as he presses his nose tight to your mons, while his long tongue lapped and curled, pools of saliva dribbling down like icicles between his wet flesh and yours.

Ivory blades pinch against the skin as he attempts to sink his face deeper between your thighs, unintentionally nipping and scraping along the sensitive folds. Your body squirms away, making his arms wrap around your thighs and pull you to sit your cunt over his mouth as he devours you with slurping noises, his tongue prodding your quivering hole experimentally, exploring the cavern of your gummy walls as his pink muscle slithers around and coats your cunt with his saliva. His bottom teeth catching on one of your sensitive folds and sending a shot of adrenaline through your spine with a rippling moan.

Coming to your senses, the world spins before focusing and you attempt to crawl back from the pain between your legs, and then in the silver light of the moon you recognise the blood on your form, the coppery salty smell invading your senses as you whimper in fear and pleasure from the wriggling sensation buried deep into your cunt. You lock eyes with those feral chatoyancy orbs, blown out and abyssal, like Charybdis: swallowing you up and spitting you out whole.

Like falling stars, your pleasure sparkles and ribbons across your body from your aching slit as a firm, long tongue laps at that squishy little spot inside you that has you reaching the heavens. Then you feel the tail end burning like a deep horror that this was happening, and your hand reaches down to the sodden hair of this man to pry him away, only to be met with a low, possessive growl.

In the silvery white you can make out his silhouette and some of his features: A burly body, broad and packed dense for insulation, with your legs hooked firmly around large arms and kept spread wide like a serving platter. A long face with deep set eyes and a strong jawline, a nose that’s been broken too many times – but what’s most striking it the frill along his ears, the frills along his neck that flutter as he breaths, the way that the round pouch of his stomach trails down into dark grey scales, and a strong, titan, shark tail supports him in his endeavour to devour you whole. Your heart is pulsing in your throat and a scream mixes with a delirious moan in your chest, while your pussy throbs in interest.

“What are- are you-?” You manage to gasp out between deep breaths.

The creature – the man – unlatches his mouth from you with a sickening squelch, like sopping Velcro being torn apart, “Ghost.” It rumbles, voice hoarse and raspy, mouth covered in the scarlet stain of your blood and glistening with the proof of your arousal. He swallows and smiles with jagged teeth varnished pink, “Saved you from that shipwreck. Bastards left a pretty little morsel like you as shark bait.” He tuts.

Strong, scarred arms are on either side of your head, caging you in, and you feel the suffocating weight of his tail drag between your legs, “Deserve a reward, don’t I? Could’ve left you for dead.” His head drops and his tongue licks over the shredded flesh on your neck to collect the blood with a moan, and you shiver and whimper in bliss at the feeling of his rough tongue on your sensitive skin.

Nodding, you can’t help but finding yourself agreeing because it’s true, this man – creature – could’ve left you for your death, hypothermia, starvation, dehydration, drowning, all staved off by his rescue. And he’s so kind warming you up and making you feel good, drunk off the dying adrenaline, the blood loss, and pleasure between your legs.

So drunk you don’t notice when a firm, spongey appendage is sinking into your gummy walls, one of the creature’s long, hard cocks spearing into you as he continues to lick the blood from your skin, his rough tongue and sharp nails scraping across every pressure point that brings you pleasure as he attempts to bottom out into you. “Wait- no- that won’t-“ You gasp as the sharp tip presses to the entrance of your cervix, the creature snarling as you can’t take more. You look down where its tongue is circling around your nipple, trying to regain the air that was knocked clean from your lungs from his intrusion. With a gentle rock of the hips you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as his cock rubs every spot in your gummy walls and the tip kisses the entrance to your incubator.

A brutal, rough pace is set as he skewers you on his shaft, watching how your body bounces with every thrust in, how your breasts sway, how your skin nips and cuts at the rough surface of the rocks beneath you. Your greedy cunt devouring his shaft with your legs spread wide, stained in crimson and desire, unaware that the gluttonous little organ is about to be satiated twice over. He pounds pleasure out of you, each thrust in sending fireworks through your nerves and a magma like pool bubbling in the bottom of your belly, threatening to erupt any second now, “Fuck- fuckfuckfuck- feel good, you feel-“ You babble mindlessly, your hands grasping onto his thick forearms, barely even able to wrap your hand around half the diameter.

Splitting ache, throbbing and numb between your legs blankets your bliss, your orgasm fading like static from the back of your neck as your eyes were able to open again – looking down to see the creature aligning his second cock and pushing it in with a low growl of pleasure. His gaze is transfixed on how your cunt swells and squelches around the second appendage, how it clings and attempts to suck him into the tight heat alongside his other one, choking them in velvety hot delight.

“No- no- wait you’re gonna split me open-!” You cry, attempting to push yourself back on the rocks in a moment of trepidation, but the creature wraps his tail around your calf and drags you back down, spearing you onto his two long cocks as they invade your cunt and attempt to breech your womb.

“Stretches.” He rasps out in a feeble attempt of reassurance, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder as his hips set a violent, delirious rhythm.

Two hard cocks fill your gluttonous cunt as your screams of pleasure mask the wet, slick noises of his shafts pumping in and out of you, watching how your puffy entrance sucks onto them and attempts to keep them lodged deep inside you where the pleasure lays. Aching stretch turns into a deep sense of blissful filling, as he brings you closer to climax, the magma feeling boiling in your stomach and spilling over while your heart pumps higher into the back of your throat alongside your pitching cries.

Ghost lets out a deep, booming cry of an animal unhinged when you pulse around him, squirting out your release all over your pelvises and down his tail. Your gummy walls choke his cocks and massage them, attempting to milk them for all their worth while the narrow tips are finally breeching the cervix.

That familiar roll from his stomach has him hanging his head low as he grunts out in a mix of pain and pure unadulterated relief, as heavy weights finally leave his abdomen and travel through his shaft. His tail holds your calf tight so you can’t squirm away as you’re still coming down from your orgasm, oversensitive and crying out as you feel heavy weights invading your own abdomen, being pushed through by his long, reaching shafts.

The abdomen swells slightly and you press your hand to it, a confused whine escaping your lips as you feel firm, round objects swelling you outward, and you push down in attempt to shove them back out.

“Don’t you dare.” The man snarls as a hand snatches yours and pins it to the rocky surface below you while he retracts himself carefully, “Good broodmare… be a good incubator…” He growls out, “If you know what’s good for ya you’ll keep ‘em there.” “What have you done- what- what-“ You furrow your brows in a state of pure delirium and fatigue. “Just claimed you, didn’t I? No one be abandoning you for dead anytime soon again.” He snorts. “But you just – what the fuck did you just do!?” Your breathing becomes heavy and panicked, as the creature reacts in a rare act of understanding, releasing his rough hold on you to press his nose to your cheek in an act of affection.

“Nothing you aren’t made for.” He reassures in a deep voice.

#bunny 🩷#your mind?#a treasure!

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