mermaidfan76

[mermaidfan76]

⚠️❤️Adam→You←Lute❤️⚠️

[mermaidfan76]

Commission for @inubaki 🫰✨

Proud dads and their newborn baby platypus

[mermaidfan76]

Yandere Naga

Warning: sexual content, aphrodisiac, breeding kink, eggs, kidnapped, biting (twice), possessive, dirty talk, two cocks, big cocks, calls you "human" and "little human".

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

Yandere Naga who used to live in the forest like a king (no. not really) until he was captured and brought to a nature reserve.

Yandere Naga who doesn't like humans at all, always lets out threatening hisses and tries to attack the caretakers who enter his territory to leave him food or clean up his messes.

Yandere Naga who had already planned creative ways to get rid of his new caretaker (just like he did with the last ones) but what he doesn't expect is that it would be such a cute and delicious thing.

Yandere Naga who stares at you when you enter his territory to clean the place and leave him food, he narrows his yellow eyes, his pupils contract into thin slits and sticks out his forked tongue to taste the air —your smell... you smell delicioussss... like a mate...

Yandere Naga who from that day on stares at you every time you enter his territory lying on his rock, his eyes follow all your movements, he acts docile around you without hissing at you or trying to attack you, which causes the other caretakers to congratulate you for achieving the impossible, for making him adapt to you so quickly...

Yandere Naga who manages to identify at what moment you have your fertile cycles and creates a plan to make you his partner and mother of his offspring, he only needs to catch you off guard when you enter his cage for your daily chores, he must act when the other caretakers are not around.

Yandere Naga who can execute his plan with relative ease thanks to the fact that he became more "tame" that made everyone around lower their guard including you, one day when you enter his cage to clean he slides towards you quickly and wraps his tail around you tightly sliding quickly into the interior of his cave.

He drops you onto a nest made of branches, leaves and what look like old blankets, a clear attempt to make the place more comfortable, without giving you time to analyze what's happening he slides towards you, getting between your legs, his scales brushing the fabric of your pants and he sticks out his forked tongue sniffing the air before speaking.

"Your delicious rubber... like ripe fruit, I want to take a good bite out of you..."

"Wait! Wait! You can't do this! The other caretakers will notice that I'm not there, they'll come looking for me and when they find me they'll take me outside, they'll punish you if you do anything to me!"

Your voice tries to be firm but it's clearly shaky, he looks at you with his yellow eyes that narrow a little at your words, he hisses leaning over you until his face is right in front of yours, your breaths mix and he stares into your eyes without blinking, his words make your blood run cold.

"I will kill anyone who dares to come here to try to take you away from me. I will crush them until their bones break and their eyes pop out of their sockets, you are mine human~"

He hisses softly when your warm hands rest on his cold chest trying to push him away from you in a panic, he smiles at your fighting attitude and although I wish I could see more of that attitude unfortunately you are right that the other caretakers will start looking for you when they notice your absence so he must be fast, he grabs your head firmly tilting your neck to the side he opens his mouth and leans down sinking his sharp fangs into your soft neck making you let out a moan, he uses the aphrodisiac in his venom to make me more submissive and to make your body go crazy.

"What did you do..? Are you going to kill me..?"

"What?! Kill you?! Of course not! It's an aphrodisiac, it won't kill you, it will just make your body loosen up so it can receive my cocks, silly human~"

He smiles playfully as his venom quickly takes effect, he can feel your body heat skyrocketing, he sticks out his forked tongue which writhes as he smells your excitement permeating the air in the cave, he sees you writhing beneath him clearly uncomfortable and in pain from the effect of the aphrodisiac, he coos at you as he proceeds to quickly remove that ugly and rough uniform you're wearing and does the same with your underwear, his eyes studying your flushed naked body.

"Such a pretty human~ you smell so fertile I can't wait to lay my eggs inside you~"

"It hurts... please–"

He smiles as you can only whimper shakily, he rubs your dripping cunt his slender fingers tracing circles on your wet bud delighting in the way you shudder and your breathing becomes more labored, willing to not waste any more valuable time his scales seem to part and two terrifyingly large cocks reveal themselves making you shudder despite your daze but he chuckles as he takes one of his cocks in his hand bringing it closer to your swollen cunt.

"Don't be afraid human, your body was made to receive my cocks, you will enjoy it~"

He lets out a deep hiss as he slides his fat cock into your pussy, fascinated by the warmth of your insides that embraces him deliciously. You, on the other hand, are left breathless as you feel his cock stretching your poor walls as far as it will go, making its way into your channel, and the sensation is a confusing mix of pain and pleasure that makes you want to cry. He hits bottom and you feel his cock deep inside your uterus while his other cock rests on your stomach, staining it with precum.

"You feel so warm human~ I've never felt anything like this with any woman of my kind, I knew you and I were destined~"

He hisses and without giving you time to think he starts to thrust into you over and over again he pulls out his cock leaving just the tip inside before thrusting into your pussy again with a hard thrust, the sound of his thrusts and your moans fill the cave echoing off the walls, your pussy squirts on his cock and you feel dizzy at the delicious sensation his cock gives you, his scales scrape your thighs but that only adds to the overwhelming pleasure, his cock hits your cervix over and over again without slowing down or showing mercy, you're reaching the top when suddenly he stops making you let out a pitiful moan but he silences you with a playful hiss.

"Don't worry human you'll reach your climax~ but first I have to fit both of my cocks inside you~"

He laughs as you just let out a pathetic "uh..?" too fucked out to think, he pulls his cock out of your tight pussy leaving just the tip before guiding his other cock inside, both of his members slowly entering your pussy making you arch your back and let out a high pitched cry, you feel as if an arm is being shoved into your battered pussy, he senses your discomfort so he begins to rub tight circles on your mound trying to relax you, when he bottoms out your eyes roll back in your head, he takes a moment before he begins to slowly move as your walls squeeze him so hard.

"You're too tight on me— I'll give you some more of my venom to relax you human, that'll help us out a lot"

He wastes no time in leaning down to your neck biting just above the mark of his other bite, he injects you with a larger amount of aphrodisiac poison than before which causes the effect to be instantaneous, he feels your walls loosen little by little and your juices begin to drip making a mess and then you can't help but smile as he begins to move again, his cocks ram into you mercilessly he grabs your hips to hold you better while he listens to the high pitched moans that escape from your open mouth the erotic sight makes him move faster.

"That's it~ you take me so well little human~ keep it up~"

He praises you even though he's not sure you're listening to anything he's saying, he still keeps moving non-stop admiring the bulge that forms in your stomach every time he thrusts into you, his heads hitting your bruised cervix over and over again feeling himself getting closer to the limit he can feel you getting closer too by the way your pussy tightens on his cocks, he can feel your walls throbbing and a few seconds later you cum your juices dripping down wetting his cocks and scales, your pussy tightens him like a vice which takes him to the limit he gives you a few erratic thrusts until he cums inside you deep inside your pussy.

"Yessss~ very good little human~ take my eggs!~ keep my offspring inside this womb and give me beautiful children~"

Your nails dig into his arms when you feel something round the size of a tennis ball slide from one of his cocks into your uterus that stretches painfully to receive it, eggs. You sob when another egg follows the same path and another, another, another. You lose count of how many eggs he lays inside you, you can't do anything but receive them, when he finishes laying eggs his other cock fills you with sperm, you stay like that for a while when he pulls out you are sore, tired and uncomfortably full, your belly is so big it seems like you are nine months pregnant, he wipes the tears from your cheeks and kisses your lips looking into your eyes.

"Don't cry little human, you did very well I'm very proud of you. I put all my eggs in your womb and fertilized them I'm sure all of them will gestate without any problem... in a few months you'll be a mother, but for now sleep little human, I'll be here when you wake up~"

Exhausted and unable to do anything else you obey, you close your eyes and let Morpheus' arms wrap around you, he watches with adoration as your chest rises and falls gently, he decides to lie down next to you, he pulls you to his firm chest and wraps his tail around you protectively enjoying your body heat, the tip of his tail caresses your swollen belly and he murmurs in a dark voice.

"I will protect you and our young with my life, I will kill anyone who tries to take you away from me or tries to hurt any of you, it's a promise my little human~♡."

[mermaidfan76]

GYM CRUSH SIMON

sfw + nsfw. unsafe sex. womb fucking. no condom.

you never planned on becoming a late-night gym rat. it just …happened. like most things in your life, it started with good intentions and spiraled into something you weren’t entirely in control of.

you’d made a new year’s resolution to get in shape— because health, discipline, all that crap— and, in a moment of overzealous optimism, you splurged on a gym membership. a pricey one, to add. the kind that made your bank account cry, which meant quitting wasn’t an option.

there was only one problem. you were busy. between classes, assignments, and the absolute joke that was your sleep schedule, the only time you could consistently work out was well past normal human hours.

at first, the idea of hitting the gym at midnight felt… weird. like stepping into a parallel universe where only insomniacs and questionable life choices existed. but then you considered the alternative— going during peak hours and getting judged for your piss-poor form, or worse, waiting in line for machines behind a dude who was live-streaming his workout.

midnight schedule it was.

it grew on you eventually. the routine became second nature. drag yourself in after class, half-asleep, toss your bag into a locker, and start on the treadmill to wake yourself up. a slow warm-up, music blasting through your headphones, then a mostly half-hearted attempt at strength training.

the people who showed up at this hour were predictable. a few other students— dead-eyed, running on caffeine fumes. a handful of older folks, the dedicated ones who treated the gym like a sacred temple.

and then there was him.

tall. broad. built like something out of a military recruitment ad.

the first time you noticed him, you’d nearly tripped on the treadmill. one second, you were zoning out, staring at the clock, and the next— there he was. buzz cut barely visible beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, arms thick with muscle, veins running down his forearms in stark lines. tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, black ink tracing the ridges of his skin.

(the combat boots were what threw you off. who the hell wore combat boots to the gym?)

he moved through his workout with terrifying

efficiency. no wasted movements, no unnecessary pauses. heavyweights. circuits. the kind of training that looked more like preparation for war than casual fitness. he never looked winded either. no gasping for breath, no pausing to rest, just relentless, controlled effort.

you developed a— not a crush— an appreciation for him. admiration. respect. that was it. not the way his hoodie stretched across his shoulders when he adjusted his grip on the barbell. not the way his jaw clenched in concentration. not the way his fingers wrapped around the weights with an ease that made you feel woefully inadequate.

“it’s a crush,” your friend announced one evening, stabbing a straw into his juice box.

you scoffed, flipping through your notes. “it’s not.”

“it is. i’m fit too, but i don’t see you staring at me like you wanna lick salt off my abs.”

you made a disgusted noise. “jesus, shut up.”

he grinned, tipping his juice box back dramatically. “i’m just saying. the fact that you haven’t even talked to him and yet know his entire workout routine is very-"

“i do not know his entire workout routine.”

your friend raised a brow.

you sighed. “…he does back and legs on tuesdays.”

his brow lifted higher.

“…and arms on thursdays.”

silence.

“right.”

“shut up.”

you’d considered talking to him. maybe asking for tips or making some awkward joke about his frankly ridiculous choice of gym footwear. but he didn’t exactly radiate approachable.

the man looked like he’d rather be waterboarded than engage in small talk.

and you? you weren’t some plucky rom-com protagonist who could charm the brooding loner into friendship with a dazzling smile and sheer force of personality. so, you kept your distance. which was fine. totally fine.

What the hell would you even say? “hey, nice pecs, can I bury my face between them?” he’d call the police on you.

so, you stayed quiet..

until the night you made the monumentally stupid decision to start lifting weights.

in your defense, it wasn’t entirely your idea. you were perfectly content with your usual treadmill-and-machines routine. but then your friend had to go and mock you.

“you’re paying for a full gym membership,” he said, flicking a fry at your forehead, “and you’re not even using the weight room?”

“i use it,” you protested.

“you walk through it.”

okay, fine. he had a point. which was how you ended up here, standing in front of a barbell, mentally preparing yourself to lift it like you were about to perform brain surgery.

you’d done your research— watched some youtube tutorials, read some articles. you knew the basics. foot placement. core engagement. not arching your back like a possessed demon.

you took a deep breath, squared your stance, wrapped your hands around the bar, and— nothing.

the bar didn’t budge.

you frowned, adjusted your grip. another deep breath. still nothing.

okay. you could do this. just, more force. maybe a little momentum. you planted your feet, sucked in a breath, and heaved—

"y’need a spotter?"

you startle so hard you nearly fall backward, breath catching as you whip around. close— he’s close, and jesus, he’s even bigger up close. broad shoulders, thick arms crossed over his chest, pale eyes flicking between you and the barbell like he’s already making peace with witnessing an injury. his hoodie is pulled up like always, shadows cutting sharp over the edges of his jaw, but there’s something vaguely unimpressed about his expression. braced for disaster.

you swallow. "uh."

his brow lifts, expectant, as if this is some kind of trick question. "that a yes or a no?"

"i-" your brain short-circuits. every ounce of confidence you had a second ago shrivels up and dies. "i totally got this."

he exhales sharply, something between a scoff and a sigh. he shifts his weight, one foot bracing slightly forward. "sure you do.

your face heats. you turn back to the barbell, fingers tightening around the metal, and pull. it lifts— barely. your arms burn, hands already sweating, but you’re stubborn. you have it. almost.

"you’re about to smash your fucking face in," he mutters.

you falter— just for a second— but that’s all it takes. your grip slips, the weight tilting. shit, shit, shit!

he moves fast. faster than you expect. before you can even panic properly, his hands brace yours, steadying the bar with zero effort. he’s strong, fingers wrapping over yours for a brief moment before smoothly guiding the weight back onto the rack like it weighs nothing. you stumble back, arms trembling from the strain, but he doesn’t step away yet, just watches you catch your breath.

"right," he says after a beat, stepping back. "now that you’ve definitely got it, mind if i give you some actual pointers?"

you blink up at him, still processing the fact that you almost died, and this guy just saved your life like it was nothing. "you train people?"

"no. just rather not watch someone crush their skull in." which is… fair, you suppose.

you wipe your sweaty palms on your leggings, trying not to look as embarrassed as you feel. "okay. please. teach me."

you and simon— you learn his name by the third day!— slowly fall into a routine, much to his chagrin. he hadn’t expected offering to help you not splatter brain matter across the gym floor would lead to... this. a persistent presence. a shadow in his periphery.

he doesn’t know how it happened, how you managed to wedge yourself into the one place he thought was untouchable, but somehow, you did. and now, you’re there. always. not in an overbearing way. you don’t talk his ear off or force yourself on him. if anything, you’re surprisingly easy to be around. and worse— comfortable. which is fucking dangerous.

a routine starts forming. he hadn’t expected that offering to help you not crush your own skull under a barbell would lead to… this. hadn’t expected that you’d still be here, three days later, four, a week, waving at him when he walks in, bright-eyed and warm despite the ungodly hour. he tries to keep you at arm’s length, really, he does.

but you’re not loud. you don’t force yourself on him. you don’t pry or try to push past his walls— you just exist, alongside him, like it’s a natural thing in the world. you ask him questions, ease him into conversations so seamlessly that sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s talking until he’s already halfway into answering.

"you ever listen to anything in those headphones?"

he glances at you, then down at his battered over-ear set, blinking like he’d forgotten they were even on. "sometimes."

you hum, stepping up to adjust your weights. "what kinda music?

he hesitates. "depends."

"on?"

"the day."

you narrow your eyes. "that’s not an answer."

"sure it is."

you mutter something under your breath about how “everyone in this gym is allergic to giving a straight answer,” but drop it— he notices that about you. you ask, but you never push. never press. you’re content with whatever he gives, and somehow that makes him want to give you more.

it’s little things at first. small details. he learns that you hate most protein juices but drink it anyway, that you run cold so you always wear a hoodie even when you’re sweating through it, that you hate country music and give him a long, horrified look when you learn that he doesn’t. ("not all of it," he defends, rolling his eyes. "some of it’s alright." you just shake your head at him like he’s beyond saving.)

you learn things too. that his tattoos are actually a full sleeve ("when’d you get these?" "over time." "wow, thanks, that clears so much up."), that he has an endless supply of grey hoodies and sweatpants that he refuses to explain.

"you ever heard of color?" you ask, plucking at his sleeve, and he swats your hand away. "practical," he grunts. "s’not a fuckin’ fashion show."

and then— of course— you fixate on the boots. the combat boots. “okay, but why?” you prod, nudging the toe of his boot with yours. “you know you can wear actual gym shoes, right?”

he gives you a flat look, expression unreadable under the shadow of his hood. “they’re my only pair.”

you freeze. your face twists, and there’s this flicker of genuine horror in your eyes that throws him completely off guard. “simon... are you... homeless?” your voice drops to a whisper, hesitant, like you’re afraid to even ask. his brain short-circuits. he smacks you lightly over the head, more shocked than anything.

"what the fuck- no, i'm not homeless, jesus."

you rub the spot with a pout, still eyeing him like you're not completely convinced. “well, i don’t know,” you mumble.

“you wear the same thing every day, never see you with a bag or a wallet or-”

“drop it.”

“-you don’t even buy pre-workout, simon, who does that-”

“drop it.”

some days, he comes into the gym in a mood. the kind where his head is full of static, his skin prickling with the restless need to exhaust himself into oblivion. those are the days he doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to be seen. and you— you notice. you don’t come up to him, don’t pester him or try to joke around like normal. instead, you just stand off to the side, watching him with this soft, wide-eyed expression like some kind of kicked puppy.

it’s unbearable.

like an itch under his skin that won’t go away. it eats at him, gnaws at the edges of his concentration, and before he can help it, he’s groaning and gesturing you over with a sharp flick of his fingers. “for fuck’s sake, just get over here already.”

you grin like you’ve won something, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you jog over, and he regrets it immediately.

you bring him coffee sometimes. at first, he doesn’t know how to react. he just stares at it when you shove the cup into his hands, blinking down at the little scribbled name on the side like it’s some kind of foreign object. he doesn’t even like sugary coffee, but he drinks it anyway.

the next day, guilt eats at him, so he shoves a protein shake into your hands, unwilling to meet your eyes. "s’only fair."

you squint at it, shake the bottle, listening to the liquid inside slosh around. “what’s in it?”

he scoffs. "fuckin’ cyanide."

you take an exaggerated sniff before grinning. “smells like peanut butter.”

his eye twitches. “just drink it.”

and then, somehow, that becomes a thing, too. a habit. every other day, one of you brings the other something— coffee, protein shakes, the occasional energy drink when you can tell he’s running on fumes.

one night, the gym is nearly empty. just the hum of air conditioning, the occasional clink of metal, the low buzz of some forgotten playlist over the speakers. the late hour has driven most people out, leaving only you and simon.

you’re exhausted, arms shaking, muscles burning with that deep, satisfying ache, but you’re pushing for one more rep. just one.

simon stands behind you, watching through the mirror. arms crossed, weight shifted slightly forward. tracking every movement, every shift in your stance, the way your hands tighten around the bar.

"you're on fumes," he mutters, but steps closer anyway, close enough that the heat of him presses against your back.

you roll your shoulders, shake out your wrists. “i got it.”

he exhales sharp through his nose, scoff and sigh rolled into one, but he doesn’t argue. just moves in, bracketing your sides, his presence steadying.

"alright," he murmurs, watching as you adjust your grip.

you brace yourself, pull, and the weight barely moves. your arms burn immediately, tendons screaming under the strain. your grip shifts, fingers trembling, slipping—

his hands are there. firm and certain, sliding just beneath yours, adjusting your hold without taking over. his chest nearly against your back, his breath warm against the top of your head.

"fix that grip, sweetheart."

you do, fingers locking down harder, shoulders bracing. he doesn’t let go, not fully, his palms ghosting over your forearms, steadying you just enough.

"lock it out," he says, quiet but insistent. his hands shift, one flattening against your stomach, the other hovering at your ribs, like he can feel where the tension is pulling wrong, where you need to engage. "push through. i’ve got you."

your breath stutters, something curling low in your stomach, and you force everything into that last pull, dragging the bar up, arms shaking, until you finally lock it out.

his fingers press in, just briefly, a quick squeeze at your ribs. "good."

you hold it for a second before guiding the weight back down, slow and controlled. the second it racks, your body gives, arms dead, shoulders screaming.

you stumble, just a little, and his hands are already there, catching at your waist. warm. solid. fingers pressing in just enough to steady you. they linger, just a second too long.

and then— "good girl."

barely above a murmur, just breath and heat against your skin, but it slams through you all the same.

your stomach tightens. your pulse jumps. you freeze.

you turn, still breathless, muscles trembling from exertion.

and he’s right there. solid. massive. crowding you. broad chest rising and falling, sweat clinging to the fabric stretched over muscle. too close, heat rolling off him, sinking into your skin, and making your stomach twist. up close, he’s all sharp lines and thick muscle, biceps flexing slightly as he rolls his shoulders back, tilting his head down to look at you.

"don’t-" your voice breaks. you swallow hard. "don’t do that."

simon’s brow lifts, lazy. "don’t do what, sweetheart?"

your fingers twitch at your sides. you gesture vaguely, heat curling up your spine. "that. the- the praise."

his mouth quirks, amusement flickering at the edges. "what, telling you you’re doing good?"

"yes."

he makes a sound low in his throat. "why? thought you liked it."

you try to start a defense, but he steps closer, and fuck, there’s nowhere to go.

"you did so good," he murmurs. his hand lifts, brushing over the curve of your waist. "pushed yourself real hard. took every single rep like a good girl."

your breath catches and oh, does he catch on to that.

"you like hearing that, don’t you?" his fingers curl, pressing into your hip. "knowing i’m right there, watching you, making sure you finish strong."

low, warm, approving—

"bet that’s why you pushed so hard," he continues, like he’s musing to himself. "just to hear me say it. just to make me proud."

simon’s eyes flicker to the vein in your neck. his other hand lifts, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, slow, almost tender.

"say it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "let me take care of you.”

“please.”

the rest of the gym is a blur. you don’t even register leaving, don’t remember how you end up outside, only that simon’s hand is wrapped tight around your wrist, dragging you through the parking lot with a single-minded purpose. the concrete expanse is empty except for simon’s truck parked just underneath a street lamp.

simon hauls you into the backseat, the door slamming shut behind him. the truck rocks with the force of it, windows already fogging, the stale scent of leather and the last remnants of his cologne in the air. the streetlights outside cast a dim glow that cuts through the darkness in thin streaks, glinting off the sweat at his temples.

his hands are on you before you can think. rough, impatient. he grabs your hips, yanks you into his lap, drags you down until you crash against him. the heat of him burns through every layer between you.

his hips roll up.

you jolt, hands flying to his shoulders, gripping tight as the thick shape of him grinds against your clit. even through the fabric, you feel everything— the ridges, the weight, the solid pressure slotting perfectly against you.

he does it again.

your breath catches, legs tensing where they straddle his thighs. you try to move, to adjust, but his hands flex, fingers digging in, keeping you pinned where he wants you.

"shh," simon hushes, arm against your skin, grip tightening as he forces you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you. "let me feel you."

his hips drag against you and you react before your brain can catch up, instinct driving you forward, grinding down, chasing the pressure.

his breath stutters, shoulders tensing as he watches you move. the friction grows slicker, hotter, the damp fabric sticking between you.

you glance down— and then you see it. his sweats, darkened, soaked where you grind against him, your arousal leaking through, making a mess of him.

"fuck-"

he exhales sharply, hands shifting, one palm smoothing down your thigh before gripping, pulling you into him.

"that’s it." he’s almost slurring his words now, his hips rolling up to meet yours. "so fuckin’ wet..."

your nails bite into his arms, your body working without thought, hips rolling, pressing down harder. the truck shifts with every movement, the worn leather seat creaking beneath you.

"fuck, baby." his lips brush your jaw. "so messy. feel that?"

you nod frantically and his cock jumps at your eagerness.

his patience snaps.

one moment you’re grinding down against him, chasing the delicious friction, and the next you're scrambling for purchase as he lifts you.

simon shoves his sweats down, and his cock springs free, slapping up against his stomach. it's thick. throbbing. the flushed tip leaking pre, smearing along the ridges of his abs, catching in the dim of the streetlights.

he’s big. not just in length— though fuck, he’s long enough to make your stomach clench— but thick, too. veins run along the shaft, disappearing beneath the flushed, ruddy skin. the head is a deep, aching red, fat and swollen, leaking so much it dribbles down, streaking along his cock, mixing with the slick mess you’ve already made on him.

the weight of him makes his cock hang low even as it twitches, pulsing with the rush of blood. it looks almost angry, the veins along the base throbbing, his whole cock flexing with each slow pump of his fist as he strokes himself, spreading the mess of precum along his length.

simon watches your expression shift, pleased. "knew you’d like that.”

he's teasing but you barely hear it. your eyes stay locked on him, pulse hammering as you take in the sheer size, the stretch you’re about to take—

he shifts his grip, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other around his cock. your hips twitch, instinct making you reach for him, trying to press forward, but he holds you back, squeezes to get your attention.

"look at that..” simon presses the head of his cock against your stomach, dragging it up, smearing wet along your skin. "gonna take all this, yeah? let me stretch that little cunt open?"

"yes- yes, please-"

"fuck." his breath shudders, his hold on you tightening. "greedy thing."

he yanks you forward, spreads your legs wider, fits himself between your thighs, grinds his cock through your slit.

the first press makes you jolt, your whole body twitching, a choked sound slipping from your throat. he groans, gripping your waist, shoving you down, rubbing your swollen clit against the head, dragging himself through your slick over and over again.

"desperate," he muses, almost cruel. "thought you could take me just like that?"

you try to answer, try to say something, but your brain doesn't work, body too busy chasing relief, hips jerking, cunt aching, a mess of whimpers spilling from your lips.

his cock is heavy against your stomach, his tip leaving a damp streak along your skin as he drags it upward. the grip he has on your waist is firm, fingers pressing deep into your flesh, keeping you still, making sure you see exactly how much of him is about to disappear inside you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, lilted by something dark and pleased. “gonna fit all this inside, yeah? stretch that little cunt open real nice for me?”

your breath shudders in your throat. the weight of him, the sheer size, sends a pulse of heat through you, thighs trembling where he holds them apart. he presses his cock higher, smearing himself over your navel, dragging slow just to watch the way your stomach flexes beneath him.

simon's fingers tighten at your hips, anchoring you in place. his eyes flick up, locking onto yours. “still want it?”

you can’t nod fast enough, hands fisting in the hard muscle of his shoulders, your pulse drumming against your ribs. “yes-”

he huffs a quiet laugh before shaking his head. then he moves, his hands shifting to your waistband. simon doesn’t take his time, doesn’t tease— just yanks your shorts down in one rough motion, shoving them past your thighs, tossing them aside like they’re nothing.

your panties are soaked through, the thin fabric clinging to your skin, darker where arousal has seeped into it. his gaze drops, and he groans, fingers flexing against your thighs.

his eyes practically shine as he reaches down, hooking two fingers into the waistband, pulling the fabric to the side instead of taking it off completely. “how long have you been sittin’ here all wet for me, huh?”

then, without warning, he lifts his cock and slaps it against your cunt. the obscene sound echoes between you.

you jolt, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. the weight of him presses down, drags over your swollen folds, smearing your slick along the length of him, leaving him just as messy as you.

simon's breath hitches, jaw going tight for a moment before he grins. “feel that?” he rocks his hips, slow and deliberate, the ridge of his head catching against your clit with every motion. “soaked for me. filthy girl.”

he keeps at it, rutting through your folds, dragging his cock against you in long, teasing glides. every lazy roll of his hips spreads more wetness between you, slick growing messier, needier, your arousal coating every inch of him.

his voice drops lower, almost awed. “you always this wet?”

you shake your head. you're not even sure why you're this wet. it’s obscene, every slow slide of him making a sticky, wet sound, the kind that makes your face burn with embarrassment.

his grip on your thighs tightens. he presses against you harder, lets his cock drag through the mess, smearing it everywhere, making it worse.

“just for me then?” he asks, watching the way his cock glistens, slick with everything you’ve given him. “i kind of like that.”

he lines himself up, pressing the thick, leaking tip against your aching entrance. he lets it catch there for a second, teasing, before dragging it up one last time, rubbing against your clit, watching you twitch beneath him.

then he settles back down, pressing again, the heavy weight of him poised to sink inside.

his eyes flick back to yours. “gonna let me in now, yeah?”

the first push is a mistake. he realizes it the second you tense up, sucking in a sharp breath, thighs trembling where they’re spread over his lap. his cock barely breaches you— just the tip, barely an inch— and your body locks up, refusing to take more.

simon grits his teeth, hands firm on your waist, trying to ease you down, but you’re too tight, squeezing around him like you’re trying to push him out. the head of his cock throbs where it’s barely inside you, thick and unyielding, stretching you too much, too fast.

he exhales through his nose, slow and measured, and tries again. rocks his hips, nudging deeper, letting you feel the weight of him pressing in. but you whimper, body trembling, nails biting into his skin. your walls clench down hard, resisting, and—

he stops. groans, and drops his head back against the seat.

"jesus christ." his palm drags over his face. "knew you were tight, but- fuck. you’re not gonna take me like this."

your face burns. your throat aches. frustration coils hot in your chest. "i’m sorry-"

"oh, sweetheart." simon's hands slide up your back, rough palms smoothing over your skin before he leans back, head tilting, eyes flicking over you. half amused, half exasperated. "you apologizing for having a cunt this tight?"

you sniffle, shifting in his lap, arousal sticky between your thighs. "but i wanted to-"

"you will." his voice is steady, calm, but his grip on your hips tightens. "just gotta take my time, yeah? don’t want you cryin’ when i finally get this cock in you."

you sniff again, blinking up at him, vision blurred, lips parted. "too late."

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuckin’ hell."

then his hands are moving again, trailing lower, fingers slipping between your slick folds, pressing in slow.

you jolt at the touch, a sharp, wrecked little sound catching in your throat. simon groans, watching the way you twitch in his lap.

"fuck, baby. so sensitive. all worked up and nowhere to put it, huh?"

you nod, heat crawling up your neck, hips jerking as he rubs slow, lazy circles over your clit. his fingers are thick, rough, dragging through the mess between your thighs, teasing, pressing just enough to make your breath stutter.

"s’not fair," you mumble.

"life’s not fair, sweetheart." his fingers press in again, pushing deeper. one first, stretching you open, curling inside. then another. then a third. his other hand stays on your thigh, keeping you spread, holding you open so he can watch the way you take him.

"gotta get you nice and open." his voice low and warm. "don’t want you breakin’ on me just yet."

you whimper, rocking into his hand, clenching down around his fingers. your clit throbs under his thumb, swollen and aching, every slow grind of his palm sending another shudder through you.

"shh. just let me do this for you, yeah?"

you do. trembling, gasping, grinding down, taking everything he gives until you’re loose, slick, ready.

when he pulls his fingers out, you whine, walls fluttering around nothing.

then his cock is back, pressing against your entrance, thick and hot, teasing for only a moment before he pushes in—

you take him.

the stretch is unbearable. every inch forces you open, slow and deliberate, the thick drag of him pressing deeper than anything ever has. your breath stutters, body shaking, thighs trembling where they rest over his.

"fuck, sweetheart," he groans, voice tight, hands gripping your hips, keeping you still, keeping you from pulling away. "you feel that? squeezing me so fuckin’ tight."

you do. every ridge, every vein, the slow, impossible push of him splitting you open, inch by inch, pressing deep— then he stops.

breath stuttering, you blink at him, dazed, confused, still so empty. "w-why-"

"baby," his voice is almost pained. "m’pressing right up against your cervix. can’t go any deeper."

but it’s not enough. you whimper, hips twitching, shifting to take more, to sink lower. "but i still feel empty, si.."

his jaw clenches, fingers digging into your thighs, trying to keep you still, stopping you from punching a fucking hole through your guts. "jesus, sweetheart. you don’t know what you’re askin."

"please," you breathe, eyes glassy, desperate. "si, please, want all of you-"

he groans, head dropping back against the seat, restraint hanging by a thread. "fuck."

then his grip tightens, and before you can say another word, he forces you down the rest of the way.

"oh-oh my god-" your whole body shakes, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as the thick head of his cock breaches your cervix, slipping into your womb, stuffing you full.

simon grunts, the squeeze of you making his vision blur for a second. "jesus fuckin’ christ."

the moment he bottoms out, your walls clamp down, fluttering, pulsing around him— the pleasure snaps without warning, white-hot, rolling through you all at once.

"fuck- fuck, baby." he curses, the squeeze of your cunt almost painful. his half-lidded eyes are trained on where the two of you connect, the way you gush around him, soaking his cock. "just from takin’ me all the way? filthy fuckin’ thing-"

he huffs a rough laugh, fingers flexing against your hips, appreciating the extra slick easing the way. "makes it easier, at least," he mutters, then starts to move.

it’s slow at first— just enough to let you feel it, to make you ache through the thick drag of him pulling back, just enough to let you whimper at the sheer pressure of his cock pressing against every swollen, overstimulated inch of your cunt.

but you’re already gone.

your lashes flutter, your lips part around soft, wrecked little sounds, your hips twitching even though he’s holding you down, even though you’re already stuffed so fucking full.

"look at you," he murmurs, dragging a palm up your belly, pressing down right where he’s so deep, groaning when he feels the outline of himself inside you. "fuckin’ cock-drunk already, sweetheart?"

you sob, thighs squeezing around his waist, hands grasping at him, trying to find something to hold onto as your hips jerk, rolling forward mindlessly, instinct driving you to take more, take everything.

he groans, gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so he can see all of it.

"can’t even talk, can you? too fuckin’ dumb to think straight."

"s-simon-"

"what, love? too far gone already?"

his smirk is wicked, his grip tight as he presses his hips up, spearing you open all over again.

you scream, body jerking, back arching, thighs trembling around him. "ohh- oh fuck-"

"there we go." his voice is full of praise, full of something dark and indulgent. "there’s my good girl."

he sets a slow rhythm, dragging his cock out until only the thick head is inside you before slamming all the way back in, spearing you open, making sure you feel it, making sure you take every inch.

"bloody hell," he mutterd, feeling the way your walls squeeze him, the way you shudder, the way you drip around him, slick gushing, soaking his cock, ruining his seats.

"listen to that, sweetheart," he groans, shifting his grip, spreading his knees just a little wider to pin you in place. "fuckin’ mess you’re makin."

he glances down, eyes nearly rolling at the sight— your cunt stretched wide around him, slick dripping down to his balls, pooling beneath you.

"christ, love." he has to gasp for breath. "fuckin’ leaking all over me- ruinin’ my fuckin’ truck-"

"s-simon-" you lose your train of thought, babbling incomprehensible strings of words.

"can't think?" simon's grin sharpens. "good. don’t need you thinkin."

then he fucks you properly.

[mermaidfan76]

This came across my Youtube again and I remembered it being the inspo for the Caged Reader AU I wrote about a while ago.

In a bit of an angsty mood, so while I'm at it, considering the CR is human, what if the second angel was either a witch they knew/fell for or, take it one step further, a Golden Guard they've bonded with who has betrayed Belos?

And no, for this AU, there most likely won't be a good ending... but there could be multiple humans Belos did this to over the span of four hundred years in a bid to "save" them from the Boiling Isles. He may have gotten too attached to some of them, platonically or romantically, and he doesn't know how to let go. He never learned, given what he's been doing with his brother's corpse.

[mermaidfan76]

Patreon Commission for @wimble_warcrime

Request: So basically, I was thinking of a disgustingly cute fluff piece about a werewolf and his mate going on a winter vacation a month before his mate is due to give birth to his litter. It's like a last hurrah before their family dynamic is changed forever, and they want to spend it alone. But (!), things don't go as planned, and she's forced into labour (after a particularly rowdy round in the sheets), and their also stranded in the middle of nowhere in the log cabin because of a sudden blizzard. So, werehubby and her have to deal with the birth alone, without pain meds or power.

A/N: I hope this meets your expectations, I changed it a lil bit and added power to the mix so there was someone not panicking. It was very interesting to write. :)

Cabin surprise

Werewolf x fem!reader || sfw (mainly), found family feels || tw: pregnancy, labor

When you first arrived to the cabin, everything felt so new and cozy that you felt instantly at home, it was like you could inhale the peace around you, the woods, solitude, the chirps of the birds outside… And your werewolf husband cursing because he kicked a rock while carrying your bags. Typical.

You tried not to laugh, but when you looked back and saw him looking at the rock as if it personally offended him, you let out a soft chuckle. He looked up, eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on his face, but as soon as your eyes met, it disappeared. His face broke into the biggest smile possible, his ears twitching like they did when he was excited.

Staring at him from the porch of the cabin, hand resting on your very big belly and a soft smile as you looked at him. It was just the epitome of relaxing situation. He walked to you in a rush, not caring that he probably kicked a few more rocks in his way. He was a werewolf on a mission, and his mission was you.

He hugged you with his free arm, squeezing you to his side as he walked inside. “Come on darling, let’s get you settled and then I can rub your feet.”

“I don’t need you to do that,” you tried to argue instantly.

He looked down, faking annoyance. “I know. But I want to.”

He had been more than helpful since you found out you were pregnant. Well, since he sniffed your neck and informed you that you were going to be parents. That was a weird breakfast. But it was magical at the same time, he looked so excited his tail didn’t stop wriggling from side to side for hours. Literal hours wriggling his tail, and his ears twitching in excitement every time he looked at you. His excitement had died down a tiny bit, but he was still over the moon about the baby. Or at least he acted like it.

You had the suspicion that what he really liked was seeing you round with his babies, he fucked you harder than ever, being careful not to put too much pressure or weight on your belly, but fucking you until your arms and legs were trembling and you were drenched in his come, your stomach and pussy messy as he marked you over and over.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ear every time it happened, too. He told you how much he enjoyed seeing you full of his cub, how he wanted to keep you full of come so you would smell like him forever… And you lapped it up. You lived for the attention, he was hornier than ever, and that helped a lot with your crazy pregnancy hormones that made you want to jump him every single second you had available.

And good lord if he complied with that.

He didn’t leave any of your desires without fulfillment. You wanted to be fucked raw doggy-style until your body was sore? Done. You wanted to suck his dick until he was crying and begging? Done. You wanted strawberries and cream out of season? Don’t worry darling, he would drive three towns over until he found them.

And right now, you knew full well what you wanted. And that was to be ravaged by your werewolf. “Come here,” you told him, eyes hooded and a primal hunger boiling inside of you.

His smirk was knowing as he approached, lowering his head enough to kiss your waiting lips. You deepened the kiss instantly, grabbing his hair and pulling until he was whimpering against your lips and grabbing your ass, pulling you up and walking you to the room.

And once again… he complied with all your desires.

But when you woke up a couple hours later, soreness wasn’t the first thing you felt, but the agonizing pain of contractions. Fuck. You were in so much trouble. You could hear the wind outside, which wasn’t a good sign.

You tried to remain calm as your brain freaked out completely. “Honey. Honey, wake up. I think we need to go.” He mumbled something in his sleep, and you turned to his sleeping form and hit him right in the chest. “Wake the fuck up, the baby is coming!” You snapped.

He stood up in one fast movement, looking around in confusion. “What?!” He was blinking rapidly, as if he could stop being sleepy if he did that.

You stared right back at him, but when another contraction hit, you squeezed his arm until he winced. “I have contractions. The baby is coming.”

Instant panic. “But… But we aren’t ready. We don’t have the stuff and… and. Hospital. We need to get to the hospital.” You looked at him and pointed at the window, which was obscured by the dark clouds outside and the huge amount of snow falling. That fact hit him harder than you expected. “There’s a fucking storm outside, we can’t go to the hospital. Shit. Shit. Shit. What do we do? What do I do?”

You breathed hard, trying to collect yourself. “Honey, I need you to calm down, and go get some supplies. We can do this together, okay? We can.” You reminded him. “Say it,” it was an order between clenched teeth.

“We can do this,” he repeated, breathing deeply and looking at you with a hint of desperation.

You looked at him, nodding shortly. “Okay. You aren’t going to pass out right?” You were sure he would hold strong, but at that moment you really needed him to be on fucking alert.

He looked offended. “What? No!”

“Okay. Go get towels and clean water and all those stuff they get in movies,” you instructed.

He got everything he could as you tried to remember all the things they taught you in parenting classes, how to breathe, what to do when the worst pain hit… All that things that at the moment felt a bit stupid but right now were saving you from panicking.

But then your amazing husband returned, he had the best idea ever. “Let me call the Alpha, she will know what to do.” You nodded, squeezing his hand until he whined at the next contraction.

He talked in hushed tones as the Alpha told him some stuff you couldn’t pick. Your brain was entirely focused on the pain and the way your lower body was starting to feel too heavy.

“Okay, okay… Darling, I got you. I got you. Alpha is going to walk us thru’ it, okay? She’s done it a thousand times with wolves in the pack, right?” You nodded, looking at him with tears in your eyes. He looked panicked still, but a lot more collected. “We can get through this. And then we’ll have a beautiful baby that will look a perfect mix between you and me, okay? You want that right?” You nodded again, a single tear leaving your eye as he helped you into a better position.

Step by step he followed what the Alpha was saying on the speaker, never stopping giving you encouragement and compliments. How good you were doing, how pretty you looked even when you felt like shit, how much he loved you… And with each word and each contraction, you felt a bit lighter, a bit better. And when the time to push arrived, he held your hand as he guided you through it.

And when you thought your body couldn’t hold anymore, when you thought you were about to die because of the pain… Then you heard a cry.

You opened your eyes enough to see a ball of fur and soft human skin on your husband’s arms, smiling down at him like he’s the most precious thing he’d ever seen. And you can understand why. Because he is. He’s the most precious baby. Delivery wasn’t over, but the rest flew by in a few seconds (or you thought there were seconds) because you knew your baby boy was okay and well…

You were breathing hard, body completely spent, when your husband approached you, already clean and with a bundle of covers on his arms. “You did it, darling.” He kissed your forehead. “You did so good, look at him, he’s so beautiful. Looks just like you…” He passed you the baby and you couldn’t hold back the tears. He looked so perfect, his tiny pointy ears twitching at the sound of your voice, and his nose scrunching as you booped him. He was… perfect.

The next morning you woke up feeling more than soreness, your whole body hurting but with a delicious smell of pancakes and bacon arriving from the kitchen. You wanted to get up, but before you could, your beautiful werewolf was walking back into the room, a plate full of food in one hand, and your beautiful baby in the other.

“The whole pack is here to help, the ran through the blizzard to get here,” he told you with tears in his eyes. You were a lot more sensitive than him at the moment, so the contained tears weren’t your reaction. You started to sob very loudly, alerting the whole pack who entered the room in a panic.

You found yourself half naked in bed, with your whole family looking at you with love and understanding in their eyes…

You did good. Both of you did perfect.

[mermaidfan76]

[𝟒] 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 | angel 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦 × female human 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: marriage of convenience; forced proximity; angst; domestic; crackfic; possessive Adam; he falls first and harder; misogyny; Adam being Adam; explicit language; religious imagery & symbolism; sexual tension; eventual smut; happy ending; not canon compliant. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: self-induced sleep deprivation, a gory description of a dead person. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,1k.

// a phantom lover

𝐘ou don’t even realise when you have managed to doze off, not until the moment you are jarred awake—your head snapping back and painfully colliding with the wall behind you as Adam leaves the apartment with an unnecessarily loud slam of the front door.

Hissing a curse under your nose even as you rub the sore spot at the back of your skull, you still silently are thankful to Adam’s immature ass for staying consistent while leaving the apartment every evening with a loud bang—so characteristically on brand for him. Although you are not sure what he was being pissy about when he was the one who provoked this reaction from you.

Maybe the longer you stay in the self-imposed lockdown in Adam’s bedroom, the madder he gets with himself, but that is just wishful thinking as you haven’t known the man long enough to know for sure if he is even capable of realising his own wrongdoings.

Speaking of time, that specific topic has been weighing heavily on your mind.

How long exactly have you been here?

There are no clocks here, and it’s not like the dead need to keep track of the passage of time, but you are not dead, and you really need to know.

You tried to gauge the passage of time by the look of your nails, yet they haven’t outgrown their polish. The set looks as fresh as it did on that dreadful day you found out about Marcel’s passing. It left you with two troubling possibilities—either the passage of time on Earth doesn’t match the speed at which it travels in Heaven, or you have stopped ageing.

Time, time, time… how much of it did you actually have?

Was everything you have been doing up until this point worth it? Or is Marcel already buried somewhere? You have an inkling that he is not; otherwise, his soul would be resting and not haunting you in your dreams.

That is the only reason you keep staving off sleep. 

Exhaustion weighs heavily on your being—your eyelids feel double the burden of it—and even as a prolonged yawn forces itself out of your throat, you still cannot bring yourself to sleep.

You are scared of what is waiting for you as soon as you close your eyes.

The dreams you have been having since you got to Heaven were the opposite of what one would imagine, given that you are in such a holy and happy place. That’s why you exchanged the bed for a spot on the floor beside the door. You keep having the same nightmare, and it always goes the same.

Night after night, you keep finding yourself in front of the same wooden door. The entrance is familiar; you remember it from your childhood, so at first, it feels nostalgic. The dream is just that—a pleasant reverie, so you think nothing of it.

Even though the door is an exterior one, once you open it, it leads you straight to your bedroom. Attempting to explain dream logic is useless, but one thing remains undeniable: dreams have a way of making what seems nonsensical make perfect sense. So, the first time, you didn’t think twice about the image in front of you. 

It was also the last time you would remain so naive.

You made your way closer to Marcel's side of the bed without taking your eyes away from him. Marcel looked the same as if he was sleeping; on his back, eyes closed, calm and peaceful—none the wiser of the happenings around him. And you couldn’t help it—you inched your hand towards him as if it had a mind of its own, brushing back his hair away from his face.

On the first night, when the dream was still a mystery to you, this act of affection felt genuine. However, in the nights that followed, as you repeatedly experienced the same dream, you came to realise that you never had a choice. Yet, even when you knew what would come next, you still reached out to him. Even if your hand shook each time more and more.

Still, you found a way to blame this on yourself. It was you who ruined the perfectly good dream by being unable to keep your hands to yourself. Yes, that must be it; if you had left him be, this wouldn’t have happened.

You wouldn’t be in this mess.

The dream wouldn’t have turned into a nightmare.

The moment your fingers ghosted over his skin, it was as though you drained all vitality away from it with a single touch. All of the colours on his face bled away, leaving only a cold, putrid grey, as if your touch—like the gaze of Medusa—turned him into stone.

Then blood. Lots of blood.

The wispy strands of hair that still lingered between your fingers were suddenly matted down with blood, and his face—he didn’t have one anymore. There was only a huge empty hole left.

You were never supposed to see him right after the accident. When Seth frantically called you to tell you what had happened, you got to the scene just as the paramedics were wheeling the stretcher out the door with an unconscious Marcel on it. He had a white shroud covering his body, and for a second, you thought that he was already dead. 

Even then, at that single moment in time, you held onto this preserved image of him alive—his boisterous face, a dimple in his left cheek—but the wheel of a stretcher caught a rock, and the shroud moved, revealing the unrecognisably mangled face.

The face that now haunted your nightmares.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, in the blink of an eye, his body contorted into a sick mockery of a human form—stuck in a forevermore dance with death, arms bent from rigor mortis and reaching towards you. It's almost like he is asking you for help—to help him get out of this.

Yet all you can do is be repulsed by him.

Your brain becomes one big teleprompter, stuck on a one-sentence run in your head, as the only thing you can think about is, how do I get this disgusting, rotting corpse out of my bed?

He was so obviously your boyfriend, so why couldn’t you feel anything towards the love of your life even if he was a rotting piece of flesh? Even if there were no features you once so lovingly peppered with tiny wet kisses, he was still your Marcel!

But you felt not even indifference towards him. Only disgust, as you wished he would disappear from the bed—my bed—from the dream—my dream—from your life—LEAVE ME ALONE!

Every single time, you felt this irrational panic and anger towards the situation. The first night, you woke up right after seeing him like that; the second—you tried to pull the cadaver out of your bed. On the third night, you cried and pleaded for him to just GET OUT!

But you never got a response, only deathly silence as he remained motionless.

After the third night, you finally stopped sleeping altogether.

You catch yourself zoning out again when the jarring sound of the door closing snaps you out of deep thought. Your heart beats faster at the suddenness but soon falls into a normal rhythm as you listen to the footsteps trudging around the apartment.

You let out a sardonic chuckle under your breath; it’s as if Adam senses when you need help. A yawn follows soon after, and you rub your eyes with your fists with enough force to make your corneas sting. You sit in silence as what you presume to be Adam walks around the living room.

At this time in the evening, the bedroom is particularly dark, to the point you can barely make out the silhouettes of the furniture. It only makes your weary eyes more tired from straining to see.

And soon, the soft pitter-patter lulls you to sleep without you fully comprehending it.

Your eyelids flutter open, and slowly, your environment starts to come into focus. The first thing you see is you… reflected in that goddamned door handle.

Your hand is already hovering above the handle, only pushing it downwards to open the door as soon as you are conscious of the situation you are in. As if it was waiting for you.

And here you are, once again in the bedroom, looking down at the corpse on your bed. 

Your legs have a mind of their own when they walk you to stand at Marcel’s side. You don’t fight that. It is only when your hand moves to touch him that you do try—albeit pathetically, but wholeheartedly.

You are shocked when you manage to drop onto your knees. Both of your hands are pressed tightly against your chest as you take deep gulps of air as though you have just run a marathon.

Wide-eyed, you stare at the wooden side of the bed’s frame, your head bowed. An unimaginable feeling of absolute dread fills you as you lower your gaze from the bedframe and keep it on the floor. You never managed to physically resist the inevitable before.

What’s going to happen now—

"I think you’re going a bit stir-crazy, my love."

A cold shiver runs down your spine at the sound of that agonisingly familiar voice. It feels as if every bit of air has been sucked out of your body, making you lightheaded.

"…Marcel?" You acknowledge the voice but keep your eyes on the ground—terrified to look up. It feels like someone or something is breathing just above you.

"How easy for you to brush off any bit of common sense. I’m not him. You know that… right?"

"You sound like him."

"Is that all you need to be able to believe?"

You don’t respond. You only manage to swallow down the lump in your throat. Never would you have thought you would get scolded by your psyche. You are really losing it.

"It’s enough for me."

"You never needed much," he sighs, and for someone so adamant about not being one, the voice carries the words with the tone of a sentimental lover. "You have to let him go."

"I won’t."

"He’s dead."

"No, I saw you—" you stubbornly correct yourself. " Him. I’m not giving up now."

Your eyes sting with tears, and your vision is getting blurry.

"Don’t cry."

"I’m not." You scoff while drying your cheeks into your sleeves, but all the same, you curl more into yourself to hide from the voice’s seemingly omnipresent gaze. "So, I’m just going insane. I’m talking with myself."

"You are a smart person. I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to talk with yourself. While you’re at it, you should also listen—"

"I’m listening."

"Yeah, to your heart. And that’s how you got here. Keep listening and see where that takes you. You don’t give yourself time to mourn. That’s why you’re in this situation. Your bargaining is understandable. It’s also okay to be frustrated and sad. It's the way you are rushing through your grief, treating it like a problem that needs to be solved. It takes time—"

"I don’t have time! I don’t know if I ever did! Everything is working against me when I’m fighting so damn hard! But it feels as though I’m battling an invisible enemy!"

Frazzled, you leap to your feet only to come face-to-face with Marcel’s corpse, his face literally falling at your feet in wet chunks.

You awaken with a gasp in the same spot by the door, only now with Adam’s masked face just inches away from your own. He is cupping both your cheeks in his large hands, trying to focus your gaze on something other than what has been tormenting you.

That something just had to be his stupid mug.

"It’s okay, you’re fine."

Still hyperventilating from your nightmare, you squeeze your eyes tightly and, with furrowed eyebrows, attempt to shake off his hold on you, much like you try to shake off and rid yourself of the remnants of the nightmare that is still so vividly ingrained into your mind, it bleeds. Your throat feels like it is bleeding too; were you screaming? Is that why Adam is in your space right now? That would explain the iron taste on your tongue.

The angel applies just a tiny amount of pressure on both sides of your face to stop you from moving, which ultimately makes you relent. His own breath comes in ragged gasps, his muscles tense.

"You’re not alone."

"Go away." You weakly whisper into the darkness, shedding a few tears of frustration.

He does not heed your poor attempt to push him away, even though, for a brief moment, you thought he was going to. Just before he gets up, Adam effortlessly scoops you up, throws you over his shoulder, and carries you to bed—kicking and punching but not screaming. 

As soon as you hit the mattress, you attempt to roll off and away from the bed, but Adam catches your arm just as you are on the brink of falling and drags you back towards the middle, joining you for good measure.

"Don’t push me away."

His voice lacks the usual cockiness that you have become accustomed to—it's softer now, like he genuinely cares.

"Oh, so you can, and I don’t?" You murmur weakly into his robes, attempting to push him away one last time, even though your fists are clenching his top in a death grip.

Adam takes ahold of both of your wrists with a single hand and presses them into the mattress between the two of you. 

"Not now."

He sounds tired, those two words coming straight from his soul.

You don’t fight him on that anymore, and bit by bit, his grip around your wrists begins to loosen. His touch feels softer, yet not so gentle that you would believe he has let go of you. 

A prideful part of you believes that letting go is what you should do—but in this moment, the other side of you wins as you snuggle closer to his warm, soft body and allow the breath you have been holding to escape in a shaky exhale, followed by a dam opening as you unleash all of your bottled emotions into his chest.

Adam puts his free hand on your back, pushing you to press more into him. His steady breathing calms your erratic one, but his fast heartbeat does nothing to calm your own.

» » »

You stand in front of the bedroom door, contemplating.

Last night genuinely felt more like a dream, and Adam's absence when you woke up this morning only added more merit to that feeling, making you consider that you might have hallucinated the whole thing were it not for the indentation in the sheets on the side of the bed he slept on.

You don’t know what made him come in to calm you down—whether it was kindness, which you doubt, or sheer instinct—but you had to admit that tonight was the best sleep you have had in a while. As you felt yourself slip into a state of unconsciousness, more akin to floating on your back in the midst of an endless, all-consuming ocean, you felt secure that you would not drown in it because Adam's strong hold on you provided the stability and security the way a life raft would.

No Marcel, no fear, only peaceful nothingness.

You reach for the lock on the door and twist it, locking yourself in the room with a soft click.

« « «

Days bleed into one another, much like words on thin, delicate pages in your weary gaze do. You rub your eyes, trying to remedy the issue, but it has the same effect as putting salt on a bleeding wound—it only worsens the situation.

You are buried nose-deep in the pages of a Bible that you discovered in one of the drawers beside the bed while snooping around, deciding that it was as good of an entertainment as it could get given the circumstances that you have landed yourself in after the fight. The stories are engaging, and there are enough of them to allow you to stay on your high horse for as long as you want to.

But the fatigue is doing its job too well. Tasting defeat, your only option is to crease the corner of the page you are currently reading and shut the weighty leather tome with a heavy thud resounding across the small space.

Moving from a comfortable position on your tummy, you roll on your back towards the end of the bed until your head dangles over the edge. You allow your eyes to close for a moment, not afraid of falling asleep like this. It’s a well-tested method by now; if you do, you will simply fall and wake up shortly before the deep sleep envelops you and drags you into another nightmare.

Or you will break your neck and save yourself the headache altogether.

With a defeated sigh, you reopen your eyes, and this time something catches your attention. You sit up, about to investigate, but all the blood suddenly rushes out of your head, making you sway and begrudgingly sit in place for a minute and not a second longer.

You climb off the bed and pad over to the slightly ajar closet door. Sliding your fingers into the crack, you fully open the door and move it slightly forward and backwards in an attempt to pinpoint why it might have opened up on its own. It is not like you have anything better to do.

"Hm…"

Taking your eyes away from the door, you glance at the inside, which should be empty but is not.

It is not.

Instantly, as if in a trance, you let go of the door, causing it to slowly move and widen the opening. You don’t move your gaze away from the dress hanging on one of the hangers.

It’s your dress, clean and mended when you thought Adam had snapped it out of existence on your wedding day.

You reach to touch it but stop just before your fingers can graze the fabric. You retract your hand and blindly reach for the door without taking your eyes away from the clothing.

You close the door with a loud slam, choking on the air that you depend on to survive.

The memories that the dress brings back to the forefront of your mind only worsen the nightmare you get that night.

"Get the fuck out of my bed! My head, too, while you’re at it! I’m letting you go. You—" you jab your finger towards the immobile corpse in your bed. "—can go fuck-where you want!"

Facing your fears, so to speak, you take the dream into your hands once again and begin your verbal onslaught on the body in the bed the moment you open the door.

You don’t get a response immediately. The lifeless manifestation of Marcel stays in the same position, never moving. But you feel his eyes burn into you through his eyelids. Your breathing quickens as you take deep lungfuls through your open mouth. Just as you are about to repeat yourself, dream Marcel finally responds.

"You hear what you want to hear and believe what you want to believe." His lips don’t move even when the words are being spoken from his direction and in his voice. "You will never get rid of this, so it’s best to get used to the eyesore. If you manage to get him back, this would be your everyday view, not only something that taints your dreams. Half of his face is gone from the gunshot, and he’s been lying in that freezer for some time. It doesn’t matter for how long; the damage is done."

You flinch at his words. Of course, that is the most logical outcome, but nothing about this situation is anything of the sort. You have been to both Hell and Heaven as a living being, so why wouldn’t Marcel be as good as new if you brought him back to life?

Once you bring him back.

"You seem… surprised? Did you genuinely expect that he would come back as he was before? When did you become so selectively blind? Never painted you as an idealist. You never disregarded common sense, even when it challenged your goals and the likelihood of their outcome before. It’s a dangerous game you are playing."

Suddenly, you feel stiff, cold arms wrap around you from behind, making you jump in your skin. The corpse effigy of your lover is still there in the bed; eyes closed, lips pressed in a thin line. Then who is behind you?

"Nothing will change the fact that this is what you would get, my love—a rotting corpse."

You feel something wet against your shoulder, soaking through the thin material of your dress and smelling of putrid human flesh.

"Please," your voice is soft, whimpering. "Let me go."

Let go of my body.

Stop messing with my head.

"You wanted this." The same voice that has been talking to you this whole time now breathes into your ear. The beings' touch is cold and unpleasant. "You are the one that refuses to let me go."

"Y–you’re not him."

Wake up.

"Are you sure of that? Are you so naïve to trust my word, or is that because you don’t think that he would do the same for you? Crawl from Hell to the High Heavens just to get you? Make a deal with the devil to sell his soul just so he can bring you back to Earth."

Your heart beats loudly in your ears like a faint, erratic drumbeat, but it does nothing to temper the mocking voice and the bitter words it speaks.

Wake up!

"He doesn’t care, and he never did."

WAKE UP!

Your eyes snap open as a loud banging on the bedroom door wakes you up. Each thud perfectly syncs with the frantic throbbing in your chest, intensifying the leftover uneasiness that clings to you like a linen sheet stuck to your sweat-covered skin. Overwhelmed by the cacophony of sounds and sensations, you ultimately kick the duvet off of you.

It takes you a moment to find your voice—your throat feels tight as you choke back on tears, only managing out a pathetic whimper as a reply, "Leave me the fuck alone!"

He doesn't relent.

Ignoring Adam's persistent calls for you, you grab the extra pillow and hug it tightly to help you silence your ugly weeping.

You feel like a prisoner in your own body. Heaven is not your home—this room is foreign, the man behind the door is a stranger, and now even your mind is haunted by a voice that is not your own. It’s a wonder how one can lose all of one's autonomy so abruptly.

And for what?

As much as you hate to admit it, your nightmares had a point… or a few.

You cannot help but wonder if Marcel is even experiencing the things you are. If you allowed yourself to grieve properly, maybe you would have realised before jumping headfirst into the pits of Hell that Marcel actually cared very little, not only about his well-being but also about how his carelessness would affect you.

"I love it when you worry about me, little bee."

What you thought was endearing now fills your mouth with a bitter taste. What a selfish, self-centred thing to say.

Sleep-deprived, you can’t help but feel furious as the dream version of Marcel and his real-life counterpart bleed into one. He’s taunting you with his likeness after all you did for him. And he put you through all of this in the first place! If only he were more careful!

And when you remember meeting him again in Hell—he didn't even try that hard to fight.

Moving your hand, you absentmindedly reach an arm towards the opposite, empty side of the bed, gently brushing your palms over the soft bedsheet beside you and smoothing the wrinkles in its wake. At this moment, the coolness of the pleasantly chilly material feels soothing against the burning inferno beneath your skin. You feel so foolish for being angry and stubborn—for pushing Adam away.

"You’re not alone."

He came when you needed him.

When the sky outside finally begins to darken, you climb out of bed and drag yourself to sit in your usual spot down beside the door just in time as Adam leaves the apartment like he does every evening. Yet, you could have almost missed it by the way he softly closes the front door.

» » »

From the spot where you stand in the hallway, you have a great view of the couch in the living room. Finally, you built up enough courage and were about to approach Adam, but spotting his mask on the ground beside the piece of furniture made you rethink your decision.

It is eerily propped up against the upholstery like a decapitated head, its shining big mouth and wide eye holes stuck in a perpetual sinister grimace.

Finally, you clear your throat loudly enough to make the man jump up.

"Fuck!" Adam scrambles for his helmet, and you catch a glance at the back of his head in the process. So, he’s a brunet. Only once it is on does he turn to you. "What?"

Your body visibly jumps at the loudness. The harsh voice makes you want to turn around—you almost do, feeling stupid.

Sure, when he tried to console you last night, you did him dirty. He had every right to be cold to you, but when you were trying to be nice to him, he also pushed you away. It was an endless cycle at this point, a tug-of-war between the two of you, one of you deciding to tug the other closer but the other not being able to forget. At this point, you will never see eye to eye.

"I’m sorry, never mind," you say in a whisper, biting back your tears. You don’t want him to see you cry; somehow it feels like he would just laugh in your face.

Even with the mask on, Adam’s cocky face, albeit a bit sleepy and relaxed, twists with panic as he scrambles into a sitting position. It’s honestly impressive how expressive that thing is. "No, no, c’mere!"

You noncommittally wave him off mid-turn, "It’s fine, really. Good night."

"Don’t be a fucking brat and get your ass here."

You instantly turn around before Adam can fully finish the sentence. You hear don’t, and that is enough to convince you to stay, although when he calls you a brat, you second guess your decision for a moment.

You step closer—carefully, unsurely—until you stand only a few feet away from the couch and him, hugging yourself and with your gaze cast off to the side.

Adam grabs you by your forearm and pulls you closer until your knees bump against the plush furniture.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Was it a nightmare again?"

It’s not, so you stay quiet.

"Shit, I’m sorry—"

"No, no, I’m—" You think over the words you want to say. "Forget it."

"Hey, just babble to your heart's content. I swear to stay quiet. Okay?"

His words still feel patronising somehow, even if his voice is tender and compassionate, as if he was trying to talk you out of jumping off a ledge.

You don’t know what came over you, but you just start bawling your eyes out like a baby. Adam’s hold on you hardens, and that only makes you cry louder and harder. You’re overwhelmed. You didn’t allow yourself any grieving time, delusionally jumping into the role of a saviour, fighting against things that are way above your comprehension, being in a new environment, and not having your needs met.

"I’m scared of being alone." You finally choke out.

"...I know."

"You don’t know."

"I mean, I know how you feel. I have been there, and that’s why I should have been there for you. No one knows better than me what it means to be completely alone."

He tugs you closer, and you don’t fight it. You welcome Adam’s embrace, albeit with burning cheeks.

"I really am—sorry, I mean," you murmured into his chest, not daring to look up at him.

Adam lets out a sigh and rests his chin on top of your head. "There’s nothing for you to apologise for. I kind of put you into this position in the first place."

There’s an interval of silence in between you two.

"Then are you gonna?"

"Gonna what, babe?"

"Apologise."

"Pff, you want too much from me." Adam pulls you in closer, squishing you against his soft body, making you exhale a huff. "But I promise to make it up to you."

His fingers lightly brush over the exposed skin of your forearms, and that particular touch feels a lot like a soft, apologetic sorry.

"C’mon, smile for me."

Your face doesn’t change.

Both of you stay like this in a warm embrace for a little while. The silence is nice too. Although you might be the only one thinking that because Adam feels the need to break it.

"Hmm, you kicked me out of your bedroom only for you to come crawling into my couch. You’re heartless, baby."

The corners of your lips twitch upwards, and you think you feel Adam’s heartbeat quicken against your cheek, "This couch is extremely uncomfortable."

"…yeah."

You have half a brain to ask him to invite him back to your bedroom and way more comfortable bed within, but you don’t want to ruin this moment—afraid you would push him away again and lose the small amount of progress. So you snuggle closer to him and close your eyes, falling asleep with hopes that in the morning you won’t be back to being strangers.

[mermaidfan76]

Yandere Vampire

Warning: sexual content, blood, murder, menstruation, isolation.

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

I apologize for the bad Romanian, I'm not very good at the language and ended up using google translator. Thank you for your consideration 🖤.

Yandere Vampire who lives in a remote castle in the woods of Romania away from hateful humans, only approaching nearby towns when he needs to eat.

Yandere Vampire who first sees you after you and a group of campers approach his castle (don't you know you should never go near castles in the middle of nowhere? Fools.)

Yandere Vampire who smells a delicious smell of blood coming off your body and examines you looking for cuts or bandages on you. (He finds none)

Yandere Vampire who stalks you from the shadows and smiles evilly when you decide to enter his "abandoned" castle fascinated by its architecture, he will have a little feast today. Of course he will.

Yandere Vampire who begins to get rid of your friends one by one, making the rest of the group nervous and scared. Thump—Thump—Thump. His eyes widen in pleasure at the sound of your frantic hearts.

Yandere Vampire who leaves you for last, killing all your friends first leaving you alone and scared, he follows the scent of your blood, he finds you hiding in a room with your hands covering your head.

Yandere Vampire who approaches you and grabs your arm pulling you to your feet he laughs when you try to slip out of his grasp and uses his free hand to grab your jaw tightly his sharp nails hurting your cheek he feels your body shudder.

Yandere Vampire who freezes when his eyes meet yours he feels like a dead heart is beating between his ribs. Mate. You are his mate. HIS. He lets go of your face and wipes the blood from the cut on your cheek with his thumb then he brings his thumb to his mouth and hums. Sweet. So sweet.

Yandere Vampire who tries to lull you and calm you down murmuring "I don't want to hurt you please calm down, Draga mea (My dear)" but his words fall on deaf ears as you keep trying to escape his hold so he holds you by the waist with his arm and puts his free hand in your hair forcing your head back and without hesitation sinks his teeth into your neck.

Yandere Vampire who ignores your whimpers of fear and pain as he sucks your blood, delicious sweet blood, he eats like a starving man and only stops when you go limp in his arms from the loss of blood, he pulls away from your neck licking his lips and takes you bridal style and leaves the room taking you straight to his chambers.

Yandere Vampire entering his opulent chambers walks to the huge bed with you in his arms before setting you down on the silk sheets, he studies your pretty features feeling lucky to have such a beautiful and delicious companion like you although fiery but he can fix that.

Yandere Vampire deciding to tie one of your ankles to the bedpost with a shackle, just to be sure you won't try to escape your fate, he then strips off his clothes and climbs onto the bed approaching you to remove your clothes he makes quick work of it until only your cotton panties remain.

Yandere Vampire stopping abruptly his eyes widen as he lowers his head to your covered pussy and presses his nose against your pussy as he sniffs deeply. Blood. so this is where that delicious scent of blood was coming from. Looks like he's in for quite the feast after all.

You wake up feeling dizzy and with a weird feeling between your legs, you adjust your eyes to adapt to the gloomy light of the room that seems straight out of the Victorian era, you look down gasping when you see the man who was chasing you before between your legs, you automatically try to kick him off the chain on your ankle jingles and he holds your thighs firmly lifting his head you can see his mouth and chin stained with your menstrual blood and your juices. You feel sick.

His eyes meet yours and a smile slides across his lips as if he can sense your displeasure, your fear. His cold hands rub your thighs and he says with a low purr "Your fear is unnecessary dragul meu (my love), you could never hurt yourself you are my partner, my soulmate" you swallow at his words and try to gather courage before saying "I don't want to be your nothing... you are a monster! You killed my friends! Let me go, I want to go!" He is surprised for a moment before letting out an amused laugh that makes you press your lips together in annoyance.

He stops laughing and stares into your eyes with his surprisingly serious face and you feel chills from the sudden change in attitude, tensing up when you hear his next words "I don't care what you want, you can stay by my side as my companion and my equal or you can stay as my pet, but you will stay" you feel tempted to fight, to hit him and try to escape but you don't think you can get very far with that shackle on your ankle... so you resign yourself... for now.

He notices your resignation and feels a little disappointed, actually he expected a little struggle from you but that's okay, he's just as pleased with your submission. He leans closer to your ear as he murmurs his cold breath making you shiver "Good girl, I knew you'd see reason, dragul meu (my love)" He pulls away only to settle between your legs his cold body settles against your hot one, he grabs his cock and rubs his swollen head against your wet and bloody slit you can't help but let out low gasps at the sickening sensation.

He teases you for a long moment before finally sliding inside your pussy which takes his cock with embarrassing ease, you lean your head back against the pillow and dig your nails into the sheets when his cock bottoms out, he doesn't give you time to adjust and begins to thrust into you with vigor your moans escape from your open lips filling the room along with the jingling of chains and wet sounds, he leans down to kiss you without slowing down the pace of his hips, his tongue dominates yours and you moan at the taste of your juices and blood mixed together.

He breaks the kiss only to place kisses on your jaw moving down to your neck and chest where he leaves multiple bites murmuring things you don't understand against your neck "Ce fată drăguță și ce sâni frumoși, ești a mea, draga mea. (what a pretty girl and what beautiful breasts, you are mine, my dear)" your legs tense around his waist you feel your orgasm approaching, he seems to feel it too as he uses the hand holding your thigh to rub your clit his finger rubs rhythmic and firm circles making you get close to the limit without being able to bear it anymore you cum on his cock your vaginal walls tense and an "o" forms on your lips.

He chuckles at the fucked out expression on your face and moves harder, his balls slapping against your ass and his grip tightening on your thighs. His eyes close as he cums, slowly slowing down as his surprisingly cold seed fills your womb. He pulls out after a moment, you whimper at the empty feeling and he smirks before coming closer, saying in a wicked voice, “Don’t worry my dear, we’ve got plenty of lovemaking to do, eternity to be exact.”

[mermaidfan76]

90 Day Baby Daddy - Adam -HH

Previous Chapter <- -> Next Chapter

Chapter 1

A little late! But the holidays are over so now I have more time to work on this <3 Enjoy!

6 months ago, she didn’t dream of being a single mom but here she was, rubbing her nose against this babbling cutie. 

“Thank you so much for taking care of her…the dinner rush was pretty hectic today” (Y/n) smiled at the baby cooing and blowing spit bubbles to herself.

Living in a small apartment does have its perks, cheap rent and a community she can count on. It was hard the first months, especially when Addie was still incubating and even more when the baby was born premature. 

Y/n was just lucky her insurance covered most of it and only had to co-pay a quarter of the bill...which she was still paying off.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, she was an angel, just holler when you need any more babysitting okay?” Mrs. Pancakes smiled, holding on to the younger woman’s arm as Y/n escorted the sweet neighbor back to her door.  

Mrs. Pancakes, aptly named due to her amazing homemade pancakes, was a godsend whenever (Y/n) needed someone last minute. And the old lady was always so quick to give her food when she had the time to cook a little extra. 

Back at her place, Y/n laughed softly at her baby's babbling, pretending to understand what she means before opening the fridge; only to find half empty shelves of opened oranges, eggs and condiments. No actual food.

Y/n sighed, “Damn…guess I need to do some shopping huh…” 

Her baby copied her expression, giving the fridge a pout as her mother was forced to do some budgeting in her head.

It was nearly a quarter to 10…she can’t very well ask the old lady across the hall to babysit again, it’s SO late…but she couldn’t leave her baby alone…that’s illegal. 

“Hey Fish, Another round of waffles for table 6”, Arrem handed the ticket order to the shitty diner’s cook before tucking the pencil back behind her ear. “Hungry bunch huh? When do you think they’ll go?” 

The cook scoffed, starting another batch on the oiled-up grill, “More like dead starving, that table needs to slow down before we run out of ingredients” 

Fish kept his voice low as Arrem chuckled under her breath, keeping an eye on her girlfriend, Pen, serving refills to the only occupied table in the diner.

Arrem rolled her eyes at Fish's worry over the cooking stuff. It’s not like this place was jumping anyway. It’s good but it’s not Eden Garden with their unlimited breadsticks. More like Apple House to be honest. 

The bell jingled, making Arrem look up with a raised brow, “Y/n? What’re you doing here, I thought you finished your overtime?” 

Y/n smiled sheepishly, Addie waking up from her nap and smelling the fresh waffles. 

“Uh yeah..ha..uhm about that, hey Fish?” Y/n called, pushing the stroller inside the diner. “I’m gonna need an advance on my pay…again” 

Fish made a face before putting the stack of food on the order window, “Aw..damn y/n again? You know you advanced your cheque last week, right?” 

Arrem took the tray of waffles, kissing her teeth, “Have a heart Fish, Addie got sick last week” 

Y/N sighs, unbuckling her kid and letting her roam all over the diner, the whole place is locked closed anyway, Pen texting her between work to gossip about some bigshot renting out the whole diner for the night. 

“I dunno...if I advance your check again you won’t have any left over for your actual salary in a few weeks..” Fish rubbed the back of his neck just as Arrem and Pen walked back behind the bar counter. "At this rate you'll owe ME money"

“I just need enough for groceries….” 

A pancake flopped off his fork with a gross squish as Adam’s eyes widened in recognition. 

The woman that came through the door was one of the best fucks he’s had in months. Fuck, he can’t for the life of him remember her name but he does recognize the great pair of tits he sucked on that one wild underground concert almost a year ago.  

Hopefully, the bitch wouldn’t recognize him and chew him out for dipping out so quickly. He does not need another scandal.

Adam watched as discreetly as he could at the diner staff talking amongst themselves from his table. 

His band mates watched Adam poke his pancake against his cheek before taking a bite while glaring holes at the back of the staffs’ heads.

A soft coo interrupted the table and they all simultaneously looked down to the floor.

Little baby Addie found herself interested with the strange looking people at the diner she always plays in and started to tug at Adam’s bootlaces and trying to put them in her mouth. 

“Mmuh” she giggled. 

Adam felt like his chest got shot with an arrow at seeing the baby’s face. 

His bandmates all let out soft awww’s as Adam picked up the chubby kid.

Eyes like his looked up and around as Adam stared at the tiny thing. 

Huh…odd 

“Okay, you’re lucky we’re doing groceries for the diner tomorrow so I can afford to give all of this to you” said Fish, packing up the leftovers and whatever else he could give from the kitchen, even cooking up a batch of his famous stir fry to go. “I bet the kid would love to try some of this huh?” 

Y/n could almost cry as Fish handed her the bags of food, along with Pen and Arrem promising to hand out whatever extra pantry stuff they have to help out. Pen mentioning that they’ll drop by anyway to hang out over the weekend. 

Fish pulled out his wallet and flipped through the bills, handing half of it to Y/n, “And here, some of your pay so you at least have SOME leftover when you get paid next week” 

“You guys are the best friends I could ever ask for!” Y/n whined, grateful for all the help. The packed food is enough for a week at least, and if needed, she could go to a bodega to buy some cheap food to stretch it out! As long as her kid is fed, everything will be fine.

Arrem gave her friend an awkward smile, “Least we could do considering we uh..heh…nevermind” 

Pen snorted a laugh, her hair bun bobbing. “We didn’t think you’d end up with someone though! You never told us who managed to pop the bun in the oven” 

Y/n swallows, sweat beading and avoiding all the eyes looking at her.  “You know what? I actually can’t remember!” She laughed, the rustling of plastic cover her voice as she stuffed them in her baby’s stroller, “It’s been a while too…with work and the mom brain--” 

Her eyes widened at seeing a very familiar man.  

Adam. 

Oh SHIT

“Hi, excuse me Sir? I’m SO sorry for my daughter…she tends to crawl into trouble” Y/n laughs nervously, tilting her body to the side and trying to keep as small as possible. What the hell when did she walk towards him?

Adam raised a brow before a knowing smirk spread itself across his face. “Aww…it’s okay beautiful, you have a pretty cute brat” 

Y/n tried to keep her face neutral as Adam lightly pinched her kid’s cheek, making Addie smile; she does not like how Adam is staring a little too hard at her baby. 

“Right uhm—” 

“How old is she?” 

“What?” Y/n frowned at Adam, he was still staring at the baby, letting her grab his finger and play with his rings.

Adam was thinking a little too hard and he was NOT made to be thinking so much. He sideeyes at Y/n with an unreadable look on his face. 

“Listen,” Y/n glared at Adam, lifting her baby out of his grasp. “I don’t let people I don’t know hold my kid let alone answering questions—” 

“Bitch do you not know who I am? I’m fucking Adam—” 

“Who?” 

Adam looked at this woman, almost flabbergasted that she had the gall to forget who he was. She can’t forget who he is! He’s fucking Adam! Rockstar extraordinaire and self proclaimed dickmaster! The best dick she probably ever had! She's lying through her fucking teeth. 

He narrowed his eyes, he could see his bandmates starting to sit up, eyes shifting between the two, if they should intervene, the diner"s staff watching over the strange woman like a hawk. 

Y/n matched his glare, arms crossed. She is not backing down.

He had his chance.

“Alright, alright, my bad” He raised a hand in surrender, shoulders easing up and an easy smile on his face before picking up a clean napkin. 

Adam gently wiped off the snot from the baby’s face. “I didn’t mean any harm” 

“Right…well anyway...we’re going” Y/N lifted Addie away from him, turning away to grab her bag and stroller. 

Adam watched as the baby looked over her mom’s shoulder, with the wide eyes babies seem to have and flapped her fingers as a goodbye.  

Adam’s bandmates watched as the woman strapped her kid to her stroller and nodded goodbye to the staff and left

They nervously looked at Adam silently steaming in his seat. 

“Uh...you good boss?” One of his guitarists, Riot, said almost sheepishly. Adam has a tendency to lash out when shit doesn’t go his way. 

Besides…it’s not like the kid was anyone important, so it was strange for Adam to react this way.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m so good don’t worry” Adam grinned. Sitting back in his chair, he grabbed an empty food bag and stuffed the tissue inside, tossing it to the end of the table. “So? After Halo Plaza and Seraphim stadium, what do you guys think of doing a few more concerts here?”

Y/n sighs, watching as another concert highlight of Adam’s started on TV. She angrily munches her dry mac n’ cheese as she watches him play. 

She can’t help but continue looking for that asshole after that encounter with him at the diner. It reignited something in her that she tried to forget. It’s not healthy but…

Y/n swallowed and looked over at the crib in the living room, her sleeping Addie, unawares that she finally met her father. 

An interview popped up with Adam in it, making her roll her eyes and grab the remote to turn it off. She needs to stop before things could get ugly.

It’s time for bed anyway, she’s more or less rest assured that she will never have to see Adam again after this. His tour in this city is over. 

“Say, Adam? You seem to be spending more time  out and about here in our little city for a while now…you said before that you don’t stay in one place too long? What made you play two concerts here in such close succession?” 

Adam laughs a bit, drinking some water, the bottle looking small in his bear-like hands. “Well let’s just say something caught my interest here and I wanted an excuse to stay” 

“Ohhhh” The host grinned at her audience, “Do I smell a mysterious girl in your life?” 

“Pshhh please, I don’t do relationships…” Adam grinned, shrugging his shoulders, his eyes glinting playfully in the camera light. The audience scream in excitement, some boo'd thinking that their chances were lost.

“Looks like a mysterious woman caught the eye of our playboy rockstar! Oh, I’m so exciitteed!” The host squealed, tugging her blouse down to show off her cleavage. “I wonder who it could be!” 

Adam grinned, wetting his lips before leaning back against his seat, “Yeah...wonder who”

Chapter 1 is finally posted! I'm still working on chapter 2 but who knows? Maybe it'll be finished anytime soon. I wish that Season 2 would come up already so we have more material to work with xD I miss my husband fr

Thanks for reading!

Tags: @sniigura

[mermaidfan76]

Hi! Big fan of your books!

If your taking any request rn can you please make a romantic white king head cannon for your Disney master list?

I really hope that we see a lot more of him in your yandere Disney book!

Dark Male! White King X Alice's Mother! Reader

You are the mother of Alice, and after her sudden disappearance, you search for her until you accidentally fall down a rabbit hole and find yourself in Wonderland.

Desperate to find your daughter, you wander through Wonderland’s strange, ever-changing landscapes only to meet the White King.

He helps you in reuniting with your daughter and even allow you two to stay at his castle.

Right now, you and Alice’s stood before the White King, his alabaster figure glowing in the soft light of his grand hall.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," you say, your voice filled with sincere gratitude.

"You’ve been most kind to us, but it’s time we return home."

The White King’s light coloured eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his lips curling into a polite yet unreadable smile.

"Home?" he repeated, his voice smooth as silk.

"My dear lady, you are already home. Why wander back to a world so mundane when you could remain here, where beauty and wonder know no bounds?"

Alice looked up at you, her wide eyes betraying an awe at the idea of staying in Wonderland.

You shook your head, your grip on your daughter's hand tightening.

"We’re grateful for your hospitality, truly, but I have a husband waiting for me and Alice."

The White King’s serene expression faltered for a brief moment before solidifying into something colder, sharper.

"A husband?" he echoed, his tone laced with disdain. He stepped closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you.

"Surely you jest, no man could ever care for you or Alice as I would, you belong here, with me, I will make you my queen, and your daughter shall have a life of luxury as a princess."

"No, I-"

The White King places a finger on your lips, his whimsical smile appearing.

"The potion should work now."

When you realise what he meant by potion, it was already too late, as you have fallen unconscious into his arms.

The white king picks you up into his arms, before looking down at Alice.

"Now come, Alice, we should bring your mother to her bed."

[mermaidfan76]

Writing

What I write:

Alright, so just a quick jot down of my rules and writing boundaries. I'm completely happy to write things like; Fluff, Angst, Smut, lemon and all of the above. I would also love to experiment with diffrent reader views, so things like Fallen!Reader or wingless!Reader are completely on the table. (Although, when it comes to things like romantic writing I will not accept child!reader that's just disgusting. )

Characters I will write:

I mainly write Hazbin Hotel characters, but im not against writing from Helluva boss or other fandoms, which I won't accept requests from often.

Higher Request accept rate:

Adam || Hazbin hotel

Vox || Hazbin hotel

Alastor || Hazbin hotel

Lucifer || Hazbin hotel

Blitzo || Helluva

Milli & Moxxie || Helluva boss

Fizzaroli || Helluva boss

Ozzie || Helluva boss

I DO take other requests, but im not the best at writing women. Most of my non requested chats will likely be Adam (for obvious reasons)

ART

With art, I do not draw nsfw. Fluff, stupid art, random doodles, comic stuff, Angst are my finish point. I will take requests, but the art requests are mainly just to improve my own personal art and style.

Not much to say on this point!!

I take requests through my QnA button at the top of my page, I also awnser my personal opinions on characters, ships, or what will happen in upcoming multi-part Character × Reader

[mermaidfan76]

You're out night surfing and just after you wipe out you're swimming back to your board when you feel the crotch of your swimsuit unexpectedly being pulled aside. What's even more unexpected is when you feel someone, or something, start to eat you out from under the dark waves. You clutch onto your board for dear life as you as you moan. looking down all you could see is a long bioluminescent body and a face with glowing heterochromatic eyes looking up at you as they lapped at your pussy. Another identical bioluminescent body knocks the first eel off of you. They look like they're arguing with clicks and coos until it seems they come to an agreement of sorts. They both look over with glowing eyes and razor sharp smiles. You panic and try to get back on your board only for two sets of clawed hands to pull you under.

Hehe >:) you should’ve heeded the signs posted, warning of moray mating season. But the weather was too good to ignore, absolutely perfect conditions for night surfing. It’s just the same for eels, plenty of fish and the warmest of waters to encourage breeding. It’s your sweet smell that attracts them. Not the smell of food or prey, but the smell of mate. The perfect mate to mother their clutches. :)

When you’re yanked beneath the water, you can scarcely see anything. It’s too dark to make out your surroundings, but the blurry brightness of bioluminescence catches your eyes. You can feel webbed hands curled around your ankles, feel a tail weaving between your legs. When they realize you can’t be under for too long, they’ll allow you to surface, if only for a moment’s breath, before you’re dragged right back beneath the waves. You wonder if these creatures, who communicate in what sounds like dolphin clicks (but they’re definitely not dolphins), are merely going to toy with you until they’re satisfied before killing you.

That’s what you thought and were prepared to handle, but then you’re clinging to your board and being pulled towards the shallows. It’s difficult to tell them apart in this poor lighting, but their treatment of you is so starkly different that it proves they’re not one being. Clawed fingers gently work your pussy open while a skilled, serpentine tongue flashes into your folds.

They’re too heavy to push off, so you can only squirm on the sandy shore and cry out in pleasure-pain when two inhuman cocks spear you open. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and just when you think it might be over, the first eel flopped over in the shallows, spent and emptied of his clutch, the second one is pressing in to fill you up. He clicks and coos at you, but you can’t understand a word of what he’s saying. You can only read his body language and know that more eggs are on their way as they press up against your packed womb. >_<

It’s a long process, but by the time he’s finished the other eel has returned with armfuls of raw fish he’s caught. When he slipped away, you’ve no idea. He was so quiet. Offering it you rather insistently even though you’re much too exhausted and gravid to even think about reaching for him. You don’t think either of them understands that you can’t exactly eat raw fish with the bones in like they can. ^^;;; in the haze of early sunset, you can see them clearly now. The bioluminescence is dimming; it had been so blinding just hours ago. Even though they have the makings of monsters, all displays of sharp, predatory cruelty, they’re looking at you so fondly, treating you so gently now. It’s strange.

[mermaidfan76]

Hi, can I request a love triangle between Rin and Yukio, with a female reader.

I hope you have a nice day.

Dress to Embarrass (Yukio Okumura x Reader x Rin Okumura)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩���� 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You’ve always had a hard time adjusting to this job. 

The very prospect of it was embarrassing. The uniform- which you always found to be very cute- had long since become a nuisance to put on, given all the negative attention it garnered. The voices and the script you had to stick to- they were just too shameless at times. Even after you learned how to keep yourself from grimacing every time you had to say “Master~”, it still didn’t prevent you from cringing internally, wondering if this is really the best-paying job in the area that doesn’t require any prior experience. And worst of all, there was the chance of someone seeing you here. 

Someone who you would recognize. Someone who would recognize you.

You know that many of your friends wouldn’t be interested in this type of thing. You even know a few people who are deeply frustrated with the concept of Maid Cafes because of all the horror stories floating around about how the girls are usually treated. But you’re mostly worried about the few who were shameless enough to admit that they’ve been wanting to go to Maid Cafe for a while. You were mostly worried that they would finally work up the courage and would somehow end up at your store, on a day that you were working, during one of your shifts, with you as their server. Because with the amount of luck you’ve had in life, you knew it was all too possible. You knew it was all too likely to happen. In fact, in your mind, it was always a matter of when and who, rather than just what if. But honestly?

If you knew these two were going to be the ones to catch you right in the act…

“I- I- I….uh…”

…you would have never even touched the job application.

At the current moment, you’re struggling to find your words as your eyes dart back and forth between the two brothers who were sitting in your section. In the back of your mind, you can sense some part of you- the one who desperately needs the full paycheck this month and not a dollar less- screaming at yourself to get back on track and at least say your opening line. But the second you walked up and realized that the two cute boys you were sort of hoping would be sitting in your section were the Okumura twins, your brain began to short-circuit. Judging by the way Rin had yet to stop staring at you or close his mouth, it looked like his brain had likely short-circuited too. Just your luck.

“I...uh…” You open your mouth and try speaking again. But your words still refuse to come out as your eye two brothers sit in front of you. On one side of the table, there’s Yukio- one of your teachers. He’s dressed in his exorcist overcoat with his glasses pushed all the way up the bridge of his nose. From where he’s currently sitting, you can’t see much of his expression other than the straight line his lips have been set in and light pink blush dusting his cheeks. It doesn’t help that his glasses have managed to catch the glare from this angle, making it impossible to read the look in his eyes. 

Though if you were him, seeing a girl you currently teach do something as embarrassing as dress up in a costume and call other people “Master~” and “Madam~” for cash would have you feeling all sorts of conflicted feelings. 

That said, you suppose he’s currently in the same boat as you are right now. Because it’s one thing for you to be working here- you at least have the excuse of pay being really good. But it’s an entirely different thing for him to be caught here, seemingly willingly going to a Maid Cafe and sitting down for a meal. The straight-edge, tight-laced Yukio you know and love would have never been caught here.  

Though you can’t say the complete same about his brother…

On the other side of the table, sits Rin- your friend and classmate and Yukio’s equally good-looking older brother- with a menu gripped tight in his hands. You notice right away that he’s also still in his school uniform, likely having just come from cram school lessons with Yukio. However as always, his tie is loosened and his uniform seems sloppily put together in a way that presents to people an attitude of not simply not caring about appearance, authority, and blending in with society. Though, you know him well enough to know that he’s probably the biggest softie and sweetheart you’ll ever meet. Meaning that you always found it unlikely to see him in one of these places, but not impossible. But at least you know you can count on him to be one of your more endearing guests, rather than worst behaved. Hopefully, anyways

Either way, that’s why you’re slow to snap at him for staring at you for so long. You know what feels like to be ogled at. You also know what it’s like to walk up to a customer who you know that you’ll have to have thrown out of the establishment before they’ve reached the end of their ninety minutes. 

But for some reason, you have a funny feeling that his wide-eyed, open-mouth stare has a lot more to do with the fact that he’s suddenly seeing you here at the job you were so tight-lipped about and less to do with how flattering this dress is around your chest. Call it a hunch, but his eyes being trained on your face and not anywhere lower gives you a lot of coincidence in the boy. Well, that, and you swear you can hear his tail starting to thwump repeatedly against his back like a little overexcited puppy, happy to see his friends. If you weren’t stuck in this painfully embarrassing situation you would have been over the moon at the cute display coming from the guy with usually the toughest exterior. 

But you are. You’re stuck here. 

“...so this is why you’ve had to switch to the remedial lessons…”

In your own, personal, maid-cafe-themed hell.

The question that Yukio suddenly voices after you stammer off into the awkward silence (that the three of you were basking in for far too long of a time) is the very thing that manages to break you out of your stupor after what feels like hours of stuttering in front of them. You’re thankful for the question because, without him, you could only imagine how long it would take for you and Rin to get ahold of yourselves. However, it doesn’t exactly mean that you’re happy to see him. You’re not exactly happy to see his brother either. At least not at the moment.

“Oh, um…yeah,” You answer lamely. At this point, you don’t see any purpose in trying to recover and play up your assigned maid persona. “...my shift is usually right after school so I can’t be in class with all the others. Yeah…”

You trail off quietly, facing starting burning with embarrassment. Luckily, Yukio seems to accept your answer quite easily and makes no moves to push you into any more questions. Though, you suppose it helps that he’s currently seeing in front of his table with a notepad and a maid dress that’s a little on the shorter side. 

“I see…” The younger of the two brothers answers, his eyes still hidden by the glasses' glare. You still find it impossible to read exactly what he’s thinking at the moment, but you’ve found that his blush has only seemed to have darkened over time. A clear indicator of…something. Embarrassment? Shame? Attraction? You don’t want to know and you honestly don’t even want to think about it. All you know now is that even the very tips of his ears are red, despite his mostly passive expression. Instinctively, you find yourself shifting nervously in front of them, opting to tug down the skirt of your dress in a last-ditch effort to save some of what little dignity you have left. Though the action was futile. It was meaningless.

Because that sudden movement managed to knock Rin out of his own stupor. And just like that, you had another mess on your hands. 

“Since when did you-?” Instantly, Rin’s voice raises to a high-pitched shout as he points to you- a bright red blush covering his own cheeks. Honestly, you know you should have expected this type of over-the-top reaction from him. But could you blame a girl for being caught off guard?   “And you just-?! And that dress-!”

Before Rin is able to finish what you could only imagine to be a rather tactless comment, his brother reaches over the table and grabs at his collar. A hissed call of the older’s name and an order for him to knock it off is likely very thinly with a threat that Yukio hardly even needs to include. But Rin is still busy gaping at you, blushing hard and pointing even harder as he struggles to voice his thoughts coherently. 

At this point, you’re really starting to feel the pressure of being caught in a rock. And there’s little more to do than sigh and think about what you’re going to have to say on the inevitable incident report you’ll have to fill out based on all the ruckus going on between the two brothers (who had gone from beating around the bush about your maid dress to outright insulting each other and claiming entitlement to be the first to do…something you can’t even be bothered to listen to right now, honestly). 

Sure, you’ve always had a hard time adjusting to this job. You were constantly put in embarrassing positions and made to say and do embarrassing things while dealing with some form of harassment from a guest on nearly every shift. But you knew about this when you walked in and filled out the paperwork. Just like how you ultimately knew that eventually, someone you knew was going to find out what your job was. But, as much as you love them…

“It’s not like you can even do anything! You’re her teacher!”

“And you’re on death row! Who would want that?!”

…did it have to be the Okumura Brothers?

[mermaidfan76]

Is it ok for some Goldfish mer Riddle though?

It is more than okay!

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, captivity, codependency, mentions of breeding)

Riddle is actually quite well-behaved for a mer in captivity. Unlike the eel twins or the octopus, he’s much more accepting of humans and their interest in him. He tends to show off sometimes, especially if there’s a specific person he wishes to impress and receive praise from. He’s very intelligent and has even managed to pick up a few words and phrases he’s heard during his time in captivity. And he is very particular about his routines! He has each of his days memorized and by some miracle, despite never seeing the clock, he always knows when to wait at the surface for the researchers so they may run their usual examination of him. He seems to get huffy if they’re late, even if by a few minutes.

Though he’s obedient and follows everything the researchers want him to do when signaled, he seems quite lonesome in captivity. On days when he isn’t being seen by anyone, he’ll swim close to the glass, peering out at the lab equipment that waits behind the confines or he’ll swim in circles with a very thoughtful expression on his face. It always looks like he’s thinking through something, and he loves to observe the space that remains outside of his tank.

It isn’t a surprise when you’re assigned to study more of his behavior while also keeping his mood uplifted. You’re known to excel at caring for merfolk, hence why you’re usually assigned troublesome, fussy mers because your colleagues think you’re some sort of “mer whisperer.” Truthfully, you’re just genuine and you know how to connect through patience. On Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays you’ll meet with the octopus to keep him company and study him (though he rarely comes to the surface, which means you usually don diving gear and sink to the bottom. He’s grown accustomed to your visits now and doesn’t seem averse to you anymore, in fact even peering out of his octopus pot in anticipation when he knows of the times you usually arrive). On Wednesdays and Thursdays, you meet with the twins to keep them company. Though since they have each other, they’re a lot less dejected about captivity. They make for very mischievous playmates. You love studying their behaviors and how they interact with each other, with you, and with other researchers.

Now that your Fridays and Saturdays have been dedicated to seeing Riddle, you’ve decided to take a different approach. With the octopus and twins, there’s a certain level of caution you exercise due to their sizes and the fact that they are still known as predators from the deep sea. But with Riddle, who is much smaller and was found in a warmer, brighter freshwater habitat, he’s considerably more docile and social. He doesn’t exactly warm up to you at first, as your appearance disturbs his routine—his carefully crafted schedules that are so very important to him. He acts as if that breaks some horrible rule when you first arrive and introduce yourself, looking so horrified and confused that his expression shifts through various feelings all at once. But when you make it clear that you’re to be a recurring figure in his schedules, he relaxes and offers his webbed hand in greeting, mirroring the handshakes he’s watched the researchers do.

Riddle is very charming. He learns very quickly throughout the time he spends with you and the time spent observing other humans. He’s trying to teach himself more words so that he can converse with you, which has led him to insist upon communicating verbally rather than through actions or gestures so that he can better understand. Much like the octopus, he grows attached rather quickly and seems to be very receptive to praise of any kind, whether it be a reward or a proud gesture.

Riddle feels like his meetings with you take far too long to arrive and they always feel so fleeting. How time can pass so quickly when he’s with you but draw out forever while he’s waiting to see you is simply unfair. He tries to keep you longer, obviously desperate to remain in your company, but you can never stay for too long. Sometimes you’ll go over the allotted time and Riddle’s so very pleased when you say you’ll stay for a while longer. He does everything you ask of him, and he never causes any troubles. He doesn’t try to escape from his enclosure, he doesn’t splash any of the researchers (unless agitated), and he’s always been so cooperative. He’s a perfect, model mer! Surely you’ll continue to stay if he continues to follow the rules.

Even though he does very well on his own, he depends on you a lot. At first it was for learning purposes. He’d request materials to look at, such as textbooks, picture books, or certain objects he’d either heard of or seen while in captivity, and you would always be sure to bring them. And while he still relies on you for that, he also relies on you for company and affection and connection. He spirals into codependency so quickly that it takes you by surprise. Riddle has never gotten violent or temperamental with you or any of the researchers, but when you attempt to leave him one day and he grabs your wrist so tightly and yanks you into the enclosure with so much desperation it makes you realize he’s starting to pick up unhealthy mannerisms. The octopus and the twins have been like this before. Once, he trapped you in his octopus pot, folding himself around you to keep you there with him even though your oxygen tank’s supply was dwindling. And the twins had trapped you in an endless game of chase when they’d pulled you in and wouldn’t let you climb back out, insisting on playing with you until you could no longer keep yourself afloat due to sheer exhaustion. Perhaps you’ve kept your guard lowered around Riddle solely because he never posed any threat to you.

And he still doesn’t. In fact, when he has you in the water with him he doesn’t seem to know what to do. He looks absolutely saddened and scared and confused all at the same time, and he’s holding your arms so gently as he peers at you. But he seems to realize something and he’s quick to bring you back to the surface, pushing you towards the ledge so that you may climb out. He looks conflicted when you do this, his hand outstretched as if he expects you to grab it. Instead, you gently touch his palm and promise that you’ll be back next week. Poor Riddle is so ashamed with himself because he’s broken a rule, but he couldn’t help it. He wants you to stay so much. He misses you immensely in the days leading up to your scheduled arrival and almost doesn’t have the motivation to follow his other routines. But he focuses on those so that he won’t have to think of how lonely he is without you, as the familiarity and logical nature of a routine makes for a good distraction.

Riddle would never hurt you. He cares too much for you, almost to an obsessive degree. When you visit him next and your hand is wrapped in bandages and you offhandedly, casually mention one of the twins got you he frets over the injured area with a displeased frown and a dark look. He cradles your hand in his webbed ones, pressing it against his cheek and just holding it there. It’s a very endearing gesture. You wonder where he’s learned that.

For a while, you never had any problems with Riddle, aside from his usual desperation to get you to stay. No matter how hard he tries to keep you, he always lets you go. It seems he can’t bring himself to break the unspoken rules that have been put in place ever since you met him. Although things are a little different when breeding season is upon him. All merfolk act differently during this time; it’s an important moment in their lives. You’ve always avoided the octopus and twins when they were going through their cycles. The researchers would usually provide them with something to use to make up for the lack of a mate: an inflatable or molded silicone that was safe for them to use. It was too risky and dangerous to study them up close when they were so hyper-focused on breeding, and any cameras that may have been installed in advance for that purpose had been found and destroyed by both the octopus and the twins.

But Riddle is not as destructive or volatile as they usually are. In fact, as unfocused as he is, he’s actually more restless than violent or protective. He presses himself against the glass in hopes of seeing you, staying there for hours on end with his pupils blown wide. He remains perfectly still and even curls up at the very bottom to watch through the shadows. He never does anything to resolve the heat that overwhelms him, and if he does no one sees it. He becomes very private and subdued the deeper into his cycle he gets. You don’t visit him because, as kind and gentle as he is, he’s still a creature so uniquely different from humans, and all merfolk usually act rashly when in the throes of their natural biology.

Though if you had, he would have still treated you how he usually does. Riddle thinks of you and it helps get him through the unbearable. He wishes you’d visit. He wishes you were here with him. He wishes he could press himself against you and feel your delightfully human warmth. He wishes he could see you every day of the week, listen to your voice, touch your hands…

He resolves to have you during his next cycle, even if he has to break a few rules to achieve that.

[mermaidfan76]

BULLY!Dormleader Cater who puts you on trial in front of everyone for petty grievances and makes you do humiliating things as your punishment.

Thoughts?

Amen. Smash-/j

Tw:yandere, Cater’s a dickhead

You’ve always thought the C in Cater stood for Crazy. It’s how he always introduced himself. The whole “call me Cay Cay if you’re Cray Cray” gimmick he uses to break the ice. You used to think that he was just being a little silly.

Now? You can think of a lot of other words starting with C to describe him. Kneeling down on velvet carpeting, your wrists bound by… magic. You could feel it flow and pulse around your arms, stinging your skin ever so slightly. Leave it to that crazy Housewarden to make even your bindings as uncomfortable as possible.

Crazy Housewarden. Cruel Housewarden.

This bloody cunt of a Housewarden.

“Aw, are you mad?”

A mocking voice echoed through the hall, coming from a man leisurely draped over a throne. Medals and gold strings dangle from his jacket, a cap hanging loosely on the top of his head, threatening to fall off any moment. He had his long lanky legs hanging off one arm of his throne, his back pushed to the other arm.

Leave it to Cater Diamond to make even sitting on a chair an art form. He looked like a luxury model, posing for the cameras. Sometimes, you do wonder if all the flashing lights finally got to his head sometimes.

Gritting your teeth, you shoot a withering glare at him, before spitting out your words at him venomously:

“What am I on trial on, your honour?”

He shrugs, before slipping off his throne. Strolling towards you ever so slowly, grinning away at the way you back up, shoulders tensed. He positions himself right in front of you, bending down so he was eye to eye with you.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re insane.”

Grabbing his chest, Cater feigns hurt. Even his grimace was far too dramatic to be natural. It was as if he was merely playing a role. A role he was trying way too hard to fulfill.

“Ouch, right in front of the rest of the dorm as well.”

Immediately, you turn back to the best of your abilities, your panicked gaze flickering around. Just as he said, the rest of the dorm were gathered around, nameless faces standing in silence. All just here to watch the both of you. To see what the Housewarden had in store for his favourite toy.

A gloved hand found its way onto your head, fingers weaving into your hair. Closing his hand into a fist, Cater drags your head back forward, forcing you to look at him firmly. You let out a cry of pain, jerking away from his touch.

Only to fall onto your side, face slamming against the very same velvety carpet where your knees were forced into. But now, the fuzz on the carpet cut into your skin, rough as sandpaper. Vaguely, you could hear the crowd twittering behind you. Hushed whispers and mutters, far too soft for you to ever hear, but you don’t really need to exactly hear the words they’re using to know that they’re talking about you.

Tilting his head ever so slightly, there’s a smirk playing loosely on Cater’s lips. A smug, sadistic little smile, the way a cat would smile with an injured, feeble rat within his paws.

In that very moment, you felt the situation for what it was. It wasn’t going to be a fair court case, with the defendant, the accused, and the judge.

No.

This was a coliseum, and you were nothing but a show for Cater Diamond.

Forced to fight until you break.

[mermaidfan76]

Mother hen and her chick🐤

My part of the art trade with @krylovladislava!✨

[mermaidfan76]

Sure why not