#aquatic monster x reader

[shehungers]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 18+ | 2.8k

your granduncle claims that the noises coming from the basement were rats trying to escape drowning in the ocean outside the lighthouse and scavenging for food. more than being surprised by his audacity, you're astonished he hasn't noticed all the missing raw meat, yet...

story warnings; dark content, the creature is imprisoned, explicit sexual details, double penetration, ig the creature is experiencing some sort of rutting season?, some graphic + grotesque details, heavy prose + details, roughly proofread.

reposted from my deleted blog: theoxenfree.

this is an old concept piece for a larger story.

if you enjoyed, please support my work by leaving feedback and reblogging!! 💖

Uncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Granduncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, granduncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Granduncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much at the bottom: a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brung a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

“Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by gooseflesh as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

“Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n; not even gonna lie, when I did a brief reread of this to apply warnings at the top, I burst out laughing at some parts. oh, past me, what were you thinking?

if y'all wanna see this rewritten and updated to better fit my current style, please let me know!

[sea-stone]

Hey again everyone! Just wanted to update you all and thank you for the lovely reception I got for part one of my weretiger story. It's been so sweet to see people enjoy it so much :3 I can't wait for finish editing part 2 to share with you all!

That being said, I want to share part one ofnmy second story in the series "A Durkmuir County Tale" featuring a more original monster hybrid and another human. This one is much longer and gets pretty horny but not graphic. Thank you again @monstersflashlight and @aftermidnightspecial for being my beta readers this time around, and a special thanks to @aftermidnightspecial for providing much needed editing and positive critique!

Please enjoy!

Swim Lessons with a Siren

Part One: A Fortunate Misunderstanding

(About 4100 words)

Content Advisory: Discussion of Trauma (Drowning), Discussion and Description of Panic Attack Reponse, Brief Discussion of Consentual Sex Work, Horny but no graphic depictions (heheh yet!)

Leon had been lazily swimming around the main pool when he heard the chimes from the front entrance door. He drifted to the side, and pondered as he heard heavy breathing and your footsteps. This was not normally how people entered his sessions, but perhaps you were anxious, having to fight a case of cold feet? He didn’t expect you trotting up, your hair stuffed in a tight, strained bun, carrying a large duffel bag with lime green swimming flippers strapped to the side. Embarrassment dusted your cheeks with color under your numerous freckles, as it had also reddened your visible upper chest. You stopped, leaning over and hands pressed on your knees, to catch your breath. With how deeply you gasped for air, Leon would have thought you ran several miles rather than from the front parking lot. 

Once you stood back up, you gave a small wave and you spoke. “Hey, I’m sorry I’m late.” You wiped your hands on your dark colored jeans. “I got held up at work,” you explained, pausing briefly to consider your words before continuing. “I’ll go ahead and get ready real quick. If I still smell kinda-weird, it’s because I work with a lot of dogs.” You seemed pleased with your explanation, so you gave a quick nod before trotting over to the changing rooms. 

Leon hadn’t felt he needed such a formal explanation, but he wasn’t sure what to think about you in general. Perhaps you felt the need to explain nearly everything because of his look of utter bemusement on his face. Clearly, you were not here for the usual reasons. With an amused sigh, he swam to the shallows and stepped out the stairs. He tried to imagine what you would have looked like had you seen he was actually swimming naked and he chucked amused to himself. “Damnit, Melissa,” he said to himself. “What weird thing did you put me up to? And why was it with someone so damn cute?” He walked to the lounge chair with his belongings on them and pulled up his baggy, black swim trunks. 

When you emerged from the changing rooms, your hair was slicked back in a new, wet bun, and under your arm you carried a dark green towel and bright green swimming goggles. You wore a conservative, dark green one piece with a back zipper. Leon noted that you must have had a change of heart on the flippers as you chose to leave them behind. You approached the stair that led down towards the largest pool with growing apprehension and gave a worried glance before continuing further. Once at the landing, you froze in place. He saw how your chest fluttered like a terrified animal and he was compelled to walk to you. You stared wide-eyed at the pool; and as he drew closer, he noticed you trembled terribly. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked and gripped your shoulder. You didn’t flinch at his touch, not seemingly alarmed by his inhuman skin on yours. It actually snapped you back to reality, and you turned your wide-eyed gaze up to him. Your eyes then softened, recognizing and comforted by the genuine concern in Leon’s expression. A few moments later, you turned away to rapidly blink as if something had been in your eye. 

“I -uh, yeah,” you stuttered, but squeezed your eyes shut for a moment as you took a deliberately long, slow inhale. He kept his grip on you as you breathed out, and you reached up to his hand and gave his hand an affirming squeeze. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here,” you admitted, a more calm and almost forlorn tinge to your voice. “It’s bringing up a lot of memories, and one particularly not pleasant one.” You returned his eye contact, and smiled softly. “I should have brought this up to Melissa when I talked to her.” 

You released your grasp of his hand, casting your attention to the pool not more than twenty feet from you. You didn’t object when he took your hand into a reassuring hold. He watched you with keen interest, his silence was a strange, welcomed reaction so you continued to talk. “I actually know how to swim, but I had a bad accident a little over a year ago. I fell from a cliff on Viper’s Bend and drowned in the rapids. The only reason I survived was because my two brothers found me not too far downstream from where I hit the water,” He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. You looked back up at him, sensing he was able to speak.

“You don’t need to force yourself,” he assured you, a sweet warmth in his voice that made you smile gently. “Even being an aquatic being myself, I never dare swim near those rapids. I can’t imagine how that felt, for a human.”

“I’m lucky to be alive, but,” you bit your lip pensively and your eyes lit up with determination. “I’m tired of being scared of something that used to bring me so much joy. I grew up swimming, and I continuously swam every week, no matter the season. My family called me their Little Mermaid. I have so many happy memories. I don’t want that one instance to control my happiness.” 

Leon tried his best not to convey how moved he was by those words, but when your smile deepened, he knew he hadn’t been successful. Your nose crinkled when you smiled, he noted, in such an endearing way. “Let’s take this slow and steady, then,” he said with an encouraging squeeze to your hand. 

You let him walk you around the largest pool, giving it a wide berth, and redirected your attention back to him when it strayed by giving your arm a small jerk. He took you to a separate large room with two shallower pools with a hot tub at either end of the room. He directed you to leave your towel and belongings by a lounge chair, and he waited for you to join him at the edge of the more shallow of the two larger pools. He took both of your hands now, holding them so he had his thumbs on the tops of your hands. “We will go only at your pace, and we can stop at any time,” he assured you. You gave him a nod and watched as he took one step in. Your breathing started to shallow, but you furrowed your brow as you coached yourself with intentional breaths. Gently, you brought your leg up and down, mindful of how it trembled till the sole of your feet touched the cool water. Your toes twitched as you fought back the urge to flinch that would have sent you stumbling back away from the water’s edge.

You peered into his eyes and admired them thoroughly. Despite their uncannily large size, their near perfect circular shape and almost frog-like pupils, you took in every speckle that made up the mosaic of those wonderful green and gold irises with awe. In his enveloping gaze, there shone through so much genuine compassion and patience that it made your chest ache with appreciation and your whole body flutter. No one - not any human or paranormal you’ve ever known - had brought you so much security in the midst of your fear that had drowned you over and over again. 

You didn’t even shy away when heat stirred inside you and dusted across your cheeks. Despite your intense observation, you hadn’t noticed that his expression held a growing admiration, and enamoredness when you refocused your gaze down at your feet. You finally let your foot slip past the pool water’s surface and pressed down until you felt the grip of the concrete against your skin. You couldn’t help a childish smile, though it faded quickly as you tried to refocus. You followed that success you felt and swiftly brought your other foot to join you, touching the textured cement steps. Your mind tried to betray you, reflecting on how the texture reminded you of the rough and unforgiving boulders you crashed into trying to keep your head above water that painful day. 

At such an image, a surge of panic threatened to cloud your vision, the beginning of it distorting the periphery. Leon witnessed the start of your spiral and squeezed your hands, bringing your focus back to him. When your focus finally returned to him, he gave you an affirming nod. Slowly, painfully, you took another step down. The water now softly swayed against his knees, the dark, muddy green of his skin almost looking black against the light blue pool lights. “I’m okay,” you told yourself aloud very softly and you repeated it a few times just to be sure. 

“You are okay,” Leon was beaming up at you. He reminded you each time he was there for you as he stroked the back of your hands with his thumbs. There was a unique texture to his thumb pads that gripped lightly at your skin like smooth ridges. They dragged slightly as they passed over your skin and this helped you stay grounded in the moment. You took the next hurdle quicker with the next step down with one foot after the other in a more fluid succession. With another nod of confidence, he stepped down a moment after onto the last step of the pool stairs. The water now passed his knee, pulling and soaking the bottom half of his shorts. 

“Just one more step.” Leon told you. You took a hard gulp and nodded again. Returning the nod, he continued. “You’ve got this. Nothing will harm you here. I’ve got you, and I believe in you.” Your cheeks warmed at his last sentence, and you cast your eyes to the side as your mouth upturned with a small, shy smile. His eyes widened as he realized his word’s effect and forced himself to clear his throat from embarrassment. “Sorry,” he muttered shyly. 

“It’s okay,” you replied with a similar timid tone and you both looked up to watch each other again. “It was really sweet. I appreciate it.” He nodded, his own cheeks now reflecting his nerves, but his hands were still steady as they held yours. “You ready?” Again, you nodded. You took one last deep breath and stepped down, bracing your legs as water lapped at your upper thigh. You let out a shaky exhale, bringing  your other leg down. Goosebumps crept up your legs, up your back, and down your shoulders to your hands. As your nerves traveled down your chest, your nipples swelled and pressed against the tight material of your suit. You let out a small gasp, alarmed by how much you enjoyed that feeling and bit your lip to stifle any further noise. You leaned back, your vision blurred signifcantly; Leon pulled you forward, guiding you to sit on the steps. 

Somehow, Leon appeared to not notice your confused arousal because the compassionate energy was still present in his gaze. “I guess that’s my limit for tonight,” you remarked, breathy from the growing lightheadedness, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in your tone. Your eyes drifted from his, and you started rapidly blinking again, overwhelming tears threatening to drip down. He lifted a hand and gripped your chin firmly and with a gentle tug, he brought your eyes back to his. 

“Hey, you should give yourself more credit, human.” he said sternly, but the endearing nature was evident. “You’ve shown me more strength and resilience than I’ve ever seen in any of your species.” The firm tone was strange, but in a sigh, he added with great tenderness, “You’re amazing.” 

Your breath hitched as your heart began hammering in your chest. Your face might have finally recovered from your last embarrassed blush, but the heat and color was back again in your cheeks. How much more excitement could you handle before your heart sprung out of your chest? 

After a few seconds, Leon’s whole face flushed as he realized again how intimate his words were. He broke off eye contact and anxiously cleared his throat. You snickered through your nose and he released your shoulders as he smiled with pensive excitement.

The moment was ruined because you were the first to notice the time and your body stiffened upon the realization. He glanced behind him at the large clock, seeing painfully clear that it was past 10pm. He turned back to you with a somber, knowing look. 

“Looks like I should get going. It’s already been an hour.” He continued to not respond and watched you as you tried to stand up. When you couldn’t rise without grasping at the railing, he swept you into his arms into a tight embrace and walked you both out of the pool. You gasped, your breath stolen right out of your lungs at the fact his skin was still oddly cool and damp to the touch and how strange the sensations of cool and heat clashed with your chests pressed so tightly together. Just as suddenly as he brought you close, he released you. His chilling touch only lingering where his fingers had wrapped around yours. He wouldn’t look up at you and for the first time, he kept his gaze from you. You saw how his own chest rose and fell at a quickened pace. You didn’t want to let go of him. The thought of it seemed almost painful. Yet, when he didn’t look at you, when he didn’t explain his actions, you slowly pulled your fingers from his grasp.

  You backed away, but when he didn’t move again, you turned and gathered your belongings. You sighed as you looked towards the front of the swim center. You pulled some money you had folded into your towel. You listened as he approached, his wet feet slapping the floor loudly, and you waited until he had stopped behind you before you spoke again. “Melissa said you preferred cash, but she didn’t specify how much you wanted,” you told him. “If what I have isn’t enough, I can leave the rest with her if you would like.” 

You observed the sounds of his struggling breathing, felt his eyes burrowing in the back of your skin just a few inches above you. You slowly turned to meet his gaze. You hadn’t expected how frantic they would look, how his pupils fluttered as they near-fully dilated, leaving only a thin rim of vibrant color in his otherwise black eyes. You felt your heart racing again, feeling his ragged breath on your face as you tried to understand what he couldn’t say. 

“Leon, what’s going on?” you asked gently. You knew he was panicking but you didn’t want to accept why. The possible ideas made your head spin, your heart ache and swirling in your gut the long forgotten emotion of yearning. You quietly called out his name, to try and bring him back to you. When he didn’t respond, you dared to lift your free hand and cup his cool cheek. His lips silently parted first with an anguished sigh. 

“I can’t take your money,” his hushed yet strained voice finally fell from his lips and his tongue anxiously flicked out of his mouth. Your eyes flicked down to glimpse at his dark, velvety tongue and absentmindedly bit your lip before looking back up at him. You wondered if your eyes shared a similar look, shared at least some of the bewildering wanton desire swelling inside you. “It doesn’t feel right. We didn’t, um,” he stammered, a groan coming from his throat as he tried to speak, “I didn’t perform my-uh-usual services. I don’t want to take your money.” Now he rapidly blinked, straining to find the right words. You waited patiently for him, your own thumb now strumming his damp cheek. “I didn’t do enough for you.” He ended with a sigh. 

“You’ve done so much for me,” you reminded him. “You helped me start to face my greatest fear. I can’t thank you enough for that.” 

“No!” he objected loudly enough for his voice to echo into the high ceiling and down again. You stepped back stunned yet captivated. He closed the short distance, muttering an apology under his breath and pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes tightly shut. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his arms tightly into your back. You tossed your towel and such aside and wrapped your arms around his neck. You closed your eyes too and pressed your forehead against his. You followed his tempo of his breath initially and then deepened your own to encourage you both to slow down. You both held each other with firm tenderness, leaning your bodies together to comfort in your shared uneased state. 

Perhaps a few minutes passed when you heard Leon lick his lips again and swallow hard as he gathered courage to speak. “I want to help you more.” Leon admitted and finally pulled his forehead away to look down on you. Your eyes fluttered open to see his calmer eyes, how they remained dark wells with ambiguity. “I want to help you help yourself and I don’t want to do it for money. I want to help because,” he let his eyelids droop slightly as grazed the side of his nose on the side of yours. “I want to see you happy. I want to see you swim again and I want to see the proud look on your face when you do it.” His words were barely above a whisper. You became aware of the pull to meet his lips. This need burned greatly, the thin skin screaming to embrace what they so craved. 

“Leon, I-” you gasped as his arms tightened even more around your waist, trying to get every bit of himself to embrace you as fully as possible. His chest heaved against you, his heart beat thundering against your rib cage. Even though he had always felt cold, heat was rapidly building at every point your bodies converged. 

“Do you want this?” he asked with wanton lust oozing from his words. A brief exponentially tense moment of consideration passed between you. You answered by clumsily embracing his lips with your own. His lips were slick in a thin film of slime that made your skin lightly throb and excited you more than you expected. Boldly, your tongue burrowed past his lips and swept it across his many serrated teeth. He responded with a deep groan from the base of his throat and you echoed with your own pitiful attempt to match his intensity. 

You two were locked in a growing frenzy as your hands began testing and teasing one another’s bodies. You whined into his maw with each squeeze as each touch unlocked a welcomed sensation and added fuel to the growing blaze between your legs. This passionate embrace threatened to swallow you whole and lose yourself in building pressure of pleasure. You hadn’t realized you had moved until he had pressed you against the wall. He pinned you there as he began grinding his pelvis, his growing hot bulge into your most tender point. You nearly screamed and he pulled away with a small pop. A mixture of slime and drool connected your mouths together.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, gasping for air. You weren’t expecting the carnal hunger in his eyes and how much you wanted to relent to it but the bitter presence of fear in your mouth reminded you of your timidness. His gaze began to cool, to soften with gentle compassion as you strained through wheezing breath what you needed to say.

“I-I’m scared,” you admitted with your overwhelming feelings stinging your eyes. “I don’t-normally do this, especially not this fast. I don’t want to disappoint you.” His calm composure returned with his understanding smile. He released you slowly from his tight hold and gave you some room to breath, choosing instead to intertwine your fingers together. 

“You would never!” he purred, his eyes half lidded with a lazy warmth on his cheeks. “We will go slow and steady, I promise.” You gave an appreciative nod and gave him a light kiss on his lips. He returned it, not pressing further. 

Leon walked you back to the changing room, refusing to let go of your hand until you were at the door. You promised you wouldn’t take long, that you just had to rinse off and put your clothes back on. Your skin itched with excitement and you almost seemed to dance as you hurried your movements. Leon retrieved his own belongings where he left them by the front pool, humming a blissful tune and darted back to where he left you just outside the door. You appeared moments later and gratefully grimmiced when he began sniffing. “Oh, sorry. I’m still wearing my work clothes.” You lifted your arm high for a moment, crinkled your nose and pretended to gag. This effort earned you Leon’s amused chuckle and your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile grew. 

“You smell like a werewolf,” he remarked with an affirming nod. “I couldn’t smell it after you came out with your swimsuit, but now I am sure. But you aren’t a werewolf? Otherwise, Melissa wouldn’t have referred you to me. I have -” he laughed shyly for a moment before continuing, “-more consistent patience with humans than others claim they do.” 

“My brothers are the werewolves,” you admitted and clarified further when he gave you a perplexed look. “They are my half brothers technically, but I’ve spent my whole life with them. My mom met my Wolf father when I was a baby and the boys were born about 16 or so months later.” 

“That explains why you didn’t seem in any way alarmed by me.” 

“Why would I be? You’re incredibly cute!” You snickered and playfully winked, blushing as you did so. Leon didn’t stop himself from planting a kiss on your forehead and smiled again afterward. “I also told Melissa I wanted the best teacher, so she recommended you immediately.” 

“How did you get her number?” Leon asked, but before he could continue, your eyebrows knotted into confusion. “I mean, how else did you talk to Melissa?” 

“I saw her working here at the front desk,” I explained, giving a suspicious look. “I forced myself to go here last week to try and remember some happy memories. When she saw my distress after walking in, she called me over to the welcome desk. I briefly explained to her, like how I did to you, why I looked so upset and emphasized that I needed someone who had a lot of patience and experience to help me. Kind of like Exposure Therapy?” 

Leon was stupefied and when you asked him why, he silently guided you over to the billboard right next to the front desk. There were numerous fliers for local and county-wide swim teams and also independent flyers for private swim lessons. You had clearly seen some of these flyers around town. Leon pointed to a pale turquoise half sheet flier that, in large very ornamental cursive, very plainly said, “Wanna Sleep with the Fishes? Call to schedule a Swim Lesson with a Siren”, and at the bottom was a strip of paper one could rip off to take the number with them. “So, if you understand now, imagine my surprise when I see,” he paused as he turned to you, and broke out in a fiendish, toothy grin. You had reached a new level of self-consciousness, a new deep shade of red as you finally understood what he meant. You could hardly believe it but when you reached out and touched the printer paper, sure enough, it was there and you couldn’t bear to look up at Leon. 

You hadn’t noticed he had leaned in until you felt his lips tickle the edge of your ear, threatening to send you in a lustful spiral. “You know, you blush like a virgin,” he purred. You felt yourself let out an unintentional desperate whimper and you covered your mouth shamefully. You expected him to laugh again but he surprised you when he made what sounded like a teeth clattering chitter, quickly followed by a very deep, very horny sigh. “Oh, don’t you worry, my Darling,'' he said hotly in your ear before moving to press an icy, wet kiss to your temple. “Sooner than later, you will know why many humans paid so handsomely for my special lessons.” 

[fortune-fool02]

Infected aquatic leon kennedy. His legs have been replaced by a tail and he now has pointy claws and teeth, and since he has gills now he can no longer breathe air.

In his eyes, he's a monster.

To others, he's fascinating.

But to you?

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Sea Monster x Reader

In the spirit of Mermay, I come to you with a slightly different approach: an octopus hybrid, dwelling in the dark depths of ancient waters. :) Hopefully close enough to the sea monster you imagined, @wally0117

Content: gender neutral reader, male yandere, monster romance, reader likes sharks (a lot); inspired by The Shape of Water and My Octopus Teacher; photo from Whalebone Magazine

He’s always been aware of humans, naturally. Observed them from the beginnings of time, from the very first rudimentary attempt of a boat that crossed his waters. Though he can only guess how these creatures exist, how they breathe, how they move. What arrives in his depths is always a corpse of some sort. Bloated, decaying carcasses, rarely intact, whether chipped by fish or by time. Everything else is left to his imagination.

Until today. The fish are restless, the currents are stronger. Something must be happening above, stringing him along curiously. His many legs sway in tandem, opening and closing, as he investigates the source of interest. His pale white eyes narrow to a mere squint, unused to the light of the surface levels. At last, he finds it: a human.

Yet this one is unusual. Intact - save for the bleeding wound - and unlike the washed-out, cadaveric blue tint he’s normally accustomed to. He notices a twitch of the limb and it dawns on him: this one is still alive.

You wake up with a violent cough, thrusting out the leftover liquid that had invaded your lungs earlier. You clearly remember drowning, so how did you end up on shore again? The answer reveals itself rather quickly: a monstrous creature, albeit humanoid for the most part. The upper half resembles a man, but the torso ends in thick, enormous tentacles, now flopped onto the sand, surrounding your body. You search for the creature’s face, framed by translucent tendrils that seem to replace what you’d expect as hair.

“Thank you”. He scans your features and remains silent. Does he even understand human speech? After a moment of consideration, he looks ahead, surveying the water, then returns to you, giving you a nudge. He most likely wants to know how you ended up in that situation to begin with. “That’s, well…”

Conveniently enough, the monster has brought you back to your little camp, so you reach for your backpack and pull out a book. Of course, no words can ever replace the image itself. With renewed enthusiasm, you open your encyclopedia and turn it towards the man, showing him a photo of a sand tiger shark, tapping on it excitedly. “I was looking for sharks!”

Ever since the bizarre, life-saving encounter, you’ve been returning to the same spot most days. And without exception, the monster will be waiting for you in one of the neighboring caves. Judging by the pellucid, pale skin and his reluctance to be in the light, you guessed early on that he might be a creature of the depths.

One that has been around for a long time, it seems. Once he understood your interest in sharks and other aquatic animals, he developed a liking to play guide for you, silently touring you through forests of kelp, hidden caves, labyrinths of reefs and hills. He knows where the animals linger, and they don't scurry away when you approach. You've never dreamed of being so close to them, staring into their eyes and tracing their fins as they swim past you, unbothered and relaxed. The monster will gaze at you from a distance, amused by your passion.

On ground, you’ve begun your own little experiment: can the octopus creature learn sign language? You didn’t need long to discover how intelligent he is, mimicking your gestures with flawless ease, instantly memorizing the meanings, the connections, the implications. He seems to be terribly delighted by this newfound tool of communication, often asking you questions with earnest curiosity.

Ah, yes, the questions. It makes sense that he’d want to know more about humans, though his interrogations are rather…particular. Specific. It’s less about humans as a whole, and more about you. How long have you been swimming here? How deep can you actually swim, with or without aid? Might you have a family waiting for you back home? A mate, perchance? No? Interesting.

"My vacation will end soon", you sign with pursed lips. He tilts his head. "Leaving?" his webbed hands gesture, somewhat uneasy. You nod. You can discern a glint of melancholy in his eyes. Eventually, he resumes: "Would you like to see my home?" Your eyebrows raise in surprise. His home? Down there? Was such a thing even achievable for a human like you?

The plump suckers attach themselves to your skin, one resting over your mouth. "Do you trust me?" You cast one final glance over the underwater abyss, a black hole trapping all light and matter. You shake your head in approval. Without hesitation, he plunges over the cliff, pulling you after him and into the yawning void of darkness. His form glows eerily, and his movement is swift and elegant. You can tell this is his land, his territory. You would've been dead a long time ago.

He releases you on the wet stone, inside the air pocket of a cave. You need a few moments to overcome the wave of claustrophobia pressing against your lungs. As you catch your breath, you recall your long path from the surface. It would be impossible to make it back out again without your friend. A cold shiver runs across your spine. "Have a break, and I'll show you everything else afterwards", he gestures with a smile. "How long will it take? I don't want to walk back at night", you explain.

Silence. You stare into his empty orbs, awaiting a reaction. There's not a sound, not a gust of wind, not a shred of light. "You're not going back", he finally answers.

You see, he's done a fair amount of research himself. He doesn't need an encyclopedia to figure you out: how you breathe, how you move, how you exist. In fact, he is rather confident in his ways of helping you adapt to a life spent together. He would've never brought you down here if he wasn't certain of your survival. His grin widens in anticipation, a strange warmth enveloping his innards at the mere thought of it: a future with you in it, right here. However, one question remains, a cheeky, perverted detail that has been on his mind from the moment he met you, yet he could never investigate it properly.

How do humans mate?

[kyumisyumi]

Tentacles and Tendrils

Shaking off the rust and giving monster smut(writing in general) a shot again.

Prompt: monster partner is in rut/heat and the partner has to deal with it

Rating: 18+

Monster type: M!Merfolk x F!Reader

Word count: 6k

~Taking requests~

     You stare out at the unending, blue horizon. The cool ocean breeze preparing you for the temperatures of its water as you linger along the edge. You wore the company certified diving gear: a wetsuit, mask, BCD, the works. A spear weighed down one hand while a cylindrical container weighed on your shoulder. Hope and pessimism fought to be at the forefront of your mind as you scan the empty waters with heavy disappointment. This area was always relatively vacant, but not too far off you can spot a duo entering the water with matching gear. Their actions take you out of your haze, and with another gauge check you finally approach the water. Getting a feel for the sea's surge, you make your way in. And with practiced hands you slipped on your fins before turning to greet the seas with outstretched arms.

     Beneath the blue your body instantly goes into autopilot. Swimming was as natural as walking and these seas might as well have been a second home; a wayward beauty that will switch it's mood at a moments notice but home nonetheless. You took it all in, familiar as it may be, the ocean never stopped being a sight to behold. A world beneath our own full of wonderful blues, outstretched greens and terrifying blacks. The current had a bit of force behind it but nothing near the cruelty you knew any large body of water could deal. Your darting eyes couldn't help but search around, scanning everywhere for even just a hint of... There! You moved with haste. As much as you could as a land dwelling animal in aquatic terrain. You didn't get far before the shape you eagerly chased revealed itself to be just a particularly thick and unruly swatch of seaweed. You sigh internally before resolving to begin your original task.

     Nearing a gorgeous station of coral, you couldn't help but linger and watch the busyness. Schools of varicolored, itty bitty fish swimming through the equally colorful pseudo-flora. Despite your love for marine life, you never quite learnt the names of all the little guys much less how to differentiate between them, say for a handful that stick out. Your interest was usually for the larger lifeforms mother nature had to offer; you smiled as you watched a wary grey eel eye you with suspicion. Soon your eyes fell upon your reason for being here. It's bright red colors were slightly muted by the depths, with white tiger stripes outlined by black to break up the pattern. Its form was lined with spines and frills that flowed and fluttered with each graceful swish of it's body; an absolutely gorgeous creature. You readied your spear. The black strap trigger pressed into your skin as you carefully aimed, hoping not to hit anything but the target. It helped that the lionfish lingered in one spot before you speared it. You moved to put it in the container before opting to offer it to the eel you saw earlier. As gorgeous - and delicious - as they were, these guys were invasive here and the effects of their persistence was a constant strain to the native wildlife. They seemed highly concentrated around this sandy patch of substrate, driftwood and dead coral. It didn't take long after the first few kills for one of your friends to make their way over. Gently, you caressed the top of the nurse shark eyeing your spare eagerly, this one you named Lisa... or maybe it was Madeline. It was no surprise your face blindness extended to animals as well, even the cute ones that made your dives feel a little less lonely. The creature began gliding and swirling around you. You liked to believe the fondness was mutual but it was equally likely they were just in it for a meal. You speared another lionfish and offered it to the grey and white cutie.

     The spot you were in. The shark. The scenario. It brought back the memory of the first time you saw him.

     Back then you were collecting lionfish, same as now with a duo of nurse sharks tailing your every movement. At the time you were overly cautious, so you'd sit in one place, removing the venomous spines of the fish before handing them over. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, he'd been there for quite a while, watching you. From his position partially behind the rocks, you'd think he was hiding -or rather, on the defensive- but you just can't imagine something that big and powerful hiding from tiny 'ol you. Yes you had a spear but you doubt it would do you much good if he decided to attack. Merfolk. Given your job at the Aquatic Wildlife Center you were relatively familiar with them. Your company was more than welcoming when programs were made for them- as well as the other species- who showed interest in coexisting during the realm migration. The Merfolk you were familiar with, however, had to undergo numerous lessons on etiquette and culture to live among humans. The one near you now... The word 'feral' came to mind. You didn't quite like using such an animalistic term towards something that looked a little too human, someone that you knew had equivalent intelligence. His skin was primarily muted greens with a burst of parchment white down his chest and undersides of his arms. Unlike the fish tails merfolk were known for, this one's body ended in a myriad of tentacles, not unlike an octopus. Height wasn't exactly something you could measure but in terms of body mass he was more than twice your own. He seemed to tense any time you held direct eye contact so you settled on keeping him in your peripheral and keeping your movements slow and measured. You're not sure what he wanted but if he was content to just watch you, you didn't mind.

     The next time you went out for a dive he'd made another appearance, this time resting on the rocks instead of behind them. Looking at the way his tentacles gently swayed against the current, you realise the way they'd writhed restlessly the day before may have been a sign of anxiety. It tickled you that somehow, in his mind, you were a threat to be worried about. You'd never even been in a proper fight. His relaxed demeanor gave you a bit of courage and you contemplated offering him one of the lionfish but ultimately chose not to. Doing so would feel as though you were treating him like an animal at the petting zoo. Then again, he was watching you like an animal at a regular zoo, keeping his distance as if he thought you'd lash out at any opportunity. You focused on the task at hand. Either the sharks had developed more patience or they were full from yesterday, this time they seemed more interested in dawdling around and getting pets than playing Russian roulette with your spear. You'd gotten into a rhythm of pull, aim, release as you moved slowly across the sandy substrate with him never too far behind.

     On the third day he was almost as close as the sharks were. There was still a respectful distance but you'd only have to reach out your hand to touch him. Despite your determination to hold strong as he approached there was a hint of fear in your eyes when he first got closer. He wasn't threatening but the size difference was all to blatant up close, his chest so broad and arms so thick you didn't doubt they could snap you in half like an oatmeal cookie. In response he seemed to try to make himself look smaller, drifting at a lower level so that his head wasn't much higher than yours. This gave you a good look at his features, he had round pupils unlike the rectangular slits you associated with octopi, his sclera was a light grey and his irises a saffron yellow on downturned eyes. He didn't seem to have any patchwork of iridescent scales like your work colleagues. His eyes aside, everything about his face was sharp, from the hooked nose to the prominent chin and brow bone. As curious as you were, you tried not to look any lower than the slits along his neck; gills, in case your gaze made him uncomfortable. You briefly wondered if he'd try to say something once he got closer but he didn't, he just looked back with a gesture you interpreted as 'continue'. So you did.

There actually weren't anymore lionfish nearby so you decided to take a moment to clip the spines of the one on your spear, hoping to feed it to Joel the eel... or maybe this was Geoffrey. He took this lull in your movement as an opportunity to interact. You stared wide eyed as his hands reached out. It looked as though he was going to reach for your spear but thought better of it and reached out for your free hand instead. He took your smaller hand into his much larger ones. He inspected each finger, pulling them apart and tracing the curve in between, where his held a thin membrane. He ran a thumb over your blunt nails, where his held thick black claw. His movements were slow - cautious - and you get the feeling that it was more for your benefit than his. Wary as you were, you were equally enthused to learn more of the  man... fish... octopus being before you.  He inspected the sleeve of your wetsuit, running his fingers over the material. When it seemed like he was going to pinch the fabric between two claws you tugged your hand away, shaking your head in hopes the gesture was universal. Thankfully he understood. He then circled you to take in the rest of your form, a possible sign he understood touching anywhere else on your body might be unwelcomed. 

Unsurprisingly, he took particular interest in your legs, watching the way they swayed to keep you afloat. He didn't touch you yet you somehow felt pressure over every inch his eyes laid upon. Was this how your coworker felt during those awkward introductory meetings where there would always be one person asking to touch their fins. The memory made you giggle and the merman suddenly shifted his focus from your legs to your face. Your breath caught as his eyes focused on yours, it was mesmerizing how they looked as fluid as the ocean; the colors swaying as the black center zeroed in on you. For a moment you wondered what did you look like through those eyes. He raised a hand to rest his knuckles against your cheek. His gaze then lowered to your lips. Your body -so ready to flee when he first approached- now froze. No matter how much you tried to reinforce that his actions were of innocent curiosity you couldn't stop thinking they weren't. Or maybe you just hoped they weren't. Oh dear. Before you could figure out where your head was at, he pressed a thumb against your lips. There was a subtle shift in his features as he stared at you intently. A question? Was he asking to kiss you? Your heart sprinted. He wanted to kiss you... and you- you were actually considering it. You must be insane; yes you thought he was gorgeous in a unnatural -captivating- way but you weren't going to kiss a creature you haven't known for more than a few hours. You hadn't even exchanged words with him. Words... Oh! That was it! You would've face palmed  if your hands weren't occupied. He wished to speak, and prior knowledge reminded you that merfolk could adapt a language through lip contact. Well, that cleared your brain a bit. If that's the case surely you could spare your lips for a moment. It wouldn't have to be long, just the slightest peck was enough. A fraction of a second. He was patiently awaiting your answer, somewhat pulling back as if to tell you 'no' was a more than acceptable answer. With a tad more hesitation you finally nodded. You pulled out your mouth pieces, angling it downwards to prevent excess air loss. Trying to show some initiative you moved closer but you just couldn't bring yourself to close the kiss. Graciously he did and your lips met. Your rushing blood brought heat straight to your cheeks. It was such a minute amount of contact but your body responded as if he was already tongue deep inside. You felt... something. Like faint streams of electricity that moved from the corners of your lips to the center before vanishing. You figured it was the magic at work, now would be the time to move away but your body and brain can't seem to get on the same page. Or maybe they were on the same page and the voice telling you to move away was something foreign, something unwanted. You opened your eyes to see his, half lidded but looking at you with an intensity that couldn't be misconstrued. Neither of you wanted to break the contact. You're not sure where the confidence came from but just as you moved to press closer to him, your lungs reminded you where you were. They called for oxygen. It took more effort than you would like to admit to pull away from him and return your regulator to your mouth. You looked back at him to see his fingers pressed against his mouth, eyes swirling with mixed emotions. Maybe it was your eyes playing tricks on you but you swear he licked his lips. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat and he moved his lips as if testing the motions.

     "Can you understand me?"

     You nodded in the affirmative. And by Gods, the smile on his face could outshine the sun on a clear summer morning.

     This opened up the pathway to your budding friendship. Underwater, you couldn't have full conversations but with the barrage of questions he had there was hardly a need to speak. It especially amused you that he had to confirm that you were indeed human. Do humans walk everywhere? Do we forms pods? Do we dream? Do humans fly was a weird one to answer under the limitations. It was an eye opener to the fact that you were as alien to him as he you.

     At some point you remembered that you were on a timer and though there wasn't really a quota, resurfacing with only four lionfish would definitely not look good for you. You went back to spearing, trying to be quick while he asked about this and that. It only got better when you finally resurfaced. You perched on the old abandoned dock, it was barely more than a couple planks of wood hanging on for dear life. You were especially glad that this area remained as vacant as when you left so you didn't have to worry about worried/wondering gazes at the two of you.

     Unfortunately diving was only something you could do 2 maybe 3 times a week, it was essentially a freebie session offered to break up the office work you dread. Still, even after you clocked out, you'd take a stroll to that same dock where he'd be waiting beneath the surface. You learnt that, though most merfolk would declare otherwise, his species wasn't rare. Just distant and reclusive. The only reason he was close enough to the shore to spot me was because he seeked a precious stone to complete a trade. Based on his description you believed it was Larimar or Blue calcite, which you may have in your personal collection. When you asked why he decided to approach you, his answer was a sideways glance and a shrug before quickly changing the subject. There were moments, you noticed, when he'd rest his arms along the wooden planks and caress your overhanging legs. The movements were slow and feather light, almost absent minded. It made your mind fuzzy, you wished to just close your eyes and focus on nothing but the feel of his skin against yours. Occasionally, he would gently rake a claw over your soft skin and you'd try your best not to trip over your words. In return, you'd run your fingers over the mix of tentacles and tendrils that sprouted from his head- similar to hair. The prehensile limbs would wrap around your fingers. The gestures were unmistakably intimate but neither of you spoke against it. Amongst the many questions and conversations would be these moments of content silence, these you treasured most. His hands on you, your hands on his, as you both enjoyed the world around you and each other.

     Now those memories fill you with a hollow feeling in your chest. It's been almost a week with no sign of him. What had you expected, really? He has a life down below that he has to attend to after all. Even you have missed a day or two. What if he's hurt? The question gnawed at you many times these past few days; you despised the small part of you that preferred that outcome over having been left behind. But then the idea that somewhere down there he was facing unknown perils that you'd have no means to help him with would solidify in your mind. No, you'd rather the hurt of having been abandoned. Summoning your mental fortitude, you aimed to focus on the task at hand before you accidentally harm one of the sharks by being distracted. There was a new face this time... at least you thought they were new. They nuzzled your body as if sensing your distress and to your delight; it helped

     Seconds dragged into minutes then hours before it was time for you to get out. You wished you could say you were strong enough to just go but instead you swam around for a bit; hoping. Praying. But there was nothing around except you, the water and your pitiful heartache.

     Above land you safely shed the equipment. The smart thing to do would be to go home as soon as possible. To finish your day, change your clothes and curl up in blankets while playing some video games. However, you've always been a creature of habit so instead you sat at the old dock. Alone. The sun was so warm but the winds were relentless, they licked at your skin as if trying to shoo you away. Maybe this was Poseidon's way of telling you to get over it. It's not like there was anything between the two of you. You'd only known him for a handful of weeks after all, that's barely enough time to form a friendship much less... As if shutting down the thought, your brain replayed a memory of him pressing his face against the palm of your hand with pure bliss etched into his features. As if your touch alone could push away all his problems. Then there was the time you touched your forehead to his during a momentary spur of boldness. The look he gave you spoke so loud in the silence. You would've kissed him then if not for your shyness winning  out. That was one of the last moments you'd shared before his disappearance. A treasure in your heart that now caused you pain. Packing up your things, you got up to leave, however something clutched your ankle. Something, rather, someone you recognized all too well.

     You gasped violently as you were dragged down. Thank goodness you did because it was all the air you'd get to take with you in your rapid decent below. He shifted so instead of being pulled by his tentacles, you were fastened to his side by a firm arm. He stared straight forward as he swam, allowing you only to see the tendrils whipping around the back of his head. You could hardly process how fast you were going down the bottomless blue. The water shifted from a bright, comfortimg azure to ultramarine as you went deeper and deeper. Your panic rose the further he swam, which did your lungs no good. Was he trying to drown you!? You couldn't call out, couldn't scream so you tugged and pulled at his thick, unyielding arm, trying desperately to get him to stop. He turned to you then, there was a look of pained and haunted thoughts scribed into his face. The lovely grey of his sclera had darkened into a soulless black making the yellows of his eyes that more vibrant, almost glowing in the waters inky depth. The word 'feral' again came to mind as he blinked his second eyelids. He looked at you and looked at you and looked even more. As though his eyes processed one thing but his brain was stuck on something else. It took a moment but he finally said your name. Not said, growled it. His usually velvety deep voice was now strained through gravel. He pulled you closer to him and buried his face in your hair, your heart would be fluttering were it not currently banging in your chest wondering where the hell was the oxygen it ordered. You tried, you really did, to struggle against his hold. Hoping he'd wake up from whatever spell he was under and bring you back to solid ground. Hell, you'd make an attempt to swim for it, knowing how futile it would be. But once his long tongue was on your throat you became putty in his arms. You feel three distinct fingers rake against the other side of your neck as he nipped at you. You can't tell if your breath hitched or your lungs made another vain attempt to reach for air. You raised a trembling hand, trying to alert him to your situation but he seemed solely focused on tasting your skin.

     "Breathe." He spoke in-between licks, his tongue venturing down to your clavicle, and you wondered if he'd actually gone mad. His hooded eyes met yours and he repeated the word.

     It didn't matter anymore, the choice was no longer yours. You had held onto that final breath for dear life but it was time for that life to come to an end. A stream of bubbles left your horrified lips as you now fought not to breath in; that was a far shorter battle. You inhaled, preparing for the sting of water invading your airways in it's rush to your desperate lungs. For your body to heave and cough as the waters reminded you you were not it's friend but a guest who had overstayed their welcome. Would your body float up to be picked at by birds or sink to be fodder for the sea floor scavengers? You waited and waited. But... It never came. You, somehow, were breathing air. Opening your eyes in confusion, you looked around to see if you were suddenly back on land, if all this was some dream or hallucination spurred on by your guilt and heartbreak but no. You were still surrounded by the open seas and all it's inhabitants. Your breaths felt slightly strained but you weren't going to complain about life saving miracles. Especially when a giant tentacled man was tracing his finger down your spine. Now that your life was no longer at risk(mostly) you calmly rest your palm against his head, trying again to get answers out of him. He stilled, dissolving into your touch as he had many times before. You saw a bit of clarity in his eyes before he closed them.

     "I'm sorry." He said after a moment, his voice was lustful and strained, like a warning sign dipped in want and desire. "It started; my heat. I tried to stay as far away as I could but when all sense had escaped my mind the only thing left were thoughts of you." He pulled you closer, his eyes remained closed as if one look at you would break the little control he had. "I thought I had overcome it when I began searching for... Methods for you to survive beneath the waters. But the moment I had my answers it overtook me. It possessed me. It still does. I want you...desperately but only if you'll have me."

     You listened to his words, in confusion then understanding. Then you actually understood! Oh! Suddenly your body had forgotten all it's woes, focusing on your core instead. He wanted you. You bit your lip in thought, noticing that the water couldn't pass some unseen threshold of your mouth. You wanted him, you couldn't even pretend to deny that but... Was there a 'but'? You searched your tainted mind for excuses but your brain and your body were again in unison, the only outlier was you. You slid your hand up his face and caressed a cranial tendril, he opened his eyes and you felt his body vibrate. Purring.

     You didn't have the courage to look him in the eye when you spoke. "I will." You consented.

     He was on you instantly. His lips crashed into yours with reckless need. There was no slow build up, no questioning nor tentative tongue touches. His tongue snaked pass your lips and devoured you in kind. His large hands ran down either sides of your body, meeting when they both grabbed at your ass. There they lingered, kneading your flesh through the stretchy materiel, before one devious hand ventured even lower. You felt him slide a finger along the fabric covering your sex. Back and forth, his finger glided creating a nice little friction that almost touched your eager clit. Your hips moved on their own, seeking the contact. You craved more of his touch and suddenly the thin, synthetic rubber was a dense barrier. As if hearing your thoughts, there was the slightest pinch against the crook of your behind before a sudden coldness seeped in. You could feel him carefully swipe his claw to just above your clit, creating a opening in the fabric. The new sensation of cold wetness against you warm sex made you gasp but it was soon replaced by the warmth of his... hand? No, the texture was far different. Before you had a chance to investigate, the feeling of suction against your clit gave you all the answers you needed. Something between a gasp and a moan left your lips, the sound must've pleased him greatly because he tore himself away from your mouth to look into your eyes. The limb covered your whole sex, with the tip lightly teasing your entrance but it was that one suction cup upon your clit that was really putting in the work. It took a rhythm that was brain meltingly pleasant against the sensitive bud, thoroughly teased by his phantom touches prior. A sudden surge of pleasure began to build causing you to reflexively try to squeeze your thighs together. However, the  action was impeded by two tentacles quickly wrapping around your legs to keep them parted. They squeezed as if to reaffirm their hold on you. He took your chin in his hand and watched you intensely as you came undone from the stimulation. His grip was light but unyielding when you tried to turn away. Closing your eyes would lead to him stopping completely until they fluttered open again to meet his. He would take in every dip in your throat, every curve in your lips, every crease beneath your eyes and flush upon your cheeks. He wouldn't miss a moment of your first orgasm at his hands. His gaze was dizzying, as if whatever possessed him was now reaching out for you.  Having him inspect you with such cold fondness only made the experience that more salacious. The rising tide of pleasure finally crashed and you were left a buzzing, panting mess. With a look of gratification he released your chin, wrapping his arms around you once more to knit your body to his.

     "You're so beautiful." He cooed before trailing off into words of his own language.

     You didn't get a moment to say anything back before you felt something probe against your opening. One of his tentacles slid inside you fully, welcomed and aided by the slick lube of your still pulsing walls. You shuddered in his arms, thankful for the support. It was a comfortable fit and suddenly you're reminded that it's been ages since anyone has had you like this. It made the experience slightly more alien atop the fact that you were being intimate with a lust driven sea-beast. Rather than the expected thrusting, the appendage grazed along your insides. It twisted and pushed as if getting a feel for you, learning you before pulling back out. The sudden emptiness made you whimper, you looked at him, ready to beg if need be but it didn't come to that. You felt your entrance being prodded again. It was the familiar tip of a tentacle, ready to enter you once more. However, the more it pushed, the wider it got; so very much wider. And Gods, it held a bumpy texture that was absent before. Just as your mind went hazy you realised it was two of them, wrapped around each other. It finally gave you the thrusting motion you desired, it's ribbed texture grazing parts of you that remained untouched for too long. Your movements were limited but you attempted to grind against each wonderful thrust, moaning your delight with feather light whispers. This was all too good, soft and pliable enough that it writhed inside you but firm enough to press against your hungry womb.

Despite all senses seemingly being focused on your trembling hole you felt something press against your stomach, forcing it's way into the tiny space between your body and his. You peek downward to see the spearheaded tip of what you assumed was his cock. Suddenly, his preparation of your cunt made sense, you'd expected him to be big but geez. It was identical in color to his body, darkening at the tip in a similar fashion to his fingers. It throbbed and twitched as he began to grind against you. Even with two tentacles stretching your insides, your greedy eyes craved the feel of it. Craved the connection to him. You reached down and grasped it at the base, shock almost pulling you out of your haze when it wrapped around your hand. It tightened as if begging for more of your touch. You acquiesced and began running you hands up and down his massive length, taking great pleasure in the way his body vibrated with resonating groans. His thrusts inside you growing wilder, taking you further and further and you were determined to take him with you. His voice held a softer, pleading tone as it goaded you on, praising you between strained hisses. His cock swelled and hardened, his words devolving into senseless mumbles. The limbs inside you became more erratic as his pleasure grew. His grip on your body tightening to the point of leaving small tears in your suit and nicks in your skin. He released a long animalistic huff as he coated your arm in slimy white fluid, your body responded by coating his tentacles with your own. You rest your head against his chest, moving in time with his heavy breaths, counting them as you both recovered. You're not sure when he began moving you but suddenly you were face to face. He kissed you. Slowly. Gently. Tasting and savoring you.

     "Do you think you could take me, my treasure, or do I need to stretch that greedy hole of yours even more?" He asked between kisses.

     Words were beyond your tired brain so you just nodded. As spent as your body was, this moment would not feel complete until he was inside you. Slowly, as if moving you too much too quickly could break you, he turned you around so that your back was pressed against his chest. He snaked his hands around you -he really did seem to love having his arms on you-, one hand moving to grope your breast while the other traced a line down your stomach to caress your mound. You feel his lower half angle itself to bring his leaking member to your slick opening. Oh so slowly you feel him slide into you, spreading you wider with each inch. You couldn't help but try to squirm against him but his hands held you steady. He was only half way in when your body began to show resistance. He started pulling out slowly and thrusting into you, getting a little bit further each time.

     "You're being so good for me." He whispered just above your ear, his voice held a lovely cadence. Singsong; as if haunted by a melody that compelled his body to move.

     You couldn't hear it but you felt it, it rang through your body with each sway of your hips and out your lips with each whine. Down to the way he held you, like an instrument to be adored. Every moan a crescendo and every voice stopping bite at your neck a diminuendo. He was playing you and you were loving every moment of it. In and out, in and out like he was timing bars on sheet music. That was up until the flat, tapered tip hit the deepest part of you; he'd hilted. Then everything stopped. Fermata. You're only warning for what was to come were the tentacles that slithered around your legs to ground you. You hardly even felt him pull out, just the force as he thrust fully into you. The sound that left your mouth was a guttural whine of shock and pain. He kept going.  Slamming. Pounding. Taking your body over and over. It hurt and yet you desired more. He fucked you like he was craving this moment his whole life. Your body eased and the pain slowly dissolved into pleasure, never quite leaving but become something more. Something better. Something wholy obscene. Your body was an inferno in the cold, dark water. Pleasure overtook you; you no longer felt like a person, just a mass of emotions and senses. You could hear his grunts and growls behind you, the sounds he made were truly animalistic. Wild. Primal. Savage. As though he couldn't fathom being anything but a creature of vulgarity. Couldn't fathom doing anything but driving himself into you. Desired nothing more in the world than to fill the emptiest parts of you. Your walls tightened around him, as if intending to learn every bulge and vein of his cock. Pulling and sucking him in with no desire to let him go, that was where all your strength went. You felt the recognizable build of another orgasm and judging by way his pliable member was now a hardened monolith, he wasn't far off.  He no longer needed to lead, you danced with him as you both came together. His seed seeped out of him, filling every bit of (nonexistent)space inside of you before oozing out. He continued to thrust, making sure you milked his cock for everything he had. It's throbbing was like a heartbeat inside you.

     You collapsed against him, laying your head flat against his chest, your cheek barely touching the flesh above his heart. After a moment you looked up to see him already staring down at you, the affection in his eyes fueled your already thrumming heart. A moment of tenderness as the tainted waters surrounding you both whisked your indecencies away.  His sclera lightened to their usual soft grey. An eagerness popped up on his face as he seemingly wanted to ask you something then but thought better of it. A somber look taking over his features instead. Using what little strength remained in your body, you turned fully to him. He immediately took your head in both his hands and rest his forehead against yours.

     "I- Did i hurt you?"

     "Did-" You gave him a droll look. "Did you hurt me??" You flicked his head. Well, you tried but there was less than no force behind your fingers. "Of course you did. Lucky for you I enjoyed it."

     "I'm so sorry, I'll be gentler next time." He sounded genuinely apologetic. "If you would allow for a 'next time'."

     "There better be."

     "And a time after that?"

     "Don't push your luck, ocean boy."

     You felt him smile against you. It may have been an innocent one but you couldn't help but wonder if he was already plotting.

     He took you above land after that and you thanked the Gods above that your towel and pack was still waiting for you. At least you could walk(limp) to the company building without catching a charge for indecent exposure. He watched you from his usual spot on the dock. His downturned eyes hooded by his lashes had him looking like a distraught child watching their best friend board a plane to unknown lands. Did he think he scared you away? That you'd never return? Maybe as a bit of revenge you'd let him believe it.

((You also had to deal with the urge to sink into the floor at the knowing and amused looks on your merfolk coworker's face every time they saw the marks on your neck D:))

[aphroditelovesu]

What about a Yandad! Poseidon with his mortal/ demigod daughter??

❝ 🌊 — lady l: I got carried away and ended up writing a mini imagine. This is not canon and is based on the voices in my head lol, but I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 💙

❝tw: threats and a slight yandere!Poseidon, but other than that, nothing else.

❝🌊pairing: platonic yandere!poseidon x daughter!reader.

❝word count: 683.

You grew up at Camp Half-Blood, surrounded by other demigods and learning to control your divine powers. Your relationship with Poseidon was complex; on the one hand, you benefited from his protection, but on the other, the shadow of prohibition hung over you. The sea god, your father, had a clear interest in your fate, and the other demigods couldn't help but feel the aura of power that surrounded you.

Your relationship with Percy Jackson, the already known hero and son of Poseidon, was a highlight. The two half-sibilings trained together, shared experiences, and supported each other in battles against monsters and other threats. The bond between them grew, consolidating a formidable partnership, feared by many enemies. Poseidon was more than pleased to see his two favorite children get along so well.

In the years that followed, Poseidon's presence in his daughter's life was constant. He guided you in training, sharing secrets of the seas and teaching you how to control your aquatic powers. As time passed, your abilities stood out among the rest. Poseidon's influence ensured that the instructors at camp also paid special attention to you, preparing you for even greater challenges. However, the constant gaze of the god of the sea also generated distrust among your fellow demigods, fueling rumors and jealousy.

Life at Camp Half-Blood wasn't easy. Monsters constantly threatened the perimeter, and quests were often assigned to the most skilled demigods. Poseidon, in turn, began to discreetly intervene in your life, providing help at crucial moments and ensuring you were one step ahead of impending dangers.

However, your relationship with the sea god was not just one of benefits. In dreams and visions, you began to receive cryptic messages and warnings from other gods and titans, warning you of the implications of being so close to Poseidon. A god can never be involved in his children's lives, well, the demigods children at least.

Tension between the gods grew as your bond with Poseidon deepened. Zeus, in particular, viewed the increasing influence his brother had over you with suspicion. The warnings from the other gods increased, and the shadows of destiny began to manifest themselves more clearly.

One night, during a vivid dream, Triton, the son of Poseidon with his wife and your half-brother, appeared before you. His eyes expressed concern as he warned of the consequences of ignoring divine warnings.

"Proximity to our father can bring blessings, but also curses," Triton said, his voice echoing like the waves of the sea.

Quests abroad became more dangerous, with more powerful monsters and mythological creatures challenging the demigods. Poseidon continued to intervene subtly, but now his help was under the scrutiny of the Olympian gods. Zeus, in his wrath, explicitly prohibited any divine intervention in your quests.

Once, during a battle against a colossal sea beast, you found yourself on the brink of defeat, your companions also injured. Desperate, you silently cried out for Poseidon's help. He responded, sending a furious wave to defeat the monster, but the price of this intervention was high. On Olympus, Zeus' anger became uncontrollable.

The situation reached a critical point when an oracle prophesied that the proximity between Poseidon and you would trigger a catastrophe that would affect not only the demigods, but the entire balance of the mythological world. The gods' prohibition on interfering in the lives of their children became an unbreakable decree.

Poseidon, however, didn't care one bit. You were his daughter and he would help you if he wanted.

[another-lost-mc]

candy prompts: leviathan + spicy + spooky

leviathan is your biggest fan. he doesn't realize that you're his biggest fan too.

pairing: leviathan x siren!gn!reader

content: nsfw. monster!au (reader is a siren). leviathan has two cocks. implied oral sex (levi receiving).

word count: 1k omg how did this happen

a/n: I like to imagine that aquatic races of the devildom worship and totally want to bang the grand admiral.

This isn't the way tonight's backstage meet & greet with one of his favourite idols was supposed to go.

Levi bought the most exclusive package as soon as the pre-sale link arrived in his Dmail. On the day of the concert, he put on a t-shirt featuring your logo, and he even shrugged on the new zip-up hoodie that he bought in the VIP section before the show. He waited in line with the other backstage pass holders so he could get an autograph and photo with you. Some of the lust demons in line ahead of him were radiating pheromones so strongly that it made his mind groggy, and he shook his head to dissipate the fog of giddy excitement that permeated the air around him.

When it was finally his turn to see you, the other fans had already been escorted away by security. He glanced at you nervously from under the hood he pulled over his head to conceal his identity; it wasn't a secret that the Avatar of Envy was a fan of Devildom's top idols, but he didn't like the unwanted attention from randoms in the crowd.

He handed you his poster and backstage pass to sign and he hoped the tremor in his hands wasn't too noticeable. The black marker squeaked against the thick paper and plastic. You smiled at all your other fans earlier, but even from his place at the back of the line, Levi thought your smile looked forced and insincere. He would know-he's forced that same expression on his own face countless times.

"Th-thanks," he mumbled when you handed him his autographed merch. He cradled them delicately in his arms so that they wouldn't get wrinkled or torn.

"Fans can get a selfie too," you reminded him with a gentle smile. "But maybe we can find a nicer backdrop than this grungy hallway. What do you say?"

Levi glanced around nervously. The security crew that loitered in the area earlier had vanished. There was something enticing about the teasing glint in your eyes but he blinked and the look was gone. He took a deep breath, not realizing how close he was standing to you. When did you get so close? The scent of your fragrance and sweat was staggering and he forced himself to stand still and avoid the temptation to lean even closer. He hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

You beamed wildly and grabbed his hand; he gulped as your fangs tipped over the curve of your lips. "Perfect," you purred before leading him down a dark hallway. "My dressing room is this way."

You were kind enough to take his precious memorabilia and set them down safely before shoving him against your dressing room door. Your lips crashed against his while your hands reached into his sweat-slicked hair. You slid the hood down and cradled his jaw so you could tease the skin of his neck with your fingernails. He broke the kiss with a gasp, and you didn't hesitate to slip your tongue into his mouth and flick it against his before pulling back with a very satisfied smirk.

"I recognized you the moment you stood in line," you admitted, voice quivering with excitement, glassy-eyed and pupils blown wide. "The Avatar of Envy, the Grand Admiral himself, coming to see me perform? I'm flattered."

Levi stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Maybe he was seeing the real you for the first time, the version none of your other fans knew existed. In the privacy of your dressing room you could finally be yourself. The magic that concealed your oceanic heritage slid off you like a veil and revealed your secrets to the demon you worshipped like a god. He was entranced. When he licked his lips to chase the taste of your kiss, it reminded him of salt water and the ocean breeze.

You preened under his curious scrutiny, satisfied that he was captivated by you as much as you were of him. When you realized you had his silent approval to continue, you unzipped his sweater and pushed it down his arms. It fell into a heap on the floor at his feet, but he didn't seem to care.

By the time you settled on your knees before him, the delicate pattern of pearlescent scales replaced your once-smooth skin and frilly gills appeared on the sides of your neck. You gazed at him innocently, your third eyelid blinking quickly over your lovestruck eyes as you nuzzled against the bulge in his jeans. Dainty fingers with long nails flicked open the button at his waistband. You bit your bottom lip between rows of jagged teeth and eagerly tugged down the short zipper next. Both his cocks sprung free when you slid his boxers down. He was panting heavily above you, and you licked your lips with a forked tongue, smirking when his eyes followed the movement.

"I've wanted to meet you in person for so long, sir," you whispered reverently. His cocks twitched when your lips imbued his title with just a hint of lust, and you couldn't resist the urge to touch him anymore. You kissed the tip of one of his cocks and smeared precum across your mouth with a satisfied hum, lapping at the salty taste as your mouth watered, eager for another taste. One of your hands curled delicately around the other cock and squeezed him lightly in your grip. He moaned loudly when your webbed fingers began stroking him in a soft, slick rhythm.

"I think I might be your biggest fan," you confessed in a breathy whisper before closing your eyes and finally taking his cock into your mouth.

read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist

[frankensteinzmonstrrr]

The Benefits of Being a Marine Biologist (Part 2)

Part 1 Merman x transmasc reader Contains: getting to know your monster crush Warnings: discussion of top surgery & scars Length: 1.5K words

The next evening, you manage to leave the lab a bit early, mumbling excuses about not feeling well. You weren't exactly lying; the thought of seeing the merman again was giving you butterflies in your stomach. You had slept poorly last night, kept awake wondering if there was any way you could have imagined your encounter with the creature. It seemed impossible, but you knew it all really happened. You remembered the soft, cool touch of his hand against yours.

Grimacing at how slowly you are forced to drive down the sandy gravel road, you finally reach the trailhead. You practically leap out of your car, grabbing your tote bag containing swim trunks and a flashlight.

Once solidly within the privacy of the brush, you change out your lab-safety-approved chinos for your bathing suit as fast as you can, your need to rush of course making you fumble more than usual. You all but run down the rest of the path.

As soon as you emerge from the grass and your feet hit the soft sand of the beach, you see a shape pop up from the water by the rocks. As you begin to walk to the opposite side of the shoreline, your hopes are confirmed: it's Abalone. He waves to you awkwardly, clearly imitating an observed human gesture.

As you walk toward him, you try to quickly study his appearance. Yesterday you were too shocked to observe the finer details of what he looks like. His silvery skin transitions to darker gray shades towards his hands and on his tail, clearly some kind of point coloring. Despite being aquatic, he somehow has what looks like long, dark hair. You wonder if his "hair" is actually spines of some kind. His face is shockingly human, his features just a bit sharper and with somewhat large eyes. Your eyes wander down and you see that he has very humanoid pectoral and abdominal muscles, too. Realizing that you've been staring at him for at least a full minute, you drop your gaze to your feet as you approach the water's edge.

"I brought clothes to swim!" you call to him. You don't feel the need to fully shout, because he clearly had heard you coming from the trail. "I hope it's not too cold!"

You toss your bag and your t-shirt behind you onto the dry sand. As you step into the water the chill bites at your feet, but it's a tolerable cold. You wade out along the edge of the rocks until the water reaches almost to your shoulders. Seeming to realize that any further out would be an uncomfortable depth for a human, Abalone closes the remaining gap between the two of you, swimming gracefully just below the water's surface. You observe that his tail moves from side to side like a fish, not up and down like a whale or dolphin. Fascinating.

Abalone smiles at you as he surfaces and adjusts himself to be upright in the shallower water. You simply look at each other for a moment, both unsure what to say. He breaks the silence with his odd laugh. "You are so short!"

Instinctively you cross your arms and reply, "No I am not! I'm average height. For a human," you add. "I could say that you're so tall... Or long?"

"Fair enough." You can't help but wonder if he learned that phrase from you. "What do you do during the daytime?"

"I go and work as a scientist." You struggle to think of a simple enough explanation for someone who doesn't know what a computer is. "I record all sorts of things about animals and plants from the ocean."

"Very nice. Sounds very nice," he replied thoughtfully. "During the day sometimes I sleep, sometimes I hunt. Not much to do."

"What do you hunt?"'

"All the fish," he grinned. With those sharp teeth, it only makes sense that he's a carnivore. "The bigger the fish, the better to eat. Once I caught a shark almost as big as me. Have you ever eaten shark?"

Abalone seemed to have as many questions for you as you did for him. "No, I haven't. Humans don't really eat shark. Except for in soup, but I'm honestly not sure if that's real."

"Shark soup," he repeated. "Soup isn't real."

"No!" you laugh. "Soup is a real food. It's like cooking things in water."

"What ever," he said, clearly enunciating the two words as separate. That only makes you giggle more.

You look down into the water and notice how Abalone's tail is crammed underneath himself in the shallow depth. "Here, let me go up on the rocks and sit somewhere where you can sit normally too." He doesn't say anything in response, just bobbing along happily in the water as you climb up onto the stone pile and move further out into the water.

When you take a seat on the least offensive boulder, Abalone joins you on the rock's edge. Suddenly, he points to you and says, "You're like me."

"What?"

"You're like me," he says again, pointing to your chest and then to his.

Oh. He sees your top surgery scars, faded but still visible, and is pointing to faint striping on his own torso. "N-no," you stammer. "Those are my scars. I don't have stripes like you."

"Ah. Scars from what?"

"I don't know if you'll understand. They're from surgery... something that had to be done for medicine? For healing?"

"I see." Dropping the subject, he silently moved a bit closer to you and rested his chin on the rock next to where you sat. "You have very small claws."

"I don't need them as much as you probably do." You involuntarily imagine his dark talons ripping through the flesh of his prey.

Abalone reached for your hand and gently pulled at it. You let him lift it towards him. You hadn't noticed before that his fingers are webbed. Makes sense.

He held up his hand flat against yours, and you mirrored his movement. He pressed his palm against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He gazed in wonder at your hand and wrist, no doubt thinking about what a tiny human you are.

You stared right back at his hand, and arm, and body. His hand is definitely larger than yours, but not by much. He seemed to have the proportions of a very tall man, with a several yards long tail instead of legs. Without thinking, you take your hand from his and reach forward to touch his hair. The fibers are coarser than human hair, as you expected. Your thoughts of what it could be composed of if not keratin are interrupted when you realized that he is leaning in to your touch.

You yank your hand back automatically and begin to apologize, but Abalone grabs your hand and pulls you forward into the water. The cold shocks you, but you still notice that his hand is warm in the icy ocean.

Holding onto you with one arm as if he's not fully convinced you can swim, he turns and points at the sky. "The sun is almost down. Don't stay late."

He was right. Only the last slivers of the orange sun remained above the horizon. "Thank you. You're right, I should leave now."

Still holding your hand, he began to swim towards the shore. You laugh and tell him you can swim, insisting that the doesn't need to drag you along, but he doesn't listen. You can't see into the water very well in the increasing dimness, but you think you see the glint of his mischievous smile.

He releases your hand once your feet touch the sandy floor. "Will you come back tomorrow?"

You open your mouth to tell him yes, but your heart drops when you remember that you have to stay at the lab late for a meeting the next night. "I'm sorry, I can't. I have to work."

Abalone frowns at that, his playful demeanor vanishing. "When can you come back?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe in two days?... I wish there was some way I could tell you when I can come here."

"It's alright," he said, quieter than usual, but then a small smile creeped back onto his face. "I can wait for you here! At sunset!"

"Every day?" you laugh incredulously. "You can't wait for me every single day."

"Yes I can. I did it today and it was easy."

You shake your head in bewilderment. "Okay, if you say so."

"Okay!" he repeated. He reached out toward you and gently pushed you toward the shore. "You need to go home. It's almost dark."

You sigh and start trudging through the gentle waves, twisting around so you're still facing him. "I'll see you soon. I promise."

When you reach the shore and gather your things, he waves goodbye to you in the same stiff, odd way. You smile ear to ear as you wave back.

The walk back to your car is freezing cold, with only the beam of your flashlight illuminating the path, but you couldn't be happier. You had left work claiming illness, but now you feel even stranger than you did before.

Author's notes: thank you so much for reading, and for all the support on the first part! Part 3 will be coming soon. Tip Jar on Ko-Fi

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 2 - The Pearl Does Not Mourn The Shell Summary: Charles performs a delicate surgery on Arthur, carefully removing embedded fragments and stabilizing his condition while revealing startling details about his unique anatomy. As the procedure unfolds, you grapple with the profound connection you've formed with Arthur, confronting both the cruelty he's endured and the overwhelming pull between you. wc: 8k tw: blood, gore, descriptions of monster anatomy Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

In the several months I'd been working for Heartland's Aquatic Rehabilitation and Restoration Program, I had never seen Charles Smith—our unshakable, seen-it-all marine vet—look so utterly dumbfounded.

"Christ, John, you seriously weren't kidding." He muttered into his fist, resting his elbow on one knee as he crouched to Arthur's level, eyes scanning every inch of the impossible sight before him.

The minutes leading up to Charles' arrival had been tense, filled with John's grumbling about how much convincing it had taken to get him out here. Apparently, Charles thought the whole thing was a joke—until John's persistence, and maybe the sheer desperation in his voice, finally wore him down.

Now, watching his gaze trace Arthur's long, scaled form with barely concealed awe, I felt only slightly vindicated.

"He's some kind of merman, isn't he?" I asked before I could stop myself. The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. It sounded ridiculous. Childish, even. Magical sea creatures belonged in bedtime stories, not in the real world—not bleeding out on the beach beneath my hands.

And yet... what else could I call this beautiful beast dying before us?

Charles clicked his tongue, standing up to stretch his back as he slowly walked around Arthur's long torso and tail, taking in every detail. "I'm inclined to say yes." He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Or more specifically, a Siren. Though I'm nowhere near qualified to make that call."

Arthur's reaction was immediate. His slitted blue eyes narrowed further, dark and untrusting, watching Charles like a cornered animal sizing up a new predator. He tried to turn his torso to follow Charles' movements, but the motion sent a fresh jolt of pain through his body. He winced, his muscles seizing.

Instinctively I knelt closer, pressing a warm reassuring hand to his shoulder. I could feel John's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head as he took in the familial gesture. But I ignored it, Arthur seemed to welcome my touch, and right now he desperately needed a friend.

"We need to get him back into the water," I said, glancing at Charles. "His gills are drying up, and the salt will help clean the wound."

Charles gave a sharp nod. "Agreed. We can figure out what he is later. Right now, we need to move him." He turned toward the shoreline, motioning to the little pilot boat rocking against the current as it was brought up to the beach. "I've got the medical supplies on the Atlantis. Lenny's waiting for me onboard. If we can get him into the boat I'll take care of the rest."

Lenny Summers was Charles' veterinary technician assistant—a college intern earning credits over the summer. Bright, eager, and probably not even remotely prepared for whatever the hell this was. The more people we brought into this, the more the reality of what we were doing finally settled in. And that frightened me.

Or rather, it frightened Arthur.

The thought of putting him through more discomfort, of forcing him into the unknown with strangers, made my chest ache. But he was in pain, bleeding out and losing strength with every passing minute. I trusted these people with my life. When it came to aquatic rescues, we pulled together like a well-oiled machine. We had to. It was our purpose and our pride.

John, however, was the most apprehensive. And he wasn't sold on the idea of helping him yet.

"We're really doing this?" He shot me a look, exasperation written all over his face as he watched Charles jog toward the boat to push it back into the water in preparation for the move. "We're really bringing this thing back to central? Do we even know if this is .... safe?"

A huff of irritation slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

Thing.

The word felt wrong. Cruel, even. It reduced him to something lesser—something disposable. And yet, how could I call him anything else when I still didn't fully understand what he was? But I did know one thing: Arthur wasn't just some mindless creature washed up on the sand, some anomaly to be studied and cataloged like a rare fish. He was someone.

He had a name.

He had feelings.

He had pain. I could see it in the way his body tensed, the way his gills flared with each labored breath. In the way he reacted to my touch, that brief shimmer of light that sent my heart leaping. I could see it in the haunted depths of his eyes, dark and sharp, filled with something distinctly aware. He wasn't just reacting to the world around him—he was understanding it. He was understanding me.

Not only did he recognize my words, but he had trusted me enough to answer them. To give me his name. That alone meant something. It meant everything.

Because a thing wouldn't have done that. A thing wouldn't have looked at me the way he did, with wariness and fear, but also something softer, something vulnerable. A thing wouldn't have been able to trust. And if he could trust me, then I owed him more than being dismissed as some nameless thing.

"John," I sighed, shaking my head. "Come on. There's a risk that comes with every job, you know this."

He wasn't heartless. Just blunt, practical, and—if I had to guess—mildly horrified by the entire situation. And truthfully I couldn't blame him. John wasn't a marine biologist or a vet. He was a maintenance technician for the rehab center, responsible for keeping the lights, pumps, and filters running. Hell, the guy couldn't even swim! But more than that, he was Hosea's son, and his father had instilled in him the same core values that ran through the foundation of this program. And I'll be damned if that man didn't put his heart into every creature we rescued, no matter their size, their condition, or the risk.

So, I gave him a pointed look and asked, "What would Hosea say about this?"

John opened his mouth to argue, but I beat him to it.

"We save those who need saving. Protect those who need protecting."

John exhaled hard through his nose. I could see the moment he caved, his shoulders slumping in reluctant resignation.

"And give all creatures a fighting chance," he grumbled, finishing the mantra we all knew by heart.

Exactly. And Arthur? He deserved that chance.

I couldn't help but smile. Things were finally coming together—we were going to get Arthur some help, whether John liked it or not.

I glanced down at him. His body was trembling from pain and blood loss, but his focus wasn't on his wounds. He was watching the men's movements like a hawk, his sharp eyes darting between them, tracking every step, every shift in posture. It seemed like the male of my species was only good at setting him on edge.

"It'll be okay, Arthur," I murmured softly.

At the sound of his name, he twitched, his gills flaring slightly.

"We're going to get you the help you need. Just try to relax."

It felt strange, comforting something that wasn't quite human, yet it came as naturally as breathing. I didn't know why his well-being had become so important to me, why the thought of his suffering made my chest ache. He looked utterly beautiful and broken. How could someone do something like this to him? It made my heart fill with anger and a burning need for justice. All I knew was that I wanted to ease his pain. That I needed to.

When Charles returned, we quickly revised a plan to get him to the boat. With his sheer size and the wound sapping his strength, it was going to be nearly impossible to move him without causing more pain.

"Let's try dragging him into the shallows first," Charles instructed. "Once he's in the water, we can maneuver him onto the mat and move it back to the boat." He glanced between John and me, rubbing his chin in thought. "John, you take the tail. I'll grab his, uh... shoulders."

The moment the men stepped forward and took hold, Arthur reacted.

A sharp, fearful cry tore from his throat, the kind of sound that came from deep within the chest—primal, instinctive, desperate. His entire body locked up, muscles rigid as if bracing for a blow. His fingers twitched, then dug into the damp sand, claws sinking deep, scraping against the shifting grains as if trying to anchor himself, to stop whatever was coming.

Panic rolled off of him in waves, his chest rising and falling in erratic, shallow gasps. His gills flared wildly, his breath hitching like a drowning man just barely keeping his head above the waves. His tail trembled, not in pain, but in fear. I felt his mood shift like the wind. A fear so intense it crackled in the air between us like a coming storm.

I could see it in his eyes—wide, dark, filled with something close to terror. It wasn't just the pain making him react this way. It was them. It clicked in the back of my mind, a realization as cold as the seawater lapping at our feet.

He does not trust men. A man must have been the one to do this to him.

Oh, I should have known. Men have always had a way of ruining what they cannot control, of breaking what they cannot possess. I will never understand why—why something as breathtaking as Arthur, something so otherworldly and rare, could be seen as nothing more than something to take. To own. To conquer.

Power and greed have driven men to do unspeakable things—to the land, to the sea, to each other. History is littered with the bones of what was once beautiful, turned to dust in the hands of those who saw value only in domination. Arthur was no different, he was not safe from their cruel hands.

Someone had looked upon him, upon the sheer wonder of his existence, and instead of reverence, they saw opportunity. They saw something to be used, or worse—defiled. And like so many things before him, he had suffered for it.

"Wait! Stop!" I shouted, throwing my arms out in front of them. "He's afraid of you, afraid of your touch."

The urgency in my voice made them freeze, but John let out an annoyed groan. "Are you serious?"

"Talk to him," I insisted, glancing down at Arthur's rigid form. His tail twitched, the thick muscle spasming as if preparing to flee—but there was nowhere for him to go. "Explain what you're doing before you just grab him like that."

John scoffed. "You really think he understands a damn word we're saying?"

"Yes," I said firmly, eyes locked onto Arthur's terrified expression. "He does. He's just scared. I'm afraid whatever he's been through is far worse than we can imagine. Just talk to him, please. I promise he understands. He told me his name is Arthur."

Silence stretched between us. John looked skeptical, but Charles gave me a considerate look before nodding.

"Alright. But we need to move quickly—he's losing too much blood."

I moved into position near Arthur's torso, carefully placing my hands just above where his human skin gave way to shimmering scales. His breathing was uneven, and when I pressed lightly, I could feel the tension running through every fiber of him, muscles wound so tight they trembled. Trying not to stare at his gaping wound, I met his eyes and gave him a soft, reassuring smile.

Charles cleared his throat and crouched beside us. "Uh... Arthur. My name's Charles. I'm a vet. Well, a doctor I s'pose. I–um–I help sea creatures when they're hurt." He spoke slowly, making sure Arthur was watching his mouth, and his hands. "We need to get you into the water. It'll help you breathe better." Charles gestured to the water than to his own neck, inhaling and exhaling exaggeratedly.

Arthur's eyes flicked to him, his expression wary. I could feel his hesitation, his body still rigid beneath my hands.

"Once we get you there, we'll move you onto a rubber mat and tow you to my boat," Charles continued, motioning toward the water where the pilot boat bobbed in the waves. "From there, we'll take you back to the center where I can examine you—make sure you'll be okay."

Arthur didn't move. His shoulders remained tight, his jaw clenched, but something in his gaze flickered—uncertainty, trust warring against fear.

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "Charles wouldn't hurt a shark even if it bit his finger off. You can trust him. You can trust us."

To my surprise, John chimed in, albeit gruffly. "Charles is good people," he said. "You'll be safe with him. I can promise that."

Arthur's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his body still coiled with tension—but slowly, ever so slightly, he allowed it.

"Alright," Charles exhaled. "Let's move."

On the count of three, we lifted him.

A sickening suction sound came from the sand as his body peeled away, his thick, sluggish blood turning it into something almost cement-like, making every movement more difficult. Arthur hissed sharply, his claws scraping uselessly at the shifting grains beneath him before taking purchase against my shoulder. His movements were heavy, and I could feel the tips of his claws, but my body was the least of my concerns.

We didn't hesitate. The moment we had him up, we moved as quickly as possible toward the water, uncaring as the waves crashed against our thighs. My legs ached with the weight, but I focused only on Arthur, on his face, the way his dark blond hair fanned out in the wind, strands clinging to his damp skin.

But as soon as the seawater lapped against his wound, everything went to hell.

Arthur sucked in a sharp, wheezing breath, his entire body jolting with pain. His clawed hand squeezed my arm, his fingers trembling violently. I braced for the sting of his claws, expecting him to dig into my flesh again, but instead—

A guttural, pained noise tore from his throat.

"H-hurts..."

The rasping, barely formed word made my stomach plummet.

John recoiled, nearly dropping his lower half. "Holy shit!"

I barely had time to process the horror in John's voice before Arthur convulsed violently.

"Hold on—" I started, but before we could react, his entire body seized, muscles spasming.

And then—he retched. We lost our grip as he lurched forward, vomiting into the water, his entire frame wracked with violent tremors. The sudden movement sent us stumbling, struggling to steady him, to help him, but every jolt of his body sent another agonized groan from his lips. The waves crawled higher, their force threatened to pull us down. John couldn't go out much further or he risked drowning.

This was too much. Too fast. He was already so weak, and this was making him sick.

"We need to move now!" I shouted, my voice laced with panic.

Charles was already running toward the boat, grabbing the rope and pulling it toward us. The rubber mat was secured in a net, the same one we used to transport large animals from the shore to the rescue center. It had carried dolphins and sea turtles home before, but looking at it now, I wasn't sure it would be enough to hold Arthur.

Still, it was our only option.

John and I maneuvered Arthur toward the net as gently as possible, but every shift, every touch made him shudder in pain. He let out low, agonized whines, his hands twitching like he was fighting the instinct to struggle, to flee.

I wanted to tell him it was okay. That we were almost there. That this nightmare would be over soon. But the moment his exhausted body slumped into the net, I wasn't sure if he even had the strength left to believe me.

Now came phase two: getting him somewhere safe.

"I'll take him from here. Lenny's starting the engines now—meet back at central, yeah?" Charles called as he hauled himself into the boat, already jerking the rope-start until the motor roared to life, shattering the stillness of the night with its low, guttural rumble.

The moment the engine flared, Arthur flinched. His entire body tensed, his fins bristling, and before I could react, his hand shot out—grasping for something, for me.

My breath hitched.

His fingers, cold and slick from the seawater, wrapped around my arm—not forceful, not clawing, just holding. Seeking.

My heart thundered in my ears.

He was scared, and he turned to me. He was hurting, and he wanted me. The thought made my pulse race. What the hell am I even thinking?

His grip was firm but careful, as if afraid of causing me more harm. His deep blue eyes, dark as the depths he came from, locked onto mine, wide and pleading. The unspoken desperation in them clenched something deep in my chest. He didn't want me to leave.

"It's alright, honey," I whispered, curling my fingers over his. "I'll be right behind you. It's a short ride—we'll see each other again soon."

But my reassurance wasn't enough. His hand tightened ever so slightly, his silent plea pressing into my skin. I looked up at Charles, who was watching the exchange carefully from his seat in the boat. He saw the look in Arthur's eyes. The same look that was making it impossible for me to let go.

Charles exhaled sharply, then nodded.

"Get in."

I didn't need to be told twice.

I barely registered the way the boat dipped under my weight as I climbed in, my attention still locked on Arthur. Even as Charles revved the engine again, sending a new vibration through the small vessel, Arthur didn't let go until I was fully seated beside him. Only then did his fingers finally loosen, his body slumping slightly, as if the last of his fight had drained from him now that I was here.

John, still knee-deep in the water, didn't question my choice to go with them. He was already wading back to shore, calling out over his shoulder. "I'll head over and get a tank set up—meet you guys out back by the docking station."

Charles lifted a hand in acknowledgment, adjusting the throttle as we started to pull away from the shore.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted over the growing distance, "Thanks, Marston—guess I owe you one for not getting eaten!" I teased.

John scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah—just don't make a habit of rescuing sea monsters with bigger teeth than me!"

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't fight the small smile tugging at my lips.

As we rolled steadily through the waves, the boat cutting a quiet path through the dark water, I found myself unable to look away from Arthur.

The sea cradled him, the gentle rise and fall of the waves lapping at his body as if beckoning him home. His hair, damp and tangled, fanned out around his face, strands clinging to his forehead and cheekbones, catching the moonlight in silvered streaks. He looked otherworldly like this—half-draped in shadow, half-illuminated by the cold glow of the night, a creature caught between two worlds.

I leaned over the side, the salty wind curling around me, and with the back of my finger, I carefully brushed a strand of hair from his face. His skin was damp beneath my touch, cooler than I expected, but solid, real. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Only watched me with tired blue eyes.

His tail, impossibly long and heavy, hung over the edge of the net, draped at an awkward angle. Even now, with the weight of exhaustion pressing into him, the powerful muscle beneath the iridescent scales seemed restless, twitching faintly with every shift of the boat. The moonlight danced across its surface, catching on deep purples and midnight blues, reflecting colors I had never seen in any ocean-dwelling creature before. I couldn't help but wonder what it would look like in motion—how it might cut through the water with effortless grace, how the strength of it could propel him through the depths like a phantom of the sea.

He exhaled slowly, a shuddering breath that told me how much pain he was still in, how much energy it was taking just to be here. But even as his body trembled with exhaustion, his eyes never left mine.

Dark, slitted, full of something that felt like a deepening connection. I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

I had no idea what I'd just signed myself up for. But I knew, without a doubt, that I wasn't letting him go.

⋅─⊱༺ 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ༻⊰─⋅

By the time we arrived, John already had one of the portable rehabilitation pools set up. It was a simple structure—three feet deep, circular, not nearly big enough for Arthur to swim freely. But at this point, rest and medical attention were far more important than movement.

Moving him from the dock to the tank was an ordeal. Excruciating, even. Arthur was heavy, his body limp from exhaustion, and every shift elicited a barely audible groan of pain. It took all four of us—John, Charles, Lenny, and myself—to maneuver him from one place to another. John secured the ropes around the mat, bracing himself as Charles, Lenny, and I heaved with everything we had. Muscles burned. Breath came short. But after several agonizing moments, Arthur finally slipped into the water with a dull splash.

Charles immediately left for the lab to grab his tools, while Lenny darted to his office in search of anything—a textbook, an encyclopedia, a scrap of knowledge that might tell us how the hell to care for this creature. Essentially, we were all grasping in the dark. But we had to try.

Because Arthur's life was slipping away with the tide.

His body barely reacted to the movement anymore, his exhaustion so deep it was as if his mind had already begun retreating. That was not a good sign.

Once we managed to maneuver him onto a small raised platform within the pool—a stable place where we could examine him without fully submerging him—I finally got my first good look at him under the bright lights.

I barely noticed that my clothes were soaked, clinging to my skin in the humid warmth of the facility. All I could focus on was him.

Under the harsh glow of the overhead fluorescents, his iridescent beauty dimmed. His slitted pupils narrowed further, not from fear this time, but as a biological response—filtering the light. My first thought was that his natural habitat must be dark, perhaps underwater caves or deep ocean trenches. Somewhere far from the reach of men.

Then my gaze shifted downward.

Scars.

Not just the fresh wound bleeding sluggishly from his abdomen, but old ones. Evidence of past suffering etched into his skin like an unspoken history. Some were thin, mere whispers of pain long healed, while others were brutal—deep, jagged reminders of wounds that had once bled as freely as the one we fought to mend now.

They shimmered beneath the water, their silvery-blue hue catching the light like polished opal beneath the skin. The edges of some were raised, the texture of thickened scar tissue standing out against the otherwise smooth expanse of his scales. Others had left behind gaps, places where iridescence had been stripped away, leaving dull, uneven patches behind.

Near the base of his tail, where it flared outward in elegant, fin-like extensions, a particularly thick scar curled around the muscle—its shape unmistakable. It wrapped around like a noose, the flesh there rawer-looking than the rest, as if something had bitten deep, tightened, and held. A rope burn. A restraint. Proof that he had been bound.

A sick feeling coiled in my gut. Someone had tried to claim him. To own him.

John cleared his throat, standing on the platform next to the pool. For once, there was no sarcasm, no skepticism in his expression—just grim understanding. For the first time, he was really seeing the extent of the damage Arthur had endured.

"He's in bad shape," John muttered. His voice was quieter than usual, like speaking too loudly might shatter something fragile. "You sure someone did this to him? Could've been an animal—fighting over food, territory, or..." He hesitated, then sighed. "A mate?"

It was a logical assumption. John always saw things through the lens of nature—where creatures acted on instinct, not cruelty. He understood that better than anyone. The scars that marred his chin, cheek, and nose were proof of that.

I knew the story well. A year before I'd come along, John had nearly died rescuing an ancient alligator, an old beast with jaws powerful enough to crush bone. He'd been alone, and in the chaos of the rescue, the gator had turned on him, snapping its massive jaws around his face. Somehow, miraculously, he survived. And yet, not once had he blamed the creature.

Because animals didn't hate. They didn't torture.

Men, on the other hand...

I flexed my fingers, and pain flared up my wrist. The wound Arthur had given me throbbed, likely reopening from the exertion. I made a mental note to change the bandages when this was all over.

I guess now I'd have my own scars to match John's.

I shook my head. "These aren't natural wounds," I said firmly. "They were deliberate. The flesh around his wrists is torn—like he was bound." My voice wavered, anger and grief mixing into something heavy in my chest. "And his tail... there are marks where scales should be, like he was tied to something."

John exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. He didn't argue. Didn't try to offer another explanation. Because deep down, we both knew.

I swallowed hard and let my gaze drift lower, where skin met scales. My stomach clenched as my eyes landed on the gaping slit, the deep, angry wound that should not have been there.

Arthur's mating slit had been mutilated. There was no question about it now. This wasn't an accident. This wasn't nature.

This was human cruelty.

John leaned forward for a closer look—and audibly winced.

"Well..." he muttered after a beat, rubbing a hand down his face. "He's in good hands now."

As if on cue, Charles stormed back into the room, dressed in a wetsuit and carrying a bucket full of medical tools.

"I've gotta get home to Abi and Jack," John said, shaking his head with a humorless chuckle. "They're not gonna believe a damn word of this."

As he turned toward the exit, Charles laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's keep this quiet until Hosea gets a look in the morning," he said. "Warden Adler's gonna have a field day with all the paperwork."

John gave a short nod, then disappeared through the door.

As soon as it clicked shut, Charles dropped down into the water, setting the bucket on the platform. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and reached for a bottle of orange iodine. I followed his lead, tugging on my own gloves before laying out his tools. Right now, this was just an examination. Once we understood what we were dealing with, then we could prepare for surgery.

"Lenny's getting the heating pads ready," Charles murmured as he worked, his focus already locked on Arthur's still form. "He's also mixing a small dose of morphine and amoxicillin into the water—should help him relax."

"How's he doing?"

I exhaled. "Bout as good as he looks."

Arthur lay motionless on the platform, his eyes lidded, his breathing shallow. The rhythmic flare of his gills was soft—too soft. His body was struggling to regulate oxygen, the sluggish movement of his operculum suggesting respiratory distress. Shudders wracked his frame at irregular intervals, a clear sign of metabolic exhaustion, likely from prolonged stress and blood loss. His dermal layer, normally slick and hydrated, appeared pallid in some areas, the delicate membrane at the edges of his fins already beginning to dry.

I quickly grabbed a small electric siphon, submerging one end into the water while using the other to gently trickle cool, saline-rich seawater over his gills and along his body. The moisture would help maintain an osmotic balance, preventing dehydration and further physiological strain while we worked to stabilize him.

Charles frowned but said nothing, reaching for the stethoscope around his neck. He pressed the cold diaphragm to Arthur's chest, his brows furrowing almost immediately. He moved it to another spot. Then another.

"That's..." He trailed off, eyes widening slightly. "That's incredible."

I stiffened. "What?"

Charles pulled the scope away, draping it around his neck again as he lifted Arthur's wrist to check a pulse. When he looked at me, there was a strange mix of awe and urgency in his expression.

"He has two hearts. Two separate pulses."

My mouth parted, the weight of the revelation settling over me. Two hearts.

Without thinking, I leaned in, pressing my cheek against Arthur's chest. He was warm, alive. And then—

There it was.

A second beat, a second rhythm—steady yet fragile, like the ebb and flow of the tide. Two hearts pulsing in tandem beneath my skin, their cadence slightly off-sync, creating a melody that was both foreign and mesmerizing. It was deeper than a human heartbeat, stronger. A low, thrumming vibration that resonated through my fingertips, like the distant rumble of waves crashing against the ocean floor. I could feel him everywhere—not just beneath my hand, but in the space between breaths, in the weight of the water around us, in the quiet, unspoken connection passing between us.

Before I could process it, a new sound reached my ears—deep within his chest, muffled. Like listening through water. A rumble of sorts. Soft, rhythmic, soothing even. A sound that felt content, almost like...

Purring.

But before I could make sense of it, Charles cleared his throat. His expression had darkened, his attention locked on the wound below Arthur's abdomen.

His jaw tightened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was grim. "It looks like a deep puncture from a serrated object. The surrounding tissue shows signs of severe trauma, with multiple lacerations radiating outward, suggesting the weapon was forcibly removed. The uneven tearing indicates that barbs or jagged edges caught on the muscle, intensifying the damage. There's significant swelling and inflammation, and given the sluggish bleeding, he's already lost a dangerous amount of blood. We need to clean and close this quickly before sepsis sets in."

I watched as Charles' gentle hands pressed lightly around the torn flesh, his fingers careful but firm as he assessed the extent of the damage. Arthur twitched beneath his touch, a faint tremor rolling through his abdomen, but he didn't fight. The tissue was inflamed, the edges of the wound swollen and raw, the deep gash weeping sluggish, dark blood. When Charles carefully prodded the area just beneath the torn skin, Arthur's muscles tensed, a low, pained whimper vibrating from his chest.

It felt wrong to witness this. Wrong to see him like this, laid out and vulnerable, his body carved open like something to be studied rather than saved. My throat tightened with something dangerously close to guilt, as if my presence alone was an intrusion, as if I had no right to be here. The wound was so personal, a violence inflicted not just on his body but on him. Whoever had done this hadn't just tried to kill him—they had tried to take something from him, to take away some part of what he was.

I had to remind myself that we were here to help. That this wasn't an autopsy or an examination—it was a fight to keep him alive.

As Charles was about to speak again, a deep rumbling voice filled the silence. It was strained, and almost incomprehensible.

"Har—poon." Arthur breathed.

The word sent a chill through me.

Harpoon.

A weapon made for hunting. For killing.

I felt my stomach lurch as the implications settled in. Someone had done this to him on purpose. Someone had looked at Arthur—not as a living being, not as something intelligent or sentient—but as prey. As a trophy.

Charles' jaw flexed, his hands stilling over the wound. His usual clinical detachment wavered, giving way to something darker—something close to anger.

"A harpoon," he echoed, voice low. "Son of a bitch."

I tried to imagine it-the pain and the fear.

The sheer agony he must have endured as cold metal tore through flesh not meant to be pierced. How long had he suffered with it lodged inside him, the jagged edges digging deeper with every movement? How desperate must he have been to rip it out of his own body, his instincts driving him to escape, no matter the cost? Had he been hunted? Dragged from the water, struggling against the ropes that bound him? Had he looked into the eyes of his captors and seen nothing but greed, nothing but ownership?

No one deserved that. No creature, no person.

I glanced at Arthur, watching the slow, pained rise and fall of his chest. He had survived something unthinkable. Something that should have killed him. And yet, here he was-clinging to life, trusting us, trusting me.

Arthur flinched slightly at the curse, his gills fluttering as his breathing hitched. I reached out instinctively, placing a hand on his arm. He was cold to the touch, his body trembling despite the warmth of the water.

"You're safe now," I murmured, my fingers brushing over his damp skin. "No one's going to hurt you again."

His gaze flickered to mine, pupils dilated from pain, exhaustion heavy in his expression. But beneath it all, I could still see the trust lingering there—the fragile, unspoken understanding between us.

Then, a tear slipped down his cheek.

It caught the dim light, iridescent and heavy, like a fragment of the ocean itself. Not the clear, fleeting tears of a human, but something denser, more substantial. It clung to his skin for a moment before falling, landing on the platform with a barely audible plink. When I glanced down, I saw it resting there, round and smooth, like a tiny, imperfect pearl.

My breath caught. Monsters can cry.

The realization sank into me, heavy and inescapable. Arthur wasn't just some enigmatic creature from the depths—he felt. He suffered. He mourned. And there was something hauntingly, devastatingly beautiful about that.

Charles exhaled sharply through his nose and pushed back from the wound. "We need to get this cleaned and stitched now. I don't like how much blood he's lost."

I nodded, steeling myself. "What do you need me to do?"

He gestured toward the bucket of supplies. "Start by flushing the wound. We need to clear out any debris before we even think about sutures."

I reached for a saline bottle and some gauze, carefully pouring the solution over the torn flesh. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body jerking at the sensation. His hand shot up, gripping my wrist—not as tight as before, but enough to make me pause.

I met his eyes again.

"It's alright," I soothed, rubbing my thumb over the back of his knuckles. "I know it hurts, but this will help. Just breathe, Arthur."

His fingers twitched, then slowly, reluctantly, he let me go.

Charles worked quickly, his hands steady as he examined the deeper damage. His brows were furrowed in concentration, lips pressed into a firm line as he carefully maneuvered around the torn flesh.

"The good news is that the wound is mostly superficial—no major organs were damaged," Charles said, his voice steady but grim. He paused, lifting a bloodied fragment of jagged metal between his fingers. Small but wickedly sharp, it gleamed under the sterile light, slick with Arthur's blood.

"The bad news," he continued, shifting his attention back to the wound, "is that there's still a significant fragment embedded deeper in the tissue. It's lodged between the muscle layers, likely near the ventral nerve pathways. If we don't remove it, there's a high risk of infection, necrosis, or even nerve damage."

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. "We have to get it out."

Charles nodded grimly, wiping his gloved hands on a sterile cloth. "Yeah. But it's deep, and judging by his pain response, it's close to something sensitive." His gaze flickered to Arthur's face, his expression unreadable. "This isn't going to be easy on him."

Arthur let out a low, uneasy sound—almost a growl. He might not have understood every word, but he knew what was coming. His claws flexed slightly, his tail twitching in agitation despite his exhaustion.

I took a breath, pressing my palm lightly against his chest, just above one of his two hearts. His skin was warmer there, the faint rhythmic pulsing steady beneath my fingers.

"We're going to fix this," I promised. "But it's going to hurt. You need to trust us."

For a long moment, he didn't move.

Then, slowly, his gills flared in what might have been a sigh, his body relaxing deeper. A silent surrender. Hopefully it was a sign that the morphine in the water was easing his pain. What he was about to endure would be excruciating.

Charles gave me a quick look. "Hold him steady."

And with that, the real work began.

I focused on keeping Arthur calm as Charles plunged the forceps deep into the wound, his movements precise yet cautious. The slick muscle twitches under the intrusion, his body instinctively trying to recoil, but he held still, his trust in us outweighing his pain. I watched as Charles maneuvered carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration, the metal tool vanishing into the torn tissue in search of the embedded fragment. Arthur's fingers curled against the wet platform, his claws scraping against the slick surface, but he never lashed out, never tried to stop us. His breathing grew more labored, his gills flaring and closing in uneven bursts, as if his body couldn't quite decide whether to fight or surrender. His tail tensed, the powerful muscle twitching involuntarily, and a faint, guttural sound escaped his throat—a noise that sent a pang of guilt straight through me. He was trying to be strong. Trying to endure.

I moved my palm gently down his chest in a soothing gesture, feeling the rapid, unsteady rhythm of his twin heartbeats beneath my fingers. "Almost there honey," I murmured, unsure if I was reassuring him or myself.

Charles exhaled sharply as he dropped the last fragment into a metal dish. "That's the worst of it, but..." His voice trailed off as he turned his attention to the wound itself, examining the torn flesh with something close to fascination.

I watched as his fingers pressed lightly around the top and the edges, his expression shifting from concern to something more analytical.

"What?" I asked, my nerves on edge.

Charles hesitated for a moment, then sighed, his gaze fixed on the wound as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "I've been trying to make sense of his anatomy all night, but I think I understand it better now." He met my eyes with a seriousness that sent a shiver down my spine. "Arthur has both male and female reproductive anatomy."

I blinked, not fully grasping what he meant. "What?"

Charles gestured to the gaping tear in Arthur's abdomen, where the harpoon had torn through flesh that, by human standards, shouldn't have been there. The area was swollen and raw, but the shape of it was undeniable. "When we first examined him, I suspected something was different. Now I'm sure—Arthur is intersex. Specifically, his anatomy mirrors some species of deep-sea creatures, like certain fish, that possess both male and female reproductive organs." He motioned to the area near Arthur's pelvis, where I could now see the distinctive characteristics more clearly. "The slit opening here," he said, "is where you'd expect female reproductive organs to be. But as you move further down, past the injury, there's a separate opening—closer to what we'd see in a male of most marine species."

I stared down at Arthur, my mind racing to keep up with the new reality unfolding before me. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Charles leaned in, his voice low but matter-of-fact. "It means he's capable of both carrying and producing offspring. In the wild, this adaptation allows some species to reproduce even when mates are scarce—survival in extreme environments." He looked at me, gauging my reaction before continuing, "Arthur could potentially mate on his own or with another of his kind—if there are others. But until we study him more, it's hard to know for sure."

I glanced at Arthur's face, searching for any sign that he understood what we were saying, but his eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. He was barely holding on, too drained to react.

Charles exhaled slowly, looking down at Arthur with a mixture of awe and respect, "But this is the first time I've seen anything like it in a creature so... human in form."

My heart thundered in my chest, beating against my ribs like a caged bird. There was so much more to him than I realized. Oh how I was hurting for him. Was this why he had been mutilated? Did someone try to strip him of his autonomy, of his natural instinct to reproduce and start a family? Someone hadn't just simply wanted to hunt him. They had wanted to take something away from him. Erase something vital. Something sacred.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for Arthur's hand again, gripping it gently.

"You're safe now," I whispered, more to myself than him.

Charles sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Lenny should be back any minute. He and I will finish suturing the wound tonight if you want to go home and get some rest. It's gonna be some time before he's gained his strength back."

I shook my head before Charles even finished speaking.

"I'm not leaving him."

Charles gave me a knowing look, but he didn't argue. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and rubbed his temple as he spoke with a light chuckle. "Didn't think you would. Looks to me like he's bonded with you." He glanced down to where I held Arthur's hand in my own, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. Then he gestured toward the door with a tilt of his head. "I've got some spare clothes in my office. They'll be a little big on you, but they're dry."

It wasn't much of an offer, but it was better than sitting here in wet, bloodstained clothes. My body ached from the strain of the night, and my wrist still throbbed in dull protest beneath the gauze.

"Thank you Charles," I murmured, glancing back at Arthur one last time. He hadn't moved, his body limp in the water, his breathing shallow but steady. He was still with us. That was enough—for now.

⋅─⊱༺ 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ༻⊰─⋅

I made my way down the dim hallway, my soaked shoes squelching against the tile as exhaustion began to weigh down on me. Charles' office was small but cluttered with medical textbooks, old research notes, and a whiteboard full of scrawled reminders and sketches. A pile of folded clothes sat on a chair, and I grabbed the first set that looked comfortable—a soft, oversized sweatshirt and a pair of worn sweatpants.

I peeled off my damp clothes, wincing at the way they clung to my skin, and slipped into the dry fabric. It smelled like antiseptic and faint traces of cologne.

For the first time since the night began, I let myself breathe.

I sank onto the worn leather couch in the corner of the office, curling my knees to my chest. The room was silent, save for the distant hum of the filtration system and the occasional muffled voices from the lab where Lenny and Charles worked.

The weight of everything pressed down on me at once.

Arthur.

His pain. The way his deep blue eyes had locked onto mine, pleading and vulnerable. His gaze had pulled at something deep within me, a tether that I couldn't quite name but couldn't ignore either. The faint shimmer of light dancing across his wet skin, the soft, rhythmic purring that had vibrated through me, a soothing but bittersweet sound. His presence had settled in me like a force I hadn't anticipated, an undercurrent that kept drawing me closer, leaving me more entangled with each passing moment. I could feel something—something—between us, growing, almost tangible in its intensity, and it both terrified and fascinated me.

The harpoon.

The thought of it sent a tremor through my chest. The sickening knowledge that someone had driven that metal into his body on purpose. They had wanted to hurt him. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt the jagged edges of that cruelty cut into my own soul.

I shuddered, hugging my arms around myself as if that could hold together the pieces of me that were beginning to fracture. No matter how hard I tried to shake it, the image of his torn flesh wouldn't leave me. The helpless sound of his groan, raw with agony, echoed in my mind. His fingers had clung to me, not with force, but with a desperate, trembling need I couldn't ignore. It wasn't just fear I had sensed in him—it was trust. He had turned to me in his darkest moment, and somehow, somehow, I had become the one thing that could make him feel safe.

It was all burned into my memory. A delicate, painful imprint. One I couldn't erase, no matter how hard I tried.

I didn't remember closing my eyes. Didn't remember the moment exhaustion finally won. But at some point, sleep pulled me under.

A hand on my shoulder jolted me awake.

"Hey," Charles' voice was softer than usual. "It's done."

I blinked against the dim light, disoriented. My body felt heavy, my mind sluggish, like I had been underwater myself.

"What time is it?" My voice was thick with sleep.

"Almost dawn," Charles said. "Lenny and I finished the sutures. He's stable, but it's gonna take time."

I pushed myself upright, my heart already pulling me toward the lab. "Is he—?"

"He's still asleep," Charles assured me. "But he's breathing easier now. The pain is more manageable."

That was all I needed to hear.

I stood, giving Charles a nod of thanks before heading back down the hall. The scent of salt and antiseptic filled my nose as I stepped back into the lab.

Arthur lay at the bottom of the pool, his massive tail curled slightly, his body finally still in the way a resting creature should be. The water was dark and calm, gently cradling him in its weightless embrace. I exhaled softly, relief washing over me.

Moving without thought, I stepped onto the platform beside the pool and lowered myself down. The cold tile pressed against my back as I curled up close to the edge, my fingers just inches from the water's surface.

I should have gone home. Should have left him in Charles' capable hands. But I couldn't.

Not yet. Not when he had spent who-knows-how-long suffering alone.

"I won't let them hurt you," I whispered again, more for myself than for him.

And with the gentle sound of the water lapping against the pool's edge, I let sleep take me once more—this time, beside him.

AN: I know we're all wondering what happened with the harpoon, our beloved reader will be getting some answers in the next chapter. As well as some sweet/hot moments that will send her spiraling as she begins to have deeper feelings for our seaboy :)

[persnicketypomelo]

Could you please write Erik x Siren or Mermaid headcannon

I think it would be an interesting dynamic =)

This kinda sucked but hopefully it's tolerable still :/

potentially major spoilers for book, kidnap, mentioned death, obsession

Erik with a Siren/Mermaid Reader

Let's say that you're the siren that Leroux described at the bottom of the underground lake

Erik has always been scarce on companionship his whole life, such that he would seek solace from animals, plants anything not disturbed by his face enough to stay around

You, for your part, did your best to keep hidden from the sight of humans as best you could

They only ever brought trouble, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake

You knew from the awful joy and ugly laughter when hunting, from the terrible waste they dumped in your waterways

As such, you refused to associate with such vile creatures, and the fish were your only company

You're not sure how you were born, nor if there were ever any others like you, but for all you knew, you were alone in this world

And so was the young man that had made the habit of sitting by the lakeside each morning

Normally you made it a rule not to interact with humans ever, as you didn't care to end up on the other side of their spear, guns, or whatever other horrible contraptions they used

You had grown so accustomed to the solitude that you forgot to even be lonely

But, there was some comfort in even just coexisting in the presence of another, just listening to his absent tunes or silence

It was that very feeling that let you get carried away, however, as the startled gasp of your masked companion was warning enough to send you scattering for the safety of the depths

After regaining his composure, he does his best to placate your fear, urging you back

And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't like his kind--absent of the savagery, the cruelty

There is something magnetic in shared misery, and between your loneliness and his melancholy the pair of you fit that trope perfectly

You learned that he had finished some commission in Persia and was now in search of a more permanent and stable life

Your friend was an architect, among other pastimes it seemed, and despite not understanding the concept of an 'opera house' you could picture the vision with his florid descriptions and lavish ideas

To travel the world like he has, it was an idea that held some appeal to you, confined to your aquatic prison, and you must have mentioned so in passing to your masked companion

Now, in his vision of a grand opera house blended with isolated dwelling, he seems to have envisioned that you were there as well

But the idea of being trapped as a visual oddity or entertainment for guests pervade your mind

No matter how genteel or well-intentioned your friend might seem, you can not shake the fear that underneath his kind exterior, he might be just as much of a monster

Erik, however, did not seem to take the rejection as well as you had hoped, falling sullen and betrayed as though your rejection was a personal insult

After that day he stopped his visits, and your sadness at the lost of a friend equalled your fear that he might retaliate and decide to capture you and sell you at a high price

As it turns out, that is exactly the twisted decision he made--to kidnap you--that is

You awoke in a tank--more akin to a glorified tub, the turbulence of the carriage rocking you awake

All at once, your fears of humans settled in your bones, all too late

No matter how interesting, how kind they might seem, they all share a primal greed to covet or profit off of whatever they can

And with your fish tail, it seems you were just that an object to be sequestered, no matter how sincere your captor's promises of taking care of you, of protecting you from human scorn

How could he truly wish for what's best for you whilst also depositing you in a shallow basin outside his home, with no chance at ever greeting the sun again?

Only now, captive like a trophy prize in some twisted collection, did you realize whatever embarrassment he hid behind his mask, it could not compare to what monster lay at his heart

I'm picturing she ends up killing Philippe due to her own mental decline and the zoochosis (for lack of a more succinct word) from being confined in the lake

[ironboyxs]

Sea Blood

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Male!Brother Reader

Word count: 1491

Summary: Percy Jackson, now a young adult, lived a relatively quiet life after his many adventures as a demigod. He was in an interval of missions and taking advantage of the time in Camp Half-Blood. Then, one day, a series of events, or he would discover a secret that would change his life forever.

As incredible as it may seem, it was a calm day at Camp Half-Blood. The world wasn't about to be destroyed or anything like that. There were only young campers enjoying the summer and training as usual. Percy was happy to have some calm and peace, he was sitting with Annabeth by the sea and the two had planned a romantic picnic. Percy didn't remember the last time he was able to spend a calm moment with his girlfriend.

But well, he was Percy Jackson, peace and tranquility didn't suit him very much.

- Percy! Annabeth! Thank the gods I found you. – Will Solace came running out of breath, with a look on his face that something clearly wasn't quite right.

- What is it? Something happened? Monster? Anyone injured? – Annabeth already got up worried.

- Not exactly, it's Rachel, she... has a prophecy.

- Man, if I have to hear one more “great prophecy” I’m going to retire and live at the bottom of the sea. – Percy said, already indignant at the disapproving look that Annabeth gave him.

- It is not a “great prophecy”. – Will explained – Actually we don't know what prophecy it is, the Oracle demands to speak to you Percy.

Percy froze. That obviously couldn't be a good thing. Soon he and Annabeth were accompanying Will to the Big House where Rachel was sitting in a chair, surrounded by the flickering spirit of the Oracle of Delphi. Percy thought he would never get used to seeing his friend like this.

- Percy Jackson. – The Oracle's voice echoed throughout the room. - At high tide, the secret will be revealed, two sons of Poseidon, united by destiny. The sea will test their bond, and the fate of the demigods will depend on their union.

Rachel's head fell to the side, making her red hair cover her face, she used to get tired after prophecies but surprisingly she began to rise with difficulty from the chair.

- Rachel, be careful, you're still weak. – Said Chiron, who was watching everything from the corner of the room.

- Percy, are you okay? – Rachel asked.

- I'm the one asking you, it's not me who has a green spirit coming out of my mouth out of nowhere.

- Idiot, I'm fine. I'm referring to the prophecy.

- Another confused one... couldn't you have a chat with this spirit and see if it can be clearer?

- You know it doesn't work like that. – Rachel said, lightly punching Percy on the shoulder.

- So the prophecy is about me and Tyson, right? I will meet him at high tide, will we discover a secret that will save the demigods? Something like that?

- I don't think the prophecy is talking about Tyson... – Annabeth said.

- Annabeth, if another son of Poseidon existed, we would have noticed. – Chiron said.

- Yes, just as we perceive a son of Hades. – Annabeth wasn't sarcastic but it was obvious to her.

- You and Tyson have already been united by destiny before Percy, it has to be someone different. – Annabeth explained.

- I feel the same thing. – Rachel agreed.

And then first thing in the morning Percy was going into the sea, he knew it wouldn't be so easy to get help from his father. But he knew he could count on the ocean's help. He focused on the water, on the magical powers that could act on it. Maybe if this new demigod was manipulating the ocean in some way he would be able to feel it.

And he was right, he felt a slight tug, as if the current was telling him where to look, and soon he was letting himself be carried away by the current.

Percy follows the clues left by the water and arrives at a remote location, close to a vast and mysterious ocean. He feels an aura of aquatic power in the air and is determined to unlock the secret of the prophecy. As he walks along the beach, he notices a lone figure at the water's edge. The figure appears to be controlling the sea waves with ease.

As Percy approaches, he realizes that the figure is a young demigod, with dark hair and blue eyes, much like his own. The young man seems to be at peace with the ocean, as if it were a natural extension of it. Percy feels an immediate connection to this strange demigod, but he also realizes something is wrong. The aura of power around the boy is undeniable, but he looks tired and lost.

- Who are you? – Said the boy before Percy got closer.

He stood up and easily created a water trident in his hand.

- I'm extremely tired so if you're a monster I advise you not to irritate me now. – He seemed ready to attack if necessary.

- My name is Percy Jackson. I am a demigod, a son of Poseidon. And I don't think I need to explain the concept of this to you, apparently.

The boy looks into Percy's eyes, his own blue eyes reflecting recognition and shock.

- You are the famous Percy Jackson. I'm Y/N. I am also the son of Poseidon, the eldest son.

- Eldest? How is this possible?

- I was born before you, it's not very difficult to understand. – Y/N replied sarcastically.

- But we should have known about your existence, with everything that happened, with the danger of a son of the big three. How come we didn't know anything about you?

- When I was born, my mother didn't want me, she threw me into the sea and Poseidon dragged me to the bottom. I grew up underwater, raised by sea spirits. I was kept hidden during the Titan War.

- Couldn’t you never leave the sea? – Percy asked, imagining how difficult that must have been for the boy.

- No... but now something happened, they attacked my house in the ocean. I tried to ask Poseidon for help but he was of no use, I had no choice but to run away.

- Well then, big bro, it's time to find out together why fate brought us here.

At that moment, Percy notices that Y/N is slightly injured, although the sea water has already healed most of the injuries. Percy also notices the sadness in the boy's eyes, a loneliness he carries with him. He tries to get closer but Y/N shrinks back.

- Hey, is everything okay? – Percy asked.

- Yes... it's just that I'm not used to people. I lived basically alone. Poseidon visited me sometimes and the water spirits told me things. I always wanted to meet my famous brother. But I always thought I would be alone forever.

Percy realizes the depth of loneliness that Y/N has felt throughout  his life. He extends his hand again, but this time with more kindness and patience.

- You're not alone now, Y/N. We have a lot to learn from each other. Together, we can face whatever fate has in store for us and discover more about our heritage as children of Poseidon.

Y/N still feels a little hesitant, but manages a small smile.

- Thank you, Percy. I never imagined this was possible. I look forward to this journey alongside you.

Days later...

Percy and Y/N are in Cabin 3 at Camp Half-Blood, they spent the whole night talking about the mission they would have together, about the prophecy received. Percy could tell that Y/N was still surprised by everything that was happening, but he was getting used to the new reality, he had even made some friends in the Athena cabin.

He knew that Y/N's life had been extremely lonely and he couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been to spend so many years hiding at sea. Percy wanted to make sure that even though a mission had brought them together, now Y/N had a family.

- Y/N, I want you to know that you are not alone anymore. You have a family now, and I'm here for you. Forever. We are brothers, and that means we take care of each other no matter what.

- This means a lot to me, Percy. I don't know how to thank you for all this. – Y/N said, feeling moved by Percy's words.

- No need to thank, big bro. We are on this journey together, and we will face everything head on. No matter what fate has in store for us, our brotherhood is unbreakable.

- Thanks, Percy. I look forward to facing what lies ahead with you by my side. – Y/N says with a smile.

Percy and Y/N share a moment of understanding and unity, strengthening their bond as brothers. Percy wants to make it clear that Y/N no longer needs to carry the loneliness that haunted him, because now he has a family that will support and care for him at all times.

[shehungers]

MASTERLIST

KEEP IN MIND...

→ you must be 18+ to engage with my work. that means: likes, reblogs, asks/submissions, interacting with my work whatsoever. non-negotiable.

→ if you are a blank blog trying to interact with my work, meaning: no header, no pfp—you will immediately be blocked. non-negotiable.

→ if I catch you mass liking my writing and not interacting and/or reblogging it, I'm going to block you. it takes two seconds to reblog. it takes thirty seconds to leave a nice comment. support authors, folks.

→ my writing is to never be reposted or to leave this blog for any reason. the only other place you should see my work is AO3 under the penname 2kmps.

→ I do not write fanfiction. I will not write fanfiction. I only read and reblog fanfiction if it is submitted to me for feedback.

→ this page will be periodically updated as pieces are posted. if you see something not linked below: 1) it hasn't been finished/posted yet 2) I just haven't gotten around to linking it.

→ ⚪ does not mean that there is not dark content, it only pertains to there not being smut.

CAPICHE?

key: 🔞 18+; 🕊️ dead dove; 🛑 dark content; ⚪ sfw; 🚬 concept piece

🛑⚪🚬bounty | gunslinging outlaw |

🛑🔞dark pool | aquatic monster |

🛑🔞🚬imposter | possessed!scholar husband | 3.6k

🕊️🔞🚬 root rot | possessed!scholar husband | 3.8k

🛑🔞fathomless | eldritch detective |

🛑🔞🚬faulty | android x reader | 2.4k

🛑🔞🚬lucid | sleep paralysis demon | 3k

🛑🔞of flesh sin | vampire priest | 2.6k

🕊️🔞simulacra | frankenstein creature | 2.6k

🛑⚪tincture of aconite | werewolf x reader | 2.4k

longer stories...

🕊️🔞blood catalase | eldritch vampire | 16.1k

🕊️🔞opaque | android | 36.5k

upcoming...

🛑🔞🚬ambrosia | dragon-human knight | est. 7-8k

🕊️🔞lazarus | eldritch octopus alien | est. 8-9k

🕊️🔞lord of Phantasm | possessed!scholar husband | est. 7-9 chapters; 8-10k ea

[italoniponic]

𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 - mini-project

Runaway Shrimp

Notes: this is based on a very fun request I made with Malleus, Leona and Azul where Reader accidentally confessed their feelings to them and instead of facing them and waiting for a reply, they just… “bolts” (as the Anon said lol). So then @gilswifey asked if I could do a part 2 with Jade and I thought, huh why not? 

Jade Leech x g!n reader who runs really fast / headcanons / fluff & comedy / part 2 / use of “you” pronouns

“Our house will be a mushroom farm like this…,” you blurted out. It was a big mistake on your part, considering that the alchemy workshop was so empty that your voice projected better than ever, and above all, Jade had enviable hearing. Especially because he was right next to you. So much so that he took his eyes off the poisonous mushroom he had in hand just to face you;

There were no great excuses to be made, no means of deflecting the subject. The implication that you imagined living together with Jade in the future — and the awareness that the constant presence of mushrooms would be inevitable — was right there, heading for more things. More clear that this would have been to have asked for his hand at that moment;

But you chickened out. Well, you never intended to let him find out your feelings, let alone reveal them in this way. Jade still stared at you for another minute, his heterochromatic eyes going from wide in surprise to slowly relaxing into gentle amusement — mostly from your expression of horror — when…;

... you ran away. Few things really impressed Jade in seventeen years of life, being two years of earthly experience. He could be fascinated by various things, develop curiosity about human habits, and wanting to know different things without further ado. But that was the day he was most taken aback by things. And all this is your work;

You ran out of the workshop faster than a flock of sardines when they spotted a monster whale. Jade congratulated your speed — even though you were out of sight to hear it. Calmly, he got up, put away his newest mushroom in a terrarium and made a little call;

From the point where you were, you had two directions: the outskirts of the Ramshackle or some point near the library, near Main Street. That’s considering you were running in a straight line. A third option would be the Hall of Mirrors region. The Leech’s aquatic predator ability aside, you personally had the advantage of knowing how to run really fast. But Jade had an idea that would save him time;

You thought you were out of danger. Your legs had carried you to the other side of the school, somewhere in the woods near the library. Not a sign of Jade following you. You leaned against a tree to catch your breath, but the fatigue wasn't all that was making you feel bad. It was a mixture of guilt and a certain disappointment that you were really alone after all;

Not for long though. Someone took you in their arms by surprise, putting a frightening distance between you and the ground. When you turned around and saw turquoise hair, you even thought it was Jade... but Floyd’s laugh totally broke your expectations;

“I see you’ve managed to catch a runaway shrimp for me, Floyd. What a good brother you are,” Jade smiled when he met the two of you. Floyd carried you in his arms to the courtyard of the Botanical Garden and dropped you into the arms of his twin — the game was good while it lasted. Floyd had mentioned that Jade would spear him from eating the test shiitake dishes if he looked for you in one area of the school while his brother went in the other side;

A master plan, you had to admit. Although there was still the problem that you had nowhere else to run and hide — not with Jade carefully holding you in his own arms, purposefully not giving you that opportunity anymore;

“I personally don’t understand why you ran away like that. It’s not like your feelings aren’t reciprocated,” Jade said gently. It caught you off guard. The feeling was so clear on your face that the merman had a little chuckle. Jade had a docile smile, something very uncommon to see — especially for how sincere it was. But the truth was that he always had that one smile when you were around him.

| Special notes: not very necessary to the story but I imagine that Floyd was still there when they solved things up and he's like "oh for Ursula, get a room you two! gross! this? right in front of the school facility for everyone to see? disgusting, I'm telling mom" :P while they only smiled to each other bc he's that type of supportive brother lmao |

[datenightfright]

Hello, could I get a godzilla x male reader fluff headcannons, please? please take your time. Thank you

I love doing Fluff Headcannons

When he's not saving the world from giant ass monsters, Godzilla loves spending time with you, his favorite human.

Expects all the kisses. Whether he's coming or going he wants a kiss. A kiss for good luck, a kiss good morning, a kiss goodnight. Just kiss him.

Hope you like the beach, as a mostly aquatic Kaiju, he doesn't really like being on land.

Will teach you how to swim if you don't already know how.

He won't force you into the water if you don't want to be there. He understands what thalassophobia is.

Likes a man that can eat. Godzilla eats a lot to keep his energy up and he'd like it if his fella would eat with him. Eating alone is awkward.

Likes dogs even if dogs don't like him.

Not a Kaiju that's very vocal, he still loves to listen to you talk. Even if it's about mundane things. Your voice soothes him.

Will sit and watch all your favorite shows with you. And I mean binge watch them. Two seasons in one day is no problem for him. Movie marathon? Bring it.

Generally just loves being around you. Your presence soothes him. You're his respite from the chaotic world he usually finds himself in, and he makes sure you know just how thankful he is.

[ya-bug-boy]

Yoooo, can we get poly mermaid submas x golden koi fish reader? I love them both so much and can't choose lol.

Poly Mermaid Submas x Gold Koi Mermaid Reader

Mermaids are members of societies like other monsters. With recent times, there's been progress made for mermaids to live on land, in special aquatic rooms and custom made magic wheelchairs, allowing them to travel freely among the others.

Mermaids could never really become human but that doesn't limit their abilities as society members. Mermaids regulate and maintain the balance of nature in the ocean waters, ensuring coexistence.

Mermaids have stood out in modern society due to their monarchy. 5 kingdoms for 5 oceans.

The twins would so happen to be two very lucky shark mermaid twins. Shark Merfolk often go through a difficult pregnancy so to have a pair of twins is extraordinarily lucky.

The crown title of princes naturally go to both of them. Their father naturally is the king. As much as the king loves his sons, they can be quite a handful when it came to the topic of their potential marriage.

That is until they saw you one day.

You were a gold koi mermaid stopping to visit the kingdom the twins were going to inherit one day. Your brilliant tail and fins shine brilliantly under the ocean light. Your scales were iridescent and your eyes were just the same, reflecting light like crystals.

Emmet is never quite that good at introducing himself so he swam up to you in a speed you hadn't seen before and loudly introducing himself in his usual manner, "I am Emmet!" To disgruntled Ingo who comes after him soon after.

You aren't a noble but you're actually the knight of the princess mermaid that was coming to see the twins today. She too was disdainful towards the potential arranged marriage and refused to swim out of her hiding spot. Though you take your knightly duties very seriously, when it came to the princess, you tell them that it's much like having a younger sister. The princess would be a squid mermaid and had camouflaged herself in the royal garden so you were simply waiting for her to be ready to show up.

But as you talked to the twins, they were much more eager in you rather than the princess. In fact you spent all day with them until the princess came out of hiding, shyly admitting that she was hungry.

You lightly make fun of her, but she's quick to change her mind when you entice her with human food. Before you bid farewell to the twins, she loudly shouts across the water, "HEY DO YOU WANNA MARRY MY GUARD" before you drag her away up to the surface with her tentacles flailing. "HE'S SIIIIIIINGLE" she yells as her voice gets more distant.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Do you have any fics with Nightmare x reader but like it’s an au of an au,like in a pirate or fae AU?

FAE AU pls?

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Summoned (Nightmare!Sans x Reader) by SkellieUser666 (General Audiences, Incomplete)

(Y/N) didn't want to be friend the popular kids. Nor had she ever dreamed that she would have a sleepover with them. But boy is she wrong when she is forced to go with the popular girls for a one night sleepover. But what (Y/N) doesn't know. Is that her life will change in that very night. "Well well well, look what we have here." Cover by: @ scryl.studio on Instagram

Sweet Like Lavender by InkyOverlord (Teen And Up, Complete)

Over the centuries, that small villager grew into a town, then a city before they both knew it Dream became the monster ambassador This left Nightmare to tend to a bookstore, giving him the chance to meet someone new.

Lurking in the Shadows by etherealbutters (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

(Y/N) is a twenty-something-year-old girl. At least, she thinks she is. She can't remember anything, except for the past eleven months since she mysteriously awoke in an outcode realm known as "the Doodle Sphere". Here, she has begun living a new life with her vigilante roommates - a group of skeleton monsters who call themselves the Star Sanses. After her friend, Dream, is suddenly captured by the leader of their rivals, (Y/N) discovers that there may be more to their friendship than she could have realized.

Nights and Their Rulers by HeyLook_Sum_Beanz (Not Rated, Complete)

You are your kingdom's top knight. When the queen invites you to a ball, you meet the King of the Monster Kingdom, and assassins strike. You're asked to return with the King to his kingdom. But why does your chest hurt whenever you think of the King being with someone? Or You're Nightmare's soulmate, he knows it, you don't. You're kinda stupid like that. Will you ever find out?? Dreamtale belongs to Joku_Blog

Cyan decks by Idea_Writes (General Audiences, Incomplete)

Y/n just got a new job as nightly janitor on a merchant ship but she ends up attracting some unwanted attention from an aquatic king