#basically the plot of nosferatu...rober eggers pls dont sue

[sadesluvr]

Nocturne

ft. interspecies sex (reader is a mermaid)

Friedrich couldn’t sleep. 

It was all too often that he found himself lying in an empty bed, the side once reserved for his darling wife now as barren as his household; hollow from the loss of his young daughters also. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but there was something indescribable that was missing, and yet dormant around him; stalking the halls of his home and settled on his shoulders, its weight felt even through the heavy layers of his coat, failing to tame even when his mind was at work. 

Work. The notion seemed pointless. It was his natural responsibility as a man, but what kind of a man was he if there weren’t a home, a family to provide for?  

Where days were usually spent waiting for sunset, longing for to return to his dear Anna, he now remained hunched over pocketbooks, or gazing vacantly onto the waters that surrounded him. Friedrich had been conditioned to enjoy the sight of a ship – he sold them for a living after all – but he’d never once considered that the ocean was far more interesting. Serene, unpredictable, a twinkling blue or a murky grey, the waves that sloshed against the iron keel called to him. 

That's how his dreams usually began. 

He’s on a boat, and there’s some client in the corner nattering on about trade deals. It all goes through one ear and out the other, instead lost in the seemingly endless vapour around him. Are they even in Germany anymore? Perhaps he’s in the Atlantic, or the North Sea. 

He can’t tell. 

The boat strays further, seemingly being guided towards a light. The winter months in Wisborg are always the toughest; they’re bitter, relentless...the type of cold that would make you want to walk head first into a fire. 

He missed evenings by the fireplace with his girls. 

Once the mist clears, there’s a figure. It’s beautiful; definitively womanly by the unique curves of its bare chest, propped up and perched on the shore waiting for him. He can’t see its face, but finds himself rather enticed by the sound of its song, raspy, yet melodic…calling out to him. He wonders why a young woman would be out alone, but welcomes her brashness, so much so that he doesn’t realise that she is not human, at least not below her waist. 

He feels like he knows you.  

Do you know him? 

Her scales are smooth and her tail is streamlined, finding a way to glisten even in the thick fog. Friedrich reaches out, yet can’t seem to feel anything, not even a wetness. It’s nothing.  

The boat and its only other passenger have disappeared, now knee deep in the sea below him. He feels weighty, but he seems to float towards you effortlessly. He stalks closer and closer, wading in and out of the ripples below him, not realising that every step brings him down.  

Down.  

The water is rising. He’s close to shore, but the ocean is getting deeper. It’s up to his torso now, and he can feel the cold pooling through his shirt, seeping down his chest and into his pants. His drawers are bulging, desperately needing release, sparse as oxygen begins to shrivel up in his lungs. There’s only a few more steps for him to be with you – he’ll make it. 

There’s a salty taste in his mouth as he’s dragged underwater, your visage even blurrier and distorted than before. You’re just a bunch of lines now, barely perceptible through his swollen eyes. They’re red and raw – he cries out for Anna, for you, but what good are tears in a body of water? 

“Closer, my Prince. Let us be one…” 

Startled, Friedrich wakes in a cold sweat, just as he feels life snuff out from his insides. Like clockwork, he reaches over to his bedside, his table topped with gauze for his lip. It’s bleeding again. With wooden legs he struggles to sit himself up, a hand haphazardly wiping at his sweat-bathed forehead. 

It’s the same as always; moonlight streaking through the sheer curtains, casting a light along the paraphernalia in the room. He’d started to crack the windows, wondering if the stuffiness of the room was the source of his troubles – apparently not. 

Sighing, Friedrich rubs his eyes, just before rolling back onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. It would soon be morning. Another day was ahead of him. 

- 

The Harding’s bedroom was filled with laboured breaths. Friedrich was sat on the edge of his bed, drawers to the floor as he pumped a firm hand along his cock, the other clutching Anna’s old undergarments as he chased release.

He'd been on edge all day, not just his festering libido but he’d been tired, frustrated as he tried to fight sleep over his desk at work. This would be the last straw, the final thing that he’d hope would remedy his insomnia. He'd always used to sleep well once he’d filled his wife with seed – why wouldn’t it be the same now?

In the past he’d liked to savour the moment; feel every inch of skin and twitching sensation in her cunt, but this was different, and he was solely focused on escapism. Running his fingertips along the lace of its lining was ultimately meaningless – there was no feeling behind any of this, instead an aimless wander in pursuit of some semblance of a womanly connection. 

He’d started this thinking of Anna, but his thoughts were quickly replaced by you – or at least an image of you. 

“Closer, my Prince. Let us be one.” 

Your voice was calling. He had to find you. 

Friedrich dropped his grip from around his erect cock, eyes wide and watery as he stood up from his seated position. There was that feverishness again. The world around him was a mirage as he felt his arms pull his pants up, feet walk towards the bedroom door and along the stretching corridor before floating down the stairs, toes hardly hitting the lush carpet as he did.  

It was all a weird black, he couldn’t see the fireplace, nor the pool table, or the path to the kitchen, but he knew his route like the back of his hand.  

“Herr Harding...It’s barely the morn. Why are you leaving?” 

The outside called. Twilight; the crisp air struck his lungs like a hunter to a gazelle, the fabric of his nightshirt grazing in the wind as he ran towards the abyss – making that oh-so familiar route towards the dock.  

“You’re almost there, my love...” he heard you call, voice now as clear as ever. His heard skipped a beat as you let out a girlishly enticing chuckle. “I can’t wait to be with you.” 

Splinters lined his soles, but Friedrich couldn’t feel them. All he felt was a weird mixture of horror and joy upon seeing you on the embankment, just as he had all those nights. The dust had settled and the fog lifted, and you were even more beautiful than one could’ve imagined. You don’t look like Anna, but the invitation in your eye is all the same. 

You wore a melancholy smile and painted with skin that glistened in the moonlight, projecting colours that he’d never even thought could’ve existed. Youthful, but so womanly. 

 He hardly noticed the tide, slowly rising and falling on your command, yet certainly inching closer. It was a good thing he felt ready to drown. 

“My dear Friedrich...You came,” you whispered, words rolling off your slippery tongue. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“You called for me, my darling,” he replied sincerely, cupping your face in his hands. “I’m a prat for making you wait.” 

Gently you placed your hand on his, snaking it down from your cheeks and placing it between your breast, his thumb getting a hold of your mounds, nipples hardening as you did. Your beckoned eyes and gentle pout were enough to convince him, lips latching onto your own as he kissed you.  

Friedrich wasted no time in exploring your mouth, hastily pulling down his pants to take his bare cock in his hands, just as he had been minutes prior. Throbbing, he gave himself a few languid strokes as he moved down towards your breasts, latching onto your nipple, eyes squeezed shut as he savoured the moment. Everything suddenly felt real again – his passion had meaning, intent – and he was determined to give it all to you.  

His hands roamed down your body to find that your lower torso was wet and slippery, flower so delicately crafted that he was almost certain you couldn’t have been anything but inhuman.  

It was there, open and budding for him, closing around his shaft so perfectly as he slid into you. Shivering, his blue eyes glanced up at you through long lashes as he suddenly lost the sound of your voice once more, but could infer by the perfect ‘o’ shape of your lips that you were in just as much ecstasy as he.  

His quads and ass clenched tighter with every thrust, bare knees scraping against the rocks as he humped you like a dog. His bottom lip quivered, and before he knew it tears began streaking down his face, his grip on your body tight as he chased that cushion-y spot. 

“I’m sorry, beloved,” he moaned, white spots peppering his vision. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. But your delayed gratification has driven me mad... I’m mad for you.” 

“Don’t hold back, my darling,” you begged. “It’s time. Give your love to me...” 

All consuming, all perfect. Friedrich wrinkled his nose, throwing his head back in euphoria, too far gone to care about his (usually) immaculately groomed stray strands that draped across his face. Spurts of white seed pumped into you as he felt the knot unravel from his stomach, his clammy skin now cooled, washed clean from his sickness.  

Trembling, it was a while before he could safely rest his head on your chest, listening to soft rhythm of your heart slowly sink into the water, this time bringing you with him with his softening cock inside of you. Then, for the first night in a while, he slept. 

FIN.