#biting my knuckles

[ambassadorarlert]

why are his fists always balled up, baby relax—

[celestialvoyeur]

Ok so this isn’t technically Spirk, but let’s choose to believe he’s staring longingly at Jim. I had to draw beardy, leather-clad Spock from DISCO season 2, I HAD to!

[bigassbowlingballhead]

[reachingforaspark]

No honestly the pieces are aligned we are getting all three on the couch again by end of season

[i-love-river-song]

13 is so sexy when she talks science

[sttoru]

T STRIKES AGAAAAAAIN

nanami and geto=pulling hair

AHDJSKFMDKXJXUXU PLEASE I NEED THEM SO BAD IT HURTS

a/n: i dont write brat!reader often and i hate this but uhm .. :”) got inspiration for geto’s part from this fanart :3 also nanami’s inspiration here and here / tagging @jabamin @screampied @marimogf @redskyvenus @kizoken @osaemu @satorena @suguella @t4kio

wc: about 1.5k for each

warnings: hair pulling for both, fem!reader, brat!reader, geto is a lil rough, oral (m! receiving), deep-throating, semi-public sex, use of ‘slut’ (geto), tension, semi-public sex, a lil ooc nanami ig, use of ‘slut’, unprotected p -> v sex, squirting, breeding / creampie kink (nanami), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GETO

geto’s grip around your waist only tightens when you press up more against him in the crowded business convention, purposefully grinding your ass into his front that’s already sporting a hard-on that looks like it hurts.

but suguru is a master at keeping his feelings in, like how this business partner of him is boring the shit out of him and how much he wants to push you to your knees in front of everyone and shove his cock in your mouth.

“don’t you wanna just do away with all this pretentious shit? spread me open and give a show to everyone in this boring ass convention?” you whisper against his skin with your head craned up just to see how his jaw tenses and he almost drops his flute of champagne, “hm? don’t you want everyone to know how good you make me feel?”

“behave, sweetheart.”

“no,” you giggle, and geto rolls his eyes with a small smile on his face. you know it’s all fun and games; he loves taming the brat in you, but the brat in you is just begging to be punished, “you know you love me.”

“that, i can vouch for, but making me hard in public? i’ll need you to tone it down, baby.”

“but i want you, don’t you want me?” you’re pulling out all the stops, now, tits in full view from how he was behind you just scouring the many businessmen and women walking about and making small talk. even now, your hips torture him in the best way, rolling slowly and bit by bit.

“you’re riding a thin line here.” he warns with a peck to your hair.

“i’d rather be riding your dick, sugu . .” it’s whispered so tenderly, so softly, your hands skilled when they close over his that rest comfortably on your waist. “in our hotel room, or on the balcony, please . .?”

all geto manages is a strained, polite smile to the approaching mr. mamato who seems a little puzzled at the rejection, but with reassurance from the former, all is well. your lover has no qualms about keeping a tight clasp around your intertwined fingers, champagne flutes abandoned and heels clacking quickly against the floor to the lift lobby.

and you cast your spell again, getting back on your brat shit once the elevator doors close since it was quite a ride to the floor of the hotel. geto sighs quietly when you trail your hand along his belt and down the zip where there was a noticeable bulge and you squeeze, relishing in the silent gasp he lets out. you both know that once he looks at you, you two would have to be pried from the elevator so he settles for deep breaths.

but it’s all sloppy, wet kisses once he’s got you pushed against your suite’s door, multitasking hands zipping open your dress and pulling your bra past your tits and revelling in your perk, erect nipples. a small jump is muttered from his lips and you follow easily, propped up so perfectly where his mouth fits just around your nipple and that draws a loud moan, hips grinding against his torso for any kind of friction.

geto is strong, with one hand holding you, the other lands a spank on your ass and he releases your tits with a pop!

“what makes you think you deserve that?” you’re on the balcony by now, the breathtaking view of the many other touristy attractions right next to the hotel but geto would rather look at your defeated expression, doe eyes, pout and all.

“i’ve been goo—”

your lover’s hand from behind goes up to pull hard on your hair, forcing you to look up at him and he smiles when he spots your thighs rubbing together.

“don’t lie to my face, baby,” he lowers you to your knees and each breath feels like it could kill you. you love every second of it — geto commanding you, the dark of his eyes and the parting of his lips, “we both know you’ve been trying to toy with me since the start of the convention.”

“i didn’t say when—” you grin.

“and don’t play smart with me, little slut.” a small moan leaves your mouth at that, eyes flicking between his eyes and his other hand skillfully unbuckling his pants and you let out a little squeal when his cock’s removed from his underwear. he’s always so big and heavy that it slaps against your face and you grin, immediately sticking out your tongue and he feels his chest swell with pride just a little at your obedience.

and he releases your hair, reaching behind for his cigs and lighter. the air fills with the familiar odour of nicotine, “suck.”

you do, planting your hands onto his thighs and making a big show of whatever you wanted to do, but you’re only suckling on his tip, smiling through the pre-cum that slips past your mouth. he’s quite lenient, letting you tap his tip on your tongue and stroking him with both hands alongside small groans, but it’s not what he wants.

“do you want to suck me off or not?” geto whispers, almost like a threat. cigarette in mouth, he grabs your jaw and it squishes your cheeks, “hm?” he gives you one last chance when you nod so adorably, mouth messy with pre and your saliva that he just wants to bend you over and fuck you dumb.

but when you go back to teasing him — tugging on his balls, keeping to sucking harshly on his tip (even if it feels so damn good), looking up through your eyelashes like you’re not doing anything is when he’s getting a better hold on your hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail and scoffs.

you’re really in for a treat, now. there’s no warning before he pulls on your hair and brings you in again, smiling when he hears you gag at how deep his cock had reached in your throat. he coos inwardly when he sees that there’s already tears forming, but all you have on your face is a little sick grin and so he continues his assault.

geto pushes and pulls, leaving you no choice but to bob your head along his veiny shaft with very little time to breathe. it’s too intoxicating each time you’re up to the hilt, pubes smelling like sweat and Louis V cologne as you moan continually against him, sending vibrations up his body. you know his body like the back of your hand that you know every twitch of his dick, every jerk of his hips into your warm, inviting mouth.

“f-fuck . . maybe she does know how to use her mouth properly,” he mumbles, eyes fixated on your smudging eyeliner while your mouth is stretched out to accommodate him.

“su— mmfgf—!” suguru leaves you no time to breathe, guiding you roughly with your hair while he continues to smoke without a care in the world, not caring that the sounds of you choking on his fat cock could probably be heard by the neighbouring suite rooms. in a feat of defiance, again, you come off of him with a giggle, saliva strings connecting you and his dick, but he’s having none of that.

with one forceful thrust, geto shoves his cock into you, enjoying the corners of your eyes welling up with tears as you gargle and sputter, breathing hard through your nose. “i told you, do it properly. need ya to learn your lesson.”

you look truly pathetic like this, on the balcony floor of the hotel you were just in the function room for, but now you’re stuffed full of your boyfriend’s length, hands periodically squeezing his thighs. he grunts out your name, mixed in with little groans and pants of just how much your mouth resembled your pussy, drunk on the way his tip feels at the back of his throat.

“mmm . .” you hum, more used to the feeling now when you’re feeling him twitch and pulse in your mouth and you make sure to swirl your tongue, keeping eye contact with him.

“just— just like that, shit . .” suguru’s grasp on your head loosens with each step closing to his orgasm, putting out his cig just so he could focus on you and you only, “take it, take my cock down your throat like a filthy slut.”

geto’s shivering, hunched over your figure while you take the chance to move your head a little, slurping up all the saliva with hands squeezing over and over, sending your lover’s senses into overdrive. it doesn’t take long until he’s cumming down your throat with your head held to the base of his pelvis, heart clenching when he feels your muffled moans and then sees his overflowing cum.

“let me see . .” he asks absentmindedly, feeling just a little bad at the way you’re breathing so hardly, but he knows you don’t mind when you wrap a hand around his cock again, milking him for what he’s worth and sloppily sucking the mingling of saliva and cum from your skin. you’re quick to get back to sucking again, desperate for dick, and geto knows he’s found his perfect half.

✶ NANAMI

“these curses really need to stop emerging,” you frown with a groan, stuck in a never-ending meeting with yaga and nanami. in front of you were books littered with information about curses from the edwardian era, noting a similarity in both appearance and powers in the increasingly threatening curse that spawned in okinawa. so far, research has been scarce, providing for anything but the information you were looking for.

all the while, nanami’s looking at you through goggles, hiding behind the translucency of it as the open page of his tattered book is left abandoned only because he was so distracted by you.

you were stuck in a weird place with nanami — always getting stuck in precarious situations, mingling breaths, beating hearts to the point where you’d wanna throw up. you both knew relationships were a farce in the world of jujutsu sorcery, but even so, to deny the way you were the first one he’d check up on whenever you finished missions . . you might be falling off the deep end sooner or later.

“perhaps it would be wise to take a break, for lunch at least,” yaga only sighs, rubbing at his temples from his similar conquest, but none of you were actually able to match the photos to the drawings drawn up by sorcerers of the past. he takes the chance to leave the room for some food at the pantry, leaving just both you and nanami and the tension goes up by a hundredfold.

you don’t exactly hate it, but it becomes exceptionally clear when the universe seems to be against you from the first hour of research. from dropping your pen right in front of nanami that allowed a peek of your chest, to your printed photos flying right to the chair beside him, reaching over his whole body to retrieve them.

nanami is dying to smell you, again.

it’s loads of reading, glad for the knock of the door as you answer the call of the first-year students right outside the office, closed to a small gap since yaga asked you two to keep it confidential, but with the way you’re sticking out your ass . . he swears he can feel himself harden. before long, he’s hearing you bid goodbye to the three of them before your bracelet comes loose and it falls, and the sound of metal against wood is so loud that he’s glad he’s heard it.

because nanami’s attention is once again drawn to your plump ass, and he’s sure you’re doing this all on purpose with the way not one part of your legs are bent, and he can just see the peep of your panties. his skin burns.

“they wanted to know if they could help in any way,” you laugh when you return, albeit a little awkwardly after that whole thing you pulled. you weren’t even sure if nanami would look — he was a man set on ending work at 6pm and would want to do as much work before then, for god’s sake, so when all he does is nod curtly, you’re swallowing your feelings, not wanting to risk everything again.

once the clock strikes 6, nanami’s the first to stand, excusing himself with a bow, but not before he’s passing you a piece of paper folded carefully. so meticulously that he wanted you to open it without yaga seeing, pleasantly surprised when you see his graceful hand write out see me in the library.

you think nothing of it, taking the books that were from the library and making up some excuse of going to continue in there to yaga who waves you off with a grateful thanks, a yelp drawn from your throat when you see nanami just hovering beside the door frame.

he looks like he’s about the throw up — one look at his trousers tells you otherwise, breaking that barrier when you step closer to him courageously. “i don’t think we should waste any more time, dear (y/n).” 

“what do you mean?” nanami has such a way with that voice of his, that you let him take the heavy books from your hand without any fight, without any resistance, gasping softly as he grabs your waist almost timidly. but you have been dancing around each other for too many months, and everything just felt right.

“you know what i mean, doll.”

every minute nanami spends with your body becomes more and more intense, first starting out with a soft and gentle question to rougher, sloppier kisses, and down to your body right to your cunt where he stroked himself whilst eating you out; and the way nanami fucks, god. he’d take his time but . .

“wanted this fuckin’ pussy for so long, f-fuck . .” nanami groans, body flush against yours while he pounds into you from behind. the library definitely is not soundproof, but after seeing your pretty panties and tasting your cunt, sinking his fat cock into your hole was just perfect and god forbid he held back on the first time.

“k—kento . . please—!” the tatami mats of the school’s library were looking like crap, no doubt from the lack of use of this place, but you use it to your heart’s content, soaking the mats with your mixed juices and sweat. but that meant you had no anchor to hang on to, grasping and scratching at the floor for anything when nanami angles his hips and sucks hickeys into your neck from behind. “love it, wan’ more, wan’ more—”

“yeah? pretty little slut wants more?” nanami’s head spins at the way your hips move back onto his as well, head turning and nodding just so you can look at the man who’s blowing your back out in his alma mater’s library, hair tousled and sweat lining his brow. “after teasing me these few months — s-shit — can i really give it to her?”

he speaks with a strain, hypnotising hands moving up and down your back and onto your ass, spreading it just so he could see the way you take him, pussy stretched and all. nanami lets out a shaky breath, not believing that whatever he’s always fantasised about is coming true, and right after this, he’s sure to get you a bouquet of flowers and a decent day out, not before a morning after pill though.

“you’re so mean . . teasin’ me, showin’ me your panties,” he gives your ass a smack, groaning out loud at the recoil, “what makes you think ’m gonna give it t’you?”

all you had to do was look up at him with doe eyes, using a weak, flailing arm to grab out for him but failing and he finds it so goddamn cute that he smiles to himself and succumbs anyway, chuckling as he runs his hands down your back. although, they don’t stop there — they find your hair and he twines your locks around his fingers and pulls, prompting a loud whine from you.

“ken—!” your pornographic moans are downright obscene, together with the messy mix of your cum and his pre all around your core, it was truly disgustingly filthy, “f-fuuckk . . yes, r-right there!”

nanami all but follows your sounds, triggering your arch with such a strong pull on your hair that the pain translates into pleasure. with his knees, he nudges your legs to open even more and you cry out his name at how deep his throbbing cock reaches in you, gummy walls sucking him in and clenching around his length so harshly.

“pussy’s just so good to me, god,” he moans, feeling so hot in his work outfit that wasn’t even fully stripped down. his blue work shirt is soaked, as with his trousers, full of your cum that’s starting to form a white ring around the base of his shaft. he purposefully pulls on your hair to meet your lips, murmuring onto your skin, “’m close, baby.”

nanami’s thrusts are accurate, precise, hitting all the sweet spots in you relentlessly until you’re saying incoherent sentences, thighs already starting to shake until he starts rubbing at your clit. the sensations overwhelm you; the still strong tug of your hair, the pap! pap! pap! of his hips against your ass, the circles on your clit that matches the thrusts — and you’re cumming and squirting with a lax jaw and eyes that roll to the back of your skull.

“c-cumming, kento— ’m cummi—!” you babble, hips grinding back onto his for more even when you’re spraying juices all over, whole body convulsing from the climax, “s’good, s’good—”

just seeing you fall apart from his cock has him reaching his high, hips stuttering into your warm pussy to pump you full of his cum and he makes sure you catch every last drop, the hand tangled in your hair pushing right down on your head into the tatami mats.

nanami catches the ghost of a smile on your face before your body moves against his, again, using your own hands to spread your cheeks just to make sure he sees the cum he’s planted in you.

[databroker]

Isaiah and Kai and Lisbeth and Avery and Tom. Welcome to my twisted mind

[devil-in-hiding]

something somthing while they all take turns with bartender!reader and getting you back for teasing them and not letting them touch for months, they each hold your left hand either pinned above your head, pinned to your lower back to force you to arch that much more, or on their own chest, forcing you to see the now empty finger, forcing you to think about that ridiculous lie you'd been telling for months that kept you from this (this being body shaking, mind shattering orgasms that leave you boneless and pleading for more)

- vgilantee

John lets his boys get their fill first, Kyle being the greediest, leaving your limp and twitching as he strokes his cock over your face, wrenching your jaw open as he paints your face with a hissed “fuckin’ cock tease”

but then your being bent in half, no time to gather yourself before John is bullying his cock into your achy hole, gripping your wrist in one hand when you weakly push at his chest.

“You know how many nights I sat in that pub, being a right gentleman because I thought my pretty bird was off limits? How many nights I thought about splitting this fat fuckin cunt open on my cock?” He ends in a growl, pinning your hands above your head as he hitches one of your legs over his shoulder

[jodiespolaroids]

Jodie Comer for ELLE

📸: Cass Bird

[millerscoffee]

Never again

dbf!Joel x f!reader AU masterlist

Summary: It's your dad's birthday, and you can no longer avoid Joel.

Warnings: Smut, no outbreak AU, age gap (late 40s, early 20s), angst, no happy ending, dbf!Joel, dubcon due to alcohol, assumed unrequited love, no use of y/n, ambiguous mutual pining, unprotected PIV, creampie, emotional unavailability, hurt, lack of aftercare, half-choking, dacryphilia, daddy kink

A/N: This is part 2 to Grown woman. There are three instalments left after this, and no, it doesn't get better. If anything, it gets worse. Enjoy!

Word count: 3.9k Rating: 18+

When you set foot inside your house again, with your panties and your dignity left on Joel’s front porch, you feel numb. 

Your head throbs from the alcohol, from whatever the fuck Suzy next door had concocted and poured over crushed ice, then handed to you and Joel alongside a full plate of ribs. You refuse to let yourself think about last night, about your conversation, the way he looked at you, spoke to you, how his hand felt in yours. Instead, you turn on the shower and look at yourself in the mirror, looking at your swollen bottom lip, feeling the beard burn on your face, turning your head to smell him on your skin, his sweat and sex and cologne. Him. 

Lathering body wash all over your skin, you carefully bring your fingertips to your opening and feel how sore you are, how he stretched you out and fucked you so deeply you think your cervix must be sore as well. You don’t want to cry, but for some reason, it’s the physical mark of him that hurts the most, the proof that he was inside you, that he wanted you, until he didn’t. You don’t know whether to feel used or victorious, taken advantage of or like some sort of femme fatale that even got your dad’s friend to fold. You hate the feeling of washing him off your skin, either way, desperately wanting to hold onto the piece of him you have left. 

A little feeling of shame starts to weasel its way into your conscience, a fear of being seen by your family and friends as some sort of manipulative little girl who conned Joel into fucking you, that you took advantage of him being single for a long time, lonely perhaps, and slept with him just to seek attention. You wonder if he’ll tell your dad that you came onto him and that he’s concerned about you or some bullshit like that, that he'll try to turn it around on you somehow.

You have his number, you’ve had it since he picked you up from the airport three years ago, and over the next week, you open your text conversation with him from time to time, starting to type a message and then deleting it. 

One casual, 

hey, how are you? can we talk?

One late at night, typed with one hand, testing the waters, 

sure it cant happen again? 

One angry,

youre just gonna avoid me like the plague? the fuck is wrong with you? almost 50 and still cant act like a grownup? 

One drunk and upset, 

youre fujcked me and this is how u treat me ? ?? asshole aka joeoel milwr

All of them, deleted eventually, the conversation staying as it was. 

“Hey. I’m at terminal A, no rush.” 

-

Over a month goes by with no word from Joel, no festivities these days and your mother too busy with work to host Sunday dinners for a while, only hearing his voice from downstairs every now and then, coming to meet up with your dad as if nothing ever happened. You cry at the sound of his voice now, wanting to hear it but feeling every word sting, still unable to suppress the sentence that’s been echoing in your head all this time. 

“Doesn’t matter if I do, sweetheart” 

Naively, you’ve wanted to reach out, just to ask him why. Why he fucked you, why he suddenly flipped a switch and acted so cold. But you’re humiliated enough as is, having bared your feelings to him, stupidly confessing your love for him in an attempt to make him let you stay, to make him want you enough to admit it and act on it. He knows too much, way too much, and you feel embarrassed about every interaction you’ve had with him since that one winter, betting he can look back and tell so clearly how much you liked him, loved him, wanted him. 

It feels like you’re going through a breakup, an entire relationship condensed into one night and one morning, like he’s gotten into the seams of your being and then been ripped from you, tearing yourself up in the process. 

You’ve wanted him so badly, pined over him and yearned for him while you’ve met countless men at work, at the gym, in class, at parties, bars, birthdays, and you’ve compared each and every one of them to Joel. And every time, you’ve realized that they were not as kind, as intelligent, as responsible, as reflected or protective or caring as Joel. Nobody ever will be, and you’re fully prepared to spend the rest of your life pining over him, prepared to want to strangle any woman he might date in the future. The thought makes you fucking sick.

Almost as sick as knowing you have to face Joel again sometime, sooner than later, that your families are so intertwined that you can’t run forever, not unless you move to another city and somehow manage to stay away all year, hopefully getting over him by the time Christmas rolls around and you’re forced to go back. 

You want to see him, you don’t want to see him, you want to kiss him, you want to smack him, you want to cry and you want him to see you acting like nothing happened. 

It’s your dad’s birthday tonight, and you can’t avoid Joel anymore. 

-

He’s the first one you see amongst a swarm of guests when you come down the staircase, but he doesn’t look in your direction. Instead, he stands with his arm around Sarah, looking like the wonderful dad he is, the gentle, caring person you know he is, that you still believe he is, at least. If you could only get to the very center of him, past the layers of worry and wanting to do the right thing fuckshit that only he cares about cause he’s loyal and a good man. 

You snatch a glass of wine from one of the tables and sit down on your couch, next to your mom and her best friend, chatting about God knows what, and you drink as fast as you can, gulping down sip after sip as you stare at Joel, waiting for him to notice you. You wonder how he has the nerve to show up here looking so good, acting like nothing, in a fucking dress shirt and dress pants with his hair gelled, as if he’s not a flannel wearing, whiskey drinking, scruffy, dirty old man who fucked his best friend’s daughter. 

It is, quite simply, devastating to see the way he talks to Sarah, to see the way he rubs her shoulder with his palm, smiles at her, probably talking to your dad’s coworkers about how well she’s doing in school, how proud of her he is. You want to cry, remembering how it feels to have him say the same things about you, that he’s proud of you for finishing your degree, for working so hard. 

Your mom has disappeared for a moment but is suddenly heading back to the couch, wine bottle in hand, and gives you a refill while you stare, only glancing away for a second to thank her. When you look back, Joel is already looking at you, and your hands start to tremble as you watch him finish his drink, then pick up another from the table he’s standing next to, immediately taking a sip. You crack a sly smile at him, thought you’d gotten rid of me, huh?

You excuse yourself after a few moments of this staring competition and slink over to where he’s standing, hooking your hand around his thick bicep, covered by a tight material. It doesn’t feel as nice as his flannels, it's not as safe and familiar and it doesn't smell like him. “Do you guys mind if I steal my dad’s bestie for a second?” you ask, mustering up the sneakiest voice you can, adding a wink and a giggle at the end for good measure, “I have a surprise for him and I need some help with it”. He fakes a smile and excuses himself quickly, shaking you off his arm and following you out. 

Dragging him by his hand, his big, warm hand, you make your way down the hall, not looking back at him for a second, feeling the heat of the alcohol spreading through your limbs, until you get to the bathroom. “Why are you takin’ me to the-” he gets out before you push him into the room and close the door behind him. The two of you stand in silence for a moment, you right in front of him, looking up into his eyes, and he puts his hand on the door handle, ready to get the hell out any second, it seems.

“You look nice” you snark, and he tightens his grip around the metal as he rolls his eyes. “What's the surprise?” he asks dryly, and you mimic his expression back to him. “There's no surprise,” you say, equally dry, “Are you dumb?”. Figured, he mutters under his breath and pushes down the handle before you shove the door closed, shifting so your back is against it, trapping him in the room with you. 

“We had sex, we fucked, you can’t just pretend like we didn’t”, you stare at him as you speak, angry at him for avoiding you and simultaneously flustered that you’re able to say it, the fact that it’s true. You feel proud, almost, a sense of accomplishment that this man in front of you, this handsome, older man did just that. He fucked you, on his front porch and in his bed. He sighs, and you lean your head back on the door. “Did you find my panties?” you ask, feeling your heart start to race, your hands trembling behind your back, “I’ve been looking for them”. 

He huffs a laugh, fakes a smile with manic eyes, “Tommy and Sarah found ‘em, had to tell them I had no idea what they were talkin’ about”. You tilt your head back down and look at him, hoping he’s been feeling a fraction of the shame you have, if nothing else. He runs a hand over his beard and shakes his head a little. “It shouldn't have happened,” he murmurs, looking into your eyes now, “I should’ve stayed away from you”. His breaths are shallow, “Shouldn’t have gotten drunk with you, or- or touched you or-”. 

You cut him off then, “I told you I have feelings for you, you told me you knew, and then- then I asked if you had feelings for me too”. You start to feel frantic, your own breaths speeding up, vividly reliving the conversation you’ve been trying to suppress. “You said- you-”, you're teetering on the edge of a panic attack where you stand, “You said it doesn’t matter if you do, so you do, you do have feelings for me, tell me I’m not fucking crazy, you know what you said, you touched me when you said it and-”. 

He winces, as if he forgot about the whole thing and now you had the nerve to remind him. “You can't feel that way about me, my dear”, he looks pained as he speaks, his face contorting in something like disgust or a cringe, “You know that, right?”. With no further warning, you break down, you snap, a choked sob slips out of you and in your drunken heartbreak and sadness, the tears start rolling down your cheeks. “Why didn't you call me?” you cry, trying to catch your breath, “You have my number, why couldn’t you check on me?”. You slide down the door until you land on the cold tiles. 

It’s pathetic, you’re pathetic, and you can’t help it. 

“I can’t-” he starts to say as he crouches down in front of you, looking incredibly pained now, as if he’s suffering too somehow. “Why don't you want me? Am I not good enough for you? Why can’t you love me like I love you? You know me, you know me” you wail, grabbing his collar and pulling him down so he kneels in front of you. Your arms wrap around his neck and you dig your face into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with your tears. “It ain’t that simple, sweetheart, I'm sorry” he murmurs, stroking your hair and letting you sob. He puts his arms around you, collects your trembling limbs and pulls you up so you're standing, muttering about his fuckin’ knees before he lifts you up onto the counter. 

Your breaths spasm as you cry, and it’s so embarrassing but you stand no chance at stopping this avalanche of upset and sadness and anger that’s been boiling inside you for weeks and weeks. “Shhhh”, he soothes, with one hand on the back of your neck and one running up and down your spine, “Please don't cry”. His hands soothe you, the sound of his heartbeat, the smell of his cologne in the crook of his neck. He’s here, it’s okay, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care about you. You turn your face, nose the damp skin on his neck, hot from the alcohol or the stuffy air in the bathroom or your presence, you can’t tell. 

You need him. You need him now. A delusional part of your mind thinks you need each other right now. 

You start to kiss right above his collar, letting your tongue dart out to taste his sweat for a moment, and your hands find his belt buckle, fiddling with it while you lick and kiss at his neck, needing him. “Shouldn't do that” he mutters, his hands staying still, but when you pull back and glance down, he’s already hard, the thick bulge in his pants giving him away. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, opens them again, and they shift around, avoiding you. 

“Please?” you whimper, “I need you, Joel, please, I- I can’t go back out there like this, you can’t just leave me again”. He doesn’t respond, and you start to fidget with his belt again, before he grabs both of your wrists and pins them behind your back. Stop that, he whispers, looking down into your eyes, your chest flush with his as he stands between your legs. You straighten up a little, enough to press kisses along his neck, then his jaw, listening to his slow breaths as you make your way to his mouth, and his lips meet yours, slowly melding together while his hand tightens its grip on your wrists. You give his tongue a careful lick and he pulls back immediately, keeping his eyes closed for a second before opening them, looking up at the ceiling and sighing. 

His grip loosens, just by a bit, and you tell by the tensing of his muscles that he’s planning his exit, that he’s trying to find the words to let you down easy after baring yourself to him yet again. Your eyes are wet when he looks back down, when he takes in the look of your face, and his expression softens. “Joel-” you whimper, on your last leg, your capacity for rejection completely drained. His eyes close as he exhales, and he leans down to run his nose up the side of your neck. “Say it again, baby” he says, voice low, the tip of his nose brushing along the hinge of your jaw. “Wh-” you start to stutter, and he shakes his head. “Not gonna ask you again”, murmured, lightly kissing the underside of your jaw now. 

“Joel” you say, your voice trembling and breaths shaky. 

Mhm, he hums, and after one long, tense moment, his lips crash against yours again and he bunches up the fabric of your dress, pushing it up over your hips as you undo his belt and unzip his pants, taking a few seconds to palm his erection through his boxers while his lips return to your neck, licking and biting this time before he pulls back and swats your hand away. “This is the last time, baby, we’re not doin’ this no more”, he says as he takes his cock out, red and glistening, starting to stroke it while he pulls your panties out of the way, and you scoot your hips closer to the edge of the counter, “It’s not good for you”. 

He stares at your naked sex as he pushes his tip through your folds, wetting it with your slick before positioning it at your entrance, a final moment to pull away, an opportunity he does not take. “You are good for me” you say, begging and pleading in your tone as he starts to enter you, and you hold onto him tightly. “I’m not,” he scolds, looking up at your eyes as he glides in, inch by inch, “You need to listen when I tell you that - I ain’t good for you and you ain’t good for me”. His accent turns into a slur, from the alcohol, probably, or the feeling of his bare cock filling you, the angle of your hips letting the curve of his head push into a spot deep down in your stomach. 

“Why not?” you pout, and he’s fully sheathed inside you now, slowly retracting before thrusting back in, exhaling heavily, softly grunting under his breath. “So many reasons” he whispers, hooking a hand under your knee to hitch it higher and watch himself disappear into you. “Like what?”, your tone is whiny, pleading again, almost innocent sounding. He takes a deep breath, watches a few equally deep thrusts and hears you moan, in the very back of your throat. “I’m divorced,” his voice is like honey again, smooth, low, husky and sexy, “I’m twenty years older than you, your dad’s my closest buddy-”. 

“And?” you interject, craning your neck down to look up at him, “I think it’s hot that you’re so old, that you’re experienced-”. You catch his gaze, fixated on your stretched out hole and the thickness of his cock splitting you in half, coating him with thick, wet slick every time he gets deep. “You ain’t gonna listen, are ya?” he drawls, finally meeting your eyes, and when you shake your head, no, he stares at you for a few moments, his gaze darkening, intensifying, and he starts to fuck you faster, putting a hand around the back of your neck. His hand is so fucking big, his thumb lifts your chin up and holds your jaw in a firm grip now. He kisses you, ravenously and deeply, sloppy almost, with his tongue down your throat, and you wrap your legs around him, instinctively knowing what he’s about to do. 

He lifts you off the counter and lays you down on the tiled floor, somehow tucking a towel under you somewhere along the way, and kisses you while he starts to fuck you again, slow and deep, taking all the time you don’t have tonight, knowing you should already be back in the crowd of guests. Tears start to slide down your temples at the feel of his hands on you, holding you gently, his smell, how he looks into your eyes and watches you take him. You pull his face into your neck and dig your heels into his back, clawing at his shoulders to keep him close, knowing it’s a matter of time before he pulls away again and you’re stuck with nothing but the memory of how he touched you and let you in for a few moments. 

“Don’t cry, baby” he whispers into your neck, and it makes you sniffle as you moan, "Please don’t cry”. He doesn’t stop, he just holds you closer, licking up the tears streaming down your jaw and half heartedly muffling your moans with kisses. “I can’t, Joel, I- I love you, it feels so good” you whine, and you see him shake his head, as if to shake your words off his skin, before he rises up and grabs your hips. “Too much, too- too intense, fuck, more, please” you beg as he thrusts into you, impaling you on his cock. His eyes are fixated on your pussy and he doesn’t respond to a single word, not with a word or even an acknowledging grunt. You want to strangle him, want to dig your nails into his cheeks and make him listen, make him defend himself.  

You grab onto the hair at the back of his head and tug on it to make him look at you. “Why are you doing this- ah- to me?”, the end of your question punctured by a moan, “Why do you make me feel so good, Joel, why? Why- when- when- you say I- shit- shouldn’t feel this way for you?”. He starts to kiss you again, tries to stifle your questioning, but you pull away and lean your forehead into him while your tits bounce in the top of your dress every time he hits your g-spot. “You know I get more attached to you, you fucking- oh god- I’m gonna come”. 

 “Shhhh, it’s okay”, he coos, so softly, holding you steady as you start to shift around, “You can come, sweetheart”, and you have no choice but to give in, arching your back and squeezing his thick cock as tightly as you can as your walls begin to flutter. Delirious, drunk on Joel and drunk on miscellaneous wine, you can’t stop the words that fall out from between your lips as you hit your peak, moaning way too loudly, “Fuck, daddy, you feel so good, fuck”. 

His eyes flash open and his jaw clenches, baring his teeth to you. “Don't-” he grits, just as you feel his cock swelling and starting to throb inside you, his spend filling you in a matter of seconds, “Don’t call me that”. He lets his head fall and stays there with his eyes closed for a few seconds, breathing heavily and shaking his head for what seems like the tenth time tonight, then pulls out. His cock is still slick, dripping with his come and your wetness as he tucks himself back into his pants and zips them up, then tucking his shirt in before he helps you onto your feet. 

You recognize the expression on his face, the same one he had when he touched you and called you sweetheart, then told you to leave. He’s closing off again, not touching you, with his hand between your bodies, slightly raised to keep you away. “I’ll give you a minute” he says, looks you up and down, nods once, and disappears out the door. 

A stream of wet, sticky come starts to run down the inside of your thigh as you brace yourself against the counter, still smelling him in the room, still tasting him on your lips, and needing to get the fuck out of here. You clean up as fast as possible, run to your bedroom to change into sweats, and pack a sleepover bag. 

Carefully, you tiptoe down the staircase, duck behind a crowd of your parents’ friends and run out the door, heading straight to the pharmacy to pick up a morning after pill before going to sleep over at your friend’s house.

I have ditched my taglists and created a notifications blog instead. Follow Angelic Notifs and turn your notifications on if you want my new fics served directly to you!

[ohhamlet-art]

One last black bird without a place to be turns around, in hopes to find the place it last knew rest.

[rottengurlz]

try to be gentle when you are ripping me apart 🔪

w/ @kashisun

[hxnneydew]

LOVI- HAJSHIANZJA

Fishy Business (Mermay'24)

Mermaid!Soap x Reader

4k words - masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And when do humans mate?”

“...anytime”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@lyralein @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121

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

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

@cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria

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

@loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger

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

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

[respectthepetty]

Dear Monster Next Door,

Thank you for understanding exactly what we've always wanted from Big for the past few years.

The man is a dog and a wall.

-> I <- need this.

[shima-draws]

I do have to say tho Pudding ranting about how sweet and kind and handsome and loving and talented Sanji is and Luffy going “I KNOW RIGHT?? He’s the best!!” is SO Sanlu core. She literally said he’s perfect husband material and Luffy agreed in every way short of resting his head in his palms with a dreamy look on his face going “Yeah…he is 💖” Shut up. I can’t even look at them right now

[greghatecrimes]

He is so gentle with her. I'm going to put my head through drywall