#clownfish sun

[whipped-cheese]

Got caught trying to talk to the clown fish again.

Prompt: aquarium

Unedited version:

Bonus:

(click for quality)

Just me talking (rambling) hhh-

(Y/n working as a janitor at a large 'exotic animals aquarium' and is drawn to this specific fish at first arrival, later down into the night after the aquarium is closed, y/n comes upon the same fish again while cleaning and tries to talk/communicate with it in some way

but then the night security guard stumbled upon their weird ass c: ) that's why their blushing, because their kinda embarrassed about getting caught..first day on the job.. y'know.. talking to a fish-

Extra: ( later on down the line, fishy fren kinda gets the memo and draws on a little area if sand that's infront of the glass to communicate and y/n started fogging the glass and writing on it to communicate, sun doesn't understand words so they do little drawings instead)

(He's half blind on the side of his face that's white, that's why that eye is fazed out)

(the lil heart water bubble thingy is something he usually does for visitors :D he does shows and tricks for people when they walk up to his case, the clown fish must perform :] )

[darkxsoulzyx]

More magma doodles from today!!! ^^

[sillyscribblinggoose]

Funny doodle for Mermay! (And sneak peak to a new AU.. 👁️👁️)

(Side note: Sun technically doesn't have pupils, but I draw them sometimes for expressions :'D)

[clannfearrunt]

Hi I'm spitting out biology (and a liiiiitle bit cultural) musings more of them. These guys are actually terrestrial holothurians (sea cucumbers). I'm putting my stonks into echinodermata we have to believe in their Powers to evolve new and exciting shapes.

The people who keep symbiotic fish in their tentacles call themselves Anemones, while the ones that reject the fish as parasites and wear shell-like hats over most of their tentacles call themselves Nautilus. In the modern day there is an increasing population of those who consider themselves neither of these things but due to the history of these two cultures there isn't a widely accepted colloquial name for the species as a whole.

They're not cnidarians so they don't possess stinging cells, but they produce a thick venomous mucous from their tentacles that causes paralysis and inflammation on contact for various other animals. They evolved as social ambush predators that would jump on their prey and slather this mucous over them to subdue them. Their ideal diet is like 60% meat and 30% fruits, with bonus whatever the fuck else they feel like eating as a treat.

The venomous mucous may have been what initially started the Nautiluses' practice of covering most of their tentacles, along with protection from the sun and aerial predators. They have a long history as a multi-species people, and keeping contact venom just exposed around your loved ones without resistance to it is just plain dangerous. These days it's more of a visual identification and religious thing though.

These guys don't have real eyes, but are covered in light sensing cells all across their skin. They have shit visual acuity and can't see very far, but they're usually aware of the general silhouette of large objects a few feet around them, and are sensitive to movement. The Anemones, at least, formed a symbiotic relationship with a species of amphibious fish partially due to them being able to see farther and with higher acuity and warn them of things they might not have picked up on by themselves.

There's a lot of in-universe debate over the exact intelligence of the clownfish, but the average seems to be kind of parrot-like, with occasional exceptionally intelligent, probably sapient individuals. They're hard to study, because they're usually extremely shy towards other people, plus Anemones tend to develop a very strong bond with their clowns that skews their perception of what their own fish is capable of. In the modern day the relationship between Anemones and their fish is largely religious rather than out of any real practical necessity; the Anemone religious hegemony considers these fish as one half of a full person, and places an extreme importance on maintaining this relationship. This is usually fine and what ever, but can place Anemones and clownfish alike into difficult situations when the relationship is unwanted or cannot be maintained properly for whatever reason. It's also the reason Anemones and Nautilus have historically considered themselves separate, often rival species; the presence of the clowns or lackthereof have been considered mutually repulsive and a sign of something being deeply Wrong about the other group.

Most terrestrial holothurians are small, trundling insectivores, but there is one large species these guys share a close evolutionary relationship with. The dropbear are solitary, arboreal ambush predators that used to share much of their range with Anemones, but are currently critically endangered in the wild. Anemones, with their very low visual acuity and poor sense of smell, have a very hard time distinguishing dropbears from members of their own species. It's thought the need to tell friend apart from foe is what drove them to develop complex vocal capabilities.

Side note the Example Anemone here is wearing an extremely hastily designed example of traditional Anemone accessories; they didn't have a nudity taboo and actually prefer to keep most of their skin uncovered so they can see, but they enjoyed wearing accessories with tactile or audible elements built into it. Beads were often placed so they'd click together when moving, and combined with knots in the cords were often arranged according to their traditional system of cord "writing" so that people could read each other's clothing.

These guys support themselves on land through an endoskeleton made up of a network of mesodermal ossicles and catch connective tissue. When threatened, they can dramatically loosen their skin and let a predator or perhaps a guy easily tear off whatever part of their body they've grabbed, allowing for an easy getaway with relatively easy wounds to regenerate. This easily gooped skeletal structure does make them very prone to fatigue though. It was fine, because they're ambush predators. They were just supposed to be sitting there most of the day. Please.

[y0lly]

finished this in summer 2023 It's one of my first stuffies made so its not as quality as the stuff im making this year, but I like how homemade it looks. Details are printed on.

clownfish sun by @oobbbear

below is the only picture i have of the old failed version. was planning on markering the details

[mochilatae]

A Matter Of Time (Namjoon x Reader)

Word Count: 6.1k (ish)

Pairing: Namjoon x Y/n

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Unprotected sex, semi-public sex, night sex, flirting, kissing (tongue and other), making out, drinking, missionary sex, cumming on (you), orgasms (yours and his), dirty talk, oral sex (licking, sucking), intense sex, mouth fixation, finger sucking, fantasizing, semi/public nudity, spying/voyeurism (mild), thinking about Namjoon's big cock. Probably missed a few!

Genre: PWP, Strangers to lovers

AUs: Mildly CEO BTS/CEO Namjoon

Summary: It's just a vacation at a beautiful resort. ..And it's just a matter of time until it becomes more.

Author’s Note: for @worldwideseal. Suffer well, dear sis. Purely for escape and sauce. Don't trouble yourself with the hows or gaps in this plot, just enjoy.

Thank you for reading, should you choose to. If you feel like letting me know what you liked with a comment, I'd love to hear. Reblogging is ALWAYS appreciated, but never required.

Tag List: @kiestrokes @askkrisachan

The travel agency had promised so many beautiful scenes. By far, this view outstripped them all. And this was not the result of losing track of time in tropical heat or some sun baked illusion. 

This was as real as it got: A man, paused at the bow of a decent sized yacht. 

The resort brochure had boats—all shapes and sizes. Certainly ones just like this, but being this close to one wasn’t on your itinerary. But snorkeling was, and you’d been doing fairly well at it. 

Right up until you’d come to the surface to snatch a quick breath and saw the form, standing at the boat front. You sunk lower into the water, until only your nose and eyes showed.

Even the wide lens of the snorkel goggles didn’t diminish this impressive silhouette. Especially not such narrow hips. Or the way his body just widened the higher your stare went. You’d never seen a shoulder span like this, or a neck so elegantly long and thick.

He wore a smile as he rolled it right, face upturned to the sun.

Whatever might be on his mind, the man wore no concern, letting the sun wash across his sparkling face. Head to toe, every inch of skin shimmered. 

You were certainly close enough to watch a few rivulets trickling down one side of his neck. And admire the way his hair was slicked along his scalp with almost artistic swirls. He ran fingers through a section, head rolling your way. 

You snorted. A few bubbles broke the surface in front of your face as you bobbed, legs slowly kicking independent of where your focus was: fully zeroing in on this stranger. He certainly looked content relaxing one hip into the bow rail. 

I KNEW I should have brought my camera. It was your best investment yet: a waterproof style that you’d saved a bit to purchase. Snorkeling had a purpose and you’d kicked yourself all morning after realizing the camera was sitting on the bed back at the hotel, unused.

Based on the man preening in silence, the camera’s full potential was going entirely to waste.

Wouldn’t have been a crime to sneak a snap or two of this hunk between shots of clownfish and stingrays. Or coral beds and seaweed. 

It got better when you actually noted he wasn’t wearing a stitch. It was all bare skin top to toes. He spent a long time in the sun like this because the only parts a shade lighter were the rounds of his ass. 

You had to give it to him, those were the best tan lines you’d EVER seen. Following the down slope of his abdomen, you caught the peek of familiar shape. Thick and bare. Your eyes popped as your gaze dragged to the other end of the boat, finding letters, painted immaculately in black with fleur-de-lis shapes accenting.

Fanta-sea 

That’s cute. You had a passing concept of boat names, knowing enough that they were usually clever, humorous, or even punny at times. This name suited the owner. As far as you were concerned, he met the definition of a fantasy.

Foremost yours but who even KNEW how many other women. There was no way on God’s green earth this man was here without company. And if he was? A resort this nice would soon fix that.

You took an unabashed eyeful of the man's ass when he turned away, readily deciding this was the choicest ass you’d ever seen. What you’d managed to see of his front was surpassed only with this angle. He was blessed with long legs and hamstrings defined by sections of tight muscle.

It was truly a delight for the eyes as he strolled towards the bridge, then ducked through an open door there. With him gone, your shoulders surfaced and tension ebbed away. That didn’t stop your lips trembling.

“Jesus..” 

Yes, you’d been floating out here for a while, finally accustomed to the temperature, but now a chill ran the length of your body. Skin prickled against the flow as you began a sluggish dog paddle, heading for the shore. 

Although you’d started further down from where the yacht floated, it was hard to believe you’d missed it this easily. Every stroke against the current, you tried not to look back. Tried not to think about how he looked. How long he might be staying and was it the same resort? 

For now, he seemed to be alone. There’d been no telling giggle, or signs of anyone else there to share the space and the view. No other body sprawled out on the deck, soaking up sunlight. That lack just added more questions to a rapidly growing list. 

First and most pressing of all: What is his name? 

The second followed just as doggedly, sinking claws into your brain: How could I even meet this guy?

----------------------------------------------

The ‘how’ came about all on its own, when you stood at the bar, watching the bartender pouring your drink. Until this moment, you’d been all too fixated on how close he could get to the top and not spill a single drop. 

Just beyond the bartender’s left side, you noticed the stare. It wasn’t that you’d gotten to really see the face clearly, but you didn’t need to. 

The shoulders were enough, even stressing the crisp white shirt of the form leaned against the bar, directly across the way. 

And your confusion dimmed the lazy jazz and island fused beats down to a thrum as his stare held. You found the barstool suddenly so preciously high with both feet swinging inches off the floor. 

Your fingers gripped the bar edge as you watched the man stand and make his way around. When he did, you knew that body, even a layer of clothing on.

With a warm evening breeze playing through your hair, your eyes followed the white, linen shirt approaching. It fluttered around the man’s chest as he braced an elbow into the counter next to your left side. 

His smile had one dimple and the very subtle shadow of a second on the other cheek. The neon signs above the bar reflected in his curious stare. Both dark brows twitched up.

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” At least you managed to speak up. Although the resort bar wasn’t packed at this hour, it was easy to hear your racing heart. The pace was much more than when you’d been kicking through the waves to chase exotic fish or explore coral reefs. And the view, even better.

A glass slid nearer. The man glanced there, then came back to your face. “Yours?” 

As you lifted the glass the contents shivered briefly. Your lips met the rim with a responsive “Mmhmm.”

“Are you here alone?” He was moving along, another temperate breeze washing around you both. He wasn’t afraid to ask what you’d wondered earlier. You were beyond certain that this WAS that same man.

Your skin felt alive. It wasn’t just tropical heat, and it would soon be moving to other places. Several, ready to respond as intended around a good looking man like this. 

You gulped down a mouthful of fruity coolness, hoping a little liquid courage would go a long way. Especially with your mind full of nothing but the recall of this man’s bare ass and smiling face, soaking up the sun hours ago. 

But do you admit that? How could someone even approach that kind of thing? You couldn’t very well say ‘Yes I saw you naked, on a boat. No big deal..’ It wasn’t exactly a nudist resort here and he probably didn’t even think anyone would see as far down the beach as you’d gone. 

It must have been written all over your face, because the man’s head inclined as his expression devolved into a cheeky grin. “What is it?” 

“I’m alone.” You replied. His stare intensified, his upper body inching closer,closing off space for the breeze roiling its way down the bar, heading at you both again. Your skin was starting to get clammy. 

“Is there something else?” 

“..No.” Your eyes moved to the glass, sweating on the counter nearby and your nails drumming the wooden bartop. Out of beat and tapping the nail points in a nervous staccato. 

He didn’t break eye contact. “I’m here alone too. How rare do you think that is?” 

“Not that rare.” You ventured. 

There was no way to really know, but you hadn’t missed the pairs and groups of people wandering around in the previous days. The beach was riddled with goers, all laughing and communing around you and your lone towel, umbrella pitched at an angle as you squinted into a book and sucked down a mimosa for a few hours. 

It wasn’t a bad thing, but it wasn’t like you’d been able to say you were having the MOST fun you could have. You had plenty of things to do and a partner or friends would just drag your schedule down. 

“I think it’s interesting, anyway.” 

While he was facing the bar and ordering a drink, you studied his face. The man’s skin had become dewy. The sheen went all the way down into the space at the top of his shirt. This wasn’t like ocean water evaporating in the midday sun rays.

This was a muggy summer sweat, which ALSO suited him well. It was getting hard to ignore the darker spots starting to appear where the sweat concentrated most, at the center of his broad chest.  

He turned back with a glass in hand, raised it, then sipped, you spoke up with fingers circling your own glass. You didn’t sip. The glass never even left the bar. 

“You’re here on that tour package–Island Escape?” It didn’t hurt to ask. “...I am. It was a great deal. Once in a lifetime thing, you know?” You added. Now felt like the right time to lay out your purpose for setting foot on these beautiful grounds, and it'd save him the trouble of asking.

He smiled again. “I’m more the self guided tour type.” 

“You travel a lot?” Alone, hopefully.

The man nodded. You smoothed hair from your neck, winding the sweat dampened strand around one finger. 

“Is it for work or…” Your voice trailed off. Bare toes curling, you came off the bar seat and went to the balls of both feet. You shouldn’t yield to the pressure pushing up from inside your hips, but there was every incentive NOT to ignore it. 

“..Or something.” The man’s lids lowered perceptibly, watching you over the glass as he took another long sip, then set it down, entirely facing you.

Something about that was so satisfying, despite being overwhelmed. KNOWING he was looking at you, versus you looking at him–with him unaware–was an entirely different ball game. 

“How often do you take these trips?” The man asked. 

“Let’s start with the important question.” You retorted, a smile breaking out. He mirrored it, showing just how perfect his teeth were too. 

“Hmm?” 

“What’s your name?”

His head dropped with a chuckle, making both shoulders dance and drooping the shirt front lower. Giving a clear-as-day view of the tight valley between his pecs. And hints of muscle there, judging by the shadows playing. Your throat clenched.  

“Yes, we SHOULD get that out of the way. A nagging detail, but probably important. I’m Namjoon.” 

After he said his name, he held out a hand. You found his grip warm and measured as he pumped your hand but didn’t let go first. You wanted to hold it all night, but reluctantly pulled your hand back and rested it palm down on your thigh, feeling the heat through your gauzy skirt.

“I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.” 

Namjoon’s head bowed deeper this time, then he looked towards the resort, watching people further away. There were more couples. Somehow the attendance doubled between when you’d gotten here and when he’d come over. It wasn’t like anyone here knew you’d stumbled upon this man hours ago, when you’d seen him in a most intimate way–birthday suited and sun drenched.

For all you knew, this resort had a nudist beach portion. There was plenty to discover and you only had a handful of days. You’d only begun to check off a full list of activities, none of which stimulated below the belt. 

Until tonight. 

“You’ve been here a little while?” Namjoon asked, stepping closer. Standing that much closer. Within reach, more so than he’d been before. Unspoken respect, but that didn’t mean you weren’t more tempted to reach out and touch. 

Underneath your skirt, the heat was becoming too much. So was the ache that was gnawing through you.

“A couple days.” You agreed. 

“Me too. It’s nice this time of year.” 

“Is that your..boat?” 

Namjoon’s brows shot up again, then pinched briefly. “My boat?” He looked good, even feigning confusion, eyes shining playfully. 

“Yes.” You puffed a little. “Out there in the water–I saw it earlier.” 

“When?” He asked. 

“Today. I was snorkeling and I saw it….saw you.” Fire clawed up your neck. Namjoon caught the flutter in your lids and lowered his own more. He took a brief bite of his lower lip, then scoffed.  

“Did you? What was the name on the boat?” 

“Fanta-sea, I think.” Don’t think. I KNOW. And Namjoon KNEW that you knew. His face came a little closer.

“Yeah. That’s my yacht. Didn’t think anyone would be on the section of beach, down that far. Usually it’s empty.” 

Usually? You swallowed hard. “You’ve been there before?” Surely he meant the day before, or earlier than that. 

“This time of year, yes. Other times it’s pretty packed. I try to avoid it in the dead of the season.” 

“Season.” You echoed. Clarity was coming, rapidly. He wasn’t talking about it as a season vacation package-goer. This was so much more. 

“Mmhm. Travel season. When vacationers overrun this resort. It’s not too bad right now. But there are times..” He didn’t finish, chuckling. When he grew quiet you stared into his eyes. And he looked deeper into yours, stirring something that had your walls twitching. 

“Sounds rough..” You managed.

You wanted to finish the rest of your drink but you were certain the glass would smash to the ground if you tried to pick it up right now. Instead, Namjoon pushed the glass further out of reach, following the bar top towards your hand. His fingers lightly rode the knuckles on the back of that hand. 

“Y/n..” He was solemn as another breeze wrestled the shirt around his body. Your thinned lips refused to release any kind of affirmative sound—not that he needed it to continue. “..Have you ever been on a yacht?”

Your head shook. 

“I want you to see mine. Come with me?” 

You wanted more than that. You wanted Namjoon, just as you’d seen him earlier, except bathed in moonlight, naked under your gaze. If you could be guaranteed a chance at that…. 

Once again, he must have read the desire telegraphing in microexpressions across your face when he took your hand, fingers laced easily through. He tugged you closer, staring down his nose. 

“Know you didn’t come here to see a boat, but trust me. It’ll be worth it.” 

----------------------------------------------

You’d managed a few indulgences in your time on this planet–the occasional spa day with your closest friend. A nice dinner with your parents. A birthday shopping spree at the best stores on the rich end of town. 

Stepping foot on a yacht wasn’t quite on your list, but not for the reason you’d assumed. Where you lived wasn’t close enough to a beach or convenient to fly to without sinking a whole day in and out of airports and planes. 

But this trip came with bonuses that checked the lux yacht experience off your list after inking it right at the top.

Stepping onto Namjoon’s yacht proved it was even BETTER from on board than it had appeared floating in the ocean and stone’s throw away. Even with just the moonlight painting the finely finished wood deck. 

The surface was cool under your feet as you paused away from the ladder and slipped off your flats. You laid them next to Namjoon’s shoes, arranged neatly side by side, then followed him as he moved towards the beam, where the yacht seemed to be widest. You could spin around, arms wide and never hope to hit a single thing–in fact ALL of your closest friends could do that very same thing with that guarantee. 

Namjoon had turned, watching your big eyes roaming with a measured smirk. Slowly his arms crossed at his chest. 

“View better from up here, hmm?” The wind was stronger here, and a bit cooler, coming off the water and the rocking of the yacht wasn’t noticeable as you’d expected. It was more an imperceptible sway. 

“It’s beautiful.” You marveled. 

Eventually your attention found its way to Namjoon, the darkness around consuming the taller portions of the ship, disappearing into the shadows if you squinted up or in any direction too far. 

Not that it mattered. 

This man standing just in sight, chest expanded, and the wind teasing his shape through whipping fabric was the best, most breathtaking view of them all. You weren’t even sure you’d noticed any stars in the sky as you gazed at Namjoon’s beaming smile. 

“When you saw me today….What was I doing?” A step brought Namjoon close again and you braced, leaning into the soft tilt you could feel in your senses as a wave rolled the giant yacht body a little. 

“Just…standing here.” You replied, skimming back more hair as it spilled forward over your shoulder, dragged by the wind. You knew he was watching that action, his eyes roving in matching directions. 

“Standing here?” He glanced down. “I don’t think it was here.” 

You held back a giggle.

“Obviously not there.” You looked around, nodding towards the bow of the boat. “There… I think. It was hard to tell from down in the water but…I saw enough.” 

“Did you?” He moved by you, but had your hand as he did, pulling you closer to the railing. You didn’t end up there, but you could see down into the water from the nose of the boat well enough. You had a sense of somewhere, in that dark ocean below, that he’d be lying to say he hadn’t seen you floating there–even as vast as the ocean was. 

The water was too clear and calm earlier. And your bright pink snorkel set stuck out like a sore thumb, but you said nothing, combing back more hair on the other side, tucking it behind that ear. 

Namjoon released your hand. His feather lite touch grazed your chin.

“I was standing near here.. Hmm?” You nodded, watching him do the same a little, fingers circling your chin. Pressure came as he squeezed softly, pulling the rounded shape up faintly. “..Just doing nothing?” 

You managed another nod, grateful he didn’t let go. 

“...What else did you see?” 

“What do you mean?” You breathed. That building feeling that had nestled and filled up your pelvis became a massive, pulsing ache. There wasn’t a single, undisturbed nerve there. 

“I think you can tell me.” 

Whatever had compelled you to keep staring like earlier today, treading water, or across the bar during Namjoon’s approach, it was bigger than everything right now.

It kept you from breaking eye contact and prevented any lie from growing roots. 

“..Nothing.” Your tongue swept your lips and the wind sucked the moisture away in a blink.

“..You weren’t wearing anything.”

Namjoon’s face relaxed as his brows shifted as he nibbled his lip longer this time. “And what did you think of that?” 

It wasn’t like you’d never seen a man naked. In your life you’d seen PLENTY of them. All shapes and sizes, but none like Namjoon. None had hit you so directly in the center of your need. 

“I liked it.” 

“I liked being naked. It’s freeing.” 

You squeaked. It meant something, but you didn’t have time to figure out what. Namjoon’s thumb pried your lower lip down as he leaned towards you. His lips opened just a little. Dizziness rushed to your head as you swooned towards his approach. 

At the last minute he stopped, the touch of his lips a silky heat as he spoke into your parted lips. 

“Did you like what you saw?” 

“Yes.” You whined. “Your body is—” 

“Mmnnn..” He dragged his lips across yours for a peck and pulled back just so, again. “Be naked with me? I think you’ll find it’s liberating here.” 

“Here?” You blinked, feeling your lips sinking around his thumb as he fed the tip past your lips. 

“Yes. Out here. On my yacht. On the deck. Under the stars. Are you here to enjoy yourself and do what you want? I am.” 

You didn’t answer, lips still tight around his finger, until it popped free from your latch. You chased it a little until Namjoon seized your chin again and leveled his stare on you, nose to nose. 

“Y/n..” His tone dropped a level, dragged across gravel. Serious, to match his unflinching gaze. “What did you want when you saw me naked?” 

Where could you even start? You went with the first thing your brain and loins demanded in unison. 

“I wanted to feel you.” Confession felt so good, the heat spilling up out of your mouth as you spoke. Namjoon leaned his front into you, letting you get a good sense of his body. And it was exactly as firm and muscled as it looked from that big, deep blue world below. 

You went about as wet too, right at your seal. Your nipples perked and you moaned when his chest dragged your top across the newly woken points. 

Namjoon cradled one hip, then gathered the hem of your shirt, guiding it up your side. The other hand did the same, bringing your top to your breasts, peeling it away. Along with the bra underneath, he dropped both to the deck.

Smiling, Namjoon pulled your hands to his hips and nodded. “Go ahead. Help me out?”

This was really happening.

All the questions and pondering that had been building all day long and simmering all night were now about to find a happy realization. Fruition, in the form of your fingers, under Namjoon’s shirt, pushing rough and fast. He did the rest at his shoulders, hauling the garment off. It went right to the ground, atop yours. 

Without speaking, your fingers walked the waist of his bottoms, finding them just like his shirt: a lighter material and quickly off his body. He kicked them clear after you stood up. Without waiting, his hands guided your skirt down. 

As the stretching waistband widened and rolled down your hips, Namjoon mouthed over your bare belly. You moaned, listening to the sound carried away by the salty breeze. It didn’t matter–what mattered was how good this felt. 

The water lapped the hull as Namjoon’s lips pressed into your skin. He tugged a bit of skin below your navel, shuffling your panties down last. When his open mouth found your pussy, your thighs shook and you melted down against his face. 

Namjoon was ready, jaw flexing as his hands caught your hips, lifting you enough. His tongue dove against your folds, spreading you with a few long, firm licks. From the way his moan rattled your mound, he was more than pleased with the taste. 

The stars you barely made out winking in the sky overhead, faded again as your eyes rolled shut when Namjoon pulled your clit tight between his lips. And sucked, deep. Hard. Pulsing his lips with a suction that didn’t falter. 

It went on for some time until you felt like everything was flowing down, out of you. Your senses finally came back enough to groan his name as fingers scraped his scalp. Twisted hair through your fingers, tugging him closer, then trying to pull him away. 

Namjoon wrestled himself free with a dulcet sigh. “You taste…so good…” He swabbed your slick from his lips in a lick, then palmed your ass. “...Lay down for me, baby..” 

The deck was exactly as smooth as it'd been under your soles, when back and ass met it. No sooner and Namjoon went to hands and knees, then stroked both palms down the insides of your thighs to guide them apart and settled between. One leg he draped along the inside of an arm, the other he pushed up and out, angling the knee to widen you. 

Opening you at the very center, wind spilling over slick coated skin. It felt good, but that didn’t last long. The gnawing emptiness was back and your hips twisted as you whimpered. The very last thing on your mind was the devilish details. 

Small things, like what Namjoon said next. 

“Y/n…You okay with raw?”

I shouldn't. So why do I WANT to? Vacations were about being care free, but this was about as far from sensible as you'd ever been. ...And every fiber said you WANTED it. Right-wrong-whatever, let it sweep you up.

Your palm struck wood, then dragged with a squeal of damp skin and sting of friction. Breasts jerked and rose higher as you arched. Impatience went right down to the center of your soul.  

“Yes..” You gasped. “..Just want you.. Please… fill me up.” 

Namjoon’s gripped cock drew close and he swept the head right up your center, coating the blunt end. You wanted to wither at the way he moaned in surprise. It wasn’t long before he guided his tip right against your opening. 

A palm thumped against the deck, bracing right next to your hitched knee. The other arm bent, keeping your other draped leg angled shamelessly high. Then Namjoon slid inside. It was relief at first, as you stretched around his shaft. Then it was sweet pain as he sank deeper, stretching you more. 

Your ass wiggled when Namjoon pulled back. Pushed in, with a single, firm body roll. He slid back out, then plunged again, this time falling immediately into a steady pump. He had a stroke that said he knew what to do with himself. 

And how to take care of the perky tightness that was developing the more he thrust. Your fingers started at his forearms, circling there, then nails touched skin, sinking in, then dragging higher with a low moan. Your body shook with the impact, then gyrated counter to Namjoon’s marching pace. 

“You feel so…tight. God..” He snarled, snapping hips harder. Less gentle, his head went back. The stars were back, under your lids, and when they opened, the shining started on Namjoon's skin.

Underneath your bare ass and back, the deck was alive with sound–you shifting up inch by inch with the power packed into each forward driving motion. Namjoon was heading quickly towards pounding and it was opening a pit of pleasure under your belly. Your walls gave a massive clench and chills washed over you.

An orgasm was right there, about to hit you hard. Your cocked knee recoiled more, snapping in place over Namjoon’s hip. The other heel sank into his back. Both climbed higher as he grunted. Added force. Barreled into you–through you. Waves of pleasure built on top of each other inside you.

Another dizzying rush and you barely gasped out  “That’s it…Namjoon—” before it all hit you at once. Struck you dumb in a full body convulsion. His instroke faltered as you seized around him, clinging so hard onto his biceps that he shuddered. It must have hurt, but you couldn’t be bothered to notice.

You couldn’t help anything you did,except let out a high pitched shriek of relief. However far that carried, it wouldn’t be a surprise if it reached the shore. You’d taken more than enough time at 7 knots, getting further and further offshore, rising and boring through inky waters, deep into the approaching night. 

And it led to this: you, under Namjoon, his cock stabbing relentlessly into you as he went on after a short reprieve. Enough that he could pummel you again, taking his own turn. Your nails slid through moisture again. 

Had to be more sweat developing faster than the wind could wick away, but that was fine. Your pussy was ultra wet, just tight enough he could get away with more force. More depth. And it sounded so good. You were helpless to do much but lay here. Taking it with eyes bleary and fixed on a far away point of light. A single, white point blinking in the distant horizon. 

And you, rocking against the final thrusts. Rocking like the waves against the ship’s hull, giving away as it was meant to: You, wet and pliant, melting around Namjoon with his last plunge in, before he pulled out and brought himself upright, head thrown back. His shaft speared once more through five tightly circled fingers, then the spurt of cum splashed onto your belly.

Hitting higher, shot by shot until he created a decent, milky pool between your shivering breasts. 

It was just like that moment you’d seen him on the bow–under the golden sun. A mirrored moment, but bathed in white of the moon’s delicate aura now. Head craned, lines in his neck strong, taut skin aglimmer again. And like earlier, it pulled you in entirely. You couldn’t look away, eyes barely open, adrift in the afterglow. 

Namjoon had to be proud of the sight: sweat and his load, mixed on your chest and torso. He openly admired, then his shoulders dropped. Eventually he leaned over you. In spite of however much effort he’d just put out, Namjoon was still just as careful laying against you with his full body weight.

His weary smile wasn’t lacking any satisfaction. A dreaminess painted his moon washed features. You found it easy to get lost, admiring in silence as he gathered thoughts then spoke.

“...God.. you’re…” That was YOU, robbing an obviously well spoken man of the coherency he was accustomed to. Probably even KNOWN for in his daily and professional life. I did that. And fuck does it feel AMAZING. If the girls back home only knew… 

Not that you’d ever tell.

“Mmmm..You…didn’t want to finish inside me?” Was that really pouting in your tone? Were you really too fucked out to question yourself or hide it? 

Namjoon chuckled, looking down at your breasts, and further, getting a much closer look at the chaos he’d left behind. The verdict was in–he was quite impressed at the handiwork.

“You didn’t ask.” When he dragged fingertips through his fluids on your belly, then headed for your mound, your hips lifted. His hand pulled back just before he reached what you were offering all over again. “..Mnnnngg…Good aim and distance.” 

“You’d cum inside me if I wanted?” 

Namjoon looked at you again,from under lowered brows, wearing a questionable smirk. “I’d consider it. Not the brightest move if we’re strangers.”

“Neither is condomless sex. Or sex on a boat, in the open ocean air.” 

“Sex on the beach is an option too, Y/n. The night is still young and I know a stretch of beach that’s empty for SURE this time.” 

“God..” You began. Delight tightened everything inside. Although you’d just cum, the body was quickly recovering and the mind was more than willing to meet this man’s unflagging energy. “..Namjoon..” you gasped, turning your face when shyness caught up for a moment.  

He wasn’t letting that feeling gain any traction,bringing his face close, angling for a kiss. Ultimately soft, exploring your mouth lightly with his tongue. When yours flirted past his lips, he sucked the tip and you squeezed around nothing, drowning in a moment of pure desire. The kiss was over all too soon, and Namjoon was sitting up onto his knees.

“Let’s go below deck. Clean up and change.” He’d already begun indiscriminately collecting clothing, pausing to dab away the more plentiful globs he’d left behind on your chest and belly. 

“Does that mean we’re heading back to shore?” 

Namjoon sighed. “..Eventually, we have to.”

He WAS right, but you didn’t want to just yet. Not tonight and maybe not until tomorrow afternoon. It was much different enjoying the ocean being out on, rather than splashing hundreds of feet offshore or laying out on a towel in the sand. 

Namjoon detected the concern in a pinch between your brows. “What’s wrong?” 

“Does ‘eventually’ mean…now?” 

“Not if you don’t want it to. I don’t…Is that okay?” 

Relief felt as cool as the night air racing across your thighs and breasts. The puddled fluid on your skin was rapidly becoming distracting for different reasons: a persistent reminder of the temperature falling around you as the night wore on. 

“Yes.” You smiled as he took your hand and brought you to your feet. Even entirely naked, you suddenly didn’t care much. It was a nice surprise. In the past, nudity hadn’t been the easiest for you. A vacation from that hang up was a bonus. 

Standing face to face, Namjoon watched you for a moment. And you gazed up, remembering the moment you saw his eyes, around the bartender. You hadn’t done much and it hadn’t been long, but you felt different enough to ensure you’d come back from this trip a changed person. 

“Let’s get settled. Sleeping on a yacht in the ocean…It’s like a waterbed. Best sleep of your life..” There was no need to promise. Namjoon had already guaranteed it. From the pleasant and relaxing heaviness seeping through every limb, this would be the most refreshing night of sleep you’d had in a long time. 

And when it came to vacations and resorts, this would lead the pack for a long time too.

----------------------------------------------

You buckled the lap belt long before the flight leveled out and reclined back into your seat. It was routine. Everything, going off without a hitch. At the airport reasonably early. Breezing through security. And now, perfectly situated–magazine on your lap. Earplugs prepped for insertion. Carry on tucked under your seat. Your final step in the ‘routine’ was a look out the window. 

Cruising altitude was a few minutes away, but peeking out the small window to your left, you could see it all easily enough. 

The island. Large, pale squares of the resort’s most prominent buildings. Even the darker red clay tiles of the resort bar. Where your best night had begun. Better than the hikes. Better than the tours of the ancient landmarks. 

And out there, at the shoreline, the thin white trail of the waves rushing at the shore line, then ebbing away as they slid back to where they’d come: the vast and endless ocean. You couldn’t  make out figures on the beach anymore, from this high up. 

And because of that, you knew looking for Namjoon was fruitless, until the moment you saw it: his ship there, anchored further down the shore, opposite from where you’d found him. A single, elongated white shape, alone on the blue. 

For a moment a pang of sadness filled you dangerously to the top, bringing a brief heat to your eyes, but you blinked it away, smiling against the thick plastic of the window. You focused on his boat for a bit longer, then shut the window shade. 

It was how you needed to leave things: the last sight should be what had made the most impact in your memory: Namjoon and his smile as he let your hand go first this morning. Early–just before the sun was fully out, sweatshirt shapeless on your form, eyes puffy from sleep but still struggling to drink him in so close. 

And what he’d said–that he’d see you again... How did you know?

Show and prove came in the form of a text with a link. When you clicked it brought up a calendar with Namjoon’s name. There wasn't much detail beyond dates and locations--blocks of color hashing out days at a time. 

Whoever Namjoon was here at the resort, beyond the boundaries and back in daily life, he was regimented. Private. Very secure. Protective of his time and much, much more.

Those walls were high but for a few hours he'd given you a peek over. This text brought them down again--something you had a feeling did not come easy or often.

He meant what he said. 'I'll see you again.'

Scrolling forward through his calendar, for a few months from now, you knew exactly when. Your mind was already doing the math farther ahead. Finding that perfect alignment. 

All you had to do was pick a date and fly there. From here,and no matter how far apart you were, it was just a matter of time. 

[failed-inspection]

Hii hii, this is my first post on this sideblog so here's some scug designs! I should note I almost never stick to one design for one slugcat and love to make multiple designs (in fact I have like 7 spearmaster designs alone lol) these are more of a specific design set? If that makes sense?

Some design notes!

The mark of communication appears as a physical marking, usually one that matches the sigal of the iterator who gave the marking! Think warrior cats getting leader markings, in a sense.

Spearmaster:

yellow parts, including spears, whisker tips, and whiskers appear florescent depending on certain lighting.

They got the mark of communication from moon on the way to visit Pebbles during their campaign!

Their sun marking got scarred over after the pearl was ripped out, making it look like a solar eclipse

Artificer:

'fur' on their tail is like sandpaper and is meant to aid in kickstarting explosive jumps! Their Pups also have it, its a trait of their subspecies!

Hunter:

I wanted to make them look like they were made from various scraps patched together and such since I headcanon NSH did the iterator equivalent of grabbing whatever he could from the kitchen and slapping it together in his rush to help Moon, (it's also how/why they got rot, oops!)

Gourmand:

Heehoo bread

Survivor and Monk

They have matching patches on the side of their faces that when put together, form a heart!

Rivulet:

I like to imagine they got their MOC from Chasing Wind, for no other reason than I enjoy the idea of Chasing Wind having a smidge more relevance lol

Clownfish moment

Saint:

Saint's coat is partially white to camouflage with the snow, however on max karma there isn't really a need for that I think, so instead the white parts turn black with gold specks , honestly that also works better for blending in inside Rubicon

[anonymous-dentist]

A very lonely night from the Merpepito AU

-

Pepito can’t sleep. The boat is rocking too much and Miss Baghera is snoring (even though she keeps saying that Captain Celbi is the one snoring; she’s just a dirty rotten pirate, though, so why would she tell the truth?) and Pepito can’t stop thinking about the Very Bad Thing and, and, and-

Pepito whimpers into his pillow. His eyes squeeze shut, but all he sees in the darkness is the blood and their eyes- their eyes!! Empty and terrified and all because of Pepito because Pepito is a Bad Pepito.

Apa Roier is probably sleeping just fine. Him and Apa Mariana probably haven’t even noticed that Pepito’s been gone for an entire month. They probably got Apa Quackity and Apa Carre and Ama Rivers and they got a new Pepito- a Good Pepito- and they’re all in the same house and happy, and it’s fine!!!

Pepito stifles a sob with the sleeve of his shirt. They’re probably happier with their New Pepito. That Pepito isn’t a bad person. They deserve a Good Pepito, they’re good parents. The best parents. Ever. Of all time.

Miss Baghera snorfles in her sleep, and Pepito decides that, despite him being a super evil pirate now, it would be rude to wake Miss Baghera up with his crying.

So Pepito slides out of his bunk and puts his glasses on.

He tiptoes out of the sleeping quarters and upstairs onto the deck (because that’s apparently what the ship’s roof is called.)

The sun is nice, but Pepito thinks that Pepito likes the moon just as much. It always looks like it’s smiling, even when it’s going away to hide. Pretty…

Pepito huddles next to the central mast and looks up at the moon. Maybe the moon would like Pepito. It seems nice.

Pepito can’t talk because of the Magic, but he can think, and, silently, he asks the moon if it would like to be Pepito’s friend.

That’s when Pepito hears a quiet sniffle from up by the steering wheel.

Peeking around the mast, Pepito sees… Captain Celbi!? Crying!? And alone…

Determined, Pepito stands and trots up the stairs to the steering wheel.

Captain Celbi, of course, sees Pepito approaching. He has good eyes. (He’s so cool!)

“Hi, Pepito,” Captain Celbi says. He smiles, and, in the dark, it doesn’t even look like he’s sad.

He isn’t in his Captain Clothes. He’s in his… pajamas? He’s half-dressed: half-pajamas, half regular clothes. His coat is on, but his hat isn’t.

He has both of his hands firmly planted on the steering wheel’s handles, and- whoah, holy Ocean, did his hair just move!?

Almost silver in the moonlight, one of two little pointy things on the top of Captain Celbi’s head twitches like a nervous clownfish.

Pepito gasps. Captain Celbi has horns!

Wait, no, that’s silly. Sky Pepitos are “humans”. They can’t have horns.

As if following Pepito’s train of thought, Captain Celbi raises a hand to press his pointy things down against the top of his head.

“Ignore them,” he tells Pepito. “What’s up? Is Baghera snoring again?”

Pepito nods, still staring up at Captain Celbi’s head.

Captain Celbi snorts and shakes his head fondly.

“And she says I snore,” he scoffs. “What a liar, huh, Pepito?”

Pepito shrugs. They’re all pirates. They’re supposed to lie, aren’t they? That’s what Apa Roier says, pirates are all ugly and smelly and they’re all liars and killers and thieves (though he always says it with a weird fuzzy look in his eyes and with a smile on his face, weird.)

“Don’t worry. You can hang out up here with me until you’re tired enough to sleep,” Captain Celbi says.

Pepito wants to say that he doesn’t wanna sleep because every time Pepito sleeps he sees the Very Bad Thing and he wakes up sick and sad and useless, but Pepito can’t. So he just sighs and sits by Captain Celbi’s feet and watches him steer.

And Captain Celbi lets him. He’s nice, for a pirate. Apa Roier would like him, probably. It’s a shame he’s a human. It’s a shame Pepito is Pepito. Now Apa Roier and Captain Celbi can never meet, all because of him.

Pepito’s lip wobbles. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Captain Celbi is letting out a soft, pained noise and crouching in front of Pepito with a concerned frown.

“Aw, hey, it’s fine,” Captain Celbi says. He pulls his sleeve up over his thumb and uses it to wipe under Pepito’s eyes. “I don’t mind, really. You can stay up here all night, if you want.”

That isn’t the problem!

Pepito is tired. Pepito wants to sleep.

Frustrated, Pepito raises his hands and puts them under his head as if they were a pillow.

“Right, you can’t sleep.” Captain Celbi nods. “Baghera is snoring. We can find you somewhere else in the morning?”

Pepito sighs and shakes Pepito’s head.

How to talk about nightmares…?

“You don’t want to move,” Captain Celbi guesses.

He pauses, then he tries again: “It isn’t the snoring.”

Pepito nods.

Pepito can’t talk, and Pepito is still learning the Sky Pepito writing system, so Pepito kinda just hangs out and hopes everyone gets what he wants to say. It’s like charades, kinda. It’s fun! Pepito loves charades!

But Pepito is sleepy, but Pepito hasn’t been able to sleep since leaving home because of the Very Bad Thing, and it stinks.

Captain Celbi hums thoughtfully, and then he settles down next to Pepito on the deck. (The Ocean feels still, they probably won’t get too off-track if Captain Celbi stops steering.)

“Do you want to know why I’m up here?” Captain Celbi asks.

He looks around to make sure that nobody has managed to sneak up onto the deck to eavesdrop.

Then, when he knows the coast is clear, he leans in and whispers, “I had a nightmare.”

Pepito’s eyes widen dramatically. No way!

Captain Celbi nods. “Yeah. It was super scary.”

Wordlessly, Pepito takes one of Captain Celbi’s hands in both of Pepito’s. It’s what Apa Mariana does when Pepito has nightmares back home, he holds Pepito’s hands to show him that he’s awake and the bad dream was just that: a dream.

The two points on Captain Celbi’s head stand up again as Pepito touches him, and they stay up.

Captain Celbi half-smiles. “Don’t worry, Pepito, I’m used to bad dreams. I’ve been having them since I was your age, probably.”

Pepito’s eyes widen. He frowns sympathetically. Poor Captain Celbi… even pirates don’t deserve bad dreams!

“But, because I’ve been having bad dreams for so long, I know how to forget about them,” Captain Celbi says. “See, my bad dreams are all about the bad things I’ve done, and those are in the past. So, to forget about the past, I think about the present and the future.”

He looks up at the moon, slit pupils widening. His eyes almost seem to glow blue in the night like a magic catfish’s.

Pepito thinks. The present and the future…

Well, Pepito is gonna grow up to be the bestest and scariest pirate on The Ocean. That’s in the future.

In the present, though, Pepito is just Pepito. Nothing special there. Just a Bad Pepito.

Captain Celbi’s fingers curl around Pepito’s.

“In the present, I’m taking my crew on a trip around the world, and we’re having a good time,” Captain Celbi continues. He looks at Pepito out of the corner of his eye. “Are you having a good time, Pepito?”

Pepito ponders. He thought there’d be more pirate-ing, but he’s been having a lot of fun playing games with Richarlyson and Pomme, and it’s fun learning how to tie knots with Mister Pac, and it’s really fun hiding in the crow’s nest with Mister Felps and Miss Baghera when they’re supposed to be doing chores.

So Pepito nods and grins.

Captain Celbi smiles the rest of the way and looks back up at the moon.

“And, in the present, I’m looking for treasure,” he says. “The most mysterious treasure of all. And, when I find him, then it’ll be time for the future.”

Can treasure be a person?

Well, Apa Carre always said that Pepito was his treasure, so it makes sense.

But Captain Celbi already has a Pepito, he has Richarlyson! Why does he need another treasure if he has a Richarlyson?

“By the time I’m ready to think about the future, it’s all my brain wants to imagine. So that’s what my dreams become,” Captain Celbi finishes. “Nightmares are in the past. The past doesn’t matter. What matters is the present.”

His voice goes harsh then, but Pepito doesn’t notice. He’s too busy thinking about the future: Captain Pepito in charge of the S.S. Pepito and beating up any annoying Navy guys he finds with his totally amazing crew.

Pepito yawns. Without thinking, he shuffles so he’s next to Captain Celbi. He leans against Captain Celbi, eyes slipping shut as he thinks of the future.

Apa Roier will be on the S.S. Pepito. So will the rest of Pepito’s parents, and they can bring their Good Pepito, too. They’re all Ocean Pepitos, so they won’t be able to breathe in the Sky, so they’ll have a swimming pool in the ship.

Pomme and Richarlyson will be there, too. So will Captain Celbi and Miss Baghera and Misters Pacandmike and Miss Mouse and Mister Felps and…

Soothed by the rocking of the waves and the comforting presence of his super scary and evil captain, Pepito finally manages to fall asleep, right there on the deck of the ship tucked into Captain Celbi’s side.

(And that’s how Richarlyson finds the two of them hours later when the sun rises.

Ew, Richarlyson thinks. He glowers and storms below deck to get some trash to dump on them.

Gross.

Pepito really should just learn that he isn’t Pai Cellbit’s kid, the little shit…)

-_-_-_-

A/N:

And that was Part 2 for you!

Hey guys!! PLEASE reblog this! And leave an ask or a comment or a tag or a whatever telling me your thoughts and questions! Let me know if you want more, because there is more!

[whipped-cheese]

FINALLY FINISHED THEM!!

Grrrgrgr it has been a wip for decades-

My fish babies!! Aaaa :D

Esmeray!!

Aaaaaaaaand Sulien!! :]

[click for quality]

Fish Duty au

EEEEEEEE!!! *Confetti!!*

Ramblings of a madman underneath-

-So, originally- just going to make sun- since I drew him in the little comic I made a while back, but then I decided , why not make a moon too

because-

you know-

no sun is complete without their Moon /silly

So rambling rambling rambling time, info dumping mmm

Wanted to distinct them with their own names-

Esmeray! (or just Ray) -(Sun)

Sulien! (or just sully/sul) -(Moon)

Esmeray means dark moon and Sulien means sun born c:

Sometimes I'll forget so if a say sun and moon at some point it translates to Ray or Sul-

-So the same logic as last time applies,

the lighter size of their face and body is damaged/very sensitive, so the eye that's on the lighter side of their face is very very foggy so essentially, they're blind on that side of the face, soooo half blind. Often causing them to bump into fish or other random things in their enclosure sometimes.

-Usually you only see ONE at a time, but NEVER BOTH.

Often leading visitors to assume that there is only one clownfish in the enclosure that transforms or something when it's night, but really, when it's daytime Esmeray is out y'knoww, entertaining, doing tricks, swimming around while Sulien sleeps and when it's night time, Esmeray sleeps and then Sulien is entertaining, or just glowing around, looking pretty.

You never see them both out at the same time, rarely.

Really unless it's something important or it's something special.

Sometimes they'll both cuddle together in their little cove..🥺 on their sea anemone bed

usually in the late evenings 4-5pm before Sulien gets to go out and roam for the night.

(ray can't fall asleep comfortably, without being close to his brother [happening since they were young] so sulien snuggles with ray until ray falls asleep)

-as I said before- later on down the line, when y/n begins working at a janitor at the exotic fish aquarium, our lil fishy frens kinda gets the memo after a while and starts to draw on a little area of sand that's infront of the glass to communicate and y/n started fogging the glass and writing on it to communicate, Ray (sun) doesn't understand words so they both do little drawings instead.

No one really knows where he learnt it from- but Sulien (moon) knows a bit of English, only a few simple words (hello,bye, mad, you, me, us, angry, food, help, feel,etc.) he also uses the sand.

Performance wise, esmeray does lil heart water bubbles, (or really just any shape, kinda like how clowns do balloon animals and other items) it's something he usually does for visitors, kids mostly. He'll wave, bow, press his face against the glass to be funny, do silly faces that makes the kids laugh, even some regulars that really want to become marine biologist, etc. that often visit the aquarium on weekends that he's very very fond of. He does loads of shows and tricks for people when they walk up to his case, very very active lil fella

the clown fish must perform!! :]

Sulien on the other hand, usually comes out when it's night time, so it's quite rare to see him considering he's mostly active during practically closing time- up until opening hours.

When people do have the rare chance of seeing him at the front of one side of their enclosure, he's not really that active in terms of show BUT he will put on a very pretty light show.

It's absolutely mesmerizing.

Those who get to stay and finish watching it atleast-

The guards are pretty avid on getting everyone out of the aquarium at the designated time.

He also sings sometimes, which is extremely extremely rare-

Guards working there for years have probably only ever heard it twice-

I'll be drawing (mostly sketches) more of them for a little<3

Also- before, I'd prefer posting stuff about my other au 'A Bad Teaser au /lust au' somewhere separate because it's slightly,eeeehhh just a touch suggestive- BUT

I'm gonna redraw and start posting stuff about it here.

Sooner or later (very soon- like I have loads of drawings of them but no where to put it, and I wanna share my suggestive whore men /pos /silly )

[xoxochb]

hi i saw you had requests open, i was wondering if you could write a connor x poseidon reader, maybe reader using their powers so they can explore under the sea?

also your writing is amazing and i think your titles are very creative!!

⋆·˚ ༘ * I fell for you like water

warnings: none!

pairing: connor stoll x daughter of poseidon

seven thirty in the morning. his wish is your command. you drag connor to the beach with you per request- or not. he had asked the previous night to meet your sea creature friends since you were able to communicate with them and you had been ecstatic to introduce him to them. the problem was he didn’t like to wake up early, you had to bribe him fifty dollars and a kiss to get him to visit the beach with you

the water was warm and you were grateful for the beaming sun rays shining on the ocean. what you were not grateful for however was connor’s inability to breathe underwater, three minutes was all he got while you- a daughter of poseidon- had all the time in the world. your begging and stubbornness was enough to get your father to grant him just this one day of oxygen underwater in exchange for a visit to his palace ever week which you gladly accepted

connor however had trouble accepting that poseidon would do this for him- it took you a second kiss to get him in the water with you. for the sake off him not throwing another fit you created a bubble on the ocean floor, although a third kiss was used to convince him it was safe

you smile at your sea friends around your bubble, seahorses, dolphins, a variety of fish and even a shark (connor still wonders how you made that happen)!

“that’s cordelia” you point to a clownfish on your left “she’s pregnant”

you catch sight of a pink seahorse “and that’s finn! he’s quite the player though, many children from many different women”

connor’s thumb rubs over your knuckles as he listened attentively to your silly sea creature stories, nodding after every word to make sure you know he’s listening

“I don’t know where hector is” your smile drops to a frown when you don’t see your shark friend

“is that the shark?” connor asks

you nod. but this a gasp you point to a sea turtle “delphine! she’s amazing, gives great boy advice”

a dolphin swims to the walls of your bubble and you realize almost immediately who it is

“rosemary, she lives with my dad” you wave at the creature and she musters up a small wave of her fin

you sat in your bubble for many hours. two or three? you lost track of time. you waited for hector to arrive, your favorite shark, connor had been most excited to meet him and you wouldn’t leave until he did

waiting, waiting. you wait for him. a large grin appears on your face when you catch sight of his tail

“there he is!”

the shark swims towards you

“that’s hector?”

“yes! come see”

you pull connor to the very edge of your bubble where he watches the shark with amazement

“holy shit you weren’t lying”

“of course not!”

you watch as your boyfriend attempts to make conversation with your sea friend, though you did most of the translating for him

you think you would have to bring him down here more often

[sinnabarmoth]

Worthy of Devotion (7/9)

Pairing: Sea God|Rafayel x Worshipper|Reader (fem)

Summary: The temple is finally restored and Reader's time on the island is at its end. She wants to leave nothing unsaid this final night with Rafayel.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Loss of virginity. Fingering. Handjob. Cunnilingus. P in V.

Length: 6k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (8) (9)

Read on AO3

You finally found your way onto the roof. You ended up having to build a really tall ladder to get up there but it worked. You got yourself some rope and tied it around the supplies you needed and pulled it up after you. You figured that Rafayel would not be happy with you for this, he had thought the idea of you going on the roof at all was a bad idea. So you waited until one morning he wasn’t around to execute your plan. It was early in the morning and the sun was just starting to rise over the sea.

From the top of the temple it was a breathtaking view. No time to admire it though, you had work to do. So you went back to work and started lining up planks of wood to cover the holes in the roof. Hopefully when you returned to the mainland you could get some people who actually knew how to do this kind of work to make this something more elegant.

The repairs didn’t actually take that long. By the time the sun was directly overhead you were pretty much done. There were just a few smaller holes that you could fill in with spackle. Which meant one more trip on the ladder. You dusted yourself off and went to the side of the roof where you had left the ladder.

“Huh,” you looked around, “I’m pretty sure I set it against this wall. Where did it--oh shit.” your ladder had fallen over and you were now trapped on the roof. “He’s gonna kill me.”

“Right you are, clownfish.” Down on the ground standing under the shade of one of the trees was Rafayel. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Hello,” you waved, “I was just doing some repairs. No big deal.”

“Didn’t I say I didn’t want you climbing up there? You could hurt yourself.”

“It’s fine. Nothing went wrong.”

“Except for this.” he picked up the ladder. “What if I wasn’t around? How were you planning on getting back down?”

“I was thinking of using this rope to repel down if it got desperate enough.”

He sighed and put the ladder back up. “Get down please.”

“I’m coming.” you climbed back down. “So, how is your morning going?”

“Was going well until I found my follower somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.” he flicked your forehead. “You don’t like doing as you’re told, do you?”

“Whatever could you mean? I have never once disobeyed you.”

“Remember when you first came to this island? You were so proper and obedient and sweet, what happened to her?”

“She got trapped here for months with only you to talk to. I think it drove her insane.” you smiled, flicking him back.

He sighed, shaking his head. “And how is your progress on the roof?”

“Almost done. I need to fill in some cracks and smaller holes but this should be it. The temple is restored.”

“I see. What about the windows? They’re still missing their glass.”

“Well, I have no way to make glass so I guess I’m just going to have to board them up for now. When the time comes that I can send other followers here I’ll send them with supplies to properly fix everything I could only patch.” You sat back on the grass and stared up at the temple. Months of work finally at fruition. No longer a ruin but a temple worthy of its god.

Rafayel sat next to you. “This means that you’ll need to return home soon.”

“Not quite yet.” you shrugged. “I have to build a boat to take me back to the mainland and considering I’ve never made a boat before that is going to take a while.”

“Do you miss it? The mainland?”

“Some things, yes.” you couldn’t lie about this. “I had friends there that I miss terribly. I miss the festivals and the foods and the music. I miss the temple I grew up in and even though they were liars I miss the elders who raised me. It’s hard to believe that I’ve been away for so long and yet the days went by so quickly.

“I’m going to miss this place when I leave and…” you glanced at Rafayel. Things you wanted to say but couldn’t get past your lips stayed trapped on your tongue. “...and I’m definitely going to miss that bed and that tub. Going back to my simple cot and having to warm my own baths is going to take some getting used to again.”

“You’re going to be returning as the woman who single handedly returned the temple to its former glory and with a brand new text straight from the mouth of a god. I think that is more than high priestess worthy, and thus you can request a better bed and for someone else to draw you baths.”

“We’ll see. I can imagine I’m going to have a lot of pushback from the elders. There may be some who try to denounce everything I say to keep with the old traditions.”

“If they do, pray to me and I’ll send a storm in to set them straight.”

“Good to know.”

“One more thing.” he reached behind the tree you were sitting under and pulled out a wooden chest. He handed it to you. “Open it.”

“What is this?” You lifted the lid and nestled inside was a pile of cloth.

“Think of it as your regalia as high priestess.” Unlike the clothes Rafayel had brought you before that were nice but clearly meant for everyday toil and work this was truly something regal. The stark white material was light and soft, accented with deep blue and stitched with gold embroidery. It was beautiful but it also looked familiar. It was at that moment you realized that it was patterned after what you saw Rafayel normally wear, with matching golden jewelry and shoes as well.

“It’s wonderful.” your voice caught as you hugged the clothes to your chest. “Raf, I…I don’t know what to say. This is too much.”

“After everything you’ve done for the temple and what you’ll do when you return, it is not nearly enough.” There looked like there was something else he wanted to say but he turned away. “Come on, I doubt you had anything to eat yet today.”

“Coming.” The day passed normally from there but you could tell that you both were avoiding talking about something important. Something that could very well determine your future.

The next couple of days you finished fixing the roof, this time with Rafayel’s supervision so you didn’t up trapped up there again. You were in the middle of going from room to room making sure you had fixed everything you could when Rafayel came in and told you he had something for you outside.

“What could you possibly have brought that you couldn’t bring it inside?” you laughed as you followed him out. You walked down the beach and you heart sunk into your feet when you saw what was on the shore.

“A boat?” you turned to Rafayel but he continued to stare straight ahead. “But where did it come from?”

“I commissioned some of my people to make it for you. You said you didn’t know how to build one and if you are going to go back to the mainland I’d prefer it that you didn’t set off on a badly built raft.” Rafayel explained.

“I can go back?”

Rafayel continued to stare at the boat, his expression unreadable. “Yes.”

It was happening. The temple was restored and you had a boat. You would need to leave soon.

“Raf, I…” There were too many emotions swirling inside you to pick just one.

“Don’t think you’re getting away so easily though.” he said, turning back to you with a bright smile. “We are celebrating your last day on the island tonight. You can scamper off back to the mainland in the morning.”

There was something about the way he spoke that felt too chipper and you wondered how sincere his happiness was. This was what you had been working towards for months. In the morning you would be leaving for the mainland and start the process of restoring your religion to what Rafayel wanted it to be. In the morning you would leave as his high priestess and your time as friends would be at an end.

The day sped by far too fast as you started gathering your things and setting them in the boat so you could leave early in the morning. You had accumulated many trinkets during your time here so it took longer than you thought. All the clothes Rafayel had brought you, the board for Jumping Shrimp you’d always play, small paintings and sketches Rafayel made for you, seashells you had collected, a piece of one of the shattered stain glass windows, and other small odds and ends that held little memories of your time here.

As evening fell you and Rafayel walked along the beach, the bright light of the full moon illuminated the island. There was a quiet peace that neither of you wanted to disturb. But as his hand interlaced with yours you felt all the things you had wanted to say for weeks bubbling up again. You knew if you left in the morning without saying anything you’d regret it the rest of your life.

“Rafayel?” your voice wavered as you spoke.

He stopped, sensing the hesitation in your voice. “Yes?”

It was unfair how beautiful he was. Those mesmerizing blue eyes and way the moonlight shined off his hair. You believed with every fiber of your being that he was a god. Maybe if he looked half as handsome it’d be easier to say all this. Maybe if he was just a man and not your deity you wouldn’t feel like such a hopeful fool.

“I um…” you swallowed past the lump in your throat, “I don’t know how to say this. I don’t even know if I should. I am terrified that I will have ruined everything we’ve built but I need you to know that I…I…”

I love you. You finished in your head, unable to get the words out. They were too real, too honest. I love everything about you. I love how serene you are when you’re painting but so focused and serious when playing games. I love the way you play with me, even when you’re trying to annoy me. I love the way you hold me when we sleep. I love how passionate you are and funny and kind. I love you so much it breaks my own heart cause loving you is literally like trying to love the ocean. You’re far too vast for me to hold, but I would still drown trying to. I love you, Rafayel.

The world came to a still. There was no breeze. The ocean itself had smoothed into glass.

Rafayel cupped your cheek and tilted your face up to his, wiping your tears away. “Your prayer has been heard.” he whispered before he claimed your lips in a kiss as deep as the ocean itself.

You swayed, falling further into him as you kissed him back. You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. His tongue pressed gently against your lips and you parted them for him. You were glad you were already holding onto him as his tongue swept tentatively into your mouth, tasting you deeper. When all the air had been taken from your lungs he pulled back slightly to let you breathe.

“Cor meum,” he murmured against your lips, “Don’t leave.”

You blinked, coming out of the daze the kiss had left you in. “What?”

“I don’t want you to leave.” he kissed the corner of your mouth. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“Raf, I…” your heart split in two, caught between desire and duty. “It won’t be goodbye. I will still pray to you every night. You’re my god. We’ll never be far apart from each other.”

“Why do we have to be apart at all?” tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “Was it not you who said you weren’t even sure if you wanted to return to the mainland because the other priests had been lying? Why return to that?”

“And let everyone keep worshiping you the way you don’t want to be? I need to go back. To make things right. It’s what we’ve been working towards all this time.” you held tightly to him, scared that he’d slip from you if you let go for even a moment. “If I don’t then this temple will be abandoned again.”

You could tell he was fighting for some counterpoint. Something that could make you change your mind.

“You want me to be your high priestess.” you said. “I can make real change as that. I can be a wonderful priestess to you. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I want you.” he took in a shaky breath. “Please. Stay.”

“It would be selfish if I did.” These words were breaking your heart but you knew you couldn’t escape your duty. You had promised that you would correct things, change the narrative that the charlatan priests had been spreading for centuries. You loved him, but because you loved him you knew you needed to do this. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry we can’t have both.”

“You…you won’t be moved, will you?”

You shook your head.

He kissed your forehead, breathing you in as he thought. “If this is what will happen then I want you to be mine and mine alone. My priestess, cor meum, belong to me, body and soul.”

“Don’t I already?”

“Then let me be yours as well. I want none to have me the way you do.” He swallowed nervously, “Lemuria and the mainland are too far apart. It may well be that we may not see each other again and if that is our fate then I want to spend this final night with you.”

Your heart flipped in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“I want to move with you, like the tide lapping the shore.” he pressed you closer, “I want to make love to you, cor meum.”

The air around you suddenly choked you with heat. “Aren’t priests and priestesses supposed to remain celibate?” your voice could just barely be heard over the wind.

“Because they are devoted to me. Does celibacy mean anything if the person you are sleeping with is your god?” he asked.

“I suppose you have a point there.” you wished your heart would stop beating so fast, you could hardly catch your breath. “So yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, a playful smile on his face.

“Yes, I want to belong to you in a way no others who become your followers can. I want you to be mine in a way no one else will be able to replicate. I want you to make love to me, Rafayel.”

His breath stuttered as he pulled you up off your feet and began to walk back to the temple. The closer you got the more nervous you became. You had come to terms long ago that because of your lot in life you would never be allowed to fall in love, much less have sex. Being a priestess meant that your life began and ended with your god, no one could have any other part of you. Because of that you had never worried about it before now and it was becoming alarmingly clear how out of your depth you were.

“Um, Rafayel,” you squeaked out, “Is this going to hurt? I’ve heard stories about how women hurt the first time they have relations with a man.”

“I wouldn’t know.” he said. You could see the tips of his ears burning bright red. “I haven’t exactly done this before.”

“Had sex with a human?”

The red spread to his face. “Actually…” he cleared his throat, “Something I never mentioned when we were writing the history of the Sea Gods is that they are um…bonding creatures. Whoever they partner with is the only person they will ever be with.”

“Oh.” your face heated as well. “So you’ve never done this at all either?”

“Yes.”

“And if we do this, what does that mean for you?”

“It means exactly what I said on the beach.” you were up the steps and in front of the door to the bedroom. “I want none to have me the way you do. It will only ever be you, cor meum.”

“But--”

“Shh,” he nudged the door open with his foot and carried you inside. “This is what I want. I will have only you for as long as I live. It does not matter if it is ten, twenty, a hundred years from now. I will always be waiting for you to come back to me, if you ever wish to.”

“Are you saying all this to get me to stay?”

“Partly.” he set you back on your feet. “But I know that you’re stubborn and you will do whatever you wish. I just hope one day you’ll wish to come back to me.”

You pushed yourself to your toes to kiss him again. He returned it with fervor, pulling you close so your body was pressed flush against him.

“Care to help me get this off?” you asked, glancing down at the tunic he was bunching in his hands.

“I can do that.” he stepped back slightly, finding the hem of your tunic and slowly pulling it up and over your head. Your arms automatically went to cover yourself. “Nothing to be shy about, cor meum. It isn’t anything I haven’t seen from you before. But I would love the chance to admire it in full.”

You lowered your arms again, forcing them to remain at your side. He studied you much in the same way he admired the frescoes in the temple, with reverence and awe. With a deep breath you slid the loose pants off your hips so they pooled around your legs, leaving you completely bare before him. His nostrils flared and that little spark of light was once again lit in his eyes.

“Your turn.” you said. You were shaking and couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the wind blowing in through the open windows.

“Right.” he cleared his throat and began removing the pieces of jewelry from his person one by one. He let them clatter on the ground, his eyes never leaving you as he was stripped of his adornments. Finally he reached for the golden pin that helped keep the sarong he always wore in place and took it out. The material fell to the floor and heat pooled between your legs as you stared at his dick. Anatomy lessons and statues really did not prepare you for being faced with the real thing.

“Let’s get on the bed.”

You nodded and sat yourself down in the center of the bed. He followed after you, sitting down next to you. “Let’s just take it slow.” he said.

“Good idea.”

He kissed your forehead, your left eyelid followed by your right, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. Each gentle kiss a moment to be savored. “You’re so beautiful, cor meum.” he whispered before claiming your lips again.

You pressed your hands against his chest, feeling the way his heart pounded under your palm as you kissed. He touched you gently, experimentally, his hands caressing your arms and running down the length of your spine. Each touch felt like he left a trail of fire in his wake. More of that heat was building between your legs and you pressed them tightly together to stave off the feeling.

You shifted slightly as you were rolled to your back. Your arms wove around his neck as he pressed his naked torso to yours. His skin against yours was an intoxicating intimacy you had only glanced in stolen moments when you swam together, when your clothes were plastered to your skin making you feel as if you wore none at all. But now there was nothing in the way between you and it made your head swim.

You pulled back from the kiss and dragged your lips down to the column of his throat. A deep sigh exhaled from him as you kissed along his neck. “Cor meum…” he breathed out.

“You going to tell me what that means now?” you muttered against his skin. You found the spot where his pulse thundered and you gave a small bite.

“My heart.” he moaned, “It means you are my heart.”

“Cor meum,” you tested the foreign word, the unfamiliar syllables tumbling past your lips. “Did I say it right?”

“Lemurian sounds beautiful on your tongue, my heart.” he pulled your face back to his, kissing you quick. “I want to hear how you say other things, starting with my name.”

“Does your name sound different in Lemurian?”

“I didn’t mean in Lemurian.” he gave you a rakish smile. His hands moved again, resting on your hips and moved slowly up your torso towards your chest but not further than that. He seemed to be seeking permission. You took one of his hands and moved it to you cup your breast.

“You are a wonder,” he kissed the underside of your jaw, “Say my name, please.”

“Rafayel,” you said.

He ran a thumb over your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak. A whine built in your throat. “Again.” he said, watching the way your lip quivered as small waves of arousal coursed through your body.

“Rafayel.” His name came out breathless and needy. “Rafayel, my Rafayel. Please.”

“What do you want me to do?” he swallowed, staring hard at your face. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Here,” you took his hand and guided it back down to your body where you most wanted to be touched.

Growing up you had been taught that if your goal was to be a priestess you could not indulge in any carnal pleasure. It went against dedicating yourself to your god. But as a teenager you had been curious as to what was so bad about it and decided to indulge, purely out of scientific curiosity. At least that was what you told yourself. It was strange but it also felt good and you wondered why such a thing was forbidden for the higher ups in the clergy. Your pleasure was a secret that caused bliss and guilt, because despite how nice it had felt you thought you were doing something blasphemous.

Now, it all felt so ridiculous. You were with your god, leading his hand to your core, showing him how to touch you and none of it felt wrong.

Short gasps and moans of pleasure punctuated the air as his fingers moved with yours along your slit and over your clit. Rafayel was attentive and watched what motions and which places made you writhe and moan the most. A single slender finger pushed into your cunt and you immediately clamped down around it.

He slid it in and out, curling it just so like you told him until he got the motion and added another finger to fill you and stretch you out more.

“Raf--” you bit your lip, fighting for some form of control to get the words out, “Raf, show me. Please.”

“What?” he tore his attention away from watching his hand between your legs. “What do you need?”

“I want to touch you too.” you said, “Show me.”

“Oh,” he said, eyes darting down to his dick which stood between you hard and flushed as red as his face. “I’m scared if you touch me there I might explode.”

“We have all night.” you reminded him. “I want you to feel good too.”

“Alright, give me your hand.” You gave him your hand and he brought it to his cock. A guttural groan left his lips upon your touch and you squeaked a little when his cock seemed to twitch in your hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Like I said, I’m very close to coming already. Just, grasp it like this and move up and down, firmly but not too tight.”

Your hand began to move and his head dropped forward as his breathing got more ragged. He left you to it, his attention going back to stroking your cunt. You could tell you were both nervous, both eager to please, and both trying to fight the pleasure inside you so you could go on pleasing each other. It was like a game of push and pull, and whoever came first was the loser. Unfortunately for Rafayel he was right about how close he had been. As your hand got quicker his sanity slipped faster until he was panting and thrusting into your fist.

He cursed something in Lemurian as he came, the thick and sticky white substance of his seed coated your hand and a bit had also splattered on your abdomen. His dick became soft again and he laid back breathing hard as he tried to catch his breath.

“You made a bit of a mess,” you giggled, wiping the drops off with a corner of the bedsheets.

“Your fault.” he sighed, “I told you what was gonna happen and you still insisted.”

“Of course. Do you have any idea how beautiful you look when you come? It was well worth it.”

“You still need yours.” Rafayel raked his eyes up and down your body. “And this time, you aren’t going to distract me.”

“What do you mean--” your words died in your throat as he brought the fingers that had been in your cunt to his mouth and sucked the juices off them one at a time.

“So sweet, I want to taste more.” he slid down your body. You automatically closed your legs, embarrassed that he was looking so closely at your cunt. He rested his chin on your knees. “If you don’t want me to I won’t but I’d really like to taste you. May I?”

“I uh…” he ran his hands up and down your thighs, easing you and grounding you in the moment. You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly then gradually parted your legs once more. “Alright.”

He kissed your knee. “It’s alright, my heart. I’ll do my best to make you feel good.”

His eyes drifted down and hungrily took in the sight of your cunt spread before him, already plenty wet from his fingering earlier. He slotted himself between your legs, pressing kisses along your thighs. He shot you a mischievous little smile before biting the supple flesh. A sharp squeak escaped you when he did and more arousal pooled at your core. He noticed the way your muscles flexed and he did it again, a little harder. He lathed his tongue over the bite mark before setting his sights back on your cunt.

You could tell he was being careful, the touch of his lips against your cunt was gentle and explorative. You fisted your hands in the sheets of the bed, soft moans echoing in the room as he figured out what spots and motions made you see stars. When he finally parted your folds to slide his tongue against you, burying his face into your cunt so he could lap up the arousal leaking out of you is when your composure really started to go.

You fisted a hand in his hair, unsure if you were trying to keep him there or trying to pull him off. His eyes were closed as he devoured you. You could tell you were reaching a climax but unlike the secret pleasures you had stolen back on the mainland it wasn’t a point of release followed by relaxation. Your legs were shaking, your moans growing louder than they had ever been before, and it felt as if a tidal wave was rushing towards you about to pull you out to sea.

“Raf--Raf--” your grip on his hair got stronger. “Fuck! Please! Please Raf! Please!”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. Was it release? Was it for him to stop? Everything was far too much. You were racing forward faster than you could comprehend and he was showing no sign of slowing. In fact, when you started repeating his name he got even faster, holding your hips down with one arm while his free hand rubbed circles over your clit.

Too much! Too much! Too much!

“Raf--” your body seized as a pleasure far more fervid and immense than what you had known before tore through you and left you panting and gasping for breath.

He pulled back almost immediately, watching the way your body twitched and rode out the intense orgasm. “Are you alright?”

“I think so…” you were still trying to get your bearings. “I didn’t realize that the climax could feel so…strong. Are you sure you’ve never done this with someone else before?”

“Positive.” he climbed back up, wiping the shine of your arousal from his mouth. “But I like to think I’m very observant, so we can thank that for what just happened.”

A giggle gathered in your throat and you tried to suppress it. “What?” Rafayel asked. “What are you laughing about?”

“Sorry, I just um…I don’t want to say it.”

“Oh no, please, what were you going to say?”

“I just thought it was funny that you said you’re very observant but apparently not observant enough to realize when you were walking into a trap when we played Jumping Shrimp.”

“And again with Jumping Shrimp! It always comes back to that with you, doesn’t it?” Rafayel pulled you close, tickling your sides as he nuzzled his face in your neck.

“I’m sorry! This is why I didn’t want to say it. I knew you were gonna get pouty on me.”

“I’m not pouting.” he bit your neck. “How could I when have you spread out like this?”

“Raf!” your face burned anew. “You can’t just say that!”

“Why not? No one else is here to hear us.” he pulled your hands away from your face and kissed you. There was something intoxicating about tasting yourself on his tongue. It made you wish that you hadn’t wiped his seed off your hand. Maybe he would have enjoyed the sensation too.

“And I’m grateful there’s no one else here,” he murmured, “I want these precious sounds you make to belong to only me.”

“Always.” you brushed some of his hair out of his eyes, “I want you to make love to me now, Rafayel. I’m ready if you are.”

“I love you.” he said, “I will only love you for the rest of my days.”

He settled between your legs, hands braced on your hips as he notched his cock at the entrance of your cunt. You had decided to fist the sheets again as means to keep you tethered to sanity as he gave you one final loving look before slowly pushing inside. A whine of discomfort burned your throat and he stopped.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, concern etched across his face.

“A bit.” you tried to relax. “I’m good. Keep going, please.”

“We don’t have to rush. We have all night.” he assured you. He pulled back just a bit before sinking in again, pushing a little deeper as your body relaxed and stretched bit by bit to accommodate him.

It still hurt but not nearly as bad as what you had expected. After what felt like forever of slowly rocking together he was fully sheathed inside you. No matter what happened now, you were bonded…forever. No one could have this and no one could take it away.

“Rafayel,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” his voice was deep and strained. You could feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move. “I love you so much.”

And just like how the waves swayed your body as you laid on the surface of its endless tide, you moved with Rafayel as only lovers could. He started shallow and slow until the pain and uncomfortableness of your joining began to ebb away. You could feel pinpricks of pleasure building behind the uncertainty of your movements.

“You’re so beautiful.” he said. “Need to sear this image into my memory.”

Your body glistened with buds of sweat blossoming over your skin. Back and forth you pushed and pulled with him. Your nails dug into his back as the pleasure started to overtake the pain. The drag of his cock along your walls felt euphoric. You fit so well together, as if you had been made to slot together perfectly for one another. Maybe you had been.

Almost all your life you had been told you were blessed by the ocean. Maybe that had been for a reason. Maybe this was where you were always meant to end up. Locked together with the sea itself in a dance as old as time.

“Cor meum…” Rafayel said through gritted teeth, “You feel divine. I don’t know how long I can keep this up though. From the moment I felt you around me all I’ve wanted was to rut against you like an animal. It feels so good. Too good. But I still want you to come with me.”

“Alright.” you wanted that too. “Go a little faster,” you told him. Your hand slid down your stomach and teased your clit, “And kiss me.”

His mouth crashed to yours as he picked up the pace, his slow measured thrusts getting faster and more out of rhythm as he began chasing his own pleasure. Your legs kicked and squirmed as all the sensations came together. With the additional pressure on your clit you felt another orgasm drawing closer.

Rafayel’s mouth slanted across yours, his moans being swallowed by you as he got closer and closer. You could hardly breathe at all. Your body desperate for release moved to meet his thrusts. He took charge, grabbing your hips and moving them in sync with him so it felt even better.

He repeated your name over and over, his voice getting more desperate the closer he got. “Come with me.” he pleaded. “I need you to come with me, cor meum. Please!”

“Want to! I want to come with you!” You were just at a tipping point. So close! “Rafayel!”

His hips snapped against yours twice, maybe three more times and then he stilled as he came and the sensation was that final push you needed to come as well. Your cunt clamped down around him and you could feel the warmth of his fill and coat your insides. The feel of it sent a shiver up your spine.

You both slumped, his body pressed atop yours as you tried to catch your breath after the incredible high. His softening cock was still wedged in you but you didn’t dare move him. You wanted to burn this feeling into your brain. If could capture this moment in a bottle and keep it with you forever you would.

“How do you feel?” Rafayel was the first to speak, his words mumbled into your ear.

“Incredible.” you turned your head to kiss his cheek. “Exhausted, but incredible.”

“Same.” he gently pulled out of you. You whined a bit at the motion. Suddenly you felt far too empty. Your cunt would forever be molded by the shape of him and only him. “One moment.” he started to move away from you. You instinctively grabbed his arm.

“It’s alright, I’m not going far.” he said with a smile and brushed a feather soft kiss to your face. You noticed with some pride that he was walking awkwardly towards the bathing room. You may not have had the energy to walk but you were glad that you had thoroughly winded him too.

He came back from the bathing room with a wet rag in hand and wiped clean the mess of fluids that had accumulated between your legs. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep with all of that sticking to you.” After he was done he tossed the rag away and joined you back in bed.

“Thanks.” you immediately nestled right against him.

For a while you didn’t say anything. You simply laid together and breathed, basking in the post coital bliss. Maybe this night could stretch on forever.

“We are bonded.” Rafayel said, drawing your attention back to him. “Cor meum, my heart, I vow to you this, should you ever call me, I will always answer. No matter where we are, what I am doing, you will know I am always listening to you. And if one day you say you want to come home, I will bring you home.”

“I will.” you said, tears gathering in your eyes again. “One day, I don’t know when. I don’t know how long rebuilding a religion will take but I will come home to you. I promise.”

“Don’t take too long.” he whispered, holding you close. “I love you, more than anything in this world.”

“I love you, Rafayel. I always have, I always will.”

You repeated the words over and over as the day began to wear down on you and for the final night for a long time, you fell asleep in the arms of your god.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 19

MASTAPOST

Danny woke from his little cat nap soon after, stretching his tail out like a lounging snake. Damian sat next to him, characteristically unimpressed as the teenager cracked his knuckles and shook off the remaining grogginess.

“Are you done?” Damian asked.

Danny yawned again. “Yeah what time is it?”

“It has been about two hours. We are wasting time.”

Damian swam to Danny’s left side and nudged him with his head. Danny bonelessly flopped to the side without moving. “Dude, what’s the rush? I thought you liked animals.”

“The whales have been amenable company, but my father needs me back as soon as possible. In addition, we have entered a coral reef.”

Danny blinked, and got up. The boy leaned his head over the edge of the mother whale. Seemed Damian was right. The waterscape in front of them was filled with tall kelp forests in the distance. Below the, the sea floor housed miles of vibrant coral in all sorts of colours. Red, purple, yellow and green coral spiraled and twisted and grew from the rocks and sand, living alongside schools of big and small fish. Clownfish peeked in an out of anemones. Little critters like shrimps and lobsters crawled in and out of crevices, sheltered from predators.

Damian apparently thought he was taking too long. Danny belatedly realised his harness was untied, just as Damian rammed into his back and pushed him off the edge.

“We need to replenish our supplies.” Damian said. “Teach me how to gather forage and hunt.”

Well that was a slight issue. Being a modern American teenager with access to such things as fridges and a global supply chain meant that he was perhaps less suited to roughing it than the younger boy might have assumed. It was not like he never had to live off the land, but the less said about long swim home after Vlad happened, the better.

“Well?” Damian repeated, arms crossed, looking down Danny expectantly.

“Alright then. I’ll teach you silly human what it’s like to live off the land, like your ancestors long before you.” He said sagely.

The whale pod crooned a deep farewell as the continued on their journey. He and Damian waved them off, before returning to their own needs.

He led his young charge to perch atop a cliff overlooking the reef. The boys laid their fins flat so as to avoid drawing attention. Danny scanned the landscape, settling his eyes on a lobster hiding underneath a rock. Despite their reputation these days, lobsters did not look nearly as appetising raw and alive. From the bottom, they looked more like cockroaches than delicacies. Plus, they were literally the worst possible travelling food ever. No.

Instead, Danny caught sight of his real prize. Mussels!

“You good with shellfish?” He asked the younger boy. Damian turned up his nose, looking haughty like Sam’s parents were it not for the adorable pout he’d put on too.

“If the only other option is starvation.”

“We’ll keep an eye for more plants on the way.” Danny said, preparing to descend.

The thing about mussels was that you didn’t need to kill them to bring them along. They came with their own natural packaging, even if it was a bit heavy. Danny stuffed his pockets with a couple handfuls of the shellfish, leaving space for a more varied diet, and leaving the rest to stay and reproduce. He wasn’t greedy! Sam had taught him about these things. Mussels were very important to the environment. Evidently Damian was aware too. The boy nodded in approval as Danny continued his search.

Damian’s sword came in useful as well (he would’ve taken it away if he wasn’t sure that the kid would slash him for it) for harvesting kelp and seaweed. The pair snacked on kelp strips as Danny took them to their next prey.

However, Damian protested. “I do not wish to kill this one.”

The huge trout, easily as big as Damian, floated blissfully ignorant of the two predators eyeing it like hawks. Danny ‘s head spun as he tried to keep track of Damian’s seemingly endlessly shifting opinion towards eating fish or not. “That thing could feed us for like 300 miles.”

“The largest fish also reproduce the most. This one is a female.” Damian continued. Now that he thought of it, didn’t Sam make a whole protest about this in the beginning of summer? “Many oceans are in danger due to overfishing from humans. As a human myself, it is my responsibility to fish sustainably.”

The boy’s fins puffed with pride and conservationist fervor, a quiet determination that reminded him of Sam. Danny had some doubts. “If we eat the small fry, there won’t be many left to grow big and ‘reproduce’ as you say.”

This point seemed to put pause on Damian’s previous showboating. The boy gritted his teeth, looking for a comeback. “What about invasive species? Those that threaten the natural balance.”

Danny shrugged. That was a good point, except Danny didn’t know how to identify any of those.

“But you live in the ocean!” Damian protested when this point was brought up.

“Yeah. You live on land. Does that mean you know about every species that lives on Gotham?”

“Yes.” Well he kinda walked into that one, didn’t he?

“Well if you know so much about invasive species, why don’t you look for them?” Danny challenged. Animal hyperfixation or not, surely this kid couldn’t identify the hundreds of species that lived in this reef.

Damian’s ear fins tensed, something he’d noticed in himself whenever he was concentrating on something. The boy turned away from Danny and to the reef in front of them. Suddenly, the boy’s body slumped.

A smug grin split open Danny’s face.

Damian groaned, as if his next words were like Soviet torture. “There are no saltwater invasive fish near California, to my knowledge.”

“Hah! Suck on that, fishboy!”

Damian mewled angrily. His hand drifted down to the hilt of his sword. On dear.

“Alright, alright, alright. What about a compromise?” Danny waved his arms defensively.

“Speak.”

“We grab the fish that we were gonna grab before you interrupted.” Damian hissed at that. “BUUttt only one. And we fill our pockets with small fry. A balanced fishing diet. What do you say?”

The grumpy child pouted one more time for good measure, before sinking back to the floor. “Fine. You still need to teach me how to make a kill.”

“You sure you won’t get attached?”

“I can suppress my emotions to complete the mission.” It spoke something about Damian that Danny wasn’t even that phased this time. That being said please let that just be a boast with nothing to back that up.

Danny lay prone, fins flat, head down, like a tiger about to pounce. In the entire conversation they’d had, the trout had drifted about five inches from its previous position. Survival instincts this poor girl had not.

“All you need to do is shut your gills, like holding a breath. Just get closer… and closer… and POUNCE!”

Danny leapt at the trout, using his powers to accelerate into a blur. His hands pinned it down in an instant, the trout thrashing and slapping him, trying to escape. With a swift motion, Danny bit clean through its gills. The trout rapidly lost strength, slowly fading until it went still.

He held the trout up like a trophy. “Tada!”

Damian frowned deeply. “That was an unclean kill. It suffered immensely.”

“Ughh!” Danny groaned. “What do you want from me. I’m a siren not an assassin.”

Damian unsheathed his sword, looking about 50% more menacing as any other six-year-old Danny had ever met. “It seems I will have to show you, instead.”

Five minutes later, his idea of showing Danny how to kill resulted in a fresh bruise and a bent fin. The carp he had tried to pounce managed to escape with a shallow cut on its side.

“I’m very educated now, Damian. Thank you.” He snickered as Damian roared in anger.

“Shut your mouth! You have an unfair advantage, seeing as you can use your powers, while I am hampered by my body.”

“You’ll grow into them. I think. I dunno I haven’t met a lot of siren kids.”

“I am not a child!” Damian said, pouting very maturely.

The rest of the morning was spent like that, roaming the reef in search of food and bickering over this and that. At one point they debated over dolphins were whales or not (Danny personally thought whales were too nice to encompass dolphins under their umbrella).

Their food supplies replenished and energy still raring to go, the boys sealed their satchels shut, and continued south.

Meanwihle…

Hundreds of miles away in the ocean, Bruce stands at the helm of the Fenton Family SAV, its modified engines going at full throttle.

In a hidden compartment in his room, Tucker Foley slams into the firewall of the Fenton’s new database with everything he has. Schematics, blueprints, notes. He needs that data and he needs it now.

Sam Manson meditates on her bed, surrounded by candles. She recites warding spells, a staple for any young magician.

Skulker sits in his private yacht, bandaging his wounded leg, sliding the pieces for his next upgrade. Behind him, an ornate fish tank sits empty, awaiting its guest.

Agent K and Agent O monitor the news. The sonars around Amity. A report sits on the desk. The Fentons have just left town? That will be interesting… 

[sleepykas]

So anyway Mer AU designs because I didn't like my last ones <33

Sun and Moon are the same mer in this au! When the sun goes down the rays around their head pin back and fade from their yellow glow into a deep blue "nightcap" and their scale colors fade to black and pale blue.

Sun's design is based off of a clownfish, and Moon's is based off of an orca! They both have lionfish features though :3

[rel124c41]

NOW PLAYING ‘EVERYBODY LOVES A CLOWN’ BY GARY LEWIS & THE PLAYBOYS. floyd leech

The truest mark of a jester is not in his ability to make others laugh, but in his capacity to find humor in his own pain.

tags: unrequited love, hurt no comfort, character study, friendship, wishful thinking, angst, floyd is in his stańczyk era, complicated relationships

word count: 2,282

The game is in the first quarter. There are twelve minutes on the clock.

Floyd does not know where to start his confession to you.

As he plays, he tries to come up with ideas of love confessions: a dance, a letter, a bite, or a gentle touch? Planning however puts a damper on the sweetness of what should be a romantic fantasy. Not that Floyd allows the turmoil to show, he plays perfectly. Each move of his is effortless, on the court and when playing with you.

He has been trying for a while to confess. Cowardness ties him up like seaweed.

If anyone were to rival Floyd’s energy, it would be you. You are eudaimonia incarnate. Flourishing with happiness and good spirit, you are a wonderful yet unexpected addition to Night Raven College. Where even Floyd falls into tepid moods of anger or sadness, you stay afloat. Somehow, someway, you are always happy.

Dribbling at practice, Crabby once joked that you were made of sugar, spice, and everything nice. Floyd yearns to know what a combination like that would taste on his tongue in a mating bite, sealing you two in marriage.

The Coral Sea is a triptych of shadow black, unwelcoming black, and cold black. You jump into his world, exploding with the color your soul carries. Through grimacing eyesight, he watches the gaiety of you bounce around even if it is blinding. You are the pinkest of pinks. You are the brightest orange that would rival sunkist shrimps. You are as yellow as the sun or a sky of stars, all consuming.

If shooting stars could fall into anyone’s eyes, they would fall into yours. Making little homes of fluctuating solar energy and the thumping glow of hydrogen and helium. The only eyes worthy of having stars in them.

He can feel the heat of those blazing stars on his neck as Sea Snake passes the basketball to him at midcourt line.

You sit in the bleachers with a handmade poster in your hands. To keep himself happy, Floyd deludes himself with the image of you making it alone. Without anyone handing you certain markers or glue for the glitter, you wrote WIN WIN WIN FLOYD in big, bubble letters for him and him alone. In his mind, you did not ask for the green colored pencil from anyone’s hand to shade in the caricature eel’s skin and you did not hyena-laugh when you accidentally got glitter on someone’s cheek or clothes.

The delusion of a reality where you only think about him 24/7 is sugar, spice, and everything nice. That is eudaimonia.

When Floyd scores twice in the first quarter with the aid of Sea Snake, you raise that poster up. Cheers from you are whole-hearted and never half-assed, you put everything into rallying encouragement you hope reaches and motivates Floyd.

You could frown and it would still motivate him.

When he scores for the third time, there are no vocal cheers shining down from the bleachers. Looking at the sea of unimportant guppies, he finds the reason your lips are silent. You are sharing a kiss with Jade, just two short pecks. Something you definitely initiated as Jade is timid with affection.

As he turns back to the court, Floyd imagines his confession would go like this:

“I love ya, Shrimpy.”

You laugh, almost falling off your seat, and say with a happy grin, “That’s a good one, Floyd. Tell another joke!”

The game is in the second quarter. There are twelve minutes on the clock.

Floyd is a clownfish of an eel. Not entirely like Crabby or Sea Otter, but Floyd has been marked as a class clown enough. Loud and boisterous, he is a presence that fertilizes laughter and amusement with ease. Perhaps the amusement is only shared by him, Jade, and Azul mostly, but it is still a jester’s position he has fallen into.

Nothing he says is ever taken seriously unless his words are threats. Unlike Jade, whose words are always heeded and who is taken seriously as a plague.

Floyd can be serious too though! Him and Jade are cut from the same cloth. Why can’t you see the other side of him? Why can’t your bright star eyes comprehend him as something more than a joking jester?

For a while, Floyd was content in that position. Jingling bells, stomping around in oversized shoes, falling over himself to fish that melodious laughter out of your throat. And then one of Jade’s mushroom puns got you snort in the midst of stomach deep laughter. Since then, no matter how many more quarters he plays, Floyd knows he lost.

Pure laughter is pure love in many cultures. And he, trapped in that monk’s cowl and sea anglerfish bells costume, has failed to make you laugh in that same intensity.

As he dribbles and passes the basketball, blocks shots and runs across the court, Floyd unpurposely distracts himself with a vile memory:

A party in Ramshackle. Not as extravagant as Sea Otter’s but still entertaining. As always, Floyd was like a lamp for tiny moths to gather around. Despite his pendulum-ing emotions, his company is enjoyable.

One off stories and jokes were a jester’s speciality. Capturing the attention of your friends and his fellow second years, Floyd keeps the conversation light and draws laughs out of throats like the Sea Witch once did with the little mermaid’s voice. The corner of where he is in Ramshackle is usually the loudest, brimming with comedy. The kind that should have gotten you to come over and ask curious, “What’s so funny?”

Crabby would have dismissed you but Floyd would have reeled you right in. His little Shrimpy, snug under his protective arm, as he recounted another story.

You do not laugh.

You do not look.

You just do not care.

That fucking party in Ramshackle? You spent it giving Jade a tour around the place, showing him the garden you started in the backyard, and chatting with that magnetizing, permanent smile on your lips. Before you two even were dating.

Floyd knows he does not have your total attention. Your attention is always spread in too many directions in his opinion. But sometimes, he wants more than anything for just one period of twenty-four hours where all you think about is him.

You may hold a sign with his name on it but he is not your focus. Star eyes follow the basketball that bounces from player to player; you watch the game fully, but not him.

Who would ever want to see a crying clown?

The game is in the third quarter. There are twelve minutes on the clock.

And Floyd finds himself benched.

Coach pulls him out of the game when five minutes are left in the second quarter. Coach worries about that rapidly declining mood of his in the second quarter. It is a volatile, gambling choice but the Coach thinks it is the correct one. Better to have him refuel and get back into the swing of the game. “Have a Gatorade and take a minute, Leech. No need to dig yourself down.” Floyd doesn’t want to drink his passion fruit Gatorade, he wants a different drink and he wants a peppermint to crush between his sharp teeth.

Elbows on knees and head in hands, Floyd watches the red clock go down number by number. Anger pulses off him like smoke. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven. Fifty-six. Fifty-five. Stupid fucking Coach. Stupid fucking game. Stupid fucking Gatorade. Forty-nine. Forty –

“Peppermint for your thoughts?”

Stupid fucking Coach, Floyd thinks a second time. As is per tradition, if Floyd ever finds himself on the bench, call in Shrimpy. A small little crustacean that can reverse whirlpools back to sailable water and can make even the hungriest shark swim in the opposite direction of blood.

“It's a penny for ya thoughts,” Floyd grumbles into his hand.

“Nah, I don’t think so!” Is it possible to hear a smile in a voice? Because it feels like you speak in smiles; he imagines an alien language made by grins, one where no words like bad moods or anger exist. “Can’t eat a penny, can you?”

You take a seat by him on the bench. The space is left wide open because no one ever wants to risk being so close to the eel-mer when he is explosive with rage. When you sit, your shoulders bump together and from hip to shin, you two press against one another.

“So, the doctor is in. Doc. Shrimpy.”

Even when you are handing him something, his world minimizes down to the sight of your star eyes. The crunch of a peppermint wrapper in his hand is infinitesimal to the scorch of nuclear fusion and fire.

Still, he pops it in and relishes in the calming breakage of candy in his razor sharp teeth, replying, “I don’t know, just pissed I missed that shot.”

“Yeah, I saw that.” Liar. “I also saw you make two of the cleanest shots of the entire game in the first five minutes of the game.” Floyd hums instead of grumbling. It is the slightest, micro improvement but you still hammer on your past doctor-slash-therapist metaphor. “Say aaah for Doc. Shrimpy!”

This is the hardest part of being a clown. You do sweet, pseudo-romantic things with Floyd and never take it seriously. Everything between the two of you is shrouded under the blanket of comedy. There are zero feelings behind it. Even when you unknowingly partake in eel courtship (opening your mouth wide as you demonstrate your ‘aaah’), it is hollow and satire. And when you learn about his species’ courtship you will really only mean it with intent when you are with Jade.

“Aaah!”

Into his mouth, you pour a drink. His shoulders recoil at bit, premature disgust at the thought of tasting passion fruit which he is not in the mood to drink. Floyd is surprised when the drink starts to fizz in his mouth.

As he savors it, the carbonation and sourness a welcome burn in his throat, you smile and show him the drink you have on hand. “Shit’s good, right?” In front of him, you shake a monstrously bright pink and yellow can with the words Ghost on it. “Sour pink lemonade.”

You take the Ghost you just waterfall into Floyd’s mouth and down your own sip. Be careful, Shrimpy, Floyd thinks. Sharing food and drink is also a part of courtship.

“Gross, Shrimpy. You backwash?”

“Yeah, I did. How does loogie and lemonade taste?”

At that, Floyd snatches up the energy drink from your hands. He downs a much larger sip, going as far as to have some spill around the corner of his mouth. He takes the opportunity too to touch his lips on where yours once were.

Once he robs you of half your lemonade, Floyd brings his wrist to wipe his chin and grins wolfish, “My compliments to the chef! Think Azul’ll add it to the menu?”

You laugh just as Floyd was aiming for, all saccharine and lovely, and joke, “Oh my spit could make a fortune! I can see it now!”

“Shrimpy spit?”

“Oh my God, Shrimpy spit! It has alliteration!”

You two fall into each other, cackling and laughing at the stupidity. When your hair brushes his cheek, Floyd thinks of how easy it would be to find his lips falling to a place more forbidden than the metal rim of an energy drink can.

After you both stop laughing: “Ya gonna feed me some more, Shrimpy?”

“Hm, I don’t know. Mmm, how about this,” you grin, stretching out your sentences teasingly. “I have some takoyaki with your name up there on the bleachers. Jade and I made it yesterday. You can have the rest when you win this game!”

Your star eyes burn him. Floyd melts under their intensity.

The game is in the fourth quarter. There are twelve minutes on the clock.

Everybody loves a clown, so why don’t you?

Has he not been enough? Self-sacrificial to always keep you bright and laughing, giving you his own light, letting you bleed him dry until his skin is sandpaper and his bone rice. This constant fear that he should always try to keep you happy lies in his heart like a nematode worm.

His sugar, spice, and everything nice Shrimpy who does not belong to him.

Standing on the edge of the 3 point line, Floyd, despite his cowardice, sends out the last shot of the game.

The basketball glides across the rim like a ship caught in a whirlpool, once. Then a second time, it makes its circular route around the open mouth of victory, leaning capriciously. With a suicidal fall, the basketball falls to the right. It bounces double on the ground before rolling away out of Floyd’s reach. Over the white tape of the endline, the orange ball is now out of the court, signaling the end.

Though under typical circumstances that losing shot should usher him into despair, a smile grows on Floyd’s face. It is only broken when he starts to laugh, his own joy singular in the groans and moans of his teammates.

He turns towards the bleachers, knowing you are expecting a miserable frown; he waves happily at you when your worried eyes fall onto him. You are out of his court. But … eels mate for life which means … Floyd gets to keep you in his life, just a bit out of reach, as he dreams of your love, not knowin’ where to start.

The game ends in the fourth quarter. There are no minutes left.

[blorb-el]

Psssst does the au superbat fic exist bc I waaaaaaaaant it

I want it too 😭 tragically it only exists in about........4.5k scattered scenes which I try to poke at in between working on my main project rn!

misc worldbuilding scraps that are currently rotating on the back burner:

(omegaverse) human instinct relies on scent > hearing > taste > sight to find compatible partners, kryptonian instincts lean on sight > hearing > scent > taste, hence the mating markings

omegaverse humans have a much higher degree of face blindness than we normal humans do lmao

helps clark pass, the more he pulls his scent back the more it fades away, clark kent smells so dull/insignificant/mild that it seems like he's got a medical condition (hypomyrodia). jonathan kent had this. when jonathan and martha found bby kal, he was scared and tried to match scents to the two humans who found him, which caused his kryptonian scent to quickly fade. a hypomyrodic pup would probably face high abandonment rates and low adoption rates, so it was probably a relief that two willing parents brought the pup in

kryptonians all pretty much exist along a relatively smooth spectrum of sexual characteristics and can transition somewhat like clownfish if there's a hormonal imbalance in their community. having zero (0) other kryptonians around does things to clark before he grows the fortress and is able to synthesize hormone stabilizers

humans meanwhile have ten major sexes because betas can be true beta, alpha-leaning, or omega-leaning depending on their recessive genes

poison ivy is x100 more horrifying in any omegaverse world. she only manages to zop clark though bc the pollen is enchanted. however it's enchanted to induce primal alpha hindbrain, which means something very different to lone kryptonians than packbonded humans

it would have been the norm on krypton to have one's facial markings out. kryptonians would pull them back if they were sick, or perhaps terrified... primal hindbrain clark looking around and seeing nothing but non-glowing faces, and it coming across as everyone around him fucking terrified of him

for the first few months of their acquaintance clark is like. im not sure what gender batman is and at this point i'm not sure its ok to ask (he can smell past the concealing patches to bruce's strong omega scent but the patches could also be doubling as, like, the equivalent of binders, could be that batman's gender is null, but he mixes in diluted alpha cologne, but that could just be for concealment/intimidation....???)

sun-powered kryptonians have a strong, distinctively alien but somewhat alpha-smelling scent (when they're not pulling it back) but barely leave any on people they try to scent with, and scents barely stick to them. when clark politely explains this to bb dickie hes just like well i guess ill just have to scent you for longer! and clark goes 🥺

at this early point in the timeline barry is the only known omega superhero so the tabloids are huge into superflash

anyway all that's just kind of fluff/details... the core theme i've been rotating around is overcoming real and genuine barriers to intimacy. the loneliness of knowing you're a square peg in a world of round holes, the necessary compromises of sanding away your corners, the joy of meeting someone who will stretch to meet you where you are. there's a fair few excellent fics of bruce uncomfortable in an omega's role and body, i want to come at it from a perspective where a xenomegaverse clark has to define what gender means to him, in the heightened roles of the omegaverse. we are looking also at layers of passing. when parts of your closet become your armor that protects but encumbers you, and other parts become your exoskeleton, which grow into who you are. we are looking at that comic about the orchid that has the pattern on it meant to appeal to an extinct species of bee. we are looking at compromise made of love and compromise made of fear. and we are looking at tentacles baby.................