#poly monster romance

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - Chapter Nine (v. light nsfw)

Thank you so much for your comments on Chapter Eight, and I'm sorry I left it on such a cliffie! At least you didn't have to wait a thousand years for the resolution this time :).

Content: very minor concussion, The Reveal, some kissing/light nsfw, and the promise of something different on the horizon... Wordcount: 4555

<- previous chapter (free to everyone to read over on Patreon right now)

Catch up on all parts here (1-7 links to Tumblr): Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), (bonus Locryn & Ned chapter post Chpt3, sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (sfw), Part Seven (sfw), Part Eight (sfw)

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

I don't think you understand

The mer price fic is absolute perfection.

Like I'm talking a literal masterpiece

This fic will stay engraved in my brain forever. You're an absolutely amazing writer. Thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

anon, THANK you. i am actually thrilled to see other people enjoying mer Price and remora reader as much as i do. please please please let me brain dump more about Price taking remora reader back to his home reef to meet the rest of shark mer 141:

SOAP is enamored instantly because you're so fucking grabbable.

within moments of seeing you peek out from behind Price's tail, he darts around and snatches you up with greedy hands. you're so small!! so tiny and cute when you squirm. and you make noises. 

he handles you like a toy until Price barks at him to cut it out. he does (and Price makes him promise not to be so rough with you; you're fragile, he claims) but Soap is incorrigible.

he follows you for days afterward. just obsessed. he loves chasing your silver tail as you dart around the reef, trying to hide from him. when he catches up to you, you have little choice but to give in and let him manhandle you. he certainly toes the line of whatever Price meant when he said no rough play, you little shit, i mean it.

he pushes the limits of your docile nature. when you do eventually reach the end of your patience and dart out of his hands just to get a break from his grabby claws, guess what? you've triggered his prey drive and he gives chase. he catches you, of course, and then before he can stop himself, he bites you.

your squeal brings Price out into the open instantly and Soap gets an earful again. he grins at you the whole time as you hide over Price's shoulder.

after that, Soap gets a little craftier about it. he eases up just enough to figure out exactly how playful (rough) he can be before you can't take any more. he learns how to stop just shy of making you shriek again. Price is aware, but he's a little too indulgent to stop it. he's happy to let Soap have his fun as long as he doesn't break you. you just have to suck it up. that indulgent nature is how you ended up with Price in the first place, after all.

goes without saying, but Soap is the first one to use you as a sex toy.

GHOST seems to take zero interest in you at first. you're not the sharpest urchin in the tide pool, are you? you can't be if you're here willingly. he figures you won't stick around long, and if you do, you won't stay intact.

you attempt to take up grooming his skin and tail and teeth as you do with the others. he moves away from you without a word, lashing his scarred tail to re-settle himself several feet away.

if you follow and try to groom him again, you earn a deep growl.

you dart off the moment he voices that rumbling displeasure. he notes your skittishness around him and uses it to make you leave him alone.

you, however, have a job to do. you won't be scared off that easily.

after he chases you off that way a few times, you begin to find him and simply sit near him. mirroring him. no big deal. instead of grooming him, you use the time to groom yourself. can't keep everyone else clean if you're grimy, after all.

he notices you and growls to warn you off again. you pretend not to hear.

he flicks his tail in irritation, considers cuffing you over the head to teach you a lesson, but you're too far away to reach without kicking his whole big self up into the water to move several feet. so he elects instead to turn over and ignore you. you keep this up for several days. you sit a little closer every time.

one day, you finish cleaning your own tail fin and casually begin to clean his. he growls. you pause. when he stops and does nothing further, you resume your work. he growls again, and you continue grooming him as if you don't hear him. he keeps growling, but once you begin to run your claws over a stubborn patch of skin to dislodge some stuck grit that's been bothering him, his growling fades into grumbling. and then silence. he lets you keep at it. victory.

this becomes a habit. you seek him out (never the other way around) and typically find him lazing on the floor of some cave or sunning in the reef's shallows. you set to work grooming him thoroughly. all business. he grumbles and growls occasionally when you move his arm or tug your fingers through his hair, but he never stops you.

one day, Soap comes looking for you and finds you in the middle of this little cleaning ritual. Soap nudges you away, insisting you instead let him chase you around the reef. but the moment your hands leave Ghost's rough skin and he hears you protest, he opens his eyes and snaps his teeth at Soap.

Soap pulls back (and so do you) until Ghost grasps your lil wrist and drags you back down wordlessly to where you were sitting and cleaning his shoulder.

Soap smirks at him. Ghost glares back.

"you got something to say, then say it."

"here i thought you were toleratin' it for her sake. seems i misjudged the situation."

"there is no situation."

"whatever you say."

Soap leaves with a flick of his tail. you're so pleased that, when you're finished grooming Ghost, you burrow yourself between his arms as he lays on his side. you nuzzle into his neck and bunt your head up against him, practically purring now that you know you've apparently won him over.

he grabs you, pretending to be disgruntled, but then instead of releasing you he crushes you against his chest again and settles in for a nap. no, you don't get to leave.

GAZ wonders what exactly is going on inside your head. it doesn't escape his notice that your """instincts""" seem to have you by the throat in this situation. but he suspects you're leaning a bit more into that whole brainless servant thing than you're letting on.

he's perfectly happy to let you groom him, flatter him, fetch him whatever baubles or snacks he'd like at the moment; he's perfectly polite to you, too. really likes it when you butter him up. tell him he's got the sharpest teeth and the strongest muscles and the fastest tail in the reef and he'll listen to you for hours, preening in the sunlight as you clean the grime off his fins.

plus, he praises you too, and you love that. that's why it takes you so long to notice he's watching you much more closely than anyone else is.

see, you've already disarmed Price. Soap sees you as a toy more than a fellow mer. Ghost cares more about finding the best places to lurk around than understanding the little mer that shares their reef now. it's fascinating--how you've successfully passed yourself off as a silly, stupid little fish. the more he watches you, analyzes you, the more he wonders what exactly you're getting out of this.

when you groom him each day, he asks you questions. casual ones. are you enjoying the reef? what games do you like to play? how fast can you swim? how many other mer have you met? are you eating enough? what's your favorite food?

it's enough to make you wary, but then, he seems harmless. you're honest with him. it pays off, because when you tell him how much you like the taste of those little brown seabirds that dip into the reef from time to time, you're shocked the next day to find one of those very seabirds sitting dead--neck cleanly snapped--just for you in the shallow alcove next to where Price sleeps (and you by extension).

you find Gaz that instant and insist it's too kind a gift; you can't accept it. what you can't tell him is that it's not a good idea for you to eat in front of them. you eat scraps, and you eat them where of them can see. that's the deal--obviously you do what you do for these four sharks in exchange for protection and ostensibly for food, but you need to avoid looking like you're taking more than your fair share. and to sharks, a species that is notoriously food-aggressive, your fair share must be vanishingly small.

he just smiles at you--so disarmingly that you flounder for a moment. somehow he convinces you to keep the kill.

he begins to turn up--looking amused but not surprised--when you steal scraps of food after the group has had its fill of a fresh kill. it makes you nervous for him to see you with food in hand (much less to watch you eat) but he scoffs at the idea of holding it against you. 

at some point, he begins to bring you fresh meat himself. this is-- it's unacceptable. you're supposed to be the one working while he rests. he's not allowed to give you that kind of comfort. if you're not earning your keep, after all, you don't have a place here. you push his gifts away, busying yourself with some other task. he insists. you decline.

"you're refusing me?" he asks, feigning surprise. "i thought that went against your instincts."

you fluster, ruffling up in what he assumes is a pout. he's trapped you in a catch-22. ultimately, you have to accept the stupid meat-gift because it's what he wants. you find this makes you more irritable than it should. he smirks at you, which serves to irritate you more.

he pulls you into his lap as you eat. and he thinks it's so cute the way you scowl the whole time.

from then on, whenever you act a little too stupid for his liking, he pries and pokes and prods until he draws out that other, haughtier side of you. he has a knack for frustrating you. he loves to sass you, and when you finally drop the act and sass him back, he falls a little bit more in love with you every time.

...

more mer au / masterlist tag

[thewriterg]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.3

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; You’re shot and not healing, what could be worse? Everything

word count; 3.8k | chasin’ chaos masterlist

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n: First post of 2024 what the hell writers!? 🙈

The walk to the excile point was a surprisingly smooth one, even if it felt like you were walking through hells trenches. The grim reaper himself strides beside you even though your footsteps aren’t matching his. They’re a bit… delayed, the thought that makes you want to trip. Fortunately, it’s nothing too drastic to actually make you stumble. God you hated Americans, so trigger happy with not a lick of skill behind those damn fingers. How they contributed to win some of the largest wars ever recorded was beyond you. Continuing to let your unreliable footing carry you on your marry way, You and Ghost both lead your sergeants, while they in response lead your privates to your designated location.

Soap doesn’t even blink at the weight he had lugged on his back even though it was sure to bite him in the ass when he dialed back to his normal size. The small force of everyone is on guard until the very last moment where your all loading helis. Even then the Scott noted how the Wraith and Phoenix’s shoulders did not seem to drop, even though you were being confined into a temporary security until you could return to base. You, Gaz, Ghost, Price and Himself —along with two lower rank hybrids— load into one of the two aircraft’s waiting for you while the other privates have no choice but to load on the second.

You sit next to Gaz and Soap soon takes a seat next to you gleefully accepting the opportunity, a bit confused when Price seemingly turned his eyebrow up at the arrangement. His head slightly tilted when he noticed you don’t meet the captains gaze but the bucket hat wearing man doesn’t comment on it and neither does he. The ride from that point is smooth until about an hour in your pilot experiences turbulence, and suddenly Your head is spinning, your gums are itching as if you were a toddler teething. Everything is heightened, you can hear the blades of the heilo even through the density of you headphones, your eyes are sensitive to the faintest bit of the moonlight peaking through the windshield, and your body spiked in temperature, burning hot like hell. Your attempt to take a breath was useless when the potent scent of blood hits your nostrils. So sweet yet it felt like the peach fuzz in your nostrils burned and you groaned abruptly.

“You alright Lt? You dinnae look too we-”

“Which one of you is bleeding” You interrupt the Mohawk’ed sergeant with a hiss, placing a hand over your nose and curling over your knees. Heads snap to you like a mouse in a trap and Price is up out of his seat before anyone push the weight on their knees to stand. The brunette kneels in front of you, you’re not looking at him but he can see your eyes are dilated theirs faint veins trailing under your eyes that look like they want to spur from beneath your skin. You irises are layered with a foggy film and you look so far away it could’ve broken the captains heart, but he had to be your superior before he could be your comforter and he was sure you could handle it.

“Hey, Hey! What’s goin’ on? Look at me! What’s happe-?” It happened to quick to process, in the bat of an eye the Scott would say. One moment you’re looking distant and far away in your seat and the other you have one of your privates Tank against the cold steel wall of the heilo with that certain look in your eyes. You see it a few times in his line of work.

Bloodlust,

Fangs sprout from the roots of your gums, deep dark red veins swarm under your eyes, your pupils have taken over the whites of your eyes, and you are not yourself to say the least. In quick action Gaz squawks —even though it’s more like a screech— it put you down to your knees while you hands clutch your head mouth open in a small ‘o’ with a silent scream ghosting from your lips. It throws you off for a minute, but it’s not a minute long enough. You adjust quickly and with the same speed you pinned down the raven haired private you do the same to the rich skinned Sargent, a hand wrapped around his throat effectively stopping is antagonizing screeching. You bare your fangs at him with a hiss and he nods with a groan on his lips.

“I get it Lt, n-no more screeching… you g-got it”

Before you could do anymore damage your soon the one groaning when that scent takes over your senses again. When you turn to the source in your somewhat unconscious mind your realize it wasn’t your original subject, the scent was much more… potent

“This what you want? Come ‘ere, take what you want” Ghost’s gruff voice rings over your ears as he stands tall, combat knife in his right hand his opposite palm sliced open blood dripping like water from the tap. You didn’t quite lunge at the blonde but you weren’t gentle either. It was different… you were rigid as your fangs pierced his jugular taking exactly what you wanted with a hand wrapped around the front shoulder covering of his bullet proof vest. Soon however, you’re groaning into the surface of his skin ready to pull away when your frame was restrained against the wraiths keeping you in place. Your senses are be ridden into overdrive, grunting in protest against the lieutenant struggling inevitably. Shadows slither up your body effectively keeping you still and you’re weaker than ever —it concerns the Brit to no end— effectively out like a light, dead weight pressing against the front of Ghost’s torso. that he takes willingly. The chopper is finally quiet, seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours. The captain and —conscious— lieutenant are the first to move, the skull masked soldier sits with your unconscious body in his lap. He swings your legs over his knees and holds your shoulders and in his arm supporting the weight.

Price examines your flesh, nothing alarming to the eye until he gets to the ending of your collarbone and beginning of your shoulder blade. It was barely noticeable to the eye with your all black gear a hole is punctured through your shirt —the fabric saturated with blood— just where your bulletproof vest stops.

“Gaz. Bullet wound, collarbone to shoulder area, ammo unknown, no exit.” The brunette calls out to the sergeant and he notes it immediately, going up to the pilots cavity to grab first aid coming back a practical second later. He hands his captain; gauze, scissors, forceps, tape, and medical wrap. Not nearly enough to give you a beginning of a processable recovery but, it’s something to keep you stable and sterilized. Price takes the shears cutting a big enough square in the fabric of your shirt for him to see with the shitty helo lighting. With enough gauze to clear out a cotton field the bleeding is finally stopped. What stands out the most however is your veins, different shades of black and gray spreading from the wounds up your neck and down your arm. Price curses gruffly, Ghost grunts in disdain, while Gaz catches a gasp in his throat and holds it there. Without another word and with a steady hand the dragon goes in with the tweezers fishing about for the stray bullet wearily when you twitch, ignoring how his lieutenant tightens his hold around you. Soon enough without hitting a nerve he pulls out a bullet its black resembling the color spreading abnormally through your veins.

“Never seen anything like it Cap” The brown eyed sergeant murmurs analyzing the bullet while the older brunette begins to patch you up good enough to where you aren’t bleeding out.

“Somethin’ illegal i'm pretty sure, Americans and Russians in wits with one another? Can’t be arsed to think about it” Their captain is cold, no humor in his voice to spare. Soap perks up at it having been waved away throughout the whole process of it all, ‘safety percussion’ the harpy tried to mutter to him softly even though it came off as passive and off putting the Scott got the message. With a knee bouncing in uncertainty the Scott tries his best to see through the gap of two fit frames that are practically shoulder to shoulder, begging to see anything —straining his eyes in the process— but in the end he wished he didn’t.

“Is she still breathing!? Check ‘er pulse how many beats per minute?”

“Mactavi-” The lieutenant begins with a hiss

“Those types of bullets mark hybrids for death, big ones, powerful ones, like us… like her. Wolves, dragons, sirens, cockatrice, harpies, hellhounds, cyclops, every big shot in the books. I don’t know how the ‘ell her heart hasn’t stopped”

“125 beats per minute Cap, her heart isn’t slowing it’s… going into overdrive” Gaz’s brows furrow at the words slipping from his lips as if it wasn’t his own recognition, as if he were learning it for the first time. Price curses moving towards the captain's cavity taking a hold of the mic that connected to his coms that ranged to base, speaking hardened than the brunette ever heard

“This is Bravo six, I want nurses on scene upon my arrival landing time ASAP. I have a member down… if I don’t see medical you won’t see a day of rest, private.” His voice fades out into the front of the helo with thundering steps that demand attention. Gaz kept a pointer and middle finger on your pulse point still counting the beasts as minutes pass, Soap felt short of helpfully useless, and when Ghost finally speaks up his voice is directed and sharp. Looking forward the two lower ranked hybrids one is checking over the other and they both look at him with attentive eyes

“What the hell happened in that building”

💌💌💌💌

“-nd she saved me” Your head is ringing and you can’t find it in you to peel your eyes open. The feeling of being heavily sedated yet pumped full of adrenaline at the same time, it felt so close to suffocation your body forces Itself into fight or flight. You're strapped to an average hospital bed with steel restraints, the cold metal on your hot skin not soothing you whatsoever. When your eyes peel open you eyes your vision is blurry you only make out blobbed figures until blinking a few times. A bright light is being shined in your face and you bare fangs at the person behind it.

“Stitch! Are you trying to lose a limb!? Back off!” The doctor barks at the dirty blonde nurse who flinches double, scrambling to get away from your bedside and out of her superiors way. Kyle is holding your hand at your right not caring if you’d scold him for being so worried all the time, Simon sits in a corner where he can see everything the medical team dies to you while also seeing who comes in and out of the door, John hovers reluctant with all medical staff —with that my team my concern mindset—, while Johnny stands beside Tank and Red near the door as they give the nurses their rundowns. You go to open your mouth only to be met with your vocal cords screaming at you in protest. The inability to speak makes you you groan that sounds more like a whine of a kicked puppy than anything

“I apologize, lieutenant. We believe it’s a side effect of the gunpowder in your bloodstream and we’re flushing you out as quickly as possibl-”

“Are there any updates to the status reports I requested?” You would have usually made fun of the dragons unusual impatience if you were in the comfort of his office; however you're in this cold, stale room that smells of too much bleach.

“Yes captain, the bullet is in fact meant to kill stronger hybrids. Once the hybrids are pierced with it there’s really no return for them, the gunpowder runs through the stream they become lucid quickly and all docile tendencies are forgotten. However, we suspect that that particular outburst from lieutenant y/l/n will be her only one because we’ve nailed down where it came from. We played around with time frames that lined up the best. You were shot and just before the ammo could burst with its gunpowder and spread the toxins through your stream you had fed blood to your lowerank to heal him.” The doctor cleared her throat before giving the room a much wanted update of your condition

“That doesn’t explain why she dropped ‘im like an old toy when Ghost’s blood was introduced.” Price spoke up too many gaps were missing for the brunette's taste as he ran a few fingertips through his short salt and pepper beard.

“I didn’t think such a… uncomfortable topic should be discussed as of right now” At the sound of reasoning Simon moves to stand messy bandaging over the he cuts having waved away the nurses who’d tried to attend to him —a little papercut shouldn’t not taken their attention off of you—. The room seemed significantly smaller when the lieutenant stood

“If opposing threats tread with those bullets we need to know everything about them. Nothing in this line of work is comfortable” His voice screamed demanding; demanding of attention, demanding of response, demanding of results. The middle aged woman visibly swallowed before speaking with a voice filled with discontent.

“With previous blood work of you three well, you all line back to lieutenant Y/l/n, or more precisely she lines back to you” Soaps ears perk up and so did his tail, fur rigid against the skin of it. He wants the brightest apple but he wasn’t the dullest pen either. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together but it sounded so off putting. You fed from them? He’d been around vampires before and you did show qualities of one, the fangs, the pitch black eyes when you fed, it was evidence and it was there… but you didn’t smell like one and seemed to have not even the slightest sensitivity to the sun. The mystery of it all killed him

If you weren’t a hybrid what the hell were you?

“Us, but it doesn’t make sense. She had me there could’ve bit into me” Gaz finishes for the medical agent brows furrowed once again the skin between them creased. The doctor nods while prying on a pair of blue latex gloves

“Doctors from both sides of base have been working on it for now, we believe it’s because you weren’t bleeding. It wasn’t potent enough for her to take interest in it. Our second guess? She was attracted to what or who she got done with last.” The room was silent, one heavy fog was replaced with another. No one speaks of what’s been revealed however you’re onto the next topic before you can dwell on it. The head doctor approaches you slowly, as if you were a skittish cat in the wild.

“I’m just gonna draw a little blood from you to run a few tests, make sure we didn’t miss anything.” You blink at her with sharp eyes and tense muscles when you see the size of the needle, not too much length enough to prick a vein the girth however made your hand twitch in Gaz’s palm. It even made the Scott want to tuck his tail with a wince.

“Hey. You’re alright, you’re fine, you hear me? You’re alright” Ghost had stepped up beside Price to your temporary bed, the heart monitor spikes and before you know it the needle is in your shoulder —meer meters away from the bullet wound that was mending itself at an inhuman speed—. You hiss jerking it away but the doctor is a good one and follows your quick motions successfully. Collecting enough blood in the clear syringe to send off to the labs. She quickly bandages your wound back confident, but not ignorant enough to linger around an upset hybrid.

“Test results should be back as soon as possible, in the meantime while lieutenant Y/l/n flushes the toxins out of her body the side effects of the bullet are still possible until further notice.”

“Which are?” The harpy huffs temper running unusually short, palm gripping your closed fist tighter —not enough to hurt but enough to notice a difference— a lick of tired at the woman’s shirt answers.

“Anything from spikes of heart rate, cold sweats, immense… hunger and most of all intense hallucinations. We think by the time her voice has returned most of the threat should be absent. All we can do is let it run its course, I’m sorry.” The brunette discards of her gloves and leaves the room idle. As much as you try to stay away your eyes droop low and are soon closed tight

💌💌💌💌

Soap sits next to your bedside, warm cup of coffee in hand, his eyes straining to look at the small tv mounted on the wall even though he wasn’t actively watching it. He had finally got Ghost to stretch his legs and go take a shower after three days of nothing but cold sweats and spikes of heart rate from you he decided his —other— lieutenant's heart needed a break. After much pestering, convincing, promising to stick by your side, and a little threat that summed up he wouldn’t think you would like to hear about him rotting next to your bedside the wraith finally took a leave after 72 hours.

“Kyle,” The Scott thought he was just imagining things at first or that it came from the Tv but as he stares at you for a while he realizes it was simply not true. He stared at your face for a while until you’re mumbling again and it pangs his chest a little. He didn't know any of you that well —didn’t know anyone except Price and Gaz really— but he still cared nonetheless it was in his nature.

“Simon, dont.” You’re starting to sweat again and your heart monitor is starting to beep. The werewolf moves to stand ringing for a nurse when it seems to get worse, your body is jerking and you keep mumbling in distress.

💌💌💌💌

You're walking up the stairs of some abandoned building, it's eerily chilly and there's really no light except for the dim overhead light on each floor you pass by that continues to flicker. The stairs and walls are concrete to match the walls and floors, you have your rifle pressed against you sweeping each floor swiftly with precision it could almost feel... normal. You reach the fifth floor and there's a stagger in your step. All of your privates lay dead in pools of their own blood like stuck pigs, hybrids and normals alike lie dead. After a spare moment you continue on to finish your mission as you were ordered to, as you were required to. The next floors to come are still filled with dead privates none lie peacefully, all gone in agony, too soon, you could read the tombstones now.

Your boots march almost rhythmically up three more floors and as they go by you are more and more desensitized to the bodies that sprawled the floor. You make it to the final story of the building and there's a door staring back at you, almost challenging you to open it and you take the duel with not the slightest bit of shake in your hand. The door opened with a loud whine at the unusual action and your riffle drops from your arms at the sight behind it.

You see your captain first, bucket hat that you always made fun of inches away from his body. His right horn that sits atop of his head looks damaged beyond repair and his neck is sliced open from ear to ear. Your breath is trapped in your throat and your body doesn't allow you to move. Your mentor, the reason you are where you are, your sacred captain, lies sliced like a sacrificial lamb. Your eyes trail away from the brunette's cold body and you wish they didn't, there lies your sergeant. One of the two full broad wings adorned with brown feathers are gone, singed away. Your sweet brown eyed boy stares at you voidly. There's no crease of his eyes to let you know he's smiling, no brightness to alert you of life, and the look of adoration he always gave you in particular that was taken for granted forever absent. You cradle his bruised face in your palm and this time you can't stop your tears from running downstream on your face.

"Kyle," Your voice cracks at the slightest utter of his name. You don't think you can say anything else or it'll mean it's true, it'll mean your captain and your sergeant are dead. You reluctantly stand a silent promise to come back to them both and make your way further in the room. You can see the back of a balaclava staring back at you and it helps you breathe better. You approach him with his callsign spilling from your lips. He looked to be hacking intel, just like your mission called for. You approach him putting a palm on his shoulder just for his head to fall limp and you could almost laugh. This had to be some cruel, sick, twisted, joke that should end any second now. It doesn't.

"Si get up right now, get the fuck up! GET UP SIMON!" Your body is trembling as you roughly shake his body, there's no response that comes from it hazel eyes rolled deep into the back of his head and you don't know which hurts worse. Your stomach churns when you gently lift the mask off his face to see toxins spreading through his veins up his neck. The best soldier, the strongest man you’ve met, your one and only, was dead.

💌💌💌💌

Put blood, sweat, and tears into this chapter because you guys deserve it

if you voted on my poll from the last chapter then you could see I used all prompts in this chapter except for one which we’ll deep dive into another day🤗

some have asked for a taglist so comment to be added

I hope you guys are having a wonderful year so far I love you and thank you for everything! -G

[bonkalore]

This is older now from last year at some point, but I didn't post!! I still have been figuring out their tournament uniforms, but these are the general designs I've been going with for now where they can customize the accent colors at least. Jayce and Lucy are NOT friends at this point really, let alone romantically involved, but he still has been crushing a bit on Lucy and is misinterpreting her waving at Cyprus as her waving at him and now he feels like a dumbass, womp.

I hadn't shared any size comparison of Cyprus, but just want you all to know he is about 9ft tall lmao. And also can form legs! Merpeople are able to do this, but it's sort of a skill to hone, and most don't see the point bc they don't really likely interacting with the surface. But he's an ambassador and it's kind of part of his job, so he's pretty used to it personally.

[rs-hawk]

If you want to help support me while I'm on this little LOA from Tumblr, go read my queer asf werewolf romance smut book here. It's $5 a month but it's early access to what I'm planning on having my full length debut novel be on KDP in September. Here's a fun smut excerpt to wet your whistle for it:

“So decline her rejection,” Dante demanded, his voice low as he looked over me. “Or I say we both make sure her heat is subdued.”

My cheeks burned at the proposition, but I couldn’t deny that since both of them were extremely attractive, I wouldn’t be opposed. After all, if I was going to end up with one of them, what would be the harm in having them both at least once?

“I’m not doing that until I know she is with me for more than the mate bond, but I don't have to explain myself to you,” Cyrus growled, his upper lip curling in disgust and irritation as he eyed Dante. Yet, when his eyes slid over to me, they softened.

“If she was to choose you after this, wouldn't that prove that it's more than the mate bond? Otherwise she could just as easily have chosen me,” Dante pointed out.

Before I could form a response, or even think of one through the fog in my brain, he closed the gap between us, wrapping his arms around me. Dante kissed me softly, sliding my dress off my body. I whimpered at the feeling of his rough hands on my skin, but just as I was about to pull away, I felt Cyrus's lips on my neck. I couldn’t hold back a moan, “Cyrus,” I sighed, reaching up to grip his hair. Dante let me go as Cyrus led me back to the bed. While Dante began getting undressed, I noticed the scars on his chest. He had had top surgery. That was rare among werewolves since we could still mate in our wolf forms if needed. Of course, I wasn't going to complain as the result was a man that humans would think of as the embodiment of a Greek God standing before me. I already knew based on the outline in his boxers that he had had bottom surgery, or had consulted with a witch or other magic user on a transmutation potion. It would be a lie to say that that wasn't making me tremble with excitement and anticipation.

Cyrus gave my shoulders a light push so I would lay down on the bed. He crawled on top of me, going back to the hungry kisses from earlier. I responded in like, wrapping my arms around his neck to bring him closer to me, and my legs loosely around his waist. The bed dipped as Dante joined us, and I felt his strong hands pull my legs from Cyrus. He ran a thumb over the small strip of cloth between my legs that was soaked by now. Teasingly, he pushed it to the side after lightly running his thumb over it. I gasped against Cyrus's lips at the penetration when Dante finally slid a finger inside of me. Dante chuckled as Cyrus pulled away to kiss my neck, his teeth grazing my Marking spot possessively. He slid off of me, on his knees on the side of me as he bent over, taking one breast into his mouth and teasing the other nipple with his hands. I was moaning, squeezing my eyes shut from the pleasure of that paired with Dante's rhythmic pumping of his finger into me. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to keep some symbolic of control.

"No,” Cyrus said as he took my hand from my mouth, forcing me to let out a whimper. “I want to hear you.”

This is of course a work in progress and that means that some things are bound to change before the novel actually debuts, but if you'd like to read where it's at now, come on down to my Ko-fi!

[tee-hee-heidi]

oh my god I've loved your art for ages and I just realized that you follow me, I'm all flustered now I can't believe talented people follow me back sometimes. Anyways, just wanted to pop by and say I love all of your stuff, especially your mythical lovers stuff and I think you're incredibly talented and a wonderful artist

SDDFGDGJSDHFG???? Oh my god same tho??? You’re such a cool writer, The witch’s apprentice hooked me right away and I was so excited when you followed me!?!?! The jackalope girls was adorable, I’ve wanted to make some fanart of her but I was too shy to ask lol. I’m so excited to see where your other stories will end up.

Also have this! The blorbos

[meancaroline]

Tinsel & Tentacles, by Kate McDarris

Ratings:

GoodReads Rating: 3.93 ⭐️

My Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Spice: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Purchasing:

On Kindle Unlimited?: Yes

Kindle E-book: $3.99

Paperback: $6.99

Review:

Barney Myles is a rockstar with a secret. A secret that has been accidentally revealed to Marci, his manager, and Ryder, his bodyguard. The two decide not to confront him about it; he has to preform later that day! But Barney can see that the two are acting strange...and suspects they (finally) hooked up. A thought that fills him with more dread than the joy he should feel for them.

Marci and Ryder, for their part, want to talk to Barney about his extra appendages, but are more concerned with making sure he's able to see the Rockefeller Christmas Tree before his show in the Garden later that night. They'd do anything to make him happy...even if it adds some stress to Ryder's job.

Will Marci and Ryder get Barney to the concert on time? And if they do, will their 3 way devotion survive a talk about tentacles? Or will this be the last Christmas Barney gives anyone his heart?

This is a tried and true story of tentacle sex. Though they are not prominent for a good portion of the book, once they are necessary they do not go away until all parties are satisfied with the performance. If you like stories with tentacle sex, you will not be disappointed!

But more importantly: this story is so cute! Marci, Ryder, and Barney are absolutely adorable together and their actions together add just the right amount of holiday flair to pump that Christmas spirit directly into your veins.

If you want a cute story stuffed with Christmas cuteness and spice that'll get you added to the naughty list, this book is for you!

Originally posted on Lemon8 12/13/2023

[eruden-writes]

Dark Reveries blurb - 3rd Person Version

If you want to read the full Part 1 of Dark Reveries, both 2nd and 3rd person versions are available on my Patreon!

Please comment, reblog, like, and share! Let me know what you like or what you want to see more of.

Your feedback gives me motivation to write and get new chapters out quicker.

Plus sharing my work means getting more eyes on it!

*★,°*:.☆*.°★* 。

A few years out of a bad relationship, Elsie finally found herself ready to embark on the next step of her self-discovery: Sexual Satisfaction. And there was just a place to do that!

Within the walls of Reveries, an adult amusement park tailored for lascivious fantasies, there's another area: Dark Reveries, where the more eyebrow-raising encounters lay.

However, when a co-worker stumbles upon Elsie after one of her Dark Reveries scenes, they strip away all the confidence and safety she had taken years to rebuild. In an effort to live up to their "patron safety is our #1 concern" claim, Reveries offers to give Elsie a safe place to stay.

That place just happens to be a large house, home to a number of the Reveries' non-human employees she has played with in the past. Along with some new faces.

Traversing the awkward waters of living with sex workers she solicited service from, and struggling to reclaim that which was taken from her again, Elsie strives to find a comfortable place among her new roommates. Until it is time for her to leave, of course.

[yjhgvf]

In light of recent events, Blaze is now an aroace agender person who uses he/she/they pronouns. Their plot armor is so strong and powerful, romance and gender are simply concepts beneath her.

For every complaint, I'll add one (1) neopronoun to the pronouns he uses.

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a lady?? Hello?? 👁👄👁

This is my poly story set in the 17th century smuggling heyday of Cornwall that got way out of hand. It was supposed to be a sweet, short story with a selkie, a bucca (sea spirit), and a young woman, and it just... went berserk and turned into a 17k word story...

Here's the very much WIP opening of it though, and a much longer extract of the two male love interests...

___

In the cold blue light of a spring dawn, hours before the first cockerel on land had even thought of announcing the start of the day, a cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide and dropped anchor. In answer, a small, mismatched fleet of fishing boats set oar to water and moved out as one towards the waiting ship from Roscoff.

Between them, over the next few hours, the gathered men and women moved hundreds of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. This shipment of relatively small kegs were full of rich French cognac that would fetch a very pretty price, but along with it came tobacco and spiced tea, wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the weather out, and a few cases of other, smaller luxuries like lace.

Flaskers waited ashore to heave two of the four-gallon barrels up the clamber from sand to hilltop with a keg affixed to the front and back of one shoulder while women carried boxes of tobacco and other smuggled goods until the ship rode high in the water and the locals had scurried away like ants with their haul.

Fifteen miles away as the sun breached the horizon and cast the first rays of warmth across the hedgerows and pastures, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westward along potholed roads, carrying a nervous young woman to a new chapter of her life.

...

The storm had blasted away the muggy heat from the day before to leave a clear, fresh day and a blue sky. Just as she crested the clifftop at Rocky Point near an old stone cottage, and joined the path that ran the length of Cornwall from Landsend to Looe, she happened to glance down into the sandy cove below and gasped. There floating in the water, was the unmistakable shape of a man. He was face-up, and even at that distance, she thought he looked familiar.

Nel leapt off Blackthorn’s back, having no choice but to leave the mare untethered up on the windy cliff, and she skittered down the tiny, winding path towards the rocky shore below. A number of times she slipped and skidded on the loose grit, but eventually she hit the hard sand at a run and ploughed into the rough surf. It was Edmund Nancarrow, she realised as a wave hit her in the midsection and nearly swept her off her feet.

He had a wound on his forehead, though it had long since stopped bleeding, washed clean by the saltwater. His hair was loose and streamed like kelp around him as she hooked her arms under his and towed him towards the shore. She had no idea whether the tide was coming or going, but she dragged him as far as she could up the length of the beach until her arms were shaking from the strain of it, hauling him past the line of seaweed that indicated a normal high tide line, and carefully lowered him onto the sand.

Her chest burned and her limbs felt like lead, her clothing weighing her down like a ten tonne anchor, and she crashed to her knees on the wet sand beside him. Terrified that he would be dead, she pressed her fingertips to his pulse, and almost leapt back when she felt a steady, if slow, beat beneath his skin. “He’s alive…” she whispered, throat raw from catching a salt-wave straight to her face.

Breathing quickly, she looked about her and then up at the path. There was no way she could get him up there on her own, but as a drift of smoke wafted across the sky from the high horizon, she recalled the stone cottage. If memory served her, that was Locryn Trevethan’s home.

“Any port in a storm,” she mused with a wry, dark grimace to herself, and she staggered to her feet. Her skirts were soaked and heavy beyond belief, and she lost count of the number of times she tripped over them on the narrow, twisting path up the cliff. She had to stop twice just to catch her breath, and by the time she had scrabbled to the top of the path again she was dirty, sweaty, and covered in grit. Finally, she staggered over the rough ground at the top of the cliff and stood on the flagstone threshold of the quiet cottage. Hammering on the door felt like sacrilege to the peaceful place but she had little choice, and there was every chance that Edmund had little time, so she bashed her scuffed and bleeding fists on the door and yelled for help until it opened.

“Calm down, calm down,” a deep, gravelly voice rumbled as Locryn Trevethan pulled open the door to his house. “What in the —?”

“I need your help,” she said. “It’s Edmund. He’s hurt.”

At that, the snarling, unfriendly man’s face blanched and his expression showed open fear. “Where, lass?”

“On the beach,” she said and pointed. “He was floating face-up in the surf. I dragged him up the sand but I can’t get him up the cliff. He’s suffered a blow to the head, but he’s alive. Just.”

Ashen-faced, Locryn charged through the doorway like a winter storm, almost knocking her heedlessly off her feet as he passed, and in half the time it had taken her to reach the bottom, the stocky, older man was sprinting over the sand to where she’d left Edmund’s corpse-still body.

For a while, she watched from the clifftop as Locryn pumped his chest in a rhythmic motion, and when Edmund jerked and half-rolled sideways, Nel relaxed a fraction. A few minutes later, Locryn had scooped Edmund up and was marching back up the path again with him lying in his arms like a bride on her wedding day. Except Edmund looked pale to the point of death, and he was soaked through. He wore simple brown trousers and a linen shirt that stuck to every sharp angle of his skinny torso, and his head lolled in Locryn’s arms, hair dangling and dripping.

“Move,” Locryn growled as he reached the top of the path and found her half-blocking his way in her shock as she just stared at them and tried to stop shivering. The wind bit through her wet clothes as they clung horribly to her body. She skittered sideways and let him pass. He didn’t stop as he elbowed his front door open again and trudged in, heedless of the sand he tracked in from his boots.

Nel hung back awkwardly in the doorway, watching as Locryn laid Edmund down on top of his covers and inspected the wound in his hairline. “Can you hear me?” she heard him rumble and watched as Edmund’s eyelids flickered.

“My mare is a little way off,” she said. “I can ride for a doctor if —”

“No,” Locryn barked, straightening from his stoop over the bed to glare at her. “No need.”

“You’re sure?”

He lifted his lip at her and she held up her scraped palms.

“I’m only trying to help,” she said, fighting off tears of shock more than anything else. She hugged her arms around her middle to stop herself falling apart in front of the gruff stranger, and she sucked her cheek to keep from crying.

At that, Locryn’s whole demeanour changed. His massive shoulders sagged and he let his head hang. “I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. Come here then. Draw up a chair and hold his head while I try and get him to drink something. He’ll be alright.”

___

Hope you liked it!!

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

im not sure what it ia, but i LOVE the little remora. i love it i love it i lvoe it

it makes me insane id love to groom ghosts scales, and everyone elses scales. i want to clean soap up, even if he see's poor ol remora as a toy to play with, i just wanna scrub them all up!

(i love this already. i love mer's)

the more shark mer Ghost pushes you away the more you wanna take care of him so so bad <3

you find yourself pouting a lot at Ghost’s surly attitude, darting up and down his big scarred body, as he tries to nap. tries to, but can’t.

it has nothing to do with you. he has these bouts of insomnia. but they make his temper real short.

regardless! you insist he needs to let you groom him. it’s been days. you get twitchy when he makes you skip your daily grooming with him. the rituals. the rituals are intricate.

“i’m trying to rest, you little pest,” he growls. "come back later. or not at all."

you tell him (tartly) that he said that yesterday and the day before.

“i meant it then and i mean it now. go away before i decide to chase you off.”

like he would. he hardly exists during the day as anything but a grumpy seafloor log. you swear you’ve seen bottom-feeders start nibbling on him he’s so inert.

(nibbling on him is your job.)

you settle down on the sand next to him on your stomach. you don't touch him yet, but he's just within reach. you stare at his pale, scarred sharkshin with bright eyes, practically vibrating in place.

he can feel your eyes on him. worse—he can feel the impatient flicking of your tail fin agitating the water as you stare at him. how can such a small creature be so terribly full of want, he wonders. your anxious energy is like too much salt in his gills.

“i will bite you," he warns. “i’m not in the mood.”

rationally, you know he doesn't like to be touched sometimes, no matter how you insist he'll feel better once he's clean. and still your anxious mind won't calm down until you're absolutely sure you've made yourself useful.

you lay your palms on the silt, fingers inching silently closer to him.

he growls, low and dangerous. the one that means he’s run out of patience and is about to make good on his threats.

you jolt and flatten yourself against the sand in instinctive submission. you’re not a threat, see? you’re harmless. you’re basically just a little piece of seaweed, c’mon.

your instant compliance does nothing to calm him. if anything, the sight of your immediate surrender drives him to double down.

he grabs you by the by the nape of your neck and lifts you up to eye level. “i warned you not to touch me.”

your stupid little heart leaps because all his attention is on you now. you want to wrap your hands around his eagerly, want to reach out and touch his chest. but you can only get close enough to skim his chest with your clawtips.

the sensation only makes him tense.

you quickly bring your hands in and wring them, trying to stop being a bother. "please can i—"

he glares down at you, teeth bared. “no,” he snaps. cold, firm, immediate.

but the more he tries to repel you, the more desperately you want to please him. to get back into his good graces. you feel every bit the creature full of anxiety and neuroses he thinks you are--always trying to figure out how to feel useful and stay on the other mers' good side.

he can see that in your eyes—the desperate need to be useful. it’s what he hates most about you. he can't stand how compliant you are at this moment. how desperate. how eager you are to please even after he's been nothing but cruel to you.

he squeezes you. your body thrums nervously in his grip.

“you little parasite. what part of ‘don’t touch me’ is so hard for you to understand?”

all of it. you stare up at him with big, blank eyes.

“you can't get the simplest instructions through your thick skull, can you?"

you shake your head (kind of, best you can) in his grip as a shameless display of agreement. he’s right, you’re stupid. so stupid.

Ghost scowls. eager, willing to degrade yourself at the smallest fucking thing.

"don't tell me you're getting off on this.”

okay! you won’t.

at that, you see the look in his eye shift from anger to something more devious. your response is so quick and willing that he can't help but smirk.

of course. of course you’d comply. no matter how hard he pushes, how cruel he is, you simply ask for worse. you're a little masochist. a nuisance. worse, you’re his nuisance. you insist on being around him, on seeking him out every bloody day.

he tolerates your presence. that's more than anyone else gets. and you take the precious little patience he gives you and wear it threadbare??

he can’t abide that. he can’t let your audacity go unchecked.

"look at you," he hisses. "eager to debase yourself at the first sign of anger. don't you think that's just pathetic?"

you nod enthusiastically.

mindless creature. willing to let him treat you any way he wants if it means attention. pitiful.

"say it," he growls.

you do. you happily tell him you’re pathetic.

“that you are. finally, something sensible out of that pretty mouth.”

you’re wired—fucking blitzed at the mere implication of good girl in his tone.

“and you're my little parasite. mine to do with as i please."

your whole body wants to curl in delight, your tail twisting like an eel in the sand below you as he eases you onto your back.

his eyes rake over you. you are the picture of obedience and submission, all pinned down and ready.

“look at you,” he rasps. “so desperate to please me. you’d do anything i tell you right now, yeah?”

yes. yes. anything.

he leans in and puts his mouth to your ear. "then let me sleep."

then he’s gone.

you lay in the sand in blank, sexually charged confusion.

by the time you slap your tail into the sand to twist yourself up into the water, half-flustered and hot-tempered, you see the ends of Ghost’s chewed-up tailfins disappear into his favorite dark cave.

before you can give chase, the familiar shape of Soap passes overhead, and he's chuckling as he dives down to you.

Soap’s grin widens as he watches your face cycle through frustration, confusion, and irritation.

you can’t believe Ghost would do that to you.

“of course he’d do it,” Soap says. he saw the whole thing.

you bluster and he coos a little teasing sympathy at you, ushering you up into his arms instead. poor wee cuttlefish, he calls you. lays it on thick because he knows you're looking for a place to expend all that pent up energy now.

he whisks you away somewhere more private so you can tend to him instead. groom him all you want. tell him your troubles. maybe let him make good use of your compliant nature. he tells you it’s a good way to make Ghost jealous.

meanwhile, Ghost is finally able to snooze contentedly, dreaming of you, maybe. he does owe you a little thanks for that small catharsis you gave him.

...

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag

[moe-machine]

🍓Hayes Levent  never thought would love anyone and now ended marrying two souls.

Look how happy they are eating his breakfast with Momochi and @homomobile9000. They look so comfy!

[realbacchus]

Going on a self discovery this year (accidentally keeping ao3 open and borrowing monster smut on a shared library card)

[tee-hee-heidi]

18 for the OTP challenge

Prómachos has never drunk a drop of wine in his life

I wanted to post it with a short story too but apparently the only way I can write is by doing it in Italian first and then translating so that’s gonna take double the time. Stay tuned eventually I swear I’ll do it curse of not being native English

[anthillbooks]

Jerrod is cute in a ‘he’s trying too hard’ way. I’m not throwing shade. I’m trying too hard as well, and it’s exhausting.

Mountain Menace

Entry 45

[cleeksfire]

I finished chapter one of Scarlet Hollow a couple days ago and its SO GOOD!! I couldn’t stop thinking about it over the holiday

i really want to research the thing you find in the woods bc ive never heard of them before but also i want to be surprised lol