#the surfer and the siren

[sirensparkles]

[solastalgiart]

☀️ spend a summer or a lifetime with me

find more of minchan (fanart, fics, edits, and more!) in the minchan digital zine vol. 2 💛

[carbon-cyanide]

Where the waves crash into the cliffs, and the sea dissolves into foamy dreams, that's where you can find me, underneath the sea ~

[mydearlybeloathed]

modern mermaids who have no clue what they are, no clue that ancient salt and stars run in their veins. they walk around on legs that feel a little too awkward to be theirs, never feeling at home in their skin.

modern mermaids who can hold their breath a little longer than anybody else, who feel more at home in the sea than in their bed. they see fish at the aquarium and feel a sense of kinship, longing, and the need to set them free.

modern mermaids whose family history is shrouded in mystery and secrets, and no one can really say where their ancestors once lived. there aren’t any photo albums. the dna test came back with some of the usual answers, along with a little bit of... dolphin. the scientists banned the sender from their website, not tolerating any pranks.

modern sirens who find it hard to keep from telling lies and spinning tales. who somehow always know a person's weak points and know just where to hit the right nerve.

modern sirens who are never alone. a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a partner, an accomplice. they travel in flocks. no one can ever find it in themselves to leave, not when they're being looked at like that.

modern sirens who feel akin to the birds in the sky, who wish to fly but can never get their feet off the ground. who often sit on the seashore and just stare at the surfers, knowing that one in particular is petrified of disappointing others. who knows that all it takes is one smile, and that surfer would walk right over and start up a conversation, unaware of the ancient talons luriing them closer.

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

𝔎𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔐𝔢 𝔄𝔴𝔞𝔨𝔢

Summary: Exhausted by the wild antics of the boys, you decide to have a night inside. You weren't really expecting for Paul and Marko insisting to join you, but perhaps, you should have expected what happens next.

Warnings: 18+ content MDI, fem reader, oral sex (f!receiving), threesome. Paul calls reader "mama" once, but it's in a casual way not the kinky kind. Paul has a praise kink. A dash of dom Marko. They're three all dating, so naturally a little m/m.

Notes: 7.9k words. Paul and Marko eat you out at the same time - that's really the plot. Divider by @sisterlucifergraphics. Not proofread.

For the first time in days, it's finally peaceful. Usually there's a constant barrage of noise echoing off of the walls of the cave: the chaotic hollers and yelps from the boys, the laughter and raised voices bouncing back and forth in a near constant stream of conversation, a pour of music rising from the boombox - and there is music playing right now, but fortunately, you had managed to convince Paul to play it at a more respectable level. 

He had initially pouted, groaning and grumbling under his breath as though you were torturing him. But he had relented anyway, tuning the vocals of Vince Neil down in a level that doesn't bounce from the stone in an ear-splitting current. You didn't miss the way he had glared at you from over his shoulder as he did it though, staring at you like you'd committed an unforgivable offence. Always such a drama queen. 

You would feel a little bad if he wasn't always charged at Mach speed anyway. It could do him some good to calm down and take things slow every once in a while, and honestly, you're exhausted. The boys are always set at a breakneck pace, regularly tearing they're way up the boardwalk or prowling over the beaches to race their bikes or to snatch up night surfers for a quick meal. There's always something with them. Parties out by the ocean or band performances by the boardwalk. 

You haven't had a peaceful night inside in forever. Even more, you haven't had any time with just the three of you in even longer. The group is constantly joined at the hip, as loyal and feral as pack of strays. Permanently banded together as though they're a single soul split into separate bodies. You admire the tenacity of their bond, how close they are, how they've remained together throughout all of the years they've been alive. But you also can't deny that you often wish that you could get Marko and Paul alone every once in a while. That it could just be the three of you instead of you having to share them with David and Dwayne, and even Santa Carla itself. 

As dramatic as it sounds, there are times where it seems as though the town is a mistress in its own right, constantly pulling your two boys from you with the temptation of excitement and blood. Luring them with the thrill of flashing lights and violence, and like sailors to a siren song they'd always obey the call. 

That's why it had shocked you a bit when they both had elected to join you in returning home after you were all done feeding. The buzz and exhilaration of the hunt had settled. The screams of the tourists having died out, the pitiful wet gurgles of their choking having faded once their hearts had finally stalled, rendered useless without the blood in their veins. Usually the boys are all hopped up after a successful feeding, determined to go out on the town and cause some kind of trouble on the energy induced by the highs they're all riding. 

But when you had announced that you were going to settle in for the night, it had completely surprised you when both Marko and Paul had stepped around the corpses littering the ground to join your side, Paul already reaching for your arm to tug you towards his bike. 

David and Dwayne had taken it in stride, relenting without any complaints or efforts to persuade them, wolf whistling and clapping with salacious smirks on their faces while Marko and Paul lead you back to the motorcycles that had all been parked behind the cover of a sand dune. The two of them of course responded in kind, returning the dirty grins with juvenile laughter. Paul couldn't have helped not to make some kind of obscene gesture, circling his pointer and thumb together to thrust a finger through it. That had earned him a slap to the chest but the demented cackle he had let out as he pulled you over to his bike let you know that he hadn't minded in the slightest. 

Despite all of the initial dirty jokes, the three of you had settled into a relaxed silence, simply basking in each other's company. Marko had occupied himself on the old, tattered couch tucked against the far wall of the cave. His coat is off, draped over his lap as he threads a new patch onto one of its sleeves. A badge depicting a demonic skull resembling the style of a traditional tattoo. He had torn it off of the jacket of his victim's body after he'd drained the man of his blood, smiling down at him while his chest had shaken in a death rattle, waving the patch in the air as though he was gloating over winning a trophy. 

He's always trying to add new pieces to his coat. It's become a wearable collage at this point, different materials and patches sewn onto it almost religiously. But as chaotic as it looks, there's a method to his madness and he's extremely picky with what actually makes it onto the jacket. He has an entire stack of them stored in a milk crate, the ones that weren't approved, collected over time. There's probably sixty years' worth of patches and scraps of fabric saved away in there. 

You've asked him to make additions to your jacket and that's almost turned out to be a mistake because somehow, he's even more of a perfectionist with yours, scouring over materials with a dedication that's a little concerning. You're pretty sure that he's started targeting people just based on the clothes and accessories they're wearing, all so that he can steal them from their corpses like some kind of demented racoon. 

You love watching him work. He always gets that concentrated furrow between his eyebrows, a studious crease pressing them close as he focuses on whatever has caught his attention with an iron focus. It doesn't matter what it is. If he's tuning up his bike or working on another painting, he tackles it with devoted levels of detail and attention that leaves you in awe. Even now, you can't help but to peer at him from over the edge of the book in your hands, staring past the yellowed, dog-eared pages to admire the way he scrutinizes the coat in his lap, threading another loop through the fabric with practiced fingers. 

He's always so pretty. So much so, that just the sight of him all the across the other side of the dilapidated space is enough to be a distraction. And it doesn't help that Paul has situated himself so close to you either. It didn't take him long to climb himself onto your bed, almost forcefully making room for himself on the old mattress so that he could flop his body beside you in an ungraceful heap. 

The unimpressed look you had given him was scathing, but he hadn't noticed it with the way that his focus had zeroed in on the random assortment of books scattered out across the bed. Paul isn't much of a reader at the best of times. The only thing that he's probably ever cracked open is a porn magazine - maybe a Rolling Stone issue if you're being generous. Getting him to stay still for more than fifteen minutes at a time is a feat all in itself, so it's more than a little surprising that he hasn't so much as twitched in the stretch of minutes that's passed by. 

Now that you think of it, he's been suspiciously quiet so far. It's a little disturbing. 

You pause in your reading again, losing your place for the second time tonight, but you can't help but to be a little curious. And just when you're about to glance over at him, you hear it. A light, almost deranged sounding giggle that pitches into the air before skipping into an unattractive snort. And then a voice is pitching up high, garish and mockingly feminine: "His manhood pulsed hotly in my hand, engorged and raging in his arousal and I couldn't help but to respond in kind, my breasts heaving as I drew in a shaking mewl. I've never done anything like this before, a sensible lady like me, but God, did I want him!" 

The expression that crosses your face is probably one of confusion, if not outright disgust, and your bewilderment has you all but dropping your book onto your lap as you pin him down with a stare. He doesn't spare you so much as a glance, too engrossed in whatever he's holding in his hands. It's then that you notice just what has caught his attention, and of course that's what he had gone for out of the entire pile spread out on the bed. 

Based on the art of the paperback cover displaying some windswept, longhaired heroine in a big, vintage dress and the shirtless, muscled up rogue who has her drawn into his arms, it's safe to say that it's some trashy bodice ripper. "Forbidden Destiny" the title declares in an elegant golden font.  

You completely forgot that you even grabbed it honestly. In the past month you've taken advantage of the little exchange box posted outside of the public library, showing up every few nights or so to see if anyone might have left something interesting. You don't have much luck most of the time. It's usually cookbooks and DIY guides that get left behind, but every once in a while, you strike gold and get a good horror novel. Maybe a fantasy story if you're fortunate enough. But this week - no such luck. 

It was desperation or maybe indifference when you had grabbed that bodice ripper. You didn't think much of it at all. To the point that you had forgotten it existed in the first place, but now you're actually regretting having brought it home. There's almost a twisted kind of glee on his face as he eagerly flips to the next page, eyes glittering in the amber glow of the candlelight, and it almost makes him look like some perverted creature. 

"I didn't know our girl was such a degenerate," he remarks, and the delight in his voice is more than apparent. Marko doesn't respond outright, but you hear him snicker quietly from his place on the couch, and it has Paul's smile growing even more. His eyebrows perk up like he's impressed. "Some of this shit is actually pretty graphic. 'His fingers traced my glistening petals, nudging like he might finally penetrate me, and I could not contain my moans any longer. i just wanted him to finally give me what I wanted - what we both wanted.' "

He finally takes his attention off of the pages, and now that it's on you, you can't help but to feel a little embarrassed. Heat flushes through you at the weight of his stare, self-consciousness prickling at your cheeks even though you know there really isn't reason to feel any shame at all. It's just some dumb book - one that you haven't even read. Not that it would really matter if you had. 

The lopsided grin that pulls at his lips is salacious. "You know, if you're trying to get off babe, all you have to do is ask." 

That has you rolling your eyes, something like a scoff huffing from your throat as you grip the now forgotten mystery novel in your hands a little tighter. "Yeah, cause if I need to get off that's definitely what I'd use." 

"There's no reason to lie," he teases, shuffling forward to sit up. "There ain't any shame in it. I am a little surprised about the pirate thing though, I didn't know Black Beard got you hot." 

You can't help but nudge yourself from where you've been reclined against the assortment of pillows, using the short burst of momentum to shove at him. It doesn't do anything other than make him laugh and raise an arm up in a weak defense against the persistent bat of your hand. He holds up the paperback up to his face, threading his thumb through the pages to mark his spot so that he can freely admire the cover. He tilts it to you then like he wants you to look, but the mischief in his expression lets you know that it's going to be nothing but more mockery before he can even speak. 

"Now that I'm looking, me and him kinda look alike." He waves the book a little like he's trying to bait a cat with a toy. You want to snatch it out of his hands, but you can tell that he's still too on guard, watching you out of his peripheral vision. 

You try to act nonchalant, relaxing your shoulders and feigning interest as you dare to creep closer, leaning in under the guise of scrutinizing the front of the novel. Even as you coast your vision over the book you can't deny that there is actually somewhat of a resemblance between him and the blonde love interest on the cover. It would be uncanny if the man depicted by saturated paint strokes looked just a few years younger and his hair was more stylized and less wavy. 

"Wow, you're right," you agree. You loll your head on your shoulder, gazing up at him from the corner of your eyes with an indifferent shrug. "His abs are better though." 

You wish you could have taken a picture of the expression on his face. His head jerks around in your direction so sharply that it's a wonder he doesn't sprain something; eyes wide as though you've slapped him. That's all the surprise you need to be able to snatch the book from his hands, tugging it out from his grip with a pleased smile despite the betrayal burning in his gaze. You don't hesitate when you hurtle the novel across the length of your bed, sending it clearing past the gauzy curtains enclosing the mattress to land somewhere on the other side of the cave with an echoing clatter. 

There's no time to gloat though because he's on you in a blur. Barreling you over with his weight to pin you down amongst the cushions and blankets. You can't help the squeal that escapes you, puffs of laughter bubbling from your lungs as he shoves his face into your neck like he might maul you. 

"Marko!" you call, nudging helplessly at Paul's chest while you try to peek past his shoulder, searching desperately for the other man across the room. "Help, he's gonna crush me." 

He hardly spares you more than a glance when he looks up from the coat he's still meticulously working on, completely unbothered by your current predicament, but the fires flickering around the dim of the cave seem to highlight the mirth reflecting in his eyes. They're both sadists. 

"You look like you have it handled," he answers. 

"Are you kidding me?" You snap, trying your best to contort your body out from beneath Paul, but his grip is like metal. Unwavering and heavy, shoving you down in place. "You're both assholes." 

"Hey, there's no reason to get mean," Paul chides. But there isn't any hurt in his voice, only that cocky edge that never fails to drive you up a wall whenever he's in the mood to taunt you. He nips at your neck like he's reprimanding you, but the dull sting only makes you squirm, hips twitching for an entirely different reason now. He pulls back from the junction of your shoulder. The grin that perks at his lips becomes just a little salacious, a familiar hunger flickering to life in the glint of his eyes.

"You're the one being mean, actually," you counter. "I was enjoying myself in peace and you had to go and ruin it." 

His face shifts into a pout. A display of false sympathy and guilt, but the smoky edge that his tone takes burns something hot along your spine. "My poor baby, how can I make it up to you?" 

It's embarrassing how easily he can flip a switch inside of you with nothing more than a simple look. It's even worse that you know he can tell; he can feel it in the way that your hips squirm a little, how your lungs inhale sharply to gulp down air that you don't need anymore - a useless reflex that only gives you away now. A slip in your poker face that you've been trying to train yourself out of but have been failing terrible at. Dwayne's told you that it's a good thing. It keeps the appearance of still being alive, of being human. A good camouflage while hunting or associating among people, but he doesn't have to two perverts trying to exploit his every movement. 

It's no secret that Marko's and Paul's appetites are a little robust. It's like they're constantly starved - for each other. For you. You don't think you've ever felt so wanted before. So loved and cherished. They treat you like you're vital, as necessary as the blood in their veins, like they could die if they go without your touch for too long. It always has fireworks sparking under your skin, affection and devotion blossoming in the center of your chest like the warmth of a summer sun. 

You crave them too, just as desperately. Sometimes it feels as though the strength of it could tear you apart. Heat coils inside of you, aching dully between your thighs. And he's determined to make it worse, leaning down to nip softly at your lips, drawing you into a slow, teasing kiss. It's easy to fall into it. You can keep your hands from reaching up to cradle to sides of his face, curling your fingers to scratch you nails through his hair in the way that he likes. 

He pulls away just enough to speak against your lips, pecking softly between his words as though he can't resist. "Let me kiss it better?" 

He watches you with so much intensity that it makes you feel entirely possessed. Tucked away and consumed by the weight of his stare. It's enough to have your body coming alive beneath him, nerves simmering and muscles pulling taut with anticipation. But just under all of it is some stubborn, invading layer of exhaustion, creeping in like a cold draft. You want him so badly that it's like you're choked by it, but it's unignorable that you're also just tired. 

You keep up with all of the boys and their whirlwind lifestyle fairly well. You can manage the insane pace they're always set at with just as much passion, but almost like clockwork, it does catch up to you. And you're long overdue for an uneventful night in. Just a moment to relax and exist without anything wild to fill the silence, like shrieks of terror or the metallic growl of motorcycle engines tearing up the beach. And sex with Paul is rarely ever soft or gentle. It's tongue and teeth, desperate hands, and scratches left behind on flesh from greedy claws. 

You love his passion. You adore how starved he is for you, and you know you'll never grow bored of it, but unfortunately your body likes to turn against you. Demanding peace over the raw desire aching in the base of your stomach. 

The smile you give him is mournful. You're a little disappointed with yourself, frustration prickling over your skin. There's a sigh in your voice when you speak, and you smooth your fingers along his nape in some kind of apology. "I'm sorry Paul, I'm just really tired tonight. I don't think I have it in me for anything crazy." 

A part of you inwardly cringes, half anticipating the sight of visible disappointment to cross his face. But you forget that this is Paul - your Paul, and his expression softens a little. Admiring you openly with the devotion of an acolyte appreciating their god. And yet something almost smug makes its way into his eyes, glinting and cocky while he smiles as though you've stroked his ego somehow. "Have we been wearing you out, mama?" 

Of course that's where his mind goes. But it doesn't annoy you at all. It only has a small laugh leaving you, your chest puffing with an amused breath while you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him again. 

"Need to relax a little, hmn?" He hums quietly, nudging his nose on yours to draw your attention fully back onto him. He smooths a hand over your hip, sweeping his fingers down to toy with the edge of your sleep shorts, stroking in gentle caresses that leave warmth behind in their wake. "Let me help you out then -" he places another kiss to your lips - "you just gotta lay here and look pretty. Let me do all the work." 

He's already scooting down, almost absentmindedly shoving some of books over the side of the bed as he makes his descent. Slipping slow over your body to trail the shape of his mouth over you. Skimming them over the material of your old T shirt to brush them over the swell of your breasts. He nuzzles at your chest, peeking up at you just as he sticks his tongue out at one of your nipples through the barrier of your top, tracing it in a tight circle before taking it fully into his mouth.  It has your back arching, body contorting to press yourself deeper into the press of his tongue. You can feel the edge of his teeth close over your nipple, dulled only a little by the thin fabric of your shirt, but it hardly does anything to lessen the sting. You can't find any desire to complain or object. The weariness that's haunted you all day is still there, but it's muted, watered down by the heat flowing through your limbs. 

That silent question is still there in his eyes, hanging over the both of you while he removes himself from your breast to trail down to your sternum. The old you would feel a little guilty, letting him take over without really getting anything in return, but you know Paul well enough to know that he'll always jump at the opportunity to eat you out. You don't think you've ever met a guy as eager as him to go down on someone. When you'd first met him, you had imagined that he would be the exact opposite. The kind of guy to drag someone into a dirty bathroom for some quick head only to leave after he's gotten off, but you couldn't have been further from the truth. 

It's like he's always anxious to have either you or Marko in his mouth. He would spend hours down between your thighs if you let him. And sometimes you have, the minutes blurring into hours until you're sure that the sun is bleeding over the ocean outside in gold and blush, until your body has gone pliant and useless. The promise of that has you nodding, reaching down to your hips to try and tug down your shorts, but his hands stop you, slipping over yours to pry the waistband from your fingers to take them into his own. 

His tongue lashes over your lower stomach, just above your shorts as he shifts them down over the shape of your hips. You lift your waist as best as you can, helping him in moving the clothing down over your thighs and past the length of your legs. He throws them to the side carelessly, the billowing curtains blocking off your bed are the only thing that keeps them from flying past the edge and onto the dusty stone floor below. 

"No panties?" he teases, looking up at you from his place between your thighs, settling himself until his stomach is flat against your mattress. 

"Shut up," you snap without any real bite. 

In your defense, you're running a little low on clean clothes. You're definitely due for a trip down to the twenty-four-hour laundromat, but you honestly don't have it in you right now to spend the next three and a half hours sitting in some uncomfortable plastic chair, under too bright fluorescents while you wait for the cycles to finish. It has to be your least favorite part of your week and you've been holding it off with a sense of dread. 

He chuckles against the plush of your inner thigh, tracing over the sensitive skin with the plush of his mouth and wet drag of his tongue. He looks stunning like this, wild hair brushing over your body, sketched in shades of gold, his skin casted in a heated amber from the burn barrels blazing around the worn corners of the room. The light somehow makes his eyes equally as dark, blending the soft blue into a shade that almost seems black. It makes his stare heavy, gliding you over like a physical weight that seems to press you deeper into the plush support of the mattress. 

His hands are gentle, smoothing over your waist and down to your knees in caresses that has your muscles going lax. He takes advantage of it, using your pliability to spread your legs wide, keeping them splayed open by the width of his shoulders. You can feel his impatience in the firm press of his fingers, gripping at your flesh with a barely restrained greed. You fully expect for him to smother his face between your legs like he usually does, but he remains where he is, trailing kisses and teasing bites behind with his mouth, leaving stars burning across your skin. 

His nose glides down close to where you need him most, pooling fire in your stomach when he sucks the tender skin between the junction of your hips between his teeth. You can't stop your hips from twitching, rolling up to chase after the feeling. Trying to entice him into giving you what you want, but he doesn't take the hint - ignores it, more like - and licks a path across the plush of your inner thigh. 

A whine pitches from your throat, a pathetic imitation of his name that only makes him laugh lowly. He grins up at you, an almost cruel looking smirk. There's something calculating in his eyes, sharp and glittering. It has a thrill skipping up your spine, shuddering lightly up your ribcage, working out a silent gasp. 

"Need something?" he asks, all condescending and cheeky. 

"Paul," you groan. You can't keep the frustration out of your voice, and of course, his smile only seems to grow at the sound of it. 

He hums questioningly under his breath, too caught up in sweeping his mouth over you now that he's started again, nuzzling close to your cunt like he might actually give you the relief you want. His tongue darts out, tracing close to your lips, scraping his teeth over the tender skin with the promise of finally dipping his tongue into you, but it doesn't happen. "C'mon baby, you know what I need to hear." 

And you do know what he wants, but for some reason you voice remains stubbornly trapped inside of your throat. Lodged there by his teasing. You know he wants this just as much as you do despite his stalling, drawing this out for his own pleasure. It's always a little entertaining getting back at him in small ways like this, even if it tortures you too. 

You can practically see the moment that the realization of your game registers in his head, reflecting in his eyes in a kind of clarity that's both frustrated and excited. 

"Make her ask for it." 

Both you and Paul turn your attention over to the other side of the room, looking past a gap in the veil cloaking your bed to see Marko. He's still sitting in his spot on the ragged couch, perched casually on the tattered cushions while he finishes tying off the thread in his hands. He isn't even looking at the two of you, fully concentrated on his task, but the tone that he had used was firm, leaving no room for argument or refusal. 

Something about it makes your body thrum. You clench around nothing, hips twitching just the slightest and it forces you to be aware of how wet you've become, smearing a little across your inner thighs. It's like he can tell; he probably can smell it in the air, heady and honeyed, and it's only then that he bothers giving you an almost bored glance. But despite his nonchalance, you can see the intensity showing through it. A heavy kind of hunger piercing through his gaze that locks you in place. 

His stare shifts to Paul then, something unspoken passing between the two of them. "She knows how to ask for what she wants." 

When Paul turns his attention back onto you there's a wild grin on his face, as though Marko's order has given him the permission that he needs. He loves to tease and toy with the both of you, but ultimately, it's Marko who really truly calls the shots. It's almost shocking how he manages to coax obedience out of the both of you, but especially Paul, being the erratic adrenaline junkie that he is; a slave to impulse and the most hedonistic parts of himself.  

It had surprised you the first time when Marko had easily wielded control over him, taking him over with a collected effortlessness that left you a little breathless. He's quiet and unassuming in his authority. Though maybe you should have guessed by the fiendish look in his eyes that he would be the one calling the shots. But now you all work like a group of muscles in a body coming together to create a singular organism; Marko often using Paul like a vessel to give everyone what they need. 

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Paul says sweetly. Almost mumbling it against your skin as he breathes the scent of you in, smothering his face just above your cunt. "Let me take care of you." 

Any other time you would have put up more of a fight. Would have resisted and taunted to light a fire in the both of them, but regardless of all of the excitement, you can't ignore that distant fatigue that still weighs in your bones. You're still exhausted, that hasn't changed, and maybe this once you can finally swallow down your pride just long enough to get what you want. 

"Please, Paul." Your back arches a little off of the bed, your fingers curl into the covers, gripping onto the soft linen. "I'll be good for you, I promise." 

"There you go. Wasn't so hard, was it?" 

You don't have any time to be annoyed because he's spreading you open with his thumbs and leaning forward to lick a long stripe up the length of your cunt, briefly dipping his tongue inside of you to brush it up and circle the point of it around your clit. You would have bowed off of the bed if not for the hands that he moves to secure around your hips in an iron clad grip, fingers threatening to bruise flesh. He chases after the suppressed rock of your waist, moving himself to follow the sway of your body, determined to gulp you down. 

Your head lolls back into the support of your pillows, falling back against the plush and silk. The support of them keeps your head propped up, so even with it rolled you can still see him from the bottom of your vision as you stare unseeingly at the shadowed ceiling. You can vaguely see the shape of your hands reaching down to thread through his hair, combing inside of the strands that are somehow both soft and textured from the products worked into it. 

A pleased noise rumbles from his chest when your nails scratch over his scalp. A dull wave of pleasure ebbs over you but you still notice how his own hips grind into the mattress, dragging over the blankets to try and chase after his own high. He's always like this, getting off on other people's bliss, feeling it as though it's his own. It always turns you on, how desperate he is to please you and Marko, seeking out your pleasure as though he can't live without it. As though he feeds off of it. 

You know that he's craving the sound of your voice, sucking on your clit and tracing you with his tongue to work breathless moans out of you and you find it hard to deny him. "So good, Paul. Just like that - don't stop." You massage your fingertips across his head, and you aren't disappointed when he practically turns into mush under your palms, all pliant and needy. Practically dropping his face into your cunt, grinding his nose over your clit. If he still needed to breathe, you're positive that he would have suffocated by now, but he keeps his face buried in you. 

It's blurring over you already. Draping over your body with the warmth of a heated blanket. But the breeze brought into the cave is cool with the ocean, tinged with salt and chilled like satin. All of it fogs your brain over, slipping between your ears like a perfumed smoke. It's dizzying, languid. You barely notice when both of his hand's slink underneath the arms that you still have stretched to claw at his hair, working under the hem of your shirt, traveling up until he's able to cup both of your breasts. 

The temperature of the ring on his right hand is shocking, forcing your body to writhe into his touch. His fingers stretch, kneading the shape of chest, plucking at your nipples in a way that has a dull sting sparking over your nerves. It's so gluttonous, how he has your entire body splayed out beneath him. Taken over by his mouth, his hands. It makes you feel trapped in the best way possible. Caught and admired, pinned beneath him as though he's trying to show you worship. 

But you're the one speaking his name as though it's a prayer, muttering it brokenly in quiet breaths. You're so caught up in it that the weight of the bed shifting is a surprise. The press of a mouth closing over yours swallows the ragged gasp that leaves your lungs, tasting the sound of Paul's name on your tongue and taking it for themselves. 

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes at all, but you don't have to open them to know that it's Marko who's kissing you. You can smell it in the subtle spice of his cologne, feel the leather of the glove that cradles the side of your face as he draws you into a starved kiss. There's something lazy about it despite the passion in it; his tongue tracing along your bottom lip before he dips it into your mouth. 

You can't do much to reciprocate. Not with how Paul is still eating you out, nuzzling himself into you and groaning into your cunt almost raggedly. It makes you a little clumsy, even as you try hard to concentrate on the pace Marko's set with his mouth. But he doesn't seem to be bothered by your sudden lack of skill in the slightest. 

He pulls back only after a long moment, biting softly at the plush of your mouth, still holding the edge of your jaw in his hand to make you look at him. His eyes rove over your face, taking in your kiss swollen lips, the glossed over sheen in your eyes, the rise and fall of your chest as it heaves in wild pants. He glides the point of his nose over your cheek like he might just kiss you there, leaning his body close over yours while he caresses your chin with his thumb. 

"Is he making you feel good?" But it probably isn't really a question. Not with the taunting edge seeping through his voice, but you're already too far gone to care. You find yourself nodding as best as you can, a strangled cry leaving you when Paul sucks hard. Groaning into your cunt, shaking his face a little to smear you over the skin around his mouth. 

It's filthy. You can hear the wet smacks from Paul's tongue, the sound of your moans and gasps resonating from the walls of the sunken hotel and back into your ears, pitching over the new track that blares out from the boom box in steady melody. It's vulgar but somehow entirely intimate to be caught up here in the mouths and hands of both of your lovers. Hidden away in some private place that's been carved out for you, a womb in the earth that was violently created to shield you all from the dangers and prying eyes of the outside world. A home made in a telluric tomb.

You wouldn't trade this for anything. Not for mortality, not to feel the soothing warmth of the sunlight on your skin again. With the promise of eternity stretching out in front of you, it's in moments like these that you could stay within forever. Private little moments shared just between the three of you; it's some of the times that you keep close and hold dear. 

"It feels so good, Marko." Your hips thrust upward, chest rising harshly as Paul rolls his fingers over both of your nipples. It has heat pooling in your gut like someone's continuously dropping hot wax there. "He's so good, I don't want it to stop. Please don't make him stop." 

 The smile on his face is both patient and satisfied, and you can clearly read the temptation to refuse you glimmering in his eyes. It has you removing one of your hands from Paul's hair, and you don't miss the almost distressed noise he lets out at the loss. But you're desperate to sway Marko, clutching at his shoulder like the touch might properly convince him. 

The mirth on his face is a little mean. Impish in a way. He removes his attention from you to turn it to the man between your legs. "What do you think, Paul?" he asks, still stroking his thumb over your jaw. "Think we should let her cum?" 

A small thrum of worry trickles through you but when you glance down it's immediately snuffed out. Paul looks like a mess. Probably more wrecked than you are somehow. It's like he's drunk, eyes a little glazed over and there's a damp sheen smearing over his mouth and the point of his nose. It almost glitters in the faint traces of light flickering around the room, making him messy and vulgar; his hair more unkempt than usual from the hold that you have on it. Most of his face is obscured, hidden as he drags his tongue over your cunt, but the expression that he wears is clear. It's content - peaceful, almost as though he can't imagine being anywhere else. 

He doesn't even bother pulling back to answer, nodding while his face is still smothered against you, and when he speaks it comes out all slurred and lazy. "Yeah, think she deserves it." He comes up just enough to be heard a little clearer, placing a soft kiss to your clit. "She's been so sweet dealin' with us for the past few days. Let's take the edge off a bit for her." 

They share another one of those looks again. Completely silent and yet somehow entirely understanding. You wonder if they're communicating to each other in their heads, blocking you off from a conversation that they don't want you to hear. The smiles they share seems like an answer all on its own. 

Marko is shifting away from you then, sitting himself up to move down beside Paul who he reaches for. Sinking his hand in beside yours, threading his fingers through his wild hair to force his head off of your cunt. You can't help but to admire the shades of gold and the shadows that ripple across Marko's stomach, the stretch of skin peeking out between the short cut of his shirt and the hang of jeans around his waist. 

They're both gorgeous and when they both lean in towards each other, meeting over your body to catch each other in a bruising kiss it makes you feel as though you've been lit on fire. The way they go at it is sloppy. Almost animalistic. They groan into each other's mouths, Marko's tongue slipping out to lick up the taste of you just as Paul removes one of his hands from your breast, reaching it up to take Marko by the throat. 

Just the sight of it has you moaning, impatiently grinding your hips up to try and draw their attention. Thankfully it works and their lips break apart with a wet smack as they turn their heads to look at you. 

"Don't worry, we didn't forget about you," Paul promises. He leans forward to take you back into his mouth, but Marko stops him by the grip he has on his hair, making both of your groan out in frustration. 

"She knows what to do." 

You could roll your eyes honestly, but somehow you manage to restrain yourself. He'd drag this out for hours if you show any signs of defiance. On any other night you would have liked the challenge, but right now you just want to enjoy it. To bask in the sensation of both of them on your skin. It has whatever fight you might have still had lurking around inside of you dying out. 

"Need you both. Want you both to eat me out." You catch something like a warning burn through Marko's stare and it has you spitting out a string of pleases under your breath.  

That seems to be enough for them - most notably Paul, who manages to wrangle himself free from the grip on his hair and latches his mouth onto you like he's starved for it. It has you squirming, body twisting from the abruptness of it, but it doesn't take long for you to go lax again, becoming pliant under the strokes of his tongue. 

Marko's palm flattens over your abdomen, shoving your back down flat across the mattress to keep you from possibly squirming. Trapping you beneath the both of them. He settles down beside you, curling himself over your lower stomach and hip to settle himself between your thighs. Your vision is mostly blocked by his body, but you can feel him nudging Paul out of the way so that he can close his mouth over your clit. 

It's a good thing that he has you pinned because the sensation of two tongues sweeping over your cunt has you jolting. The sound that leaves you is gutted, a ragged sob that trembles its way out of your ribcage. 

"Oh, fuck," you moan. When your spine bends it's almost painful, pulling into a mean arch despite the weight of Marko forcing you down and the hold that Paul has on your hips. Your fingers lash out across the bed, clawing through the sheets as though it might save you. 

This isn't the first time that they've had you like this, but you're never fully prepared for it. Somehow it always feels more intense than the last. As though you've been submerged in coils of heat and thrashing water; left to sink in the depths of it and drown. Not even the pressure of them on you is enough to keep you present. The pleasure ripping through your veins is almost vicious, coiling and molten in the pit of your stomach.

Their tongues glide over you, messy and wet, sounding sloppy when they occasionally meet in a crude imitation of a kiss. The oxygen pulled into your lungs skips in a strangled gasp. Their hands are all over you. Paul is still toying with one of your nipples, his arm crushed between both you and Marko's bodies, but he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. 

It's pure hedonism. It's like they're everywhere. Sweeping over your body, over your legs, your chest, inside of your mind, they're scent pooling in your lungs. It has pleasure boiling in between your hips. Your orgasm already building up to be something devastating.  

It's like they're trying to make out on your cunt, lips occasionally meeting in between licks and sucks. Paul's tongue trails down to your entrance, dipping inside to fuck itself inside of you just as Marko's mouth closes around your clit. It has you shouting out again. A sharp whine piercing out through the balmy atmosphere of the cave as a brutal wave of ecstasy crests over you, warm and deep with the promise of something that's going to leave you shambles. 

You're almost greedy for that destruction, grinding yourself into their mouths as best as you can. Chasing after the bliss that threatens to eat you up in a fiery rapture. You didn't even realize that you've been begging the entire time. Squeezing out pitiful pleads as they continue to strip you apart with the drag of their tongues. It's building up at a pace that you can hardly track. Simmering and smoldering like something boiling, flooding your limbs with white-hot heat that has your toes curling. 

You know they can feel all of your tells, how your body is drawing up tight, the change in your breathing, the small shift in your tone. They're relentless is tipping you over that edge, groaning into your cunt as they drag their tongues over it, nipping softly with their teeth. All it takes is for the stroke of Paul's tongue again, the combined suction Marko's lips sealing around your clit and then you're gone. 

The world seems to lose tangibility when you cum. The bed under you vanished and the weight of their bodies disappears. It's only pleasure. Tearing its way through your body, coasting along your nerves, making your muscles seize like you're being electrocuted. 

And they make sure to pull you through all of it. Working their mouths over you until the bliss bleeds into something almost painful. It's only then they pull away, letting you catch your breath and reorient yourself through the high clouding your skull. When you hear the sound of light groaning and the wet sound of lips meeting it's easy to tell what they're doing. 

You manage to crack your eyes open, staring down at the both of them as they make out. Hunger and their shared lust suspended over them like the fumes of a drug. You remain like that for what might be a few minutes. Content to watch as they kiss, their hands sweeping off of your body to reach for each other, desperate and starved. 

You feel satiated. Floating and fuzzy. Finally relaxed after days of living on the edge. It would be so easy to pass out and let sleep take you under, but then you feel a palm smoothing up the length of your leg, drawing your attention back down between your legs. They're both looking at you as they kiss, nipping at each other with their teeth as though they're tempted to draw blood. There's a fervor in their eyes that you know well, ravenous and burning. Waiting for something to be consumed. 

"What do you think?" Paul hardly breaks the kiss to speak, his words almost blurring on Marko's mouth. "Think we can get one more out of her?" 

Marko doesn't have to reply at all. You can already see the answer clearly in his eyes. 

"I think we can get more than just one." 

[kinichval]

haiiii ;3 can i request kinich and a reader who’s like half siren? like in h20 where when they’re dry they have legs and mualani finds her injured and keeps her in the springs and one night when he goes to see her she’s singer and he like falls in love? i’m not the best with ideas but ignore if you don’t want to lol

hi !! ty for requesting :3 i love the idea so i gave it a shot. i'm not deep into the siren mythology so i switched the lore and tried my best writing this one < 3

"you can't just take in a random stranger in your house just because they're injured, mualani."

"but they were suffering and needed urgent help!"

"then, you should've taken them to the clinic. who knows how severe their injuries are or if they have good intentions."

the conversation of your savior and a stranger stirs you awake from your slumber, eyes fluttering open as your mind gradually processes that it is time to get up. well, maybe if your legs weren't a bit impaired then standing up would've been useful.

except you're not in the best shape as you found yourself tangled in washed-ashore seaweed causing you to trample over rocks and bruising your legs; this means that you can not transform back to your siren appearance (and vice versa if your tail was injured). thank archons, your ridiculous situation ended soon when a kindhearted mualani decided to tend your injuries.

you were honest with your true self with mualani, believing in your instincts that she is as kind as she shows herself to be. like you, she was one with the waters, a soul that's tied to the flow of the oceans and destined to live freely just as the waters liberty to just be.

in the silence of mualani's shelter where you rest and heal, there's the envy creeping up in your heart that you desperately want to repress. but no, it makes itself known for you are not like mualani.

mualani is a free-spirited surfer, an adventurer of the seas; while you were a siren shunned out by society, viewed as a menace and a threat to the land's safety. kill a siren on sight before they destroy your life is what the people would say.

but you do not have the heart to decline her kindness, rather you want to see her heart as a chance to be seen by humans in a different light. because if mualani can, then why can't they?

still, you uphold the value that your mother had instilled in you; there's no point in proving your kindness when they do not believe in your existence. so you remain hidden within the confines of mualani's home, waiting for your injury to subdue until you're able to become siren again.

"kinich, this is yn. yn, this is 'malipo' kinich." mualani introduced you to a trusted friend of hers with enthusiasm high enough to reach the heavens. simply, you give the dendro user a nod and a gentle smile, he returns the gesture with a civil nod of acknowledgement. kinich's reserved attitude is intimidating, given that mualani is the only human you had ever interacted with, you're confused how human relations work and whether the land culture is different from those who reside under the waters.

you trust that mualani hasn't let a word out about your identity, yet it doesn't assure you when you feel the man's skepticism clawing at your skin as if he's ready to capture you the moment he confirms your true nature.

or maybe you're just overthinking.

kinich never intended for his lingering stare to feel like a dagger pointed at your neck, on the contrary, he harbors the curiosity to learn about you. he often finds how his mind wanders off to mualani's newfound friend whenever the usually occupied space in his head is vacant. who is she? why is he so subconsciously adamant on knowing her? only he fails to grasp a clear picture of reason as to why the voices inside his head are telling him to seek at least a fragment of her soul.

"mualani, thank you for taking care of me."

as a parting token, you granted mualani to experience your siren form. the two of you are within the privacy of the springs that only a few ever come to visit under the moonlit night sky.

your heart sinks at the thought of returning back to the deep, uncertain if you shall ever come up to the surface once your clan learns about your predicament knowing that despite you were well taken care of, they will only emphasize the what-ifs and assert the dangers of a siren caught on land.

natlan's springs are peaceful. you requested to have time in the waters for yourself the next night; promising that when morning comes, you are off to return to the ocean where you belong. but right now, you are neither your ascribed identity or whom you want be, you are just part of the waters.

cold air hits your skin, you lightly splash the water with your luminescent tail and softly smile at the quietness. sometimes, the water doesn't have to be constantly flowing, staying still is alright.

in the midst of your solitude, you hum a tune that your mother used to lull you to sleep when you were a young siren. your voice mimics the gentleness of a mother's love, a cradling feeling of tenderness and comfort. slowly, it shifts to a song, your voice becoming louder and alluring.

and just like a serenade, your song had captivated a certain saurian hunter's attention, he stands on the opposite edge of the spring right across where you were situated in. your eyes still closed and immersed in your enchanting euphony.

"i believe i'm not under a spell, but allow me to compliment your melody. may i stay here and listen?"

kinich fixes his composure, hiding the nervousness inside his pocket. but oh, the moonlight acts like a spotlight on your figure, your true nature completely open for him to realize that you are not human at all.

but kinich isn't fazed, neither does he yield the urge to capture you in exchange for the prestige that comes with catching a siren alive.

"are you not afraid?"

instead, you were the one afraid, wrapping your arms around your torso as if it's any help in shield your true form from his green and amber eyes.

"i'm fascinated. you are a beauty."

at this point, kinich does not intend to supress his longing need for you. he's conscious and sober, implying that a siren's song is not all about luring prey into the waters.

sometimes, just like yn, a siren's song is an open book to her innermost thoughts and heartbeat's poems. it doesn't need to hold words for kinich to depict the sentiments carried into the wind as she sings; to be known, to be understood.

"may i stay with you for tonight?"

this time, you wish for the moon to stay in its place, for time to pause, and for kinich to stay in the springs with you.

[goldsainz]

❝ LOVE AT FIRST WAVE ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x surfer!reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . a surfing mishap leads to meeting the cutest guy you’ve ever seen.

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . probable inaccurate depictions of surfing, no use of y/n.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i said i would do this is… and i have… so better late than never… also this is my first written piece of 2024!!! pls tell me how this is, i’m a bit rusty so i need all the advice i can get (be nice cause my feelings will get hurt otherwise😔)

[ word count: 1,1k ]

The sea was the calmest place you knew. 

Ever since you were a little kid you loved going and hearing the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the feeling of liberty swimming gave you, most of all you cherished the peace it brought you.

That's how your love for surfing was born, with it being the best excuse to spend time at sea, you found yourself indulging in it far too much. So mucus so, that you ended up signing up for a worldwide surfing competition. 

That’s how you ended up in Australia, surfing in one of the most beautiful places you had ever been in. It was a magical place to be in and you found yourself very content with the place so far.

The beaches were not as crowded as you were used to, but even then, you didn't care much for how the beach was but more so the sea and its waves. You had spent almost all day, taking a few breaks when the sun was too strong, surfing and testing the waters. 

You felt at peace. Or at least for a while.

You were riding a wave, when a scream alerted you. You were no stranger to people surfing and believing they could handle the power of the sea, just to be disappointed when they realised they could not manage. At the very rost, after a few minutes they resigned and took to tanning. 

You swiftly stopped what you were doing and swam towards the noise, there you found two guys laughing whilst another gasped for air. You couldn't decipher if he was alright, but you supposed he was by the way his friends were reacting.

“Hi,” you interrupted their laughter, smiling at them when they turned around at the voice, “I heard a scream and wanted to check if everything was alright. ”

“Yeah, he’s alright,” one of the guys says with a  smile “He’s just not very good at this.”

“Hey!” the guy who was coughing chastises, rubbing his hands over his face as he tries to dry it.

You look at him more attentively, and realise how attractive he is. Which comes as a surprise to you because a few minutes ago he seemed to have been trampled over by a wave. 

“Yeah, a lot of people are surprised by how hard this is.” you comment, making small talk to stay around the cute guy a little longer. 

The moment he hears your voice again, he looks at you and is mesmerised by what his eyes see. He had heard you the first time you spoke, but he was busy dealing with the salty water and coughing fits, so it was a bit hard to put a face on the voice. But even then, your voice was a melody to him, that for a split second he wondered if he was in the presence of a siren. 

“He exaggerates, I just underestimated the wave by a little.” he says, suddenly feeling the need to defend whatever talent he has. 

“It’s okay,” you respond with a laugh. 

Your laugh.

Even though he has just heard it for the first time and wants to hear it forever. The theory of you being a siren doesn't seem so outlandish to Charles now.

“Thank you for trying to, uh… rescue me?” he says, scratching the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at you.

“It was nothing, I know how rough the sea can be.”

“Still, I’d like to thank you somehow.”

By now his friends have dispersed a little, they stay close to him but not so much that they hear your conversation. Though they know well enough what is going on, muffling their giggles at his attempt at flirting. Even after he almost drowned, he doesn't lose his ways.

“Really, it’s nothing,” you wish you could smack yourself the moment you say those words. You have a cute guy insinuating taking you out as a ‘thank you’ and you’re so dense you brush off the invite.

“Well, I’m not leaving this beach until I can somehow repay you for your kindness.” he knows he’s being dramatic. You didn’t really do much, you just approached him and his friends to check if he was drowning and he’s acting like you saved his life or something. But he doesn’t know how to act. He just knows he can’t let you go.

“We could meet by the beach bar? They make a really good piña colada.” you suggest, adjusting yourself on your surfboard.

“Yes,” he responds quickly, maybe even far too quickly but he doesn’t care, “That would work.”

“Okay,” you answer, smiling yet again which in turn makes Charles smile.

“Okay, then.”

You stare at each other for a few seconds, though they feel like forever to him. He swears he could look at your for eternity and not get bored, there is so much to you and he doesn’t even know anything about you.

“What’s your name, by the way?” you ask shyly, aware of the strange situation you’ve found yourself in, “If you’re gonna take me out for drinks I should probably know your name.”

It is a breath of fresh air to have someone not know him. He is always happy to take pictures or sign autographs, but every once in a while he longs to not be recognised and lead a life away from the public eye.

And so when he goes to answer he has a huge smile on his face, the dimple on his cheek making an appearance. You find it incredibly endearing, and you resist the urge to kiss him on the cheek and see how it feels under your lips. 

“It’s Charles, yours?” you respond with your name, and he finds it —just as everything else about you— so charming.

“Well, don’t drown until then, please.” you joke, and you watch him playfully roll his eyes.

“The wave came out of nowhere, so it wasn’t my fault.” he tries to justify himself, but he knows he’s just lying to save face. 

“Sure it wasn’t,” you assure him, but he sees right through you, “I’ll see you then?”

“Yes,”

“Great, I’ll be waiting.”

“Me too.”

You linger a little longer, and then say your goodbyes, waving at his friends who make their way over him now that your conversion has finished. 

Looking into the distance, you can tell you have a while more to be in the sea before the sun sets. You swim away from the charming guy you just met, butterflies flutter in your stomach and it is not because of the waves.

And though you love the sea, you can’t wait to get back at land and reconnect with the stranger you just met.

-ˋˏ *.· taglist . . . @lorarri @lpab @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @saintiastri @saintslewis @leoramage @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @toomuchdelusion @louvrepool @ravisinghs-wife @nouvellevqgue @hobiismyhopeu @starlightpierre @lecsainz @kkeelss @namgification @minkyungseokie @gothgirlez @f1version

[sherbertquake56]

one of my favorite things about the suffering cmv actually is the couple of people in the background- they bothered me at first cause I’d like it if there wasn’t any in the background, but if you look at them as the other SIRENS?? that shit goes hard.

they’re all only showing waist up far away in the water and that’s so tasty— like, they’re just out of sight so that odysseus’s attention is only on penelope but they’re still LURKING back there

anyways thanks random surfers in the background for worldbuilding my cmv

double anyways- GO WATCH THE CMV

[sirensparkles]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧜🏼‍♀️

[aidens-ocean-galaxy]

siren Dorcas x surfer Marlene

[brookie-kookie1943]

Ocean Man

Johnny Utah x fem!Reader - Fluff

Here’s another self insert about Point Break. Johnny basically asks you to teach him how to surf…

(All of these photos are from Pinterest and Google)

Warnings: Use of y/n, cursing, some inappropriate jokes.

~~~~~~

It’s another hot day in southern California. Waves from the sparkly sea crash onto the shore - narrowly missing the feet of children running around. Some would think the weather was absolutely unbearable. However, surfers like you would be used to such a heat wave.

It seems like even when you’re off work, you can’t escape the ocean. It calls to you like the sirens sailors claim exist. Today was a great day to spend your time surfing by yourself when usually you’d be teaching kids how to. So, you make sure to take one of your favorite boards out; the one with the purple to blue ombré design.

Little did you know that a man was watching you from afar. He was studying you like the federal agent he was. Johnny knew what he was doing was purely for the mission, but that didn’t mean that bikini didn’t remind him of the simple man he was.

Angelo would be pissed if he knew Johnny’s first pick was you. Did he seriously need to choose a hot babe to get closer to finding the Ex-Presidents? The answer to that depends on who you ask. Either way, he had you in his sights, and he was determined to charm you into being his unknowing entrance to the bank robbers.

You rode the waves like the professional you are. Maybe you were showing off a little. After all, you do teach children how to surf like you. Even with knowing that fact - that didn’t stop your buddies from challenging you every time. This afternoon was no different.

Bumping, splashing, distracting - it was the usual with your little group. You walked back onto the beach with your guy friend Grommet, the both of you ready to dry your long hair from all the potential arsenic in the waves.

Johnny made his slow approach towards you, a little mesmerized. There you were. Your hair dripping with salty water, those same droplets gliding down your skin like condensation. You were laughing at whatever Grommet said, not noticing the man in the wetsuit advancing towards you until he was in front of you.

You raised your eyebrow at him - the same questioning and intimidating look you gave to every unknown man that walked up on you. Grommet kind of smirked and turned away, knowing you could handle this. Johnny put on his best smile, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Hey, the name’s Johnny Utah.” You stared for a moment, an amused smirk on your face. You didn’t make any effort to lift your hand from your side. You hoisted your surfboard under your arm instead.

“Uh-huh.” Your response was snarky, and you punctuated it by turning to walk away back to your towel. Johnny was a little taken aback by being brushed aside. Still, it only made him like you more. Were you the hard-to-get type? He had no problem chasing after you even after you pretended to not know him.

Truth is - you did recognize him. There’s no way in hell you wouldn’t remember such an ugly surfboard. You remember your students giggling at him two days ago while he was “surfing.” It was clear he had never been on a belly board, never mind a real surfboard.

He practically drowned right in front of your eyes. You would’ve went and saved him if your friend, Tyler, hadn’t got to him first. Man, she sure did rip into him, too. You had to cover some little ears. Even through all of his coughing and hacking, you saw how he was giving her the eyes. The eyes.

Oh no - you knew how guys like him were. Young, dumb, and full of cum. They get off and leave you hanging dry. You bet that he doesn’t even recognize you from two days ago because you were wearing a wetsuit instead of a *bikini*. Those pretty brown eyes don’t enchant your heart like you’re sure he wants them to.

“Wait! I wanna talk to you!” Johnny called out with a little laugh, finding your response funny. He knew you thought that he was immediately going to hit on you (which he probably will eventually) but he’s got to prioritize the mission first. So, in douchey guy fashion, he jogs after you.

Even though you think you know his game, something about how persistent he was made you want to entertain him. You bring your towel to your hair, drying it off as your tone stays amused, “Alright. I’m Y/N. What do you want?”

“I want you to teach me how to surf.” He gives you a pretty grin. The little smirk on your face is wiped off when he tells you that. Welp, that was the last thing you were expecting. Now you sort of feel like an asshole for assuming he wanted to harass you.

“I teach kids how to surf - not grown men. I’m sorry.” You inform him, a little confused as to how he even knew what you did for a living since you’ve barely ever seen him on this beach. Once again, Johnny doesn’t stop when you dismiss him.

“I know you do, but please. Just hear me out.” He stresses, giving you a more serious look this time. You sigh out your nose, mentally debating this until you wave a hand. You might as well listen to what his thought process is.

Johnny takes a step closer to you as his eyes turn soft and takes on a more vulnerable tone, “I want to learn how to surf because…my whole life, everything I’ve done has been for other people. I went to law school and played football because my parents wanted me to - I was sort of their hero.”

“I only realized that my goals were their goals when…when they died in a car wreck two years ago.” He lies. But you don’t know that yet, of course. Your expression softens slightly at his confession, which Johnny notices immediately. It’s working.

You’ve been working with children most of your life. You’ve met your fair share of children who didn’t have the best of lives. One year, you taught a kid who couldn’t seem to get adopted by anybody. Another year, a kid that ran away from an abusive home. It was easy to pull your heartstrings and get your sympathy.

“Surfing is my goal now. It’s for me. I mean - I’m from Ohio. I had never seen an ocean until I moved here.” He finishes, searching your eyes for anything. Your tone is softer than before, “I’m sorry for your loss, truly, but I teach kids. I’ve never taught adults.”

He sighs quietly at your response, knowing he’ll have to do some more convincing. The charming smile and soft eyes weren’t working. Neither did the sob story. But it did soften you. Maybe talking you up will break your resolve?

“Everyone I’ve talked to on this beach has said you’re the best. They told me kids come every year to learn from you specifically. That you teach kids who are still wearing diapers how to stay on a belly board…I want to learn from the best too.”

Good gravy - does this man ever quit? Hearing what he’s saying about you, hearing how we wants to be taught by you…it’s flattering. You’re humbly proud of yourself for the good opinions that correlate to you. It means you’re doing something right.

Speaking of doing something right…you can’t just not teach him. Look at him - he’s desperate! The guilt of refusing to teach someone even after knowing their sad past eventually convinces you to do it.

You sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose as you reluctantly agree, “Ok…ok. I’ll teach you. But I’m not going to coddle you like I do with those kids. You’re going to become the best surfer on this damn beach.”

Johnny’s face lights up with a smile, one that sort of warms your heart. Despite you not looking forward to teaching him, you can’t help but laugh at his child-like reaction. Maybe he is just like the kids you teach. They need you as much as you need them.

“That’s alright - I like it rough.” He flashes that charming smile once again. You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying that you found his joke somewhat funny. Johnny saw that little movement your body did, like you were laughing. You can’t fool him.

“You like it rough? Ok. Meet me here at five. In the morning.” You challenge, ready to test his limits so he’ll have to quit. Little do you know that Johnny isn’t going to give up on you, and especially not the mission. He’s ready to catch whatever you throw at him.

“Sounds great! See you bright and early!” He beams, knowing his optimism will throw you for a loop. And it does - you expect most to groan and complain about being up early. It was surprising to see someone agree so easily, but guessing from subtly eyeing him up in his wetsuit…he’s definitely into fitness.

And now you have become the creep. But c’mon. He’s a guy close to your age with a nice smile, and your primal urges are wired to be attracted to him. Maybe not in personality (just yet) but he isn’t lacking in the heartthrob department.

As he turns to leave, you realize you can’t let him have the last word. You’ve got to throw him for a loop this time. Or at least get him thinking about you - not that you care, of course. So, you reach down into your bag before calling out to him.

“Hey!” You toss him something to which he quickly catches with one hand. Impressive. Johnny looks down at what’s in his hand - Mr. Zog’s Sex Wax. His first thought is that you’re into some kinky shit, and he looks up at you when he hears your laughter.

His shocked reaction makes you satisfied that you’re getting the last word. Of course, you knew what he was thinking; it was an interesting name for surfboard wax. “You’ll need that for your board. It helps with traction.”

Johnny smirks at how you stressed the word. Traction, huh? Perhaps it’s a sign of mutual attraction. He gives you a nod and a little wave, and you shamelessly watch him as he walks away in that tight wetsuit.

Maybe the wax is a sign for something that’ll happen real soon…

[aurelim]

Hey do you know any other mermaid/siren whatever of the water merfolk sort IF's? because there aren't a lot

I also loved as the ocean lures, hope to see more of it in the future

thank you so much! I hope to write more of it in the future 😂

As for mermaid/siren/anything water-like creatures, I’ve got a few. Most of them are just intro posts and ones with demos that are pretty short, so I’ll split it up into two categories along with their tumblr blogs. There are some finished ones as well but you’re going to have to pay for the entire game so I don’t know if you’re going to want to pay in order to read the whole thing. I won’t put it but I can add some if you’d like!

I don’t really follow VNs so you’re just going to get text-based games. Sorry about that 😅

There was another demo for a game called Kalopsia but it seems to have been deleted. And there’s another game where you’re found and then saved by a captain. Both were on itch.io but I can’t find either one.

Demos

Abysm’s Veil [thread] by Jacic (inspiration for ATOL, about the rusalki)

The Sea Maiden [thread] by Jacic (they have some other games but they’re short if you really want to check them out!)

Beyond the Waves by @allthatwrites (inspiration for ATOL, related to The Little Mermaid)

Voiceless: A Siren’s Song [thread] by Fare (MC is not a mermaid but they can help one!)

Disenchanted by @disenchantedif (you can choose to be a siren)

Drown With Me by @barbwritesstuff

Siren Call by @darkpetal16 (it’s based on Undertale and while MC is not a siren Sans definitely is)

Intro Posts

…And I Am Undone by @fakeyellow (short story based on Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid)

When Silence Speaks by @whensilencespeaks (seems to be on hiatus but the idea is really interesting!)

In Deeper Tides by @indeepertidesif (Disenchanted spin-off)

Through the Waves by @throughthewaves-if (this just came out recently and honestly I wouldn’t have known about it if I didn’t look at Zee’s reblog of it!)

I know there’s more, but I just don’t remember them or have yet to see them. If there is, please let me know!

There are some other IFs that are water related like @riptide-if (which is surfer related) but they’re not about mermaids or sirens.

Also, here’s interact-if’s list of mermaid IFs or water-related stuff if you’d like to take a gander. You can also just look up forums and Reddit for any mermaid recs. I’ve seen a few posts for them and people have given some. But I think I’ll cap it off here.

I’m so sorry to all the people I’ve tagged, but it makes it easier for people to just go to your profile and look at the amazing things that are cooking right now. Also because I’ve been making this list for about an hour and a half nonstop and I’d like to give my hands a rest 😅

(although I will tag @elegantunknownphantom as Zee probably has some IFs too that I didn’t list)

[velvetcloxds]

KISS ME | J.M.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: basically city girl kissing the pretty surfer boy in the ocean

summary: jj has been acting like your local tour guide since you came to the island on vacation and though you can't stay there forever, there's something else that you can do

“Trust me,” it was an easy ask, truly if you were to trust anyone to lead you into what you considered undeniable danger it would be him, JJ Maybank, blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, eyes that promised nothing but bad decisions, and unforgettable nights. You’d met him on your first night on the island, all dressed up in your cutest little tourist outfit walking around all the wrong places when you stumbled into him and his friends. You had a feeling he wasn’t this welcoming to all the tourists that washed ashore via overpriced fairy and first-class ticket, but you couldn’t deny the allure of running about with a local doing everything you wouldn’t dare to think of at home.

He'd taken you on an adventure you didn’t sign up for, took you walking among the trees, showed you all his favorite spots, hiding or otherwise, stopped at the mainland to show you all the little stores meant for people like you, even stood in line with you to buy one of those beautiful but in his opinion, cringy, overprized shell necklaces, though he made sure to lay on the compliments soon after he’d helped you put it on. The logical part of you considered that this wasn’t entirely wise, allowing a stranger to whisk you about a strange place without a second thought, you’d briefly envisioned your name on some newspaper back home, “tourist girl disappears after having the best month of her life”, alas you ignored reason and allowed him to continue to talk you into his insistent spontaneity.

“Trust you?” you scoffed, a foot testing the water before gently splashing him from where he stood holding a hand out to you, hoping that that dreamy smile would convince you to onto the boat with him, it was very convincing, you’d give him that but the water splashing around you wasn’t and it brought to mind very many other newspaper articles you could end up on. “I just met you a week ago, trust is a hard ask.”

“Have I given you any reason not to trust me yet?” low was his voice, magnetic, a siren song of sorts because you inched closer, biting back a squeal when the water climbed up to your knees, wetting your sundress in the process.

“You sure you know how to drive that thing?” he’d already answered that question at least ten times since he suggested this activity last night, twice at dinner when he helped you remove the shells from your shrimp, once more on the walk home when you stopped to see someone busking by the beach, again when he walked you to your hotel, again on the phone when you called to make sure he got home alright after you’d made him late- the rest was accounted for on the way here, yet he still smiled, playfully rolled his eyes and offered you the same answers as before.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now would you just come over here already,” and with a shaky sigh and a demand from your mind to stop being a baby about it you were taking his hand to have him help you onto the boat he’d borrowed from John B. You didn’t dare take note of the way his hands lingered on your waist, or the smirk on his lips when you gripped onto his wrist until you were safe, just as you hoped he didn’t notice you trying to hide the warmth spreading to your cheeks.

JJ gave you a moment to settle once the boat started moving, hands gripping the edge very tightly as he tried not to admire the sight of you too long, brushing an entirely out-of-character respectful hand over the small of your back as he passed you to the steering wheel, you couldn't look towards him, settling your gaze on the water around you, talking your nerves down.

The nerves in question settled lightly as soon as you went further in, the beauty something you could only imagine, finally being able to experience something you’d seen on the postcards you’d bought to tell your mother all about your time here. You’d gotten courage by the time he’d dropped anker, choosing the perfect spot for what he deemed a casual swim- eyes now locked with his as he took off his shirt, dragged a hand through his hair, preparing himself for his latest pitch.

“Are you planning on seducing me into the water, JJ?” you were only half teasing, partly because you knew that if that was his plan it might just work, and partly because the idea of getting into the water was even more terrifying than getting onto the water.

“Sweet talk yes,” he confirmed, and it was embarrassing how quickly your heartbeat spiked when he flicked the strings of your sundress, a measly little piece of fabric held together by dreams and wishes, it was the only bit of your mother you could bring with you, it deserved to experience this place too. “Seduce, only as a last resort,” you scoffed at that, humming when he slid his arms to either side of you to grip the handle behind you. “You trust me yet?” he had to know the answer to that by now, so when you nodded embarrassingly eagerly, you didn’t expect him to look so surprised, or so smug to be fair. “Well then,” he was careful, seemed to always be so around you, as he released one hand to pull at the strings he flicked at earlier, expert fingers opening your dress to reveal your bathing suit. A little wink was all you got before your sundress dropped to your feet and he was over the edge and into the water.

Be brave, was all you could remind yourself, taking another second to appreciate how beautiful everything around you was, how once in a lifetime the moment felt, and how you knew without a doubt that you’d regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t go swimming in the ocean with one of the hottest guys that ever looked at you, so you did it. You slipped in slowly, reached for JJ immediately after you’d caught your breath and he was ready for it, settled his hands on your waist, and laughed lightly as you gripped his shoulders.

“Took your time,” he teased, and you could only smile, your head hadn’t caught up with you just yet, with the cold water lapping gently around you, the smell of salt lingering heavy in the air, the heat of the wind unlike how it felt at home, his body against yours, the feel of his fingers somehow still identifiable even under the water. “Talked yourself into it?”

“Just took it all in,” you shook your head, it was worthy of a thousand photos, you had to settle for capturing it in your head, securely filing it under the best few days you’d ever have, the perfect scenes, entries in diaries there weren’t enough pages to cover. “It’s amazing, everything has been so amazing, I wish I didn’t have to leave,” you were surprised you’d managed the sincerity while being so focused on his thumbs brushing ever so close to your hips, up and down matching the rhythm of the ocean.

“Why can’t you?” he challenged and though you knew it must seem so simple from where you were, had he had any idea what brought you here, what you’d run from, what you’d have to get back to, it would probably seem even simpler.

“We can’t always do everything that we want, surfer boy,” he flushed at the nickname, and stuck his tongue in his cheek, how you’d managed to make the most mundane words feel so perfectly special was beyond him. Moving his hands came naturally, instinct, pulling you closer partly because of the increased tide creeping in and because he knew this was it, the peak of your time together and he wanted to make the most of it, savor it, rush it, replay it every moment until he watched you leave.

“What about just one?” he suggested and you’d be left to wonder what on earth that meant had his eyes not drifted to your lips for a fleeting glance before meeting your eyes again, tinted cheeks though not of embarrassment as much as excitement. “What’s one thing you want that you can actually do,” you were happy for the bravery that survived from when you’d talked yourself down there.

“Kiss you,” you didn’t need much time to admit it, consider it, might as well face it and he knew you would, or hoped at least because it didn’t take him much time either to bring you flush against him, chest to chest, far closer than ever before, one hand tightening around his neck to assist you in pulling yourself up, the other though far from steady cupped his cheek. “I want to kiss you,” you breathed though far less certain, eager still but in a nervous, shaken way.

“Well, then, city girl,” he lifted a hand as well, climbed the surface all the way up to your head where he forced you to close the distance, his lips tasted of salt and coconut, perfectly fitting you managed to decide on before getting lost in the kiss and when you pulled away with a light giggle and newly wettened hair from the boat bumping into you, JJ swore he could kiss you all over again. “You could stay,” he argued, humming as you returned your hand to fall over the other, arms folded around his neck, no need for space now which is why you didn’t stray away from him brushing his nose against yours. “There’s still so much more I could show you,” you didn’t mean to shake your head so quickly and turn him down, but for once you didn’t want to think about what was next, only now.

“Kiss me again,” you demanded and you were perfectly in place to do it yourself really, but you needed him to stop talking. “Just stop talking and kiss me.”

“Now who is seducing who,” his words were laughably contradicting as he tapped your legs to have them wrap around his waist, hands drifting daringly low as he did just as you asked and selfishly he had no plans on stopping anytime soon.

[thelemoncoffee]

i realized a weird inexplicable pattern in my Kokichi associations and i wanna use it as a prompt.

idk why, but for some reason i find Kokichi and the ocean tied to one another in my mind- be it pirate aus, merfolk aus, my beachtown/surfer hc, the twst kids au, or some odd combination. so lets just make that a whole thing yeah?

an au where Kokichi feels a draw toward the ocean, or at least large bodies of water, for reasons he can't (or doesn't want to) explain. the reason can be up to you really, but some suggestions i have inculde reincarnation, seceretly a merman, some Davey Jones ass curse shit, sirens, his adrenaline junkie ass went on a boat once and his brain got rewired, and waterfae

bonus- to scritch the saiouma itch- an ocean lured Kokichi falling in love with Shuichi partially because he reminds him of the ocean, with his deep blue hair and brewing storm of thoughts beneath the surface