#Shell Bra

[maxyvert]

🐟Mermay 11-13🐟

🐟1-2🐟 🐟3-4🐟 🐟5-6🐟 🐟7-8🐟 🐟9-10🐟 Sketch comparison under the cut-

[purplekangabear]

You thought this was just one? Well think again, bitch. We got TWO MerMoms this Mermays Day.

Another fanart I made for @dreamv0rtex. Enjoy!!!

[fisheito]

what sort of twisted powerplay is this

[orchidhues]

Without further ado, merchuck

[stellaluna33]

Me watching a TV show intended for children about mermaids: "Why are they wearing so much clothing? What is this world coming to?"

[lovely-mogai]

Mermaidcoremulviboard

A gender that can only most accurately be described by the moodboard above.

[No id]

[wyvilleijelli]

not my usual art but i made a mermaid top today :)

[twistedisciple]

As they are considering what items to choose from the selection provided to victors, Ninian looks to the side to see Griss holding up seashells that appear to be intended for use as chest armor. Somehow it doesn't surprise her that he would cover as little of his chest as possible, though it is fascinating that such an item exists at all; human bodies are so very fragile, and still they are willing to wear such little protection (or none at all, but Sir Griss’ liking of pain is unconventional). While she considered the shells herself earlier, they will surely serve him better: little protection is better than none, and she can rely on her true form’s scales besides.

“A stylish choice, Sir Griss,” she comments quietly, with a small smile. “They suit you, and I'm glad to know you'll have some form of protection.”

“You got a weird sense of style,” Griss quips. He’d been trying to figure out what exactly he was holding for the past few minutes, twine strung between his hands, concentration fixed on the pair of palm-sized scallop shells that hung from it. He glances sidelong at the dragon, then back at the ornament. That’s what it had to be: an ornament. Or— he drops one side of it and swings the other around his finger. A weapon? Without much weight on it, it flutters and flaps— maybe a distraction?

Stylish… Protection…

The serrated edge of one of the shells nicks his wrist and an epiphany lights up his eyes.

“Right.” He catches the twine between both hands again, and then starts to tie it to the leather straps that run beneath both of his arms. “I dunno about protection…” He didn’t need that anyway. These are something better. He slaps the shells against his chest when he’s done, and they bite flesh just like cilices. Ninian’s concern gets another round of his rough laughter.

“But they’re gonna hurt so good!”

Even if he’d have the outline of two palm-sized shells imprinted on his chest for days to come.

[stbloodymary]

On a serious note sometimes I wish I was a mermaid like so bad I’m being so for real right now ._.

[faline-cat444]

Definitely not Ariel

[flimango]

For the love of god.

Could we

PLEASE

Just

Work

On

Second.

Step.

Of HORNPIPE!!

[luvcaleb]

SHH... WE CAN'T GET CAUGHT.

nsfw (18+). includes fingering, breast play, dirty talk, huge cock, unprotected sex, creampie, fwb relationship (it's pretty obvious you like each other tho), mentions of your first time experience with caleb (and other times after that), having sex when another person is just a few rooms away, too much cum, slight praise kink. filthy, filthy, filthy smut from top to bottom. likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!

“Shh... you don't want Gran hearing us, do you?”

You're covering your mouth to stifle your whimpers, but there's no hiding the wet squelches beneath the blanket. You wrap your hand around Caleb's flicking wrist, his fingers buried deep inside your cunt. When he adds another digit, a loud cry of his name is pulled out of you.

Caleb presses a soft kiss against your nape. You're both turned on your sides, your back against his solid chest. “As much as I like hearing you say my name, it'd be a problem if someone came to interrupt us. Remember the last time?”

The last time he's referring to is your risky tryst from a few days back; Caleb joined you in your bath, claiming he wants to “wash your back” for you. As expected, 20% of your time was spent in a relaxing soak where he massaged your shoulders and washed your hair, and the remaining 80% was spent with his head between your legs, coaxing out wave after wave of cum with his fingers and tongue.

The tip of his cock was already inside you when a knock on your door interrupted you, your grandmother asking if you knew where Caleb went because he wasn't in his room. Needless to say, you had to stop what you were doing and Caleb had a difficult time sneaking out of the bathroom.

“That... mmph... and this... is all your fault...” you struggle to say while biting back your moans as he grinds his fingers against a good spot, his thumb flicking at your clit. Caleb has always been too good with his hands. “You always—ah!—do this even when there are other people around...!”

“You wanna know why?” Chuckling, Caleb leans closer to whisper to your ear, lips brushing over your soft skin. “You squeeze me so fucking tight when we're about to get caught.”

You gush around his fingers as he mouths on the shell of your ear, moaning into the palm of your hand. He hums in satisfaction, pulling out his hand from your panties to admire the stringy release between his fingers. “You always cum too fast, pipsqueak. You pent up these days?”

How on earth could you possibly be pent up when you've been fucking Caleb at every opportunity? Every time you're left alone at the house, he fucks you against any flat surface he can find—the door when he's too impatient to go to your room, the bathroom sink because he likes making you watch yourself in the mirror when he's fucking you stupid, and even ate you out on the kitchen countertop at some point.

But the thing is, Caleb is undaunted by the possibility of being caught. So even when your Gran is around, he sneaks into your bedroom to fool around, just like what he's doing now under the pretense of “we watched a horror movie today, aren't you scared to sleep alone?”

Evidently, Caleb has no intention of letting you sleep tonight. He fondles your tits beneath your shirt, the tent in his sweatpants grinding against your clothed ass. “Don't pretend like you're innocent,” he mutters, making you yelp when he pinches your nipple. “You strutted around all day wearing my shirt without a bra, bending down in front of me on purpose... Did you know how hard it was to hold back from fucking you on the spot?”

“T-that was...!” Your cheeks flush with warmth. Sure, you were kind of riling him up on purpose, but that was under the assumption you'd be alone tonight.

“This ass...” he rubs you above your shorts, groaning as he palms at the soft flesh. “...was in my mind the entire fucking day. I held myself back until now, but I can't hold back anymore, fuck.”

He strips you off of your clothes, only leaving his shirt scrunched up above your breasts. He pulls down his sweatpants, and you feel his huge cock slap against your lower back, his pre-cum smearing across your skin. He holds the back of your knee to raise your leg, positioning his cock to your soaked pussy.

“Been waiting for this for so fucking long... Oh, shiiit,” he moans, long and drawn out and dirty as he slides right home, the tip of his dick pounding at your cervix. You squeal into your hand, your cunt clamping down on his cock so tightly but it doesn't deter his fast pace at all.

He reaches so deep like this, hitting spots he normally couldn't when you're in missionary. His huge cock feels like it's carving its own space into your body, coring you out from the inside, and it feels so good that you can't hold back your voice at all.

“Nn... Don't do that,” Caleb pulls away your hand from your mouth when he notices you biting down on your skin to hide your moans. He replaces it by putting his fingers in your mouth, cooing softly to your ear, “Suck. You're going to hurt yourself.”

You suck on his fingers, eyes rolling back to your head as he continues to pound you, fucking your pussy so good. Only Caleb knows how to make you feel so much pleasure to the point you can't think properly anymore. Your fingers could never hope to reach the places his cock touches.

It's how this twisted relationship started in the first place, Caleb catching you touching yourself when you forgot to lock your door. He taught you how to make yourself cum because you didn't know anything, until all you knew was him and his cock. But he was too big the first time you took him in that he had to fuck you loose with four fingers, sucking and licking at your pussy to make you wet enough to accept his thick girth and length. Now, he could slide inside you easily, your body having taken his shape.

Caleb stares at your messy face, utterly endeared. “Fuck, you're so fucking cute...” He takes out his fingers from your mouth, using them to tilt your jaw to meet his lips. He kisses you sloppy, no finesse as you slide your tongue against his, moaning into each other's mouths.  “Mm... open your mouth more... yeah, that's it, baby... good fucking girl...”

“Ah, fuck, Caleb!” you sob, desperately rocking against his cock. “I'm gonna cum, cumming, I can't anymore...!”

“You're gonna cum?” Caleb stops thrusting, making you whine and attempt to move yourself, but he holds onto your hips and pushes you into the mattress, laying you flat on the sheets on your front. He settles behind you, using his weight to pound you to the mattress harder. “Then fucking cum.”

You moan uncontrollably into the pillows, completely forgetting you're meant to stay quiet. Caleb fucks his cock harder, faster, deeper, failing to hold back his own grunts as you tighten up around him, wet heat melting around his dick. “Shit, I'm gonna cum too... I'm gonna cum hard in your slutty fucking pussy... fuck, I'm cumming!”

You squirt around his cock as he fills you up with cum, your fluids making a mess between your bodies and the sheets. You don't realize you're crying out up until Caleb grabs your chin and kisses you once more, muffling the lewd moans you're letting out while he's still cumming inside you, hot and thick. He gives you tiny, slowing thrusts, cock still spurting out semen. “Oh, baby, you did so good...” he sucks on your bottom lip, staring intently at your orgasm face. “Such a good fucking girl for me...”

“So... full...” is the only thing you can say, feeling the sheer volume of one load of his cum in your pussy, warming you from the inside.

“Not full enough, baby.” Caleb peppers your face with kisses. It is then that you realize—with no small amount of fear and arousal—his cock hasn't softened at all. “I still have a lot to give you.”

[bizarrelovetriangel]

won't you stay a little longer?

you have to go somewhere but they won't let you leave easily.

part two of this post which is xavier only. wanted to write something similar with the rest of the guys :)

mdni. 18+ only. dry humping. thigh job. fingering. cunnilingus. handjob. creampie. overstimulation. brief somnophilia and male masturbation.

sylus

You were on a tight schedule. You have to make it back to Linkon by three in the afternoon because your apartment building decided to have a surprise maintenance. If you're not there on time, you'll certainly get an earful from the landlord and you'd rather not deal with that.

But with the way Sylus was running his hands all over you, it looks like you might be in trouble.

As you're getting dressed in his bedroom, his hands found their way under your shirt, sliding up to your chest. And there was something rubbing against your back - something hard.

"Are you sure you want to leave now?"

Oh, he was on a mission.

Through the reflection of the mirror, as Sylus stands behind you with a mischievous smirk on his face, his lips tickles the shell of your ear and his hands squeezed your breasts through your bra.

He's thrusting his hips against your ass, and the layers of your clothings did not do much to contain his stiffened cock.

"Sylus...."

He starts leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck and down to your collar bones. One hand jumped from your chest and down to your hips, then straight inside your skirt to feel your core with his fingers.

You let out a soundless gasp at the sudden contact, leaning back into his chest.

"You...."

"I'm what, sweetie?" he asked, teasing you through the fabric of your underwear.

"You...should be going to bed."

It's noon, which is around Sylus' bedtime. You were with him for two days, including last night, though you fell asleep around midnight.

Meanwhile, Sylus had Onychinus-related business to finish and didn't return until around four in the morning. He should be getting sleepy right about now.

"You're right. I should." He then nips your right earlobe. "How about you join me?"

"I told you..." You let out a soft moan as Sylus moved your panty aside and inserted two fingers inside you. "I... have to....go...."

"Hmm? Does it have to be now?" Sylus' fingers pushed in deeper. "You can't stay for just a few more minutes? After all, who knows what Onychinus' leader might do when left unsupervised?"

Pushing up your skirt, Sylus thrusted his hips against your ass at the same pace he pleasures you with his fingers.

"You are so...!"

He'd won his game.

You turned around and lightly pushed back his shoulders, only for you to chase after his lips that withdrew from your ear.

He returned the kiss with twice the force, using one hand to caress your face and the other to brush his fingers against the skin exposed by the hem of your shirt after you stood on the tip of your toes.

The kisses were quickly filled with desperation, and soon he was removing the clothes that you've only just put on a couple of minutes ago. Your shirt and skirt dropped down to the floor, and your bra had been flung across the room.

In return, you avidly got rid of his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. From the moment you freed him from his boxers, Sylus spun you around to face the mirror once again.

"Before you leave me, let me just enjoy you one last time, okay, sweetie?" After a soft peck on your cheek, Sylus gave you a soft nudge forward, making you bend down just a small angle.

Then, he slid his cock between your thighs.

From the mirror's reflection, you watched him thrust into the small and tight space, spreading his pre-cum against your throbbing cunt.

You pressed your thighs together to increase the pressure that was enveloping Sylus' cock as it moves back and forth frantically. Sylus muffled his groans by burying his face against your neck, though he became louder as his pace drastically increased.

Just as he feels himself cumming closely, Sylus' movements came to a halt and stepped away from you. You let out a shaky breath of relief mixed with disappointment, thinking he'd already gotten his fill. But you were so, so wrong.

In the blink of an eye, Sylus gripped your hips and slammed his cock right into you.

Every inch of him.

He knows you have no problem taking him whole so he went into you as deeply as he could.

You let out a squeal as Sylus gave you no time to recover. He followed up one hard thrust with another, and your eyes couldn't leave the mirror's reflection of his ravishing face as he pounds into you.

His mouth his open as he becomes unable to hold back his grunts, and his eyes are on the mirror to admire your own expressions as you fall apart from his cock.

Hearing your mewls, Sylus bent you down further to reach an even deeper part of you before rocking his hips faster while you started to thrust back to him.

Sylus felt you clench around him and lost control of his movements. One hand remained clinging to your hips and the other reached for your face, guiding you to look at him so his tongue can meet yours while your lips become coated with each other's saliva.

Suddenly, Sylus growls into your mouth and his hips stuttered for a moment. His speed increased by a tenfold and both of your ecstatic cries were mixed with the sound of your flesh crashing at every second.

At last, he pulls out and comes on your back. Your legs shook as your own orgasm followed not a minute after, and Sylus caught you and picked you up bridal-style before you could lose balance. He brought you over to his bed and gave you a soft, lingering kiss as he hovers on top of you.

"So, kitten, have you reconsidered about joining me in sleeping in? If your landlord kicks you out, you're more than welcome to stay here."

caleb

You're standing by the kitchen's counter table, happily eating the breakfast that Caleb prepared for you while the cook himself pouts on the chair that you're supposed to be sitting on.

"You're really leaving me early, pip-squeak?"

"Mhmm. Have to go to work early tomorrow so I have to get home by tonight."

Caleb sighs in defeat before wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his cheek against your stomach.

"Fine, fine."

You were too busy enjoying the iced-coffee he made for you so you failed to see the glint that flashed in his eyes.

It began with his left hand drawing circular patterns your thighs. You didn't pay much attention to it as he likes to do that sometimes to appreciate the softness of your skin.

But once his fingers started to move higher and higher, going up your skirt to fiddle with the band of your underwear, your heart started racing.

His right hand slightly pushed the hem of your shirt just high enough to expose some skin between your hips and stomach, then he started to leave soft kisses all over the area.

You paused from drinking your coffee to give Caleb a questioning look, but his eyes were closed as he's too lost in showering you with affection.

Assuming that was all he wanted, you decided to let him do as he please and combed his soft hair with your fingers.

Then, you felt the zipper of your skirt being pulled down. Before you could say a word, it drops down around your feet and to the floor.

He gently grabbed your thighs and nudged them open to make space for himself as he puts his mouth to your crotch.

"Caleb - "

You lost your voice as soon as his tongue flicked against your clothed core. He hums with satisfaction, tigtening his hold on your thighs before exerting more force so you could feel him better.

Caleb looked up at you intensely, and you were met with a gleam full of desire that had your palms sweating and your cunt pulsating.

"I...." Your face felt hot, and you feel like it just became harder to breathe. "I have to leave soon, Caleb... We can't - "

"You said you have to get home by tonight, but not in the afternoon. You can spare me a little more of your time, can't you? After all, it'll be days again until we see each other...."

All of your responses turned into suppressed moans as he pressed his mouth against your panty even harder.

Your nails sank on his shoulders as he suddenly grabbed the back of your thighs and carefully sat your figure on the chair that he was previously sitting on.

Caleb got on his knees and pulled down your underwear before putting himself between your legs. His lips greeted your throbbing pussy, then his tongue darts to your clit as he eats you out like a starved man.

He was devouring you as if he's never had you before.

He was getting you in all the right spots. He knows exactly how to please you, and what will make you fall apart the fastest.

That's why it didn't take long for you to reach your climax. Before you could stop yourself, you squirted all over Caleb's mouth, cheeks, and jaw. The view made your entire body flush with embarrassment, though at the same time it made you want him even more.

Caleb wiped his cheeks and chin with the sleeves of his shirt, then he licked off what had gotten on his lips. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste of you, before quickly standing up to eagerly strip off his clothes.

His cock sprung up, glistening with pre-cum that had his boxers soaked especially when he was fucking you with his mouth. It wants so badly to bury itself in your pussy that it had impatiently gotten swollen, twitching and leaking as you set your gaze on it.

You could see how badly he needed you, and yet when your hand reached out to touch his dick, Caleb caught your wrist and held it along with your other one. Just with one hand, he pulled your wrists above your head and pinned it down on the back of the chair.

Caleb shoved his cock inside you and your shoulder lightly hit the back of the chair at the impact. He hissed at the way you took him so well and so tight, and the way you were wriggling underneath him only turned him on even more.

He started off slowly, letting you adjust to him. He pecked your forehead, nose, cheeks, jaw, and lastly, a long-lasting one on your lips before he gradually picked up the pace.

Your hands twitched, wanting to feel Caleb in return as he's making you feel so good, but he kept a secured hold on your wrists so that you could hold on to nothing as he drills into you. His half-lidded eyes went to your lips and he relished the sweet sounds you were making just for him.

The chair was screeching as its legs scraped against the floor. Had it not been for Caleb holding your wrists down on the back of the chair, you would've already been in another room at every thrust he made.

"F-fuck...." Caleb exhales, chest heaving and muscles clenching as he feels himself coming close.

He'd finally let go of your wrists just so his hands can roam all over your body, then he intertwined his fingers with yours as he finishes inside you, just a few seconds after your second climax.

He didn't stop moving his hips until he filled you with every drop of his cum. Anything that threatened to ooze back out of you, he shoved back in with his cock, even if it made both of you want to curl up at the overwhelming sensations.

Both of you felt every inch of each other, eyes rolled back with overstimulation, until Caleb lost his energy. Drops of sweat clung onto your bodies as you take a moment to catch your breath.

You threw your head back and groaned, feeling like the world is spinning. Caleb took the chance to bite into your neck and leave one last mark on your body.

He used his left hand to wipe sweat off your face. With a soft smile, Caleb brushed some stands of hair away from your face and gave you a soft kiss on your chin.

Your heart swells at the sight of him beaming at you. He is so pretty, you can just stare at him forever.

Even when he loves teasing you endlessly.

"Look at the time, pip-squeak. You still have a few minutes left to spare. You still have to shower, right?"

rafayel

"I can't believe you're leaving me for a fictional character."

Rafayel sulks in his bathtub, pouting with his arms crossed as you stand by his feet, facing him with a blank expression.

"Go on, then. Leave. Leave me for your vampire fake boyfriend. I could die, but go on."

"He's not a vampire."

"Oh, so you admit that he's your fake boyfriend?"

You moved to the side and rested your arms on the rim of the bathtub, then you poked Rafayel's cheek. "It's just a movie, you big baby."

Tara invited you to watch a movie with her since she knows you like that series as well. Rafayel was invited to go too, but he's not a big fan of it and would prefer to stay home.

He has better things to do, he said.

And by that, he means taking a bath for as long as he could, until Thomas checks up on him and the painting he's supposed to be finishing up soon.

"It's just for a few hours. I'll be back by tonight, okay?"

Rafayel grabbed your hand just as you started to walk away to leave the bathroom.

"Wait, but Miss Bodyguard.... I'm not feeling so good all of a sudden...."

"What? What's wrong?"

"Something feels....weird...."

"Where?"

You put your hand on his forehead to check if he has a fever.

"Not there."

Rafayel took your hand and guided it elsewhere.

"Here."

Lower, and lower, and lower.

Down his chest.

Below the warm, bubbly water.

Between his thighs.

And by weird, he means that he's hard. Little did you know, Rafayel was thinking of dirty things as soon as you walked in the bathroom and he saw your outfit.

It was just a casual, pretty dress that you'd worn once on a date with him. Still, he can't help but imagine himself fucking you in it.

"Miss bodyguard...." Rafayel whispers just as your hands wrapped around his cock. "Before you leave, can you help me feel better?"

"But I'm...."

He thrusted into your hand, slowly.

Rafayel's moans cut you off, and the glorious sound went straight to your pussy. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes as droplets of water trickled down his skin.

Maybe.... maybe it should be fine.

It's not like you have to leave right away, right? The traffic shouldn't be too bad today. You can still make it on time. This won't take long.

That's what you told yourself before tightening your fist on his cock and stroking him faster. You pressed your lips against Rafayel, who was surprised at the sudden contact but didn't hestitate to kiss you back hard.

He held your jaw with one hand to keep you in place while his tongue grazes yours. The sound of your lips smacking against each other joined the spashing of water from the bathtub as your hands moved under it.

Rafayel's lower body started to squirm, unable to contain himself from the overwhelming pleasure you were delivering. With his face flushed, he lets out slow, ragged breaths to calm himself down.

He wanted to cum, but he didn't want you to go just yet. You can't leave so soon. Not until he's been inside you.

"Darling.... I need you." he whines against your ear. "Please...."

Your breath hitched at his expression. So needy, just for you. You were wet and clenching behind your panties, feeling just as desperate as him. "Get up."

He paused for a moment before realizing the intention of your words. He hurriedly stood up from the bathtub and dried his body with a towel, then wasted no time reattaching himself onto you.

His lips returned to yours while his hands busied themselves by removing your clothes and letting them fall to the floor.

With your back against the wall, Rafayel wrapped your legs around his hips. Then, he pushed his cock into you. He buried his face between your breasts, groaning at the feeling of you squeezing him so tightly.

You felt so, so, good, he almost didn't want to move. For a moment, he just wanted to stay like that, with him inside you, warming him up. But his cock was throbbing. He needed to feel all of you, and he can't afford to waste any second.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing him even more into you as you gasped for air. Your heart is racing at every thrust, and your eyes were clouded with the steam that took over the bathroom, caused by the temperature of the bath's water as well as your own heavy breaths.

"So...good...." Rafayel murmurs against your skin as your hand brushed against the bond mark on his chest.

He started to move even faster and harder that your back was no longer against the wall; your body was bouncing up and down his cock, letting you feel him even more.

You grunted his name, pressing your nails down his skin and making him moan louder in return while he strengthens his hold on your hips. Just then, he felt his body tightening up and his core convulsing. Without a warning, Rafayel pulls out of you and bursts all over your thighs.

Your body tumbles onto his arms as your legs weakened from your own release. Rafayel picked you up bridal style and sat you on the vanity top in front of the mirror.

He wiped your face and body with a clean towel and gently fixed your hair with a comb.

"Hey, Miss Bodyguard...." Rafayel grinned. "I bet your fictional vampire fake boyfriend can't make you make those pretty noises like I just did."

You frowned and squished his cheeks with one hand. "I have to let Tara know I'm not gonna make it before the trailers for the movie because...my fish was being a brat."

"Heh."

Rafayel looked way too proud of himself.

zayne

It was Zayne that woke you up way before your alarm could even ring. You have a dentist appointment early in the morning, and your lover who doesn't like them very much says it's always important that you show up to your appointments on time.

That's why he had taken the liberty of waking you up early.

You were having a dreamless but peaceful sleep when you were pulled into consciousness by light feather kisses tickling your neck and shoulders.

An arm rested on your stomach and gently rubbed you for comfort before it pulled you back so that you're right against a strong chest.

"Darling, are you awake?"

You're still half-asleep and lacked the energy to come up with a response, so you kept your eyes and mouth shut, ready to fall back into your slumber.

Your alarm hasn't given you a heart attack yet, so you still have time to sleep. Even if you only had one minute left, you'll take it.

Zayne disagrees.

He thinks you should wake up now.

So, he gives you kisses that are more intense than before. He tangled his legs with yours and pressed his hips against your ass while his mouth sucks the skin between your neck and right shoulder.

Quiet moans fought their way out from your lips, but your eyes refused to open despite your twitching eyelids.

Zayne's hand on your stomach traveled higher to feel your chest at the same time he rutted his hips onto your ass.

He's only wearing his boxers, and you're only wearing a thin underwear underneath the shirt you robbed from his closet. You should be feeling the friction quite well, so he has no doubt that he'd get your attention no matter how light or deep you're sleeping right now.

But as it turns out...

His own actions affected him much faster than you did. His cock hardened immediately just by pressing against you and feeling you up.

He only meant to tease you a little, and that backfired on him so bad.

He can't stop now.

Zayne continued to hump your ass until his boxers were stained from his own excitement. He faced the ceiling for a moment to catch his ragged breath, then he stuck one hand in his boxers and wrapped his fist around his cock.

He stroke himself slowly, feeling all blood rushing to his crotch. He was throbbing and leaking, and his hand feels like it's not going to be enough no matter what he does on his own.

Zayne shifted sideways once again and closed the distance between your bodies. He kissed your shoulder before brushing his cock against your clothed pussy, staining it with his pre-cum.

Your legs twitched at the sudden feeling that struck your core. You gasped and opened your eyes just for Zayne's thumb to enter your mouth and feel your tongue.

You heard him groan softly from behind you.

"Zayne..."

He paused for a moment, too flustered to come up with an immediate response.

"G-good morning..."

But he couldn't stop himself from moving, from chasing after the ecstatic feeling you were giving him.

"Can I...." His words comes out shaky as he struggles to hold himself back. "I need you. Please, can I-"

You held his right hand that had been hovering over your chest. "Go ahead, Zayne."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please."

He already had you fully aroused. There was no way you could just walk away without being fucked by him.

You grinded your ass back to him, encouraging him to do as he please, and so Zayne pulled down your panty and fully sheathed himself into you.

He knew you could take him. You've always taken him so well, and so he started to move fast right away. You struggled to keep your volume low as he dove into you hard with every thrust, causing the entire bed to shake.

The drops of sweat that stuck to your skin had been turned into specks of snow as Zayne loses control of his movements as well as his own breathing.

He had to bury his face against your neck as he feels his senses starting to feel overwhelmed with desire and pleasure.

He needed to feel you more.

Faster.

Deeper.

The moment you clenched tightly around his cock, Zayne fell apart. He came inside you hard, some had started to spill out of you, mixing in with your own release.

Both of you rested your back against the mattress to catch your breaths and regain your senses.

And even then, Zayne's cock remained stiff.

The moment your eyes fell to it, ready to offer him your service, your alarm clock finally blared and made you jump.

"Fuck... I have to start getting ready."

You sat up, only for Zayne to follow your action. He took your arms and legs and guided you to sit on him. On his lap.

"It's okay if you're a few minutes late." He lowered your ass into his cock, earning a soundless gasp from you. "They'll understand how hard it is.... to get up in the morning..."

[sixeyesonathiel]

pirate!satoru who has a bad habit of picking up shiny things and an even worse habit of teasing the sweet mermaid he meets every sunset.

he first saw you while chasing a storm. his crew had warned him of cursed waters ahead, thick with fog and stories about drowned men who never sank. sea birds had stopped circling, and even the wind seemed to hesitate—but satoru liked cursed things. they were usually interesting. and interesting things always led to fun.

what was more fun than a girl in the sea, glowering at his ship like it had insulted the ocean herself?

he remembers that day like salt on skin. ropes whipping in the wind, the creak of the ship’s old bones groaning beneath his boots. gulls screeched overhead, barely heard over the crack of thunder. and then—your eyes, breaking the water like two shards of moonlight, locked onto his with that same look of unimpressed calm, as if you’d already judged him and found him deeply, deeply annoying.

you were tangled in another crew’s net, fins thrashing, hands cut red from rope. he didn’t free you out of chivalry—no, he wasn’t that sort. he just hated the other pirates. loudmouthed, greedy, and smug, like they were owed the sea’s bounty. they caged you like a prize pearl in a box. and that pissed him off.

“i owe you a favor,” you’d said afterward, voice soft like seafoam clinging to a quiet shore.

“you can owe me your company,” he’d replied, tipping his hat like a man far too confident for his own good.

turns out, getting under your skin was impossible. your metaphorical skin might’ve been made of coral and old secrets. he teased. you smiled. he flirted. you tilted your head in confusion. he poked. you thanked him.

like now.

he lounges at the edge of the ship, one leg dangling lazily over the side. the sun’s lowering behind him, turning his white hair gold at the edges, glinting off the pale sweep of his lashes. the breeze lifts the ends of his coat, fluttering it just enough to add flair. in his hands, he twirls two mismatched seashells between calloused fingers, idly rolling them together with a click.

a few crewmates are scrubbing deck nearby, trading quiet gossip about strange tides and the price of fish. none of them look over. they know better. at sunset, the captain talks to the sea—and she talks back.

then you arrive.

rising slowly from the waves like the ocean herself breathed you out. droplets cling to your collarbone, shoulders glistening under the fading sun. your hair, wet and clinging to your cheeks, frames the serene warmth in your eyes. you blink at him with that same quiet anticipation, like this ritual—this meeting—is the most natural part of your world.

he smirks, holding up the seashells. “oi, these yours?”

your brow furrows as you float closer, curiosity blooming across your face. “mine?”

“they look like your bra,” he says casually, letting them swing between his fingers.

you tilt your head. “bra?”

satoru leans forward on his elbows, grinning like the smug little shit he is. his eyes gleam with mischief, watching your expression intently.

“you know. the thing you wear over your chest?” he makes a vague motion toward your own shell top, then glances down at the ones in his hand. “though these—” he eyes the tiny shells, then very obviously eyes you, “—are definitely snack-sized. yours are, uh. not.”

you look at the shells, then down at yourself. then back at him. your smile spreads slowly, luminously. “they’re very shiny. thank you.”

he freezes. “wait. no, that’s not—”

your fingers break the surface and take them gently, like he’s handed you something precious. your touch is cool, damp, and feather-light against his knuckles. he tenses, a little startled by the sincerity of the gesture.

“i will wear them tomorrow,” you say, delighted. “they’re beautiful.”

he sputters. “they’re too—wait, you’re serious?”

you nod, already lowering back into the waves, cradling the shells like they’re pearls from a lover. “thank you, satoru.”

the sea folds over you in one smooth motion, and you're gone—your tail flashing silver in the last bit of sun, leaving only ripples behind.

satoru stares at his now-empty hands. then drops his face into them with a groan. “i was teasing, you little—”

that night, he doesn’t sleep right.

he tosses in his hammock, arms crossed behind his head, boots kicked off haphazardly on the floor. moonlight drips through the porthole like spilled milk, casting pale lines across his wall. every time he closes his eyes, he sees the way yours sparkled. hears your voice echoing in the back of his skull. "i will wear them tomorrow."

“they’re too small,” he mutters. “they were for crabs. or like, decorative. who even makes shell bras that size?”

he flips over and buries his face into the pillow with a frustrated grunt. wills himself to sleep out of sheer frustration.

satoru wakes with a start the next morning, tangled in the hammock’s netting like a man caught in his own trap. the wood above him groans softly with the sway of the ship, but inside his skull, everything is loud. echoing. relentless.

"i will wear them tomorrow."

the memory hits again, not so much a whisper as it is a war drum. a cursed prophecy. his breath catches, and he blurts out—“shit.”

he nearly tumbles out of the hammock, lurching upright like he’s missed roll call at death’s door. his coat is thrown over his bare shoulders in a crooked mess, one sleeve still twisted from sleep. one boot is half on, heel dragging noisily across the floorboards as he bolts for the deck like a man late to his own wedding. his hair is a disaster—white tufts sticking out in every direction, the ends tangled like salt-kissed seaweed.

his crew parts like startled fish, wide-eyed and wary. some lift their heads from mugs of lukewarm grog, others pause mid-scrub, the morning sun casting halos over buckets and ropes.

“what’s gotten into the captain?” a deckhand murmurs, still holding a mop dripping seawater.

“maybe the mermaid did curse him,” another offers, leaning on the railing with a skeptical squint.

“more like blessed,” a third snorts, biting into an apple with the smugness of someone watching a romance unfold.

satoru hears all of it. ignores all of it. his boots clack against the wood like thunder rolling toward a storm.

his strides are frantic, yet deliberate. his shoulders tense. his expression, usually carved from smug marble, is twitchy—like a man walking into his own trap with his eyes wide open. he rakes a hand through his hair—more chaotic than usual—and curses softly when it tangles between his fingers.

the morning air is salty, thick with gull cries and the faint scent of fish stew wafting from the galley. behind him, the sun has barely begun to climb, painting the deck in long gold strokes and casting shadows that stretch like sleepy cats.

and there you are.

rising from the sea like a myth rewritten.

your silhouette breaks the water with ethereal grace, droplets clinging to your skin like borrowed starlight. your hair, soaked and glinting like pearls, drapes around your shoulders, framing your face with moonlit strands. your eyes—curious and bright—search the horizon before landing on him. and there, nestled over your chest in all their misplaced glory—those fucking seashells.

tiny. ornamental. utterly useless in the face of reality. they barely cover what they’re meant to. they sparkle obscenely under the sun.

satoru’s spine locks like a rigged pulley. his pupils shrink.

he pivots too fast—then smacks directly into the mast.

thunk.

“ow—! dammit—” he hisses, stumbling back and grabbing his forehead like he’s been cursed by the gods themselves. one eye cracks open, pained and watery, just in time to see you waving.

“satoru! good morning!”

your voice is sunshine poured over seafoam. you tilt your head, cheeks dewy and glowing, sea breeze brushing through your bangs.

he spins again, half-hiding behind the mast, gripping it like a lifeline tossed from a lifeboat. his mouth is dry. his pride is dissolving. he forces a grin—shaky, stretched thin like fraying rope—and manages, “h-hi.”

his voice cracks in the middle like a boy in love. a boy in trouble.

“the shells fit nicely!” you call, hands floating over the water’s surface as you paddle closer. “they’re a little snug, but very shiny. i like them.”

his brain just stops.

“i—i figured you’d—uh—you didn’t have to actually—I was just—just teasing—”

his words trip over each other like drunken sailors on a tipping deck. his hands flap helplessly in front of him, like he can push the moment away through sheer air resistance.

you blink, thoughtful. your tail flicks behind you under the water, sending a ripple that bumps gently against the ship. “teasing?”

he breathes in too fast and immediately regrets it, choking on his own spit. he bends slightly, hand over his chest like he might physically keep his soul from bailing.

he looks at you. really looks.

the way your brows knit together softly in confusion. the way your fingers cradle the shells like they’re delicate offerings. how your skin glows, kissed by the morning light, shimmering where droplets cling to you. how the innocence on your face is devastating.

he drags a hand down his face, fingers smearing across his cheeks. his pale strands falls over his eyes. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you look genuinely concerned. “with seashells?”

he gives a defeated nod, letting his forehead rest against the mast like he wishes it were a guillotine. “yes. exactly that.”

you hum thoughtfully, still watching him. “do humans often give shells like that to show affection?”

he chokes again. this time, violently.

“w-what?! n-no, i mean—sometimes? not like—i wasn’t—it’s not—”

you smile, pleased with the answer you’ve crafted from his gibberish. “then i’ll treasure them. thank you again, satoru.”

you say his name like it’s a charm, a secret tied to your tongue.

he might actually die.

[tsuyalovebot]

make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.