Hard of hearing!Simon Riley whoās got permanent damage in his right ear from years of explosions, gunfire, and close-quarters chaosāno one on base really comments on it anymore, but heās used to tilting his head slightly when someone talks, or barking a gruff āWot?ā when the words blur together.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who meets you and immediately notices how you donāt dial it down. You talk and talkārambling about your day, laughing loud enough that it echoes off the walls, filling every quiet corner of his flat like you were made to chase away the silence heās lived in for years. Past partners always told you to lower your voice, said you were ātoo much,ā but Simon just watches you with those dark eyes and lets you keep going.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who starts positioning himself on your left side without thinking, the good ear turned toward you so he doesnāt miss a single word. He never asks you to speak up or repeat yourself; instead he leans in closer, mask tugged down just enough that you can see the faint scar along his jaw, and mutters, āKeep talkinā, love. Like hearinā you.ā
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who finds your volume oddly comforting after missions. The flat used to feel like a tombātoo still, too quiet. Now itās full of your voice: you singing off-key in the kitchen, yelling excitedly at the telly, chattering while you cook. He catches fragments sometimes, but the tone? The energy? That comes through crystal clear, and it settles something restless in his chest.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who gets a little smug when you forget and raise your voice even more around him. Youāll be mid-rant about some coworker and suddenly boom a laugh, and heāll just smirk under the mask, pulling you into his lap with one big hand on your hip. āDidnāt catch all that,ā he rumbles, ābut I liked the last bit. Say it again.ā
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who never once makes you feel like your loudness is a flaw. If anything, he guards it. When Soap or Gaz tease you lightly about being the āloud oneā in the relationship, Simon shuts it down with a flat stare and a low, āShe talks how she talks. Fuck off.ā Youāre his noise. His life. The one sound he never wants muffled.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley whose favorite thing is when youāre in bed and that volume of yours really comes out. He loves the way you canāt stay quietāwhining his name, gasping loud when he drags his cock slow and deep, moaning without shame as he pins your wrists above your head and fucks you harder just to hear you get even louder.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who growls against your throat, āLouder, sweetheart. Want the whole fuckinā block to know whoās makinā you sound like that.ā He angles his hips just right, thick length stretching you open, and when you cry outāsharp, unrestrained, voice cracking on a broken āSimon, fuck, right thereāāhe swears it hits him harder than any explosion ever did.
Hard of hearing!Simon Riley who buries his face in your neck as you come undone, your loud, messy moans vibrating against his skin while he spills inside you with a deep, guttural groan of his own. Afterward he stays buried deep, breathing you in, one calloused thumb brushing your cheek as he murmurs, āNever get tired of hearinā you lose it for me. Loud as you want, love. Always.ā
He pulls you close, your chest still heaving, voice hoarse from how freely you let go, and for once the world feels perfectly loud in all the right ways.
I'm in love with this. Like, seriously. Been told my whole life to "Lower your voice", or "Be quiet", sometimes just a repeated gesture to lower my voice. People have flinched at my volume sometimes, and I feel bad, and I try to lower my volume. But the longer I talk, the louder I get, and I've been talking to me my whole life, so it doesn't always register. My grandmother got sudden hearing loss in one ear a few years ago, got some of the hearing back, and now both her ears kind of suck. She already thought I was loud. Now, we've discovered she's sensitive to the specific pitch or something of my voice. If anyone else sounds too similar to me, it affects her too. So if I'm in the same room, I can be whispering and she'll yell at me to lower my volume like I was shouting at full volume. I've lived with her for 15 year, and am currently trying to move out.
Sorry. That was a very long, roundabout way of trying to say : I've been "too loud" my whole life, since before I can remember. So to have someone that just . . . tolerates how loud I am, let alone enjoy how loud I am?
It would be one of the greatest gifts I could ever receive.
Thank you for writing this, @ynstark. Many, many, many, many kudos to you.
It may not seem like much to you, but this piece of fanfiction has made me very happy at a time when I am constantly trying to leave a house and family that only brings me grief 99% of the time.
Playing DnD be like "Oh I just realized that's the 5th character I write who's obsessed with food, is overworked and has a terrible relationship with their father but surely this means nothing about myself"
Okay so many years ago when my mother read the first rough draft of my novel Echo of the Larkspur she congratulated me on writing the most realistic autistic character she's ever read before
And I just remember sitting there going that can't be right, that character just thinks the same way I do and *I'm* not autistic, she's totally in the wrong about that
Fellas, I bet you cannot guess what I was diagnosed with shortly afterwards, you simply can't
be us writing a novel about someone who finally discovers they're able to be two people, one a boy and one a girl, a decade before coming out as trans, and two decades before realising we were plural and it was way more nuanced than "a boy and a girl" so we're still trying to write it
Ghost genuinely doesn't understand why you would want to lose weight.
He tells you as much when you comment about starting a diet, brow furrowed under the mask "yer a civilian, love. No reason to torture yerself."
You try to explain that it's for your looks, that you noticed how your upper arms sag and your gut is always sticking out over jeans when you sit. To which ghost grunts "...jerk off to the thought o' you and yer body everyday. If it helps."
Which...he does, actually. Ghost isn't dressing up his words to make you feel nice, he simply can't get enough of your plush body. Practically begs you for photos all the time, not just nudes but silly ones of your outfits or selfies on a day out. He's so horribly in love he jerks off to the halfāasleep barely illuminated selfies you take when you wake up in the middle of the night.
Had you better stamina, you're sure your boyfriend would keep you bent over near constantly if the mess between your thighs from his midnight desire is anything to go by.
Any thoughts of cutting calories or opting for a salad are always dashed when ghosts groggy "mornin' lovie...." is accompanied by two large hands kneading the fat of your chest and sides.
Ghost loves his fat partner, and he makes sure you know it.
He...also might need to he held back from pulling a knife when someone makes a snide comment.
idea: humans are space orcs-type story but it's like. alien tech runs on quantum particles, which means it stops working the second a human looks at it and collapses them into a single state.
Alien: Jerry those power cells are supposed to last for months, there's no way this ship has gone through five this week!
Human Jerry: idk what to tell you, man. *glances at another power cell and it immediately shuts off*
When I was training to be a paramedic, we had one student ask the instructor what to do in the event of a marijuana overdose. The instructor said "Tell him to take two twinkies and call you in the morning."
If the Please Do Not Eat That Professional thinks it's inconsequential enough to be funny, then the concerned caller knows it's no big deal. When I was a kid my mom called poison control because I ate not one but several crayons, and their advice was to make sure I didn't stray too far from a toilet for a few hours because suppositories are made of wax, too.
Also several years ago I ate half a sandwich while wondering why the hell it tasted so funny only to realize the Goo Gone I'd been cleaning with was leaking, and did so onto my sandwich. Poison Control now has an online form where you can put in what you ingested/how much/when/etc. and someone basically triages those out, so the kid who just drank a bunch of drain cleaner isn't in line behind the kid who ate a crayon. I got a call like twenty minutes later from a nurse who told me I was fine.
Oh! And if you want to know what the tool looks like, it now gives a "this is not a real case" option to let you test it out, so I became a hypothetical worried patient who accidentally took 1000mg of ibuprofen (max dose should be 800) instead of 1000mg of acetaminophen (which has a max dose of 1000) and ran the entire thing. It took me less than two minutes from this:
To this:
Below this screenshot I was advised to drink some water and that if symptoms developed in the next four hours, I should only be concerned in certain cases (e.g. nausea is normal, heart palpitations are a problem).
So what if it's a serious problem? Suddenly, hypothetical Nina was cleaning xir bathroom sink and got hit with some Drano splashback with xir eyes and mouth open! Here's what the tool suggested. As soon as I selected that I'd gotten Drano in my eyes, this popped up:
So I hypothetically went to rinse my eyes, came back, and indicated it'd also gotten into my mouth and onto my skin. Here was the result:
And finally, hypothetical!Nina made an extremely bad decision, then decided this wasn't how xe wanted things to end after all. So I selected the option that says I'd attempted self-harm, and this popped up. (I didn't get it in the screenshot, but there's a drawing of a sad snail at the top of the screen. I think it's supposed to remind you someone is there, this just isn't the best route to reach them.)
The tool covers literally thousands of substances, and it's fast to use. It'll ask your age, assigned sex at birth, what you were exposed to, how (ate/drank it, breathed it in, got it in your eyes, etc.), how much you were exposed to, how long ago, whether you notice any symptoms, and what zip code you're in. That's it, and it's right here if you need it, and as they told me when I said I felt dumb over my Goo Gone-ified sandwich, they'd rather I check and be fine than not check because I "felt silly" and end up dead.
oh my god i almost forgot to tell you all about how, while my dad was visiting, i had an infestation of every single kind of bug in my house that hasn't been a problem before or since. like i'm not kidding i evicted so many creeping crawlies that week and couldn't for the life of me stop mosquitos from stealing my blood, but as soon as he left they vanished. and i mean, sure, there's a perfectly rational explanation, because two people make more mess than one and he has a habit of leaving the windows wide open enough to fly a jet engine through day and night, but i can't help but think how symbolically on the nose it was. the ancestral rot at the heart of my family so gothic it's got ants and flies buzzing around its decaying corpse.
hey so update but i haven't been harassed by a single freaky little beast since my dad left even after leaving some crumbs on the floor as an experiment to see if they attracted any ants so i think my dad might just be bugs actually
I swear... Your Simon womb-fucking post literally has had me in a chokehold ever since I found it... It's so fucking hotttt
More please šš.... But make it DOUBLE this time? Two bullying into the womb-
Maybe this is the period hormones talking-
TF141 x fem!reader, mermen AU, hemipenes, double penetration, oviposition, alien biology, anal, come play (so much come), dubcon/noncon, nipple torture, clit play, womb fucking, cervix penetration, unrealistic (and unsafe) sex, underwater sex, breathplay, deep throating, paralysis, monsterfucking, drugged sex, forced breeding/incubating, drowning, no character death!, noncon body modification (as a result of said alien biology), kidnapping/abduction, LONGFIC
anon I am so sorry I will do a more normal one for you soon this just sort of ...took over
AO3 Link
A continuation of the mer post... (mind these tags!!)
You weren't supposed to be at the tidal pools at all this week, much less slipping and splashing your way through them at night, the moonlight the only thing lighting your way- you didn't dare risk a flashlight or headlamp, and be spotted.
But something was wrong with Ghost, and no one else seemed to care!
He'd been sluggish at your last meeting, cradling you in his arms and idly mouthing along your throat as the others had continued their exploration of your body, only helping to move you, lift your legs and arms, rather than taking his own turn in hot, human cunt. And then the other reports from the biologists had all noted how he stayed back, swam slower than usual, the other mers swooping around him with frantic motions. "Just something we're looking into," they'd said, waving you off, "don't worry your little head about it," and you'd stormed away from their condescension with flaming cheeks. For scientists who had begged you to help them forge bonds with the mers, they were awfully happy to send you away now that there were samples and data to be analyzed in sterile tubes.
You swear as your boot slips down between two rocks, and sticks, staying behind with a wet gulp as your foot comes free and the rubber fills with seawater. Ugh, fuck it, you're risking a sliced foot on clams or sharp stones, but you're nearly there- you can see the deep pool you've unofficially claimed, and Ghost's long, pale tail is visible, curling over itself.
Price catches you as you splash in, and you can see the worry in his face, the way he lifts you immediately over to Ghost. The mer is submerged, and his hands curl over your hips, claws scratching.
"What's wrong?" You plead. You pat down his chest, his arms, looking for some wound or tender spot. He chirrs, but it's not until you slide backwards, straddling the thick part of his hips and tail, that he responds, claws digging into your flesh. You yelp, water splashing as Price gets his hands over Ghost's, peeling his fingers away before he does more than prick you. Kyle croons softly, waves eddying, and nuzzles tenderly over the small drops of blood.
You slide further back, thinking you sat on something- a broken bone? You're not a doctor, what the fuck are you thinking- and yelp when Ghost's cock springs up between your thighs, standing full already, smacking up against your swimsuit like it's your own.
You've seen his cock before, taken it in your hands and pussy, and just seeing it makes you flush a little, the body-memory of being filled to the brim flashing through you with a throb of heat. You shake your head, this isn't the time-
But Gaz is already tugging at your suit, trying to pull the bottoms over far enough to free you, and you squeak in protest as his claws scrape through your folds, seeking your hole. Your hips are pulled, back arching, and you spit out a mouthful of seawater as Price moves your hands, chirping and crooning, fitting the fingers of one around the base of Ghost's cock....and the others tucked into the slit where it emerges, feeling the tight, cramped space, the way Ghost convulses when your fingertip touches something thick and round inside. He's moaning, more throat vocalizations than you've ever heard from him, and under the mask and teeth his own lips are bared in something less than pleasure.
Gaz keeps rubbing at you, making you whine, and you kick at him until he stops, pouting. You hiss, your human imitation of their displeasure word, Price backing you up with his own more impressive one, the frills around his jaw and mouth flaring out.
Able to pay attention, you rub again with the hand just slipped inside. The bulge you had felt doesn't seem like something foreign- it's slippery, body-warm, not a rock or shell wedged somewhere it shouldn't be. A tumor? Fuck, you're so stupid, you should have brought one of the biologists somehow. What are you supposed to do except fret and poke around??
Price grasps your wrist, and his frills tickle your cheek as he guides your hand with his- oh, his bigger, much broader one, the webbed fingers too thick to get even half as far inside as your own slender, narrower digits. He literally can't fit his hand inside to help free whatever needs to come out.
You bite your lip, and turn your wrist so you can slide flat fingers and palm down. Ghost arches under you, body rolling, and there's a splash as Soap appears, catching the pale mer around the shoulders. He's crooning, the fin arching from the top of his head back a blue-green flutter in the moonlight, and Gaz smooths his hands across your thighs to keep you in place.
The bulge in your palm is thick, hard, and you tilt Ghost's cock up, pushing it back against his belly, to give yourself more room. Thin, sensitive flesh flexes against your skin, and the thick, clinging precome he spurts across his belly fills you with more sense memory of taking that same fluids in your mouth, streaked across your skin.
Something is loosening, and you try rubbing, hoping to move the bulge forward, up and out. Ghost wails out loud, startling you, and Price and Gaz both grasp your legs, keeping you spread over the powerful muscle of his tail.
You swimsuit is still peeled away, stuck to the side, and you can't help the little whine as your bare pussy rubs over the smooth scales. Gaz's claws prick at you as well, lighter than the still stinging holes left at your hips from Ghost, and even as you feel the bulge start shifting, palm hot and tingling with the squeeze of flesh around your hand, he tugs the top of your suit over to the middle as well and gets his mouth on your nipple.
You nearly fall off Ghost, fingers spasming, only holding your position by not wanting to scratch or tear the mer with your hand inside him. Your nipple stretches, sucked in that impossible to recreate way of the mers, your breast pulling taut before you're released with a wet pop.
You moan when Price does the same to the other, and they keep alternating, sucking at nipple and breast alike, the one-piece suit cutting into your flesh as it's rolled between your breasts, the bottom squeezing your ass and thigh where your pussy sits open and hungry against Ghost. You don't want to let go of Ghost to make them stop, not when he's crooning so loud, cock steadily spilling into the water as the slippery knot moves, twitches in your palm like- like-
You gape as a second cock springs free of his slit, come spurting out over you, clinging in thick ropes across your breasts. The mer is thrashing even in Soap's hold, one hand coming up to grope the curve of your belly, clawing at the soft flesh under your swimsuit. There's a few little pops as threads tear, and you shake as Price slips a finger under your ass, finding the slick smeared over your clit, and rubs at it, working the nerves over as you gasp. Ghost gets his hand over yours around his- now his first cock, Jesus fuck- and angles it up, the tip smacking your lips as Price pulls you back again, using your clit as his own little handle, too hard and sharp, fuck, you lick your lips and taste brine and something heady and rich, and Gaz holds your head down as Ghost strokes his cock and spills his come down your throat.
You choke, sputtering- it's too thick to swallow easily- and his other cock spurts more across your throat. Soap leaves Ghost and any faint thoughts of him helping you fly away when a sharp, curved knife appears in his hand and starts sawing away at your swimsuit.
You've got a mouthful of mer come and more on your tits, your clit being tugged and rubbed, and now you're bare to them fully, groping hands squeezing at you, the sting of claws leaving red marks over your breasts, thighs, a line following the drop of water- or tears- dripping down your cheek.
Price gets a finger inside you, and scrapes your clit with his claw, and you're coming hard, too much sensation on the wrong side of pleasure to make it enjoyable- you shake and groan with the lightning going up your spine, pussy throbbing, weeping full tears as Soap licks them away, his tongue flicking between them and the come drooling past your lips.
Gaz cradles you, crooning songs in your ear, lifting your head up to let Soap get full access to your mouth. Another wave comes up, making you sputter, and abruptly you're dunked underwater, flailing, momentarily weightless as the moonlight vanishes and you're left wriggling in the dark.
A bubble slips past your lips, and you're caught up again, a flexible, muscular body clasping you close, and you break past the surface as Ghost works the tip of his cock into your pussy.
You can feel the come he's still pumping out, filling you with it, and the other cock rubs against your belly. The other mers are all around, nipping and pinching your nipples, smooth scales flowing over your skin, and your pussy clenches around Ghost, clit throbbing, as syrupy heat builds in your belly.
You're still gasping from being underwater, trying to catch your breath, as Ghost works a little more of his cock inside- you're forced to stretch over it, pussy clamping tight, and as your clit rubs against the underside of his cock, along the smooth skin, you feel the orgasm building again, dizzy, helpless against the sparks flowing from clit to fingertips.
Price chirps in your ear, nuzzling, his frills tickling you. Soap and Gaz are moaning next to you, playing with your breasts, finding your nipples and tugging them, sucking at them underwater so that the suction pulls them full and puffy, sensitive enough that even the shifting currents of the water make you shiver.
Ghost pauses, holding you at the thickest part of his cock, and you moan as he does something- his cock throbs, swelling, and he croons a long vocalization that hums in your bones as every muscle goes limp, soft, your head falling back as your neck fails to keep it up. Fear stabs at you, but Price keeps you above water, and seafoam washes the last of the come stuck to your breasts away. He keeps you arched like this, eyes staring up at the swirling clouds, barely making out the dim circle of the moon behind them, breasts bouncing gently in the waves. Your nipples are so sore it hurts, tightening in the cool air, and a little whimper slips past your lips to be swallowed by Soap.
Your pussy is so hot and soft, you've never felt more relaxed between your legs. Even the clamping and squeezing has eased, leaving you with a clit that feels like the only tight part of your body- hot and sensitive and aching, begging for release. Ghost's cock eases out, and you feel the warmth between your legs as his come and your slick flush out, vanishing quickly into the seawater. He chirrs, nuzzling at your throat, the shark teeth on his necklaces and body chains scratching you.
You whine when his cock reappears, nudging back at you, but the wail when a second head prods at your hole makes them all shudder, briefly compressing you between four bodies.
You stretch and stretch, floating, legs and arms all soft, buffeted about with the currents as four mers thrash their tails, playing with you, Soap tucking his face beneath your thigh to suck hard. You feel everything, the pulse of his mouth as he indulges in the warm skin and delicate hairs, moving down and around to keep going over your ass. Gaz goes back to your nipples, and as he lifts your breasts to let them bounce and splash you see your nipples standing up full and dark, expanded obscenely, bouncing as Gaz flicks one with just the tip of his claw.
Your clit throbs so sharply it aches, the thin, delicate skin stretched tight, too tight, your hole straining as two cocks fill it. You're going to tear, surely you'll tear, but the paralytic that fills your body with lassitude keeps you intact, and you're left with a pussy that flutters weakly, tears dripping down your cheeks, your belly and back aching as the two cocks inside you push organs out of their way. You can feel the heat in the water between your thighs, the warm flush of slick mixing with Ghost's come, swirling away as it's sucked into the gills of the mers, making them more frantically eager to play with your body.
You moan as the double cocks settle, reaching the end of your channel. There's more liquid spurts inside you, slicking up your pussy, and even through the syrupy warm heat you feel fear stab at you again when Ghost pulls you a little further down.
His cocks squeeze up against your cervix, and you beg, pleading, soft frantic no no no as you feel the spongy little circle strain. Ghost grunts, the most human sound you've heard from him, and his big hand cups your jaw. His mouth twitches, black eyes boring down into you under the pale scales and white bones and cartilage. "Shh," he soothes, and you whimper. "Shh," and his thumb rubs your lips. Your pussy aches. There's a new flush of heat through your limbs, and Gaz and Soap curl up on either side of you, Price at your back, as the mers shift so you're resting on Price as he floats. Gaz and Soap each take a limp thigh and lift them, spreading your legs open as wide as they can, and you quiver as the swirling clouds part to reveal a sliver of the moon. Ghost drags his fingers down your chest, flicking at a nipple, sharp claws stinging with saltwater over your belly, and finds your clit.
You can't see it but you can feel it, fat and swollen, the hood pulled back as your folds are all stretched apart with the cocks filling you. Ghost is careful, only rubbing it lightly, but even that soft touch makes you weep, nerves stretched tight and singing, and when he flicks it- oh god- your clit hurts, you're so full, there's no space left- there's one space left- your pussy flutters, helpless, the final barrier softening and stretching under the constant spurts of come and fluids. Your nipples ache and throb like clits of their own, buffeted by the waves, and against your back Price croons and lifts your breasts up for his two younger mers to swallow, taking mouthfuls of flesh, the sharp edges of their teeth circling your skin.
Ghost caresses your clit, smearing it with the spilled drops of come and slick, and your eyes roll back, the minute shivering of your limbs all you can manage in what would have been an orgasm that sent you thrashing. Your toes curl as heat and pleasure fill you, the soft wailing sounds escaping your throat choked off as waves splash over you, only Price covering your mouth and nose at the last moment to keep you from drowning.
Everything else, his hand and the waves, the sucking, pulling pinch at your nipples, the burn of salt in the scratches and bruising marks- all of it vanishes into the hot pulse rolling through you, your poor stretched pussy unable to clamp down at all, left to soak in the hot fluids and pump more of your slick into the water. Your clit feels so tight, so hot and sore, that the scrape of Ghost's fingers sends you over again, lungs aching, water rushing in your ears as your cervix pulses- pushing back, no, he can't, he can't- and bubbles burst from your lips and nose as abruptly he does, his cocks squeeze tight, narrow tips flexing, pulsing, and your cervix stretches wide, soft and wet, as Ghost vibrates a low rippling wave of song through his body, shuddering right through you.
Your face breaks the surface and you gasp, eyes rolling. You're full beyond measure. Your womb is stretching, cunt and clit all hot and throbbing, making a soft space for Ghost as his hips finally settle to yours. Your clit rubs the textured flesh at the base of his cocks, and another pulsing orgasm flows through you.
Your womb clutches his cocks, and a sputtering moan crawls up from your chest as you feel it, the way he shudders and his cocks throb, and abruptly there's something else- Price's cock- it rubs against your asshole, and you try to shake your head, no, no, please- but your languid muscles fail to tense up, and he croons and cradles you, gentle, at odds with how his cock forces your asshole open- no slick here to ease the way, just his cock and its own fluids sticking to your walls as you're stretched again, too far. Your legs splay wide open, toes twitching as the deep nerves are stimulated, and Soap seals his mouth over yours as Price seats himself fully.
Pleasure flows between your legs, from your breasts, as Ghost holds you still, his cocks flooding your womb. You can almost feel it, the slosh and spurts, and when Soap keeps sucking your tongue you whine and cry and give up, a soft plaything, used between the strange, crooning mers. Gaz is still attached to your breast, and your nipple feels like it's on fire, pleasure and pain swirling through you. The soft flesh pulls tight in his mouth, throbbing, and Soap onto jams a finger between your teeth and shoves his tongue further into your mouth, licking up spit and seawater alike. Your pussy is a soft fucked open thing, and you briefly imagine how it must look, gaping so wide, does it even look like a pussy anymore? Have you been stretched so far and so deep you're just left with a smooth hole, clit the last little piece left, a twitching little bump to be tugged and sucked?
You come again, drooling around Soap's mouth and finger, as the clouds shift and you get a glimpse of your body:
One breast sucked into Gaz's mouth, his eyes closed in bliss, flesh bulging between his fingers as he squeezes. Your other bouncing in the water, nipple so dark and swollen it looks fake, some foreign thing attached to your skin, droplets clinging to it and catching the light. Both your breasts are covered in scratches, your free breast bleeding a little in a ring around the nipple, where Soap's teeth had taken it.
Your belly bulges, uneven, thick shapes moving under your flesh, the unmoving shaft of Price's cock in your ass holding you against him, as Ghost gropes your hips and belly, feeling the thick shapes of his cocks inside, palm smoothing over the bump of your womb as it's filled, swelling up. Your organs shift, and some hidden nerve is pressed, a choked moan gurgling in your throat, orgasm rolling over you like a warm wave.
Ghost smiles, teeth gleaming, and you stare up at him as he flexes, his body rippling from the shoulders down, a low note coming into the song, and your poor pussy quivers and stretches further as something thick and round pushes against your hole. You sputter, trying to ask questions without words, and are shushed by Soap again as he and Price angle you so your head hangs back. Your whole body tilts, and gravity eases the first egg through the too-tight channel of your forced open cunt, down to the open circle of your cervix.
It pauses there, and there's a hot throb of more come and fluids in your womb, the second cock pulsing. The paralytic flushes through you again, and you feel the barrier shift further, womb opening, the egg slipping inside and out of Ghost's first cock to be cradled in the wet heat, human flesh soaking in everything he's given you.
Another egg rolls down, the same smooth motion, and joins the first. Your eyelids sag, your tongue fails to shift and swallow- Soap has to turn your head so the spit and water drool out. Gaz finally released your breast, and it's hot and swollen with a bruise all around your nipple- fuck, your nipple, dark red and bruised as well, it's nearly- fuck, you can't think, you're going to come again, oh- the third egg comes through quicker, your clit throbbing, and the nerves all stretched tight on the underside burst with pleasure.
Your womb squeezes and pulses like a pussy as well, wet and slick, the eggs fighting for space with the thick strain of two cocks holding your cervix open. Ghost's palm smoothes over your belly again, and you feel it through your flesh, the pressure inside and out.
You take another egg, and another- or two- you can't keep track. Any time you begin to tense, to cramp and clamp down, more of that come fills you, relaxing your body, buffeted about by the waves. Your eyes roll as Price croons, joining Ghost in feeling along your bulging belly, his cock throbbing and pumping you full inside your ass. There's no pain, only the stretch, and you whimper when the eggs passing through roll over the thin, thin barrier between ass and cunt, compressing your skin. Your asshole clings around his cock, a snug sleeve, keeping it warm in your flesh.
Water keeps splashing over your face, your pounding heart and aching lungs the only ache in your body outside of your poor clit. It's still so dark, all you have are the physical sensations- cunt and ass and clit, breasts and nipples, lips and skin all together hot and throbbing, and the creeping prickle of the back of your scalp as predators move around you in the dark.
Another orgasm fills you, and your pussy and womb both flex, milking another egg down Ghost's cock, your belly bulging further. Gaz palms it, and then takes your head from Soap, turning you, filling your mouth with his cock.
More come pours down your throat in thick spurts, the head of his cock slipping easily into your throat. The waves are full of mer croons and clicking, echoing in your ears. Your lungs burn but you can't raise a hand or voice for yourself, gasping when he pulls back enough to let you breathe only to fill you again. Ghost keeps filling you, your flesh straining and stretching, and every pulse of come slipping into your belly flushes you with heat again.
Soap pinches your nose, startling you enough that your eyes manage to crack open. He's grinning, teeth gleaming, and you feel his fingers slip over your clit, sending you crashing through bliss as the mers all roll together, pinning you between their bodies on Price and Ghost's cocks, and you gulp reflexively around Gaz in your throat. The water shivers with their crooning calls, and you're thankful for the cock and fingers keeping your mouth and nose closed as abruptly Price begins to move.
His tail churns the water, bubbles tickling over your skin, as the full shaft of his cock pounds in and out of your asshole. Ghost is still depositing eggs into you, and every thrust from Price forces them along, the head of his cock bullying against the round shapes, shoving them hard and fast into your womb. If you could have screamed, you would have; instead a flutter of your throat makes Gaz vibrate against your lips. If your limbs could thrash and flail, they would, but you're still floating dreamily, legs forced open and arms hanging limp. Even your breasts float, nipples soothed by cool water, as your lungs begin to burn.
You try to withstand it, the pleasure coiling and releasing, the tight seal of Gaz's cock in your mouth and throat sealing you off from the saltwater. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, the same repeating thump-thump quickening in your clit. Price is crooning so deeply it's in your bones, and your lungs burn as you quiver around him, his hands squeezing the fat curve of your ass, claws digging in.
His cock swells, and your eyes fly open in the water- no, not more, you can't take more- but instead of eggs or a second cock, he only swells and bursts with more come, a flood of it spilling through you. It's not just the thick fluids you've grown used to, it's something else, and the mer grips you so tight his claws pop through your skin, his cock spurting thicker and harder, forcing it all up through your belly.
You're lifted up, head clearing the water, and come and bile spill out past your lips as your belly convulses, Gaz's come thick and salty on your tongue, a bubble of it bursting against your nostrils when Soap lets go. You gurgle some sort of noise, protest, anything, but your nose is pinched closed again, this time with Soap taking your throat, holding your face tight to his belly as the mers descend with you again.
Your belly feels so tight and swollen, hanging fat and round down into the water- Ghost is still in you, the eggs slowing but still marching down his lower cock and into your womb. Are you still in the tide pool? The water feels so much deeper, colder, and you feel a few bubbles slip past Soap's cock as a shifting current actually makes your belly swing, skin and flesh distended with eggs and come. You can't breathe, no air except what's rapidly burning away in your lungs, eaten up ever quicker with each pulse of heat, each twitch of your clit.
The paralytic keeps you open and soft, but you can feel it when your chest tries to convulse, straining for air. Your eyes roll beneath your closed eyelids. You come, or you haven't stopped coming, as Price pulls out of your ruined hole- seawater floods you, filling the open spaces left by his cock, cold against the hot and sensitive flesh of your insides. You're gaping, unable to tense the ring of muscles to close back up, and Gaz's cock slamming inside after him forces the whole churning mix back up your belly, the swollen mess of your womb straining as it grows heavier, your holes all filled with cocks and come and eggs.
Your face breaks the waves for another spurting gasp, the water silky and pale around you. Soap's cock drags stickly down your cheek, smearing the mess of fluids around, using the tangled locks of hair around your ears to drag you back down.
Your heart pounds, the brief breath not enough, and your fingertips tingle. Ghost shudders under you, and when an egg- the last egg- slides past your cervix, squeezing into your womb, his cocks swell and stiffen, thick at the tips. You feel awareness creeping away as he pulls them slowly out- no gaping like Price, but your hole doesn't stay empty, a thick plug of something gooey filling your cunt, blocking the ruined opening of your womb. As the tip of his first cock pulls free it springs against your clit, like a kiss, a spurt of the same thick fluid clinging to it; his second cock releases you slower, and a second spurt of the come coats your pussy, leaving your clit to twitch against it.
You're wrenched off Soap's cock, come and spit and bile all spilling out, bubbles bursting in a desperate last gasp. Your pussy squeezes, womb and cunt all held stretched with the thick, solid plug filling you, eggs shifting in your womb, and Kyle forces your neck back and head above the water as he comes, groping your breasts with his free hand, his face nuzzling tenderly at your throat as you choke and cough. A sharp tug on your nipple forces a weak cry through your throat, and Soap's tail churns up the water into frothy foam as he gets his cock back between your lips, not forcing it down your throat this time, but stroking the shaft and clicking in pleasure as he spurts over your tongue. You can move it now, wriggling weakly, and blink the tears and seawater from your eyes as his come fills your mouth, choking you as effectively as water with how it sticks to the inside of your cheeks, the loose hole of your throat.
Ghost takes you from Gaz as he spills the last of his come out, hole still too wide and gaping, and you sob, sputtering, through another orgasm. You can't, you can't, but the paralytic is creeping away and your pussy and womb clench in waves, trying to close up, every spasm only making the eggs roll inside you, nerves you didn't know existed singing, clit rubbing against the thick come that, to your horror and aroused moan, hardening in the water, forming a seal through your cunt, clit rubbing ceaselessly against the trailing spurts that had kissed it, now a firm, spongy surface cradling it.
Your ass is ruined, muscles fluttering as it tries again to close, and Ghost licks the sobs from your mouth. He's making a bright, shivery, happy song you've never heard before, holding your face in his hands, the smooth slide of his belly rubbing your stretched skin. Soap bullies in next to him, his cock shoving back between your lips, and you sputter around it as he croons out a few more notes as well, waves swelling around you.
You're not in the tidal pool. You're in deep water, suspended between four mers, and your back arches as someone grips your breasts under the water, squeezing, a cool mouth and tongue of another finding your ass and licking around the gaping hole. Your legs kick a little, finding movement but no strength, and the growing waves crash around you. You're heavy and swollen and every movement of your body sends your pussy and womb into spasms, thighs wide around the unnatural plug in your cunt, and Ghost covers your mouth and nose as another wave grows, dunking you down under the surface as it breaks over your head.
Bubbles squeak past his fingers as the water slams down on you, sending you spinning, lost, as untethered as seaweed ripped from the floor. You feel the mers around you, the rippling of their bodies around your soft and human one, as likely to tug your nipples as cradle your cheek. You moan in protest, already yanking at Ghost's wrist, trying to communicate you need to surface- instead he holds you tighter, and the strain in your clit bursts again as you scream, bubbles exploding past the webbed fingers, when clawed fingertips scrape the surface of your clit, pinching it, tugging it like Price had to force your hips to move.
The weight of the eggs in your womb shifts, pressing down on the plug, and every nerve in your pussy lights up at once.
If you breathe anything, it's water, salt burning your throat and lungs as you come, the hand at your clit pressing tight to the plug to keep it in place as your pussy clenches down, all the stretched flesh shuddering. Ghost's hand leaves your face and you grasp at your mouth and nose, feeling the bubbles rushing away to the churning surface, another deep spasm in your chest and belly making your cunt squeeze, your clit jump. Someone lifts you- you don't know what direction- up is down is sideways- and the hot flood of pleasure rolls from your center out, through your tingling limbs, past the hiccuping of your heartbeat as your lungs grow heavy as your womb, the dark water pouring in and bringing oblivion with it.
-
You're in another tidal pool, one you don't recognize, shallow and warm. The first thing you see is your belly, huge and fat, skin stretched thin across it. You whimper, reeling, feeling clumsily over the round expanse, the way your womb has been forced open to take the clutch.
You can see just a little past it, and Soap's frill gleams green in the sunshine. He laps over your clit, mouthing at the stretched-wide folds and hole, and you sob as you register the changes forced upon you- how your pussy is straining around the thick plug, your clit so swollen it feels like it moves more under Soap's mouth, able to be licked and sucked differently, not tucked under its hood but pulled out, expanded.
Your breasts ache as well, and more tears spring to your eyes when you see them. They're swollen as well, bruised all over, splotches of broken blood vessels and scratches decorating your skin. Your nipples- oh, they're huge, thick and fat, the nipple itself standing up from your areola like- god, no way. You bring shaking fingers up and gently touch the tip of one, flinching. Two fingers from base to tip, and tingling just from a gentle touch, shivery heat flowing down through your stuffed belly and into the poor fluttering nerves of your pussy.
Ghost splashes up where you're cradled against sun-warmed stones, scales so bright you have to squint, and lifts something to your lips. Seaweed, thin slices of raw fish, and you open your mouth for it meekly. You aren't being played with for curiosity's sake, or used for a night then sunk to the bottom of the ocean. They took you, brought you somewhere else, and are feeding you- keeping you- and as the mers all begin to converge, palming your belly and singing to each other, you realize that at least until the eggs leave your body, you're not going home.
Basket seastar!hybrid reader who is used to being a little...left out. Too many branching limbs, the standard human-like trunk and shoulders extending at the elbow in not a single arm but multiple splits, a vast fern-like explosion of arm/hand/finger things, constantly shifting and exploring. A nightmare to manage with clothes so you often modify your uniform to be sleeveless, which means everyone gets a direct view of your limbs.
And none of them like it.
Too creepy, too weird and the movement freaks people out, the way the tiniest of phalanges curls and twists. You train yourself to wind the fronds tight together, make a single or double limb, but inevitably you lose control and it all explodes out again.
You learn to stay in the back of the room, to hide when possible, and even the skills that brought you to the 141- the way you can type a code, write a message, and field strip a weapon all simultaneously- are better off in the shadows, where your new team can't get too...upset. Can't snap and sneer, wiping off their arms and hands if they accidentally touch you, shoving you away if your fronds start to reach for them or anything they're holding.
"The fuck're you doin' back here?"
You look up at your lieutenant. Ghost is glaring down at you, dark eyes scowling out of his balaclava. "Um...eating?" Your hand-frond curls around another French fry. Salt, oil, potato, a preservative in the potato. Greasy fingers that prepped it all onto the tray.
"Yeah, and why alone? Team eats together, that's the rule," he says, and jerks his thumb over to the table he and the sergeants are at. He grabs your tray, and you don't have a choice but to follow.
The other men welcome you warmly, and to your astonishment, they don't skitter away as your phalanges spread over the table, touching their trays, an instinct you can't fully reign in. Soap's drink slides across the table towards you, and you wince, fronds peeling away from it. Aluminum, paint, fresh water in the condensation, and your microscopic hooks leave little marks in the logo.
"Sorry! Sorry, I can...get you a new one..." You trail off, because he's shrugging and taking his drink back, touching it easily.
"Eh, if I was that worried about it, I'd get it myself. You're fine, love," he adds, and your throat is tight. Is this really all it takes? One tiny kindness?
Gaz grins. "Look, I know you're worried, but we really do not give a shit about all- this," he gestures to your wide, branching baskets of arms, "outside of what it means for our missions. Do you know how many weird bugs that one has brought home?"
He nods to your left, and you look over to Ghost, where he's examining the delicate phalanges that have spread over his arm with the care and focus of a master watchmaker. He strips off a glove, and your breath catches in your chest as he touches the very tip of a frond with his finger- a tiny burst of taste, salt-skin-oil-cotton, the base building blocks of the man called Ghost- and shakes it solemnly, like he's meeting you for the first time.
Soap pats your shoulder, and doesn't twitch when your arm splits in surprise. "Not that you're a bug! But, y'know, when you get two hours in a transport home being told all about the way this beetle works and lives, you start to see the beauty in the strange. And nothing's stranger than our LT!"
He's grinning, easy and relaxed even as your arms start to steal his spoon. Stainless steel, oils from his skin, cheap plastic handle. Gaz loses a couple of his own French fries, and takes a few of yours in return, and you sit there with your arms wide open, a basket getting bigger with every surprised, delighted thump of your heart.
One time when I was a kid a group of girls and I had to treat another student for hypothermia by ourselves because she had so many invisible health issues that the adults we asked for help didn't believe us. The student in question was actively hallucinating. When I finally ran for help the people I grabbed were slow as shit to respond, casually joking about how "dramatic" the person in question was.
The kid was picked up by an ambulance 30 minutes later.
Now as an adult working in security I get SO MANY folks- upper-middle aged mostly- coming to me to 'rat out' people they think are faking it.
I was once sent into a bathroom because a client demanded that the "fucker won't get out, so good drag them out"- I was NEVER going to do that, so I did a wellness check instead. You know who it was? A person recently released from the hospital after a car accident. They had a hole in their skull and major hearing loss. They couldn't answer the owner because they couldn't HEAR the owner.
Another time about a homeless man who got around town by kicking the ground from his wheelchair. "You know he doesn't actually need that thing, his legs work fine, it's just for pity points"- Oh, so he's not paralyzed, his wheelchair is performative? Funny story Dale, I actually know that guy, he was backed over by a truck and has chronic pain from his shattered pelvis. But sure, let's make him stand up and walk everywhere so nobody feels too bad for him and tries to help him or something.
"She doesn't need that scooter, I've seen her get out of it."
"Look how fat he is, because he just rides around and refuses to get up."
"She doesn't really need that cane- she comes here without it all the time"
Sincerely, truly, from the bottom of my heart- as someone who isn't physically disabled but hears this shit all the time- fuck off
Video Description: A scottish man stands in a supermarket, and says to the camera, "psst, c'mere." He points at a shelf full of bottled water, saying "Bottles o' water. Right, water. Fifty-five pence. Seventy-nine pence. Couple o' quid. I mean, it's no much, but all adds up, dint it? Right, now come here," before leading the camera person to his home.
Walking up to his kitchen sink, saying "c'mere, are you watching this?" where he turns on the tap, stares directly at the camera dramatically, filled a glass of water, turns off the tap, stares at the camera again, before saying "Water. Pure water. Any time I want it, day or night, free of charge, and it tastes, just like any other kind of water out there. It tastes..." he drinks from the glass, sighs, and says "like fuck-all" [meaning nothing]. "Cheers." he says.
Someone behind the camera calls "cut!" , the camera crew all come forward, saying "it's not real, is it?" to which the first man says "aye," and take drink. A woman asks "Whats that cost you?" and the man responds "nothing", and the woman continues "Well, where'd you get it from?" and the man replies "It was here when I moved in, they just left it."
The second man finishes tasting the water and waves his hand to the rest of the camera crew, saying "yous have got to try this! Is it okay if he...?" , and another man push into the camera view, drinking tap water out of various bowls, cups, etc, exclaiming in wonder :
"Tastes of absolutely nothing." "That one tastes the same as that." "No, he had the other one. Give him a shot of that one." "That is absolutely beautiful". "Try that. Because it'sā¦" "Try it out o' the bowl" "Wow." The second man finally exclaims.
"Yeah" agrees the first man. He turns to the camera again, and says again with finality, "Cheers"
in the background, another man asks "Is it alright if I bring my mates around?"
End ID]
So, the other post from 2017 that contains this comedy skit is full of absolute xenophobia and classism in the notes, of people exclaiming incredulously "oh, I can't understand a word he's saying, it's like he's speaking a different language!!" because of the man's accent... so, here's a new post, with the skit, with subtitles, and a transcript, for all of the people who's first instict is to scream and cry laughing about how it's so unintelligible--
There's a reason you find scottish accents to be innately "hilarious" sounding, "low-brow", "unintelligent" and "unintelligible", and it's because of xenophobia, classism, and colonization.
Before you stoop to mocking someone's accent, and say "they're not even speaking Proper English", stop, and actually consider why you find this somehow funny, and who, exactly, decides what "Proper English" is and *who is the target of it and why*
(and yes, it is classism in its own right, to expect everyone to be able to drink from their own tap water, but this is a video over a decade old that was aimed at a scottish audience who have some of the best tap water in the world; I personally cannot drink out of my own tap without multiple rounds of boiling and extremely strong tea, otherwise it tastes like metal or salt, some kind of acrid aftertaste that ruins anything that is not served hot and lingers long after you've finished drinking it, on the poor side of a large Southern USA city)
Imagine being the waypoint operator for the 141s comms, in charge of directing their chatter to the correct channels when needed, right?
Your station acts as an added layer of security, encrypting the route the channels take in the event they are hacked. Sure, you work with other teams but the 141 are your main group.
One...small caveat of being in charge of their comms, is that you have to actually listen to their conversations in case they request a patch to someone.
Which leads to you hearing...way more than you'd like.
Gaz: sir. Stop poking it. Soap's waitin'
Ghost: think he had health issues. Look at his femur, odd texture.
Gaz: oh shit, really? Let me seeā
Followed by far too graphic descriptions of the poor blokes leg. You had to skip lunch that day. You do most days they have missions, gross fuckers act like you can't hear all the shit they say.
Meaning, of course, that you hear too damn much about their sex lives or lack thereof due to missions. It's nothing new, and given you know what they look like, it doesn't paint a bad picture.
But this time? You're shocked by the subject of conversation.
Soap: ahm tellin' you, it's been too damn long. The poor lass is crying for attention!
Gaz: why not the guy from IT? He's eager enough.
Soap: no. Not really feeling that right now. Actually, you know who sounds nice?
There's that characteristic smirk in soaps voice you've long since learned to identify. You absently hear ghost prompt him to continue, wondering how the hell price tunes them out so wellā
Soap: our waypoint.
You choke, splutter. Your own coughing making it impossible to hear gaz and ghosts reactions, but when you tune back in soap is viciously defending himself
Soap: no, no! Listen! Have you heard that voice?? Christ, just that and I could get a better wank than I've had all month! C'mon, ghost, I know you agreeā
Ghost: you know they can hear you right now, johnny? Got anything to say?
Gaz: *chuckles* besides asking to get his dick wet? Maybe beg for a moan or something?
....silence
Soap: ....hey waypoint? You there?"
You shouldn't. Christ you shouldn't respond.
All comms are recorded, and waypoints should only talk when absolutely necessary butā but the 141 comms are wiped every 24 hours and...
You lean close to your mic, voice weaker than you'd like.
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