After a particularly wet might at the bar, you’re met with a cryptic, and potentially flirty, message on the bathroom mirror. Is someone, or something, propositioning you? That hand print next to the message doesn't look particularly human…
Tags: NSFW, Cryptid attempts flirting, Crack treated seriously, semi-public sex, it/its pronouns for deep one, anal sex, explicit consent, reader is somehow British
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Masterlist - Eldritch horror May
It all started at the bar— because where else would you be at 2 am on a Saturday morning? You were deep into your third glass of whiskey and stared at the amber liquid, silently contemplating your life choices. Why the hell did you ever move to this fish-stinking town in the middle of nowhere, Massachusetts? You threw back the last of the whiskey, savoring the burn in your throat.
“One more drink would ya, hen.” You rapped your knuckles against the bar.
The bartender was an older woman with gray hair, bulging eyes and some kind of skin disease. She looked suitable creepy for this town.
She removed the empty whiskey glass, shaking her head. “I’m afraid I have to cut you off, dear.”
“Why?” you slurred. “Look at me, I’m fine.”
The bartender glared at you with her bulging eyes. “You’ve had enough. I have to close, and you should get home before the storm gets any worse.”
“Fine,” you grumbled, pushing away from the bar. When you tried to stand up, you’re body remembered how much you’ve drunk and your bladder was suddenly screaming at you. “Just gotta pop to the loo.”
The bartender sighed, but nodded reluctantly, before she went back to sweeping the floor.
You stumbled through the empty bar, making your way to the toilets in the back. You pushed open the door to the men’s bathroom. It was just as deserted as the rest of the run-down bar. You rounded a corner and stopped at the nearest urinal. Your sighed, as you were finally able to relive yourself.
Fuck, your life really was a shitshow. Two years ago, you were living the dream, about to become the youngest foreign zoology graduate offered a full-time position at Harvard. But then the accident happened, and your ichthyology dreams were crushed… literally. Six months lying in a coma isn’t a great way to research fish, but a great way to loose your job.
Instead of a top-modern research institute, you found yourself at Miskatonic: Americas most disreputable university. All you ever wanted to do was to study fish, but there wasn’t an Ichthyology department, so instead you worked alongside the crypto zoologists, trying to discover the Loch Ness monster or whatever. Pseudoscientific bullshit.
The sound of someone turning on a tap pulled you out of your thoughts. Who else could have been using the bathroom this late? A part of you wished it was someone looking for a hookup. You were usually up for a quick shag, and could really have used the distraction from your miserable life. You quickly tucked yourself back into your trousers and rounded the corner to the sinks. The room was empty.
Weird, but you shrugged it off. The tap was still on, spitting out boiling water and clouding the mirror above it. You moved to turn it off, but saw that there were words written in the condensation.
“Tell me your deepest secret,” you chuckled to yourself as you read it out loud.
Who the fuck would sneak into the bathroom just to write cryptic messages on mirrors? Your crypto zoology colleagues might have told you this was a sign of the occult. While this was certainly weird, you didn’t exactly believe in any of that crap. Must be some kind of prank. Let’s all be funny at the expense of the new guy in town. Should you play along?
“You want me to come out, or some shite? Surprise, I’m gay. Well queer. Its not like it is a secret, as most people just assume so anyway. I guess I set of their gaydar,” you blabbered, too drunk to care.
Then you paused. You didn’t want to tell the disembodied question an actual secret, but you also had a feeling whoever was behind this wasn’t going to reveal themselves until you said something juicy. At this point, could your life get any worse if someone posted some embarrassing shite on Instagram?
You lowered your voice for dramatic effect, “You know what is a secret, well, kind of a secret. I’m actually a bottom. Yeah, I know. Big bloke like me prefers to take it in the ass.”
There was a door in the back of the bathroom, which was suddenly thrown wide open, letting the rain and wind into the room. You staggered backwards, expecting someone to jump out, shouting that it was all a prank. But that didn’t happen. Instead, there was a low growl from the door, and you heard footsteps receding. There was someone listening, alright. You didn’t feel embarrassed; you’ve definitely said worse while drunk before.
You walked over to close the door. But before you could close it, a glance at the small window in the door made you freeze. On the outside of the window was a massive hand print. It had long claws and webbing between the fingers. Next to it was written three words: “I’m a top”.
Suddenly, you felt as sober as a funeral. You rushed out of the bathroom door, out into the dark alley. Your face was immediately pelted by rain. The street lighting was crap and Arkham’s harbor stunk of fish. The message on the window was already mostly washed away, but you were more worried about the possible prints on the ground. You squatted down, combing the wet pavement for any sign of footprints.
The rain had picked up, drenching you in mere minutes. Just when you were about to give up, you found something. After examining it in your palm, you could say with certainty that it was a scale. A shiny bluish-green fish scale.
This was mad. You were drunk and should’ve gone home, not gone looking for fish-men. But you couldn't get that hand print out of your mind. If this was a real world cryptid, and you of all people found it first, the other professors at Miskatonic would eat their hats in frustration. A smug smile crept onto your face. Maybe you weren’t as useless as you thought.
Suddenly, you were in research mode, determined to find this being. A few feet from the first scale was another, then another and you followed the trail all the way to the canal. The canal’s water was dark and grimy, filled with decades of industrial waste. But you stumbled down the uneven stone steps and sat on a bench just by the waters edge. Here you had a good vantage point over the canal. You were never the most patient of fishermen, but you stayed silent, waiting for something, anything to show itself.
Your dumb ass must've fallen asleep, because you woke to a pair of wet lips touching yours. You snapped open your eyes. Suddenly, you were face to face with the scariest thing you’ve ever seen. Sharp, needle like teeth, slits for pupils and blueish-green scales. When it saw that you were awake, it jumped back and crouched at the edge of the water. Gleaming eyes stared at you, the expression in them unreadable.
This… creature was magnificent. The perfect mix of human and fish. Finally, you understood the obsession of your crypto zoology colleagues. There truly existed creatures beyond humanity out there. A sudden urge to know it better awoke within you. To know it intimately. The short rest must've cleared your head, because a name came to you unprompted; all those hours listening to your colleagues finally payed off.
“You’re a Deep One, aren’t you,” you whispered.
The creature nodded, its eyes closing and opening sideways. It’s head tilted to the side. Was it curious? You felt warm under its gaze.
“You’re beautiful. I could get lost in those eyes, handsome.” You slapped your hand over your mouth. Had you actually flirted with it? How horny were you?
But the Deep One wasn’t turned off, instead it moved closer, all the while keeping you pinned with its gaze. The weather had cleared and moonlight reflected like silver in its shimmering scales. There were long fins running down its hunched back and down its arms. It stopped just shy of a meter from you. If you wanted to, you could reach out a hand and touch it. Would it be slippery under your touch, or rough like a shark?
“Do you mind?” You held out your hand.
The Deep One moved even closer, until it was leaning over you on the bench. Using one of its massive hands, it picked up yours and guided it to its chest. The scales were rough, but pleasant under your fingers and the chest was solid with solid muscle. It didn’t have nipples, but you ran your hand along it’s chest appreciatively anyway. You felt a deep rumble emanate from its throat.
Encouraged, you used your free hand to cup the creature’s face. Its gills fluttered under your fingers. You leaned closer, giving it a quick peck on the mouth, unafraid of the sharp teeth. The deep one kissed back, wrapping two strong arms around you. The kiss was wet and sloppy, but the creature enveloped your mouth with fervor, letting your tongue explore.
Something touched your leg. You broke the kiss to look down. “A bloody tail,” you mumbled in disbelief.
The scaled tail trailed up your thigh, the tip of it dangerously close to your hardening cock. “You cheeky…,” you trailed off in a moan when the tail brushed between your legs.
The sound caused the tail to stop moving. The Deep One asked something in a unintelligible throaty language, but you got the gist. It was nice to know you had a say in what happened.
You smirked at the creature. “Well, I didn’t walk all the way here just for some sloppy necking, did I? Does that earlier offer still stand?”
The creature’s lips were on you again before you finished speaking. The two arms picked you up easily and you wrapped your legs instinctively around the creature’s waist. It walked over to a wall, pressing you against the wet cold stones. With a slice of it’s claws, your pants turned into a lovely set of ass-less chaps. You shivered from the exposed flesh.
Since you were quite the expert on fish, and also fucked your fair amount of men, you thought you knew what to expect. But nothing could have prepared you for whatever Deep Ones had between their legs. It was some type of fin, long and tapered, with grooves and what you guess to be some kind of claspers at the bottom. It was equal parts terrifying and marvelous. How the hell would that feel inside of you?
Apparently, foreplay didn’t exist in Deep One culture, because the creature lowers you onto its member without any prep. Thankfully, the head is thin and slick, slipping into you easily. It felt completely different from anything you had ever put up yourself before.
The deep one hadn’t even bottomed out, when it started moving inside of you. Wide hands pressed you against the wall as it fucks into you hard. You were definitely going to have bruises after this, but it was worth it, not just for the scientific discovery. The thin and flexible cock was the perfect shape to grind against your prostate. The pleasure was unbelievable, stars flashing in your vision as you clung on for dear life. The creature sped up and at the same time wrapped its muscular tail around your cock. The scales scraped against your sensitive skin.
It didn’t take much more to make you come, staining the blue stomach of the creature with your cum. You went limp, letting the creature support you as it continued to abuse your ass. With a guttural groan the creature buried its cock deep inside of you. It swelled, the bottom claspers opening like an umbrella, and locked you and the creature together. In a sudden spurt, it came inside of you. Since the claspers trapped the cum inside, the feeling was like hot water sloshing inside of you.
Slowly, you felt the cock inside of you deflating and the claspers unclasping you. The creature pulled out and see-through spend sloshed down your legs. It continued to cradle you in its arms, holding you close. Its eyes were wide and shiny with afterglow. It gurgled something, before bending down to kiss you.
“Yeah, it was good for me too,” you laughed, before kissing it back.
It set you down on the bench, ran its clawed hand through your hair, before turning back to the canal.
“Wait!” you shouted. “Will I ever see you again?”
The deep one turned back to you, a wide grin spreading over its face. It nodded once, before diving back into the canal.
