In which a fisher girl takes the bait – hook line and sinker!
Merman!Neuvilette x reader
wordcount: ~8200
TWs: manipulation, power Imbalance (god/devotee dynamics), possessive behavior, drowning/asphyxiation, size difference, forced transformation, forced mating, Neuvi breaking corals (DO NOT DO IT).
NSFW: dub-con elements, PiV, come marking, belly bulge, he has 2 monster cocks so double penetration (in one hole), oral sex (m and f receiving), overstimulation, cervix fucking, face-fucking, wet and messy, eggpreg, breeding.
As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!
NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes.
Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.
“You can keep your husbands.”
You muttered under your breath as you walked away from the laughter, your bare feet kicking up warm dust from the village path.
“I would rather belong to the sea.”
Your peers heard enough to laugh louder.
They were always like this when it came to you, because you were of an age where a girl should have already chosen a husband, woven a sleeping mat for him, borne him children, bent her back over cooking fires and other endless duties that stitched a woman to the life laid out for her. You had refused all of it, and refusal made people cruel. In your village, a woman who didn’t wish to be chosen was seen as a woman who believed herself above her place.
But it was not pride that kept you apart.
In truth, it was hunger. Not the hunger that gnawed at your belly now and sent you down toward the shore with coiled nets over one shoulder and your knife tucked into the cloth at your waist. It was another kind entirely, one that opened inside your chest each time traders arrived on their tall foreign ships with painted hulls and bright banners that snapped in the wind.
You had seen them only a few times, from very far away, but that had been enough. Those big ships came from lands beyond the reach of village gossip and marriage bargains. When you thought of them, something inside you stretched toward the horizon until it hurt. You wanted to know what lay across the water. However, as a simple village girl, you could only dream of freedom.
That evening, the storm had only just passed. The clouds were breaking apart in long bruised ribbons, and the beach still shone dark and wet under the fading gold of dusk. The palms behind you hissed softly as the wind moved through them, and everywhere there was that clean smell that followed heavy rain.
Your secret cove lay hidden behind a crooked wall of black stone where the surf broke gentler than anywhere else along the coast. The old fishermen knew of it, perhaps, but the boys who mocked you didn’t, and so it had become yours.
You set your things down there, checked the knots of your nets, and began making your way toward the place where you would anchor them for the night.
Your peaceful walk was interrupted by a rough sound, torn low from a throat that didn’t belong to any beast you knew. Your hand found the knife at your waist before thought could catch up. Every tale about sea demons told by firelight came rushing back at once. Your pulse kicked hard in your neck as you stepped around the outcropping, slow and silent, with a blade ready in your shaking hand.
Something lay tangled in the shallows where the storm had thrown up driftwood and torn weeds. The fading sky poured its last blue light over alabaster skin and the powerful lines of his shoulders and chest, over the elegant arch of collarbones beneath hair pale as moonlit foam, threaded through with blue. Beneath his pectorals, along the sides of his torso, you saw the slits of gills fluttering weakly. There were delicate gills at his neck as well, and his forearms deepened from pearlescent skin into blue at the hands, as though the sea itself still clung to him there. From his hair rose two blue horns, smooth but deadly.
From that magnificent human form downward, his body changed. His hips gave way to a long tail, dark as the deep ocean. When it moved, even faintly, the fins along it flashed with submerged purples, teals, indigo, glimmering like oil over water. Tiny points of bioluminescent light shimmered over the scales as if a piece of the night sea had been laid bare upon the shore.
The Sovereign of the Firstborn Waters.
The oldest villagers sometimes spoke of such a being when children lost to the tide were found sleeping safely among the rocks, rather than being drowned by the will of the merciless sea. They touched their foreheads, lowered their eyes, and quietly spoke of a benevolent guardian.
Your eyes wanted to drift to his face, but yet another thing about him made you gasp. There was a wound torn across his lower abdomen, wide and ugly, as if some monstrous thing beneath the waves had caught him and opened his perfect skin for the precious crimson to leak down onto the sand.
Then his eyes opened.
You stumbled backward so violently that your feet slipped out from under you, and you landed on your butt rather awkwardly. He was looking at you with awareness sharpened by pain. His pupils were narrow at first, then widened slightly. Those eyes, as everything about him, were magical, holding the colors of blue and soft rose. They pinned you where you sat, trembling, knife fallen useless from your hand.
“M-my Lord,” you whispered before you even realized you had spoken. “Are you the one from the stories?”
A strained moan of pain escaped him, and his lashes lowered for a moment as if even that had cost him dearly.
You found yourself scrambling to your feet in fear, snatching up your knife with clumsy hands.
“W-wait for me!” you sobbed absurdly, as if a God of the Sea might obey a village girl with salt in her hair and a patched fishing skirt. “Please just hold on!”
The path home was treacherous in the dark after rain. Stones bit into your soles, and one jagged edge tore open the side of your foot so sharply that your vision flashed blood-red for an instant. You cried out, but didn’t stop, bursting into your hut, ignoring the sting of blood trailing behind you, and gathering what you could with frantic hands. Dried healing algae your grandma once taught you to grind. Bowls. Clean cloth. You snatched up your water gourd, hesitated, then filled another vessel with rainwater from the barrel where you kept it for drinking.
Your Lord was still there when you returned, and relief nearly brought you to your knees. He had collapsed onto his side, his expression gone pale and distant in the darkening light, but those beautiful eyes slid to you the moment you kneeled beside him.
Up close he was even more unreal. His lashes were silver at the tips. His mouth was finely shaped, lips naturally tinged blue, like the edge of a shell. There was no ugliness in him anywhere except the wound, and that wound was ghastly enough to twist your stomach.
“Forgive me,” you murmured, because you didn’t know what else one said while touching a deity. “I know this must be clumsy, but I am only me.”
With shaking fingers, you crushed the dried sea herbs with rainwater, made a rough paste, and leaned over him. When you pressed the medicine to the torn flesh, his whole body tightened under your hands. The great tail jerked, fins quivering, and a low sound rumbled through his chest.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered immediately. “I’m so sorry, my Lord.”
He stayed silent, watching you as though every smallest thing mattered. When you rinsed sand from his skin with careful handfuls of seawater, skirting the wound and wiping blood from the curve of his side, his stare never left your face. By the time the bandage was tied, your own breathing had grown unsteady.
“I can’t carry you back,” you admitted, sitting back on your heels, paying no attention to the wound of your own that has reopened. “But I’ll stay and keep watch.”
The words sounded foolish the instant they left you. Keep watch over him. Guard the Lord of Waters with your little knife and your bleeding foot.
When you finally leaned back against a warm black rock, exhaustion dragging at your bones, you could’ve sworn something gentled in his face. You fell asleep to the sound of the surf.
So much for keeping watch
When you woke up at dawn, he was gone. For one second, your heart plunged so hard you thought it might stop. The place where he had lain was empty save for smoothed sand, a dark stain the tide had nearly taken, and the broken remains of your little work. You pushed yourself upright with a gasp and looked wildly toward the sea when something vast moved beyond the rocks.
The surface swelled, and your breath caught. You climbed onto the stone and shaded your eyes against the newborn sun.
“My Lord?”
The shape came nearer. Then he emerged from the water in a wash of blue and white, bracing one hand against the rock to steady himself. Droplets ran over his horns and bare shoulders. His expression gave nothing away.
Without taking his gaze from yours, he lifted one hand and set his offering on the stone beside you: a dozen pink shells, a piece of delicate coral, one perfect sea star, sunset-orange and glistening with fresh seawater.
You stared at them, then at him.
“F-for me?”
He stared at them, then at you.
Reverently, you knelled and gathered the treasures. “Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, my Lord.”
In the days that followed, you returned to the cove whenever you could. He would already be there in the shallows or just beyond them, dark tail cutting through clear water, silver hair spilling over his shoulders like ocean foam itself. As his wound slowly closed, he kept close to the shore, and you sat on the rocks nearby, monologuing about different stuff.
Your Lord never answered, but the silence made room for honesty.
That's why another day you found yourself telling him of your village and its smallness, of your mother’s tired sighs, of the young men who boasted loudly and feared the deep water they claimed to command. You also told him how marriage felt like being sealed inside a clay jar and buried in the earth while still breathing. Then, almost immediately, you confessed your shame at wanting more than the life you had been offered. Then your anger at feeling shame for it at all.
Through it all, he listened with a stillness so profound it felt holy. His eyes never wandered, but sometimes they lowered when your voice trembled, as though he would grant you a bit of privacy.
Another problem was that your injured foot hadn’t healed properly. The cut split again, and walking had opened it enough for each step to sting nastily. When you hissed in the middle of yet another monologue, his head turned at once. He was before you in a moment, one hand on the stone, eyes narrowed in focus.
“It’s nothing, my Lord,” you said automatically, then laughed weakly. “I’m fine.”
He looked at you with quiet gravity, and somehow that was more respectful than any question. You gave a tiny nod and extended the injured foot toward him.
Cool fingers gently cupped your heel, lifted your foot as though it were a thing made of flower petals, and turned it to the light. His pupils widened, then thinned, and his expression grew unreadably dark. He looked up at you once, long and searching, then slipped soundlessly beneath the water.
However, your Lord wasn’t absent for long. In fact, he returned merely ten minutes later with strands of algae you had never seen before, pale blue and silver-veined, shining faintly in his hands. With precise movements, he wound them around your cut, letting the soothing coolness seep into your skin at once, taking the pain with it.
“Thank you, my Lord,” you whispered, grateful beyond measure.
His hand lingered on your foot just a bit. Then, with an almost scholarly curiosity that would’ve made you laugh if it were anyone else, he took your healthy foot in his palm, turning it gently, studying the shape. When you flexed your toes, his pupils flared wide, something akin to excitement gracing his features. At that, a helpless laugh escaped you.
The sound, apparently, startled him, and a faint flush rose on his high cheekbones. Before you could hide your delight, he vanished beneath the surface in one smooth motion that left ripples fanning out around your knees.
The next day, you had stolen mangoes and small golden guavas from a grove near the village edge. When you sat by the cove and held one out, he regarded it with open suspicion. You smiled, split it with your knife, and tasted it first. Only then did he accept the piece from your hand, biting it like a tamed animal. He closed his eyes for one suspended moment while the sweetness dissolved on his tongue, then opened them and fixed you with an intense gaze.
After that, your Lord ate every piece you brought him, and you took wicked joy in discovering favorites. Mango made his gaze soften. Guava sharpened it with keen delight. Sea grapes pleased him less than you expected.
What was interesting, however, was that he repaid every gift. Fish, always the finest, laid neatly on the stone where the tide would not spoil them. Pearls trapped in rough shells. Twisted glass worn smooth by the sea. A length of red coral so bright it looked aflame underwater.
Then, one evening beneath a sky painted pink and violet, he came to you bearing something cradled carefully in both hands. Shells polished to moon-glow. Fragments of coral. beads of green-blue stone. Tiny silver fish bones worked into a pattern that caught the light like woven water. He held the necklace up with solemn ceremony.
“For me?” you asked, though by then already knowing the answer. You slipped into the water, and the sea rose to your throat. His gaze dipped once to the column of your neck, to your mouth, then back to your neck. Slowly, he placed the necklace around you, and when the sovereign was done, he let his hands fall, but didn’t swim away.
That night, words spilled from you like tidewater through rocks.
You told him everything you had never dared say aloud. Most of it was about how you wanted to stand on the deck of one of those enormous ships and watch your island become a green blur behind you. You spoke until the sky darkened and the first stars appeared. He listened from the water, still as an idol. In his listening, there was such ferocious attention that you no longer felt foolish for dreaming.
A few days later, he hovered just beyond the shallows and extended one elegant hand toward you, offering. The ocean was warm from the day’s heat, clear enough to see sunlight shattering over his scales.
You walked into the water until it reached your waist, then your ribs, then your shoulders. When you were close enough, his arm slid around your waist. With ease, the Sea Sovereign took you beyond the black rocks, into a world hidden under the skin of the water.
Coral gardens spread below in impossible colors. Shoals of colorful fish turned together. Forests of swaying sea fans glowed in filtered light. He pointed things out to you with a quiet pride that made your heart ache, and when you reached for a pale coral branch in wonder, he broke off a small piece and tucked it carefully behind your ear. Each time your lungs burned, God of the Sea gathered you close and rose with you, one hand firm at your waist, swimming up before you could panic.
At sunset, Sovereign floated onto his back in a sheltered pool where the sea was as calm. Gently, he drew you with him until you rested along the length of his torso, your cheek against his chest, careful of the gills beneath. His skin was cool and smooth under your hands.
The place where the wound had been was healing cleanly. You traced that faint scar with gentle fingers and whispered, “My Lord, thank you. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Even if I live to be old, I think I will carry this day under the skin. I will remember you forever.”
A melodic vocalization rose from him, rich and resonant, carrying through his chest into your cheek. It was unlike birdsong or whale-call. In fact, it was unlike anything you had ever known. The melody curled around you like water around stone, mournful and lovely. It made your body tingle, and you lifted your head to look at his handsome face.
The sky behind him was a blaze of gold sinking into rose. Light poured over his face, caught in wet lashes and on the line of his horns, softening the planes of his cheeks. He was already looking back at you.
Slowly, as if giving you time to flee, he raised one hand and touched your face. His fingertips grazed your cheekbone, then your jaw, then settled at the back of your neck. The hold was careful, but there was no mistaking its intensity. With a steady hand, he drew you upward until your faces hovered a breath apart and you could feel the coolness of seawater on his lips. Your hands, of their own accord, came to rest against his shoulders.
“My Lord,” you whispered longingly, letting him close the final distance.
He kissed you slowly and carefully, and when you shuddered and kissed him back, something like relief vibrated through his whole body. The hand at your neck tightened just enough to keep you there, while the other came to your waist and held you with devastating gentleness. On his lips, you tasted salt, fruit, and the last warmth of the day.
Your Lord drew back, only a little, his forehead rested against yours. His cheeks were tenderly pink, and there was something slick pressing against your thigh, not like a moss type of slick or a seaweed cream slick, but… slick.
Now what exactly was that?
Your fingers traced the place where human form gave way to the powerful tail, and there, you found a vertical slit. It parted slightly under your curious touch, yielding like the petals of some deep-sea flower. Directly from it, seeped a fluid that coated your fingers instantly, cool and slippery.
You looked up at him and found him already watching you, his cheeks flushed that same tender pink, his pupils blown so wide the rose and blue of his irises had nearly vanished into black. His breathing had gone shallow and ragged, those gills at his neck fluttering with each quick inhale.
You stroked along the length of the slit, gentle, questioning, and his moan shattered the quiet.
His hand flew to his mouth as if he could catch the sound and stuff it back inside, but his hips betrayed him, pressing forward into your touch. His tail curled and flexed beneath the water, sending ripples fanning out around you both, muscles clenching and releasing as he fought for control.
Then, out of the blue, his arms were around you, gathering you close, and he was swimming backward with you held against his chest. The Sovereign carried you past the coral gardens you had marveled at before, past forests of waving kelp that brushed your ankles like ghostly fingers, past shoals of sleeping fish that scattered like silver thoughts at your passing.
He brought you to a place you had never seen.
A hidden beach ringed by black cliffs that rose like ancient sentinels against the stars, accessible only from the sea. The moon hung fat and silver overhead, so close you felt you could reach up and cup it in your palms, painting the whole world in shades of deepest indigo.
Your Lord backed against one of the smooth boulders that dotted the shoreline, its surface worn glassy by millennia of tides. He settled himself so that his upper body rested against the sun-warmed stone while the lower half of his magnificent tail remained submerged, its fins fanning out in the dark water like the robes of a king.
Then, with a gentleness that belied the power thrumming in his very being, he took your hand, guiding yours down. Past the firm plane of his stomach, past the place where human skin would have given way to hip and thigh, to the intimate seam of his. It pulsed against your fingertips, leaking a bioluminescent blue fluid that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.
You slid one slick finger along its entire length, and you felt the coiled power of his body shudder against you like a seismic wave breaking against the shore.
"My Lord," you whispered, your voice a fragile thing against the immensity of the sea. "Do you want me to–"
He answered by surging his hips forward, driving your slick fingers deeper into the molten heat of his slit, and the raw moan that was torn from his throat was all the answer the universe required.
You pushed inside, and the entrance was a tight vise, drenched with that endless blue fluid. The heat of him was staggering, a living furnace so much warmer than the cool night water, and the inner walls of him were soft, textured like the underside of a mushroom. They clutched and released at you with each pass, and the involuntary milking motion made your own neglected core clench with sympathetic desire.
You watched his face the entire time. A deep flush spread down from his sharp cheekbones, across his elegant neck, and bloomed across his pale chest. His head fell back against the rock with a heavy thud that would’ve fractured a human skull, but he didn't even notice. His ancient composure was stripped away, leaving only a raw creature beneath, and it was the most breathtaking thing you had ever witnessed.
But then you felt a new pressure. A welling presence pushing against your fingertips from deep inside him. It was strange and demanding, and before you could fully register the sensation, it forced your fingers out. Your slick fingers slipped from his slit with a wet pop that made you both gasp. The bioluminescent fluid clung to your hand in thick strands, stretching from your fingertips to his pulsing slit like spun moonlight before finally breaking and dripping down your wrist.
You looked down, and your breath caught in your throat, a sound of pure awe.
Two heads had peeked from the opening. They pushed past the swollen lips of his slit, one positioned above the other, emerging like some alien bloom. They were the color of the deep blue sea, tapered to pointed tips like the unfurling petals of a calla lily. Their surfaces were textured with a subtle networkk of faint ridges and nubs that caught the light and made your mouth water. They leaked that same shimmering blue fluid from tiny slits at their tips, twitching and pulsing with a life of their own, swelling and relaxing in a hypnotic rhythm.
You stared, dumbstruck.
The Sea Soverein made a questioning hum that vibrated in his chest. And you realized, with a jolt that went straight to your core, that he, the being who had witnessed the birth and death of civilizations, was anxious about what a simple village girl would think of the monstrous beauty between his hips.
That realization was an aphrodisiac more potent than any wine. Empowered, you reached out without thinking, and your fingers brushed the delicate tip of the lower shaft. He jerked as if struck by lightning, sending a splash of water cascading around you both.
You wrapped your hand around the shaft experimentally, marveling at the texture. It was hot, and the ridges shifted and flexed under your palm as if greeting you. Your thumb found the weeping tip, circling it slowly, spreading the slick pre-cum.
The upper cock bumped insistently against your wrist, smearing a trail of glowing fluid across your skin. It seemed almost jealous of the attention you were lavishing on its twin. Your breath hitched, and with a surge of bold desire, you took that one in your other hand, wrapping your fingers around its heat.
Your Lord let out a muffled moan, and a glistening flow of blue fluid ran down your fingers in warm rivulets, dripping onto the sculpted planes of his stomach, onto his powerful tail, and into the dark water where it dispersed in shimmering clouds. His gills heaved with each ragged breath he took. His hands gripped the edges of the boulder on either side of him with such desperate force that you saw his knuckles fade to the pale blue of stressed sea-glass.
Still pumping both shafts, you leaned in and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the delicate frills of his gills, tasting salt. You dragged your tongue lower, licking a slow, sloppy trail over the hard ridges of his stomach, feeling every toned muscle jump and quiver beneath your mouth. When you finally reached his cocks, you rubbed your cheek against them like a needy animal, smearing the glowing pre-cum all over your face in shiny streaks.
"My Lord… I-if you will allow me, I want to give you pleasure…" you faltered, your cheeks burning with a heat that rivaled his own, "...with my mouth."
To prove your words, you nuzzled harder, letting the leaking tips drag across your lips, your nose, your forehead, painting your face in his slick.
His pupils suddenly flared so wide they nearly swallowed the luminous silver of his irises entirely. A sound rumbled deep in his chest, and then he was shifting, pulling himself higher onto the rock, arranging his body so that he sat half-reclined, his magnificent lower half still in the water, both of his weeping cocks rising before you. You looked up at him with glassy eyes.
"P-please be merciful," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and raw want. "I may not be good at this, my Lord, but… I'll try my best to please you."
His finger traced your cheek, following the path his own essence had made, tracing your lips and the line of your jaw. And the hum he gave you was so slight it was almost imperceptible, but the desperate plea in his eyes was a roaring command. You opened your mouth obediently and wrapped your lips around the lower tip.
The taste of him was sweet, with a creamy undertone that was purely the essence of the ocean itself. The ridges and velvety nubs on his shaft caught and dragged against your tongue and the roof of your mouth in ways that should’ve been disgusting, but only made you crave more.
You sank lower, your jaw stretching to accommodate his sheer girth, your tongue lapping awkwardly but eagerly at the bumpy underside of his shaft. His hand found your hair, and his long fingers tangled in the wet strands. When you hollowed your cheeks and pulled back, a broken groan vibrated through his chest, begging you to take more in.
You sank down again, taking him deeper this time. The head of his cock nudged the entrance to your throat, and you had to consciously relax your jaw, fight the instinct to gag, and breathe slowly through your nose. He was thicker than anything you had ever attempted, and the sensation of your throat stretched around his ridged heat was overwhelming. But the low moans and coos he made, while his tail thrashed in the water, were worth any discomfort.
The upper cock bumped and smeared against your face as you worked. Its weeping tip dragged across your cheek, leaving a trail of cool slick. It nudged against your eyebrow, then slid up to your forehead, leaving more of that shimmering fluid in its wake. You reached up blindly and wrapped your hand around the neglected shaft, stroking it in rhythm with your bobbing head, matching each wet pull of your lips with a firm pull of your fist.
The Sea Lord moaned, and you felt his hand tighten in your hair, guiding your head, as his hips began to move. You let him use your mouth, surrendering control, your eyes watering as the ridged head of his cock hit the back of your throat with each thrust.
Your own neglected pussy ached and clenched, so empty, so desperate for friction. But you didn't dare move a hand to touch yourself. In this moment, his pleasure was the most urgent task. You could take care of yourself later, alone on your mat, with the phantom taste of him still in your throat and the memory of his sounds echoing in your ears.
When he thrust in deep and elicited the filthy gluck from you, the muscles of his abdomen went rigid, and his hand in your hair tightened, trying to pull you away gently. You resisted, humming an encouraging sound around his thick cock. In response, the powerful length of his tail whipped up from the water and coiled around you. It wrapped around your ankles, then your calves, then your knees, holding you firmly in place so you couldn’t have moved even if you had wanted to.
Then he thrust deep, and the tip of his lower cock hit the very back of your throat. You gagged, and a full-body spasm rippled through you, bringing fresh tears to your eyes, but he didn't stop. You felt the ridges along his shaft flex and swell, felt the entire tip thicken and pulse.
And then he was coming, so much more than any human man could produce.
Hot seed spilled past your lips, running down your chin in glowing rivers, dripping down onto your heaving chest. At the same moment, the upper cock pulsed violently in your grip, releasing across your face in thick ropes. His come painted your cheek, splashed across the bridge of your nose, and matted into your hair. You choked and sputtered, swallowing convulsively, but the flood was endless, leaving you no solution but to drink everything he was feeding you, filling your belly with his seed.
When your Lord finally stiled, you were a gasping, debauched mess. His tail unwound from your legs reluctantly, as if the very appendage didn’t want to let you go. His gentle hands came up to your face, his thumbs wiping away his own cooling cum with a reverence that made your sensitive body shiver. He cleaned your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, and then, very tenderly, he wiped the fluid from your swollen lips. You leaned into his touch, utterly spent and trembling with the aftershocks.
But the peaceful moment was a fleeting thing. The Sea God slid from the rock, the water accepting him back with a soft sigh, and gathered you in his arms. He lifted you as though you weighed nothing and deposited you gently onto the very same sun-warmed stone where he had just lain.
You blinked in confusion, your mind still hazy with lust and wonder. He pushed himself up in the water, so the gentle waves lapped at his wide chest. His gaze, sharp and hungry again, traveled down your body with predatory focus. He looked at the simple cloth that served as your only garment. It was plastered to your skin, rendered almost transparent, and it was not entirely with seawater.
Two of his claws hooked into the flimsy fabric at your hip, the tips cool against your heated skin. He tugged lightly, those luminous eyes rising to meet yours.
You nodded, the understanding of what was to come finally settling into your bones.
The cloth gave way with a soft rrrip, torn down your legs in a single motion. It floated in the dark water for a moment before sinking, forgotten.
Your Lord stared blatantly, with an intensity that made your skin prickle, at the place between your legs. The place no man had truly seen or touched since a clumsy, hurried, and rather disappointing encounter in your village years ago.
His pupils flared wide again, devouring the sight of your bare pussy, and he moved closer, leveling his face with your tummy. The moonlight painted everything in stark relief of silver and deep blue shadow, and you felt more exposed, more vulnerable, and more desired than you had ever felt in your life.
Slowly, the Water Lord leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the soft skin of your stomach, right above where your womb lay hidden. Then, with a rumbling groan of pure pleasure, he rubbed his whole face against that spot. His eyes fluttered half-closed, the silver lashes casting faint shadows on his sharp cheekbones. His nose nuzzled against the soft thatch of curls on your mound, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. The great curve of his horns brushed against your belly as he pressed closer.
His forked tongue, long and surprisingly warm, came out and licked a slow stripe across your belly. The unique sensation made your hips twitch involuntarily. Your Lord didn’t pay any attention to that, kissing the same spot again, and again, seemingly driven mad by the simple taste of you.
Then, with an impatient growl, he began working his way lower.
He pressed sloppy kisses along your hip bones, down the crease where your thigh met your body, sucking gently at the sensitive flesh until you were whimpering. His nose brushed against your swollen outer lips, and your cunt clenched visibly, pushing out a fresh trickle of clear slick that dripped down toward your ass.
His elegant fingers joined the worship. With feather-light precision, he traced the shape of your puffy outer lips before gently parting them, spreading you wide open with his thumbs. The cool night air kissed your exposed core, making you shiver.
His thumbs spread you wider.
You gasped at the way the air touched places that had never felt air before, at the way his gaze seemed to burn into you. Your Lord traced the outer edges of your folds first, learning their shape, the way they swelled under his attention. When his finger brushed your clit you moaned, and he stilled, mesmerised by the sound.
His finger returned to the spot that made you sound so prettily, circling it slowly, learning the exact pressure that made you moan, the exact rhythm that made your hips buck against his hand. He watched your face the entire time as he tortured your sensitive little pearl, lavishing it with his attention, massaging it.
Then he lowered his head, and his tongue finally joined his digits.
From the shock of it, the impossible sensation, you screamed. His tongue slid through your folds like the gentlest silk, like water made into flesh. He tasted you slowly learning you with that same focus, and when he reached your entrance, he pressed inside without hesitation.
You clawed at the rock beneath you, nails scraping stone, back arching off the surface.
His tongue pushed deeper. And deeper still. Farther than any human tongue could reach, farther than you had known it was possible to be reached. The forked tip curled and explored, stroking places you had never known existed, finding spots that made stars burst behind your eyes. He made a sound against you, and the vibration traveled through his tongue into your core and made your vision white out.
You realized it through the haze of pleasure, your Lord was searching for something inside you. His tongue questing deeper and deeper until it reached its final destination, making your whole body convulse.
Your cervix.
The Sea Sovereign had reached it with that endless tongue and was now pressing gently, learning the shape of your deepest place. The sensation was overwhelming – too much and not enough, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
“M-my Lord!” You sobbed his title, not knowing what you were begging for.
He groaned against you, and his tongue fucked you with long strokes, each one pressing against your cervix in a way that made your whole body shudder. His nose bumped your clit with each thrust, and the dual stimulation built something inside you that you had never felt before.
With another deep stroke, your legs thrashed. Your Lord hooked them over his shoulders without missing a beat, opening you further, taking you deeper, his hands gripping your thighs with possessive strength, and you came across his face.
Even as you came down from your high and lay limp against the stone, his tongue continued its work. Gentle now, softer, cleaning every drop of your release, pressing inside you just to feel you clench around him, pulling back to circle your clit until you whimpered with oversensitivity. He worshiped you with his mouth for long minutes, until you finally pushed weakly at his head.
But it seemed the Sea God’s feast was far from over.
You realized this when he took both of his cocks in one hand. They were fully hard again, twin lengths glistening and twitching with renewed need. He held them together, base to tip, and stared directly into your eyes. A single, questioning hum filled the air between you.
The overwhelming intensity of being looked at like that… like you were the most precious, desirable, lovable thing in any world, made a sob catch in your throat. You nodded desperately, even as your exhausted body tensed at the thought of taking them both.
"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming. "Please, my Lord– be gentle. I don't know if I can–"
The Sovereign leaned closer and tenderly kissed your sweaty forehead, his other hand coming up to cup the soft curve of your lower belly, silencing your fears with a touch so reassuring it made your eyes sting. When he pulled back, his eyes promised a gentleness and care that you could never expect from the selfish men of your village.
Despite the coiling fear in your gut, you parted your trembling legs wider, accommodating the broad expanse of his tail and hips as he moved between them. He positioned both flared heads at your swollen entrance, rubbing them slowly against your labia, coating them in the mingled essence of both your arousals.
And, you had to admit, the feeling was already shocking. Two thick cocks, both crowned with those inhuman tips, pressing together against a hole that had only ever taken one. You felt the promise of the impossible stretch and whimpered, your hands flying up to grip his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his cool skin.
Then, with slow pressure and a gentle hum, he pushed slowly, his eyes locked on your face with unwavering attention, his body trembling with the effort of restraint, ready to stop at the first flicker of true pain.
But you just didn't want him to stop. You felt each and every ridge and nub dragging against your inner walls, until both cocks were fully seated inside you, their tips pressed firmly against the entrance to your womb. You felt so full that tears of pure, overwhelming sensation leaked from your eyes and ran down your cheeks.
But then your Lord withdrew slightly and thrust again, and both tips pressed against your cervix at once. The sensation made your head tilt back, and if he hadn't slipped his palm between the hard stone and your nape with such inhuman speed, your skull would have cracked against it.
He froze immediately, his eyes wide with profound concern, his big palm cradling your head as if it were made of spun glass. But you were already pulling him closer with your legs locked around his tail, ravenous for more.
"Please," you sobbed, your voice a needy plea. "Please, move! I need– I need–!"
He thrusted again, just once, gently, letting your inner walls adjust to the incredible fullness of being impaled by both of his magnificent cocks. Then, with a squelching sound, he started rocking his hips, watching your face the entire time, his ancient mind cataloging flinch, adjusting his pace and angle to match your every response, playing your body like some kind of instrument.
Drool leaked shamelessly from the corner of your mouth as you stared up at him. His usually composed face was starting to crack – eyes half-lidded and clouded with lust, sharp teeth clenched, remnants of your earlier release still glistening on his nose and chin. The sight of the ancient Sea Sovereign losing himself in the sloppy heat of your cunt made you clench violently around him.
He groaned deeply, the sound low and animalistic, and drove himself harder, fucking you with both cocks in long, powerful strokes. Your back arched off the stone as sweet, high-pitched moans spilled from your lips. One large hand splayed across your waist, pressing your lower stomach firmly against his hard abdomen. The new angle made everything more intense.
Every time he bottomed out, a clear, obscene bulge appeared on your lower belly – the distinct shape of both his thick cocks stretching you from the inside. You could literally watch yourself getting fucked, the bump rising and falling with every thrust.
His gaze dropped to your breasts, presented so prettily to him, still covered by your top. With a low growl, he tore the fabric away completely, exposing you fully to the night air.
His long, forked tongue snaked out, curling around your breast before the dual tips latched onto your hard nipple. He sucked and flicked the sensitive bud while pounding into you, the wet sounds of his cocks destroying your pussy growing louder and nastier.
And then you felt it.
Something thicker, heavier, and far more solid than cum began traveling down the length of his lower cock. One of his shafts expanded noticeably, the ridges flaring as it stretched you even wider.
“H-huh…?” you gasped, eyes flying open in shock.
Your own body couldn't fathom it, spasming and clenching in a confused mix of pleasure and shock against the strange thing that was stretching your channel further.
Your Lord stared back at you, and there was something impossibly ancient and knowing in his gaze. An ageless intent that you couldn't decipher, no matter how hard you tried. His hips pressed forward one final time, driving both tips as deep into your womb.
The exact same moment, the horrible realization settled over you like a warm wave.
"W-wait, my Lord, p-please, I–" You were interrupted by his hands, which came up to circle your body, pressing your arms to your sides. Before you could try to push him back with your trembling legs, the thinner end of his tail wrapped around your ankles, locking you in the same tight leglock you'd had him in moments before.
The first egg slipped from the tip of his lower cock and into your waiting womb, shocking you. The second made you moan as it joined the first. The third made you sob. By the fifth, you were crying openly, your face a mess of tears and slick fluids. One of his eggs stopped at the tight, spasming mouth of your womb, didn't quite make it through the clenched muscle.
The Lord of the Sea leaned down and pressed his cool forehead to your feverish one, humming a resonant melody. The wordless sounds rumbled from his chest and washed over you like a gentle tide, a lullaby older than human memory. It made you go limp in his arms, your resistance melting away, and in that boneless surrender, the next egg slipped past the barrier, and he was able to deposit the rest of his precious brood into the safe cradle of your body.
One of his hands unwrapped from your body and came down to rest on your stomach, pressing gently, feeling the distinct bulge of his eggs inside you.
Then came the flood.
A hot torrent of thick cum erupted from both cocks at once. It was far more voluminous than before, flooding every remaining space around the eggs, cushioning them, warming them, and pressurizing your stuffed womb. The excess gushed out around his cocks in creamy rivers, squirting and bubbling messily from your overstretched pussy with every shallow thrust.
Your belly swelled even further, becoming tight, round, and gravid under his palm. You looked down through tear-blurred eyes at the prominent bulge, feeling impossibly full.
The Sea Sovereign stayed inside you long after his release had ended, holding you, cooing those ancient sounds with his hand massaging your gravid belly. He pressed soft, reverent kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders, and when his cocks finally softened and slipped from your body, you felt the loss as an acute emptiness. But he immediately gathered you close, his powerful tail curling protectively around your weak legs, and you felt him exhale a contented sigh through his fluttering gills.
You looked up and saw stars scattered across the unfamiliar constellations wheeling overhead, strange and beautiful. And with the sight came realization.
"M-my Lord," you said softly, your voice hoarse, "I need to go back. It is late."
He went still beside you.
Then, for the first time, the melodic baritone of his voice cut through the silence.
"Why?"
The pronunciation of it was strange, as though language itself was foreign to his tongue, but it was unmistakably speech. You stared at him, shock stealing your breath.
"You– you can speak?"
He inclined his head in confirmation.
"Call me Neuvillette from now on, my dearest. Answering your question, yes, I just prefer not to." His voice was strikingly resonant, with a cadence that belonged to the deep places of the world, to currents and tides and the slow turning of centuries. "The words of your kin are... too much and too fast." He paused, his hand pressing gently against your swollen belly. "But I will gladly speak to you in... your language."
"Neuvillette,” you started, shocked upon hearing his statement, “Please! My family will worry! I have to go back!"
"No."
You tried to pull away immediately, and his arm tightened around you. Panic began to thread through your confusion, sharp and cold.
"My Lord, I can’t stay–"
"Open your mouth."
"What? No! Let me go, ple–!"
Before you could react, his tail wrapped around your ankle and pulled. You slid from the rock into the sea, scraping your backside in the process. Your scream became a gurgle as water closed over your head, while Neuvillette dragged you under.
You thrashed, pushing at his chest, clawing at his arms, but he was inexorable. He held you beneath the surface with the patience of something that had waited five hundred years and wouldn’t be denied now. When you tried to kick for air, he pulled you up.
You broke the surface, gasping, coughing, choking, sucking in air with desperate heaves, but you barely filled your lungs before he pulled you under again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Each time Neuvillette let you rise just long enough to hope before dragging you back into the crushing dark.
The tenth time, he didn’t let you rise even when black crept in at the edges of your vision. And through it all, you saw him floating before you, his face calm. His lips parted, and a stream of bubbles escaped.
You fought longer than you thought possible. Your pride, your fear, your desperate need to protest – all of them screaming against surrender. But your body betrayed you, and in your final moment of consciousness, you lunged forward and pressed your mouth to his.
Air flooded your lungs, along with something else.
A hard object, hard and cool, pushed past your lips by his tongue, forced down your throat before you could spit it out. You swallowed reflexively, and pain exploded through your body, and then you knew no more.
You woke to singing, lying on something soft, and above you, the sea surface shimmered with moonlight. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close to a firm chest with a heartbeat that matched the rhythm of the waves.
Then a voice stopped humming, and human speech rang against your ear, filled with relief so profound it hurt to hear. You jolted and noticed the way your body felt… different.
You looked down at yourself in horror, and where your legs should’ve been, there was something completely different.
Scales covered you from the waist down, catching the moonlight with soft iridescence, shimmering with every small movement. You could feel the way the water moved over your gills, the way your eyes adjusted to the dark without effort, the way your new tail twitched and curled with instincts you didn’t yet understand.
You tried to thrash, and Neuvilette only held you tighter, pressing you against his chest with gentle firmness.
"Quiet, love," he murmured. "Your tail is still weak. You need rest. The transformation takes time."
Tears burned in your eyes, hot and strange in this new body, mixing with the sea around you. You wept, and he held you through it, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple.
"Do not grieve, my pearl," he said softly, rubbing soft circles onto the skin of your swollen belly. "You wished to see the beauties of this world, did you not?" He pressed his lips to your temple again, lingering. "Now you will. With me."
As his tail twined around yours in the moonlit water, you thought that perhaps belonging to him was not so different from belonging to the sea after all.
Perhaps it was the same thing.
.
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Series Masterlist: Creatures Features
You: helping him, feeding him fruits, enjoying his company...
Neuvi:
Anyways.
Tbh, I don't really like this chapter. I spent a veeeery long time rewriting and editing it, trying to make it more sensual and kinda poetic, but I feel like I've only made it worse :c
I apologize if there are any mistakes, but I just can't muster up any strength to proofread it for the hundredth time... Still, I hope it not too disappointing.
crossposting all of these stuff is like chewing gum i already spat out onceHIIII LOOK OUTSIDERS HOLY MOLY DO I GOT THE SHOW FOR YOU ( also go and find my freak outside stuff on bluesky, love to humiliate sam there hehe)
moot said my pre-visitor lyle is too cute for his own good, and he’s right ughh what the fuck are you doing lyle are you dumb
can you tell i sort of like drawing lyle, eugh he pisses me off so bad, squish his fat ass already or idk eat it if you’re down there
ughhhh sybil the woman you are (i know this is mostly hellen slop, im tryna talk to the fine lady down there cant you see?!)
anyways my bluesky is @snickerdoodlee catch me if you wanna see sams booty cheeks uhm
i havent considered dating for most of my life bc i just assumed that its not for me, but now that i know that i want to be in a relationship i wonder if im actually screwed on the account of me being ace with a fetish where sexuality should be. can i only date people who are also into feedism? if a person is into feedism then they probably wont find me attractive and if i date people who i find attractive then im destined to disgust or offend someone by just having the kink. am i just doomed or what? would be easier if i wasnt ace i feel like.
