#fishman x reader

Warnings: some nsfw parts, pregnancy kink, lactation

Okay, I know it's pretty non-specific. But let's say you work in Arlong Park (you decided it's better to work for stronger side. Or you're just down bad), cooking, cleaning etc. You like to pass the time sneaking away with fishmen, at least those eager to sleep with a filthy human (actually... not a dealbreaker for most of them). And one day, well, the consequences catch you. You're pregnant. You probably don't know who's a father (unless you strictly sticked to one lover).

Warnings: Lemon

Word count: 1124

They tell you the lower levels of the lab are off limits, that anyone caught down their will immediately be detained. It ought to dissuade you, but there’s no ignoring the soft lull of singing that crawls through the air vents. The way it always seems to find you, and no other. Musical notes all but manifesting against the bale of your neck, curling almost lazily like cigarette smoke. You made the mistake of asking about it once, and spent the next three days in a room with some higher ups.

Asking so many questions:

What did you hear?

When did you hear it?

What do you dream about?

How you give only vague answers, a creeping suspicion in your mind that they mean more harm than good. You took this job as a way to better the world, a hope that research into the creatures as yet unknown to the public could broker peace for them. Though the past few weeks have turned this dream sour in your mouth, how the facility seems to look at them as experiments, nothing more.

You remind yourself of this fact as she slide the cool plastic of a stolen ID card into the reader for the door that leads below surface level. How it glides open with a mechanical whirl of noise, and artificial air rushes to meet you. The hallways are muted steel, and sterile in appearance. When you step forward, and the door seals back behind you, you can’t help but feel entombed.

How anything that sounds as beautiful as it does live down here you can’t imagine. Each turn feels like an endless maze of similar looking corridors, and you free you’ve made a grave mistake. Until it finds you again, the sweet lull of someone’s voice, pitched low, and rich, and now each turn you take with purpose. A surety in your movements that causes your heart to pound reckless in your chest. Hummingbird like until the idea it might free itself from your ribs to reach your destination faster comes to mind.

You don’t know what you expect to find, but the enormous water tank isn’t it. It partially stands upwards, with water a murky teal, but you can see where it disappears down below- at least forty feet or so. A staircase winds down around it where you imagine scientists go to view something down there. The music has stopped though, and so have you, caught at the very edge of the glass- how thick it must be to hold so much water you can’t fathom. The air down here raises goosebumps, and the scent reminds you of the ocean.

The salt spray touch of it is almost intoxicating when you raise your hand towards the glass. Only to leap back with a yelp when a webbed hand slaps itself where yours once was. Slowly forming out of the murkiness the scaled body unveils itself. The scales are a deep indigo, and the large eyes set into his head look near liquid gold. The black of his lips peel away to show the sharpness of teeth, in what you think is a smile.

How the largeness of his pupils follow your every move, and your fingers brush back through your hair almost nervously. As if this creature can see all of you, beyond the lab coat, and the scrubs.

“Don’t you smell sweet.” His words seem to echo against the glass, muffling themselves as they go. It makes it so you have to lean up against it to hear him. The cold of the glass sinks through your clothes as you line yourself against it, head turned to press your ear near his mouth. His laughter sends a shiver down your spine, and there’s no ignoring the way your nipples seem to harden.

You want to blame the cold, but your gaze can’t help but notice the hand he’s palms down the glass now. Mimicking the movements of touching you, tracing the lines of you like he’s committing them to memory. “Aren’t you a bold one.” The gills at the sides of his neck seem to flutter, and his teeth snap in the water when you make a soft fluttering exhale. You’ve dreamt about him, like this, but more than this too. When it’s you in the water, what it might feel like to be touched. These are the things you don’t tell the guards, these are the things you keep secret in your heart.

“Won’t you let me see a little more?” You can’t tell if he’s teasing you or not, only that the moment seems surreal, and detached from the rest of this place. That your hands shake as you slip of your coat, before working the buttons of your shirt. Fabric pooling down by your feet when you press back up against the glass again.

“Such a sweet girl, so soft looking-“ he seems to grown in the water, and looking down you can see him shifting slightly. How a harder looking scales seem to open slowly, the heavy bob of his cock now pressing up against the glass as well. It looks almost emerald in color, the head of it pulsing, ridges seeming to vibrate down the length of him.

“The things I could do to you, precious one.” He’s cooing now, one webbed hand placing against the glass where your chest rests.  It feels like your pulse is trying to break through, if only it means getting closer. His other hand wrapping around himself, working in slow thrusts that make you whine.

That you want to touch, that you want to be touched. Your fingers seek down the twitch of your stomach with each breath. Spreading yourself, matching the pace he sets, until you’re all but writhing against the glass. Suddenly feverish, and sweat slick, all but begging for something, anything more than this.

“That’s it-“ he’s saying, and the musics in your head again, only this time it’s spreading warm through your veins. Blossoming heat beneath your skin until you swear it is his hand on you. It’s the spindly slick spread of his fingers burying themselves inside of you. How you break with a gasp of a noise, watching as he spills himself into the water. How it clouds before disappearing, and your pants keep up despite the stillness of everything else.

Above you a siren starts up, a flash of yellow lights, and you know you’ll need to leave now if you don’t want to be found out.

“Find me again, find me, and next time I’ll show you what I can really do.” How you rush to dress, his promise feeling like a spark in the core of you.

A/N: I suppose you can imagine some other fishmen instead if you like. I hope I didn't go ooc, bc I only watched live action and a few episodes of anime (not those with Arlong Park tho)

Not proofread, sorry for mistakes

Warnings: p in v, slight racism (fishmen against humans), degradation, breeding talk

Most people you knew probably wouldn't want to hang out with fishmen, and especially wouldn't want to serve a bunch of fishmen pirates on their island. But you didn't feel bad about that at all - in fact, right now, you really enjoyed it, being pounded in the kitchen.

Part one: Here

Word count: 1091

Warnings: Lemon

You can’t stop thinking about it no matter how hard you try. Even during the day your skin seems to remember the chill of glass against it. How odd to think of cold, and yet suddenly flash feverish. The way he looked at you, the tumbling low turn of his voice, coaxing you on. How removed the lab seems, his tank set off on its own; nothing but the sound of water lapping up against the sides of it.

That very sound feels like a hush behind your ears now, while you watch the upper floors of the building teem with security officials. Though word is no one has found out who tripped the alarms, and that the creature they keep far below has said little, and less.

You wonder if they know just how much there is to him- that he isn’t only a creature they dragged out of the depths. That you dream about him now, even a week later, and his promise of more. It’s this that drives you to risk a second visit, your steps seeming to pull you through the labyrinth of sterile looking halls. You think yourself lost after nearly an hour of trying to remember the turns that brought you to him.

The nameless one, the creature with slitted gold eyes, with scaled skin, and the foggy blue around him.

It’s then that you pull up short, the large metal door the same as it was last visit. Towering above you, how it strikes you as odd they haven’t locked it down- that the whole way here not a single security officer was to be seen. Just you, just the halls, and the thought of him plaguing every inch of you.

So much so that when the doors open, you know he’s waiting, scales gleaming where he perches at the lip of the tank. His color looks darker than you remember, how now it seems shades of ink splattered emeralds. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Your voice soft as you start up the stairs that wind around the large tank. His smile flashes a row of sharp teeth that makes your skin flush slightly.

The way he seems to look at you like you’re the only thing that might ever matter. Despite the fact it’s only your second meeting, how the memory of the first is enough to bring you in front of him. “Barely.” Comes his answer while webbed fingers curl around your ankle. His skin slick, smooth, cold in a way that seems to sink right through you. That you stand while his hand drifts upwards, pulling himself further out of the water where it sloshes forward wetting your shoes.

“Did you come for what I promised?” He asks, and the way his pupils fluctuate in size you think he’s teasing. A dark purple tongue seeming to unfurl from behind the cage of teeth, drawing at your ankle. A shiver chases your spine, and your lips part. There’s no use in lying, not when you already feel dampness growing between your legs. That he knows why you came, that maybe he’s known you’d always end up here.

Your fingers shake while they work the buttons of your dress, while he releases you, sinks back into the water. Appraised each movement of fabric that reveals more skin, “Do you want to be touched, is that it?” Now you know he’s teasing you, when he swims back further, motions for you to join him. Slipping lastly your shoes off, testing the water with just the tips of your toes. Surprise finds you with how decadently warm it feels, lowering yourself in while each moment has his eyes still glued to you.

Your breathe startles when he dives below, surfacing by slipping between your thighs. Drawing them apart so they settle on either side of his ribs when he leans back in the water. Floating you against his chest, how he seems to warm the longer he’s in contact. Your palms search out his shoulders where ridges of bone have fins that feel sturdy in place. Gently drawing along the slits at the sides of his neck. Watching them open, and close, fluttering more as you graze past them.

His hands search you as well, explore across your chest, pausing to toy with your nipple. The way fascinating reads in his expression watching it harden beneath his touch. The way you feel him growing stiff as well below you. You palm between you, feeling against the hard plate that shifts, draws open at the pressure of your hand. The length of him rigid, with grooves indenting at the sides of it. The way the head of him forms into a slight arch, the color flarring dark purple the more you stroke.

“I’m supposed to be touching you.” But his complain earn a moan that seems to gargle in the water. How he bucks upwards, and sinks you both more. His hands grab for your hips, pressing in as he pulls you under. Just as water covers over you, his mouth finds yours. That same ink colored tongue you saw before fills your mouth. Laps against the roof of your mouth, and how you wait for your lungs to burn, but it never comes.

The more his kisses become insistent, the less you think about anything but the feeling of it, of him. The creature well beyond any age you might know, who may well last past you as well. That for one moment you’ve become the center of him, his cock pressing against the slit of you. Your hair drifting behind you, and your fingers squeezing at the base of him.

How he pulls back far enough to watch your face when he takes his time pressing into you. Inch by inch, and his smile spreading wide at the way your body tilts back. The shapes you take in the water, made dancer by the way it buoys you both. The ridges of him drawing along within, each thrust earns a twist of your hips, mouth open. Taking in water yet somehow. Y his will never drowning on it.

There’s only the feeling, so full you think you’ll never know another. He curves over you, presses chest to chest. Heat blooms when he spills into you, the water wrapping around you both. How when he looks at you, it’s like being seen for the first time.

And you know you can’t let him waste away here.