Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My fingers sink into thick, sucking mud as I claw my way out of the churning sea. Every inch of me trembles with exhaustion. My lungs are on fire from seawater, my throat raw. Somehow — against the storm, against the wreckage of our sunken vessel — I’ve crawled back to shore.

The shoreline greets me like a grave: bleak, moonlit, slick with cold black mud. I collapse on my stomach, gasping, spitting out salt as the waves nip at my bare feet. I should feel relief. Safety.

And yet…

Something coils around my ankle.

Seaweed? I kick instinctively, but it doesn’t release.

A brutal yank drags me back toward the surf. Panic detonates through my chest — I dig my fingernails into the mud, leaving hysterical claw marks as I’m reeled in like some pathetic catch. Before I can scream, the water closes over my head again.

Terror flares. I kick, thrash, fighting for the surface, but I’m being towed deeper. The salt blinds me; all I glimpse is a blur of flesh just beyond my reach.

Then — abruptly — I’m thrust up again, breaking the surface. I choke on a lungful of air, terrifyingly aware that something still has me by the ankle. Water crashes into my mouth between breaths. I try to scream for help — but freeze.

Because I feel it. Pressed against my back.

Not fish. Not sea monster.

Man.

I twist half-around, heart lurching.

He stares back at me in silence — a face carved from night itself: jet-black hair plastered to his cheeks, sharp jaw, lean muscle glistening, steel-grey eyes fixed on me with something far hungrier than concern.

My knees nearly buckle — even while treading water. “Th-thank god,” I sputter. “Help me — something’s got me—”

He says nothing. Doesn’t blink. Just gazes with flat, unnerving calm.

His hand comes down — not to save.

To touch.

Calloused fingertips slip beneath my soaked shirt, palm closing around my breast with obscene authority. I jolt, stricken by the shock of pleasure and horror as his thumb circles my nipple. His other hand clamps around my throat, forcing me under again — this time not to drown me, but to toy with me.

I thrash and break the surface. “What are you doing!” I croak, tingles spear down my spine even as I rage.

His lips never move, but his grip tells me everything.

I’m hauled under once more. The cold wraps around me like a fist. I strain my eyes — and see it clearly now: thick, dark violet apparatus twining up my leg. Something built for this. A tentacle that he’s controlling with frightening precision. The octopus-like limb slides higher, circling my thigh, suctioned tight so I can’t kick it off.

Two more whip out of the dark — wrapping my wrists, wrenching them behind my back. I feel a sickening pop in my shoulder. I scream, but only bubbles escape. I stare upward as my air dwindles… moonlight trembling like silver coins far above.

Then — the inevitable.

Another cold, slick tip nudges beneath my skirt, finding the soaked cotton between my legs. My panic turns molten — shame pools low in my belly even as I brace myself.

The tentacle presses harder, forcing the fabric aside and spearing up inside my cunt with wicked intent. A whimper tears from my throat — more bubbles — as shock slices through the fear like a blade.

He watches me from the dark with those calm, pitiless grey eyes. Controlling every movement. Every inch invading me. Every ounce of my oxygen.

As my chest contracts painfully, I realise the truth:

I’m not being drowned.

I’m being claimed.

But I don’t have time to dwell on that thought. The panic is real as the ocean devours me whole, the world above shrinking to a disc of rippling light. My lungs are screaming and the tentacle sliding in and out of my cunt is making everything come apart at the seams. Each thrust is unrelenting, precise, pressing obscenely against the end of me, stretching me wide and raw around its perfect girth. I sob soundlessly, suspended in blue nothingness, hair drifting like seaweed around my face as I claw at water that gives me no mercy.

He watches, impassive. Pale skin carved from stone and salt. And those eyes — silvered, merciless — follow every twitch I make as though cataloguing evidence. He looks so human from the waist up, powerful chest stark against the shadows of the deep. Only the flicker of scales and the brutal flick of his tail betray the monster beneath.

My vision blooms with black spots. I ache, I flutter, I throb around the slimy limb lodged inside me as though my body wants this, even as I drown.

Just when I think I’ll pass out, he yanks me upward, tail cutting through the dark with lethal grace, dragging me like prey. The surface slaps me hard, and I burst into the air with a violent gasp, sucking wet, freezing lungfuls that scorch as they save me. I’m trembling against him as he cradles me against the strength of his torso — the surprising warmth of his skin shocks me more than the water ever could — and that merciless tentacle remains lodged tight and throbbing inside my guts.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, voice like gravel and command, brushing my ear as though I’m meant to be grateful.

I gulp frantically, each inhale ragged and pitiful, my limbs jerking in instinctive struggle. It earns me nothing. His arms cinch around my middle, one hand moving with slow, obscene confidence to cup my dripping breasts, thumbs rolling over my hardened nipples before ghosting up my throat. The other skims lower, anchoring brutally at my hips to keep me speared on his cruel hold.

“Good,” he whispers when I stop fighting. I sag. My body… my traitorous body… tightens around the tentacle. He hums low in approval — nuzzling behind my ear as his fingers seek my swollen clit like he owns it. I whimper, muscles locking in anticipation. He circles gently at first, almost sweet, and then with punishing flicks meant to break me. Salt burns my skin. My head tips back on his shoulder, mouth open, gasping, drooling.

Then I freeze.

There’s movement behind me again — a fourth tentacle, thicker, slick, guided by his impossible precision, nudging at the tight ring of my asshole. I choke on a sob.

“Yes,” he growls against my throat, voice low and terrifyingly calm. “Let me ruin every part of you.”

I suck in one last rattling breath before he drags me under again.

This time it’s different — deeper. The world above vanishes, swallowed by endless black. No rippling silver. No moon. No stars. Just void. Just him. I can’t see him anymore — but his presence wraps around me like steel. My only truth is the obscene stretch of those tentacles forcing my holes wider than I ever thought possible.

The thicker one spears my ass without mercy, inching so impossibly deep that my belly swells around it, a grotesque, erotic pressure that makes me want to scream. I don’t. I can’t. His palm cups the bulge beneath my navel possessively, as though it’s proof of ownership. He rumbles low behind me — a guttural hum of approval that vibrates through my spine.

I fight the panic rising in my chest, crushing it down with desperate obedience. I have no air to spare — no room for fear, only sensation. His grip shackles me in place as the two tentacles thrust in perfect, punishing rhythm: one filling my guts, the other pounding my dripping cunt, slicker with each brutal push. My head flops back helplessly, hair spreading in the darkness like a drowned halo, body nothing more than a vessel for him to use.

Another tendril coils around my thigh, forcing me even wider, keeping me open, vulnerable, endlessly penetrable. I try to brace myself, but there’s nothing but water and him — no gravity, no footing, no control. Just the relentless glide of tendrils plunging into me again and again until I want to choke.

And then I do.

Something thick nudges my lips — another slick, brine-tasting tentacle forcing my mouth open. I cough violently when it breaches my throat, gagging, fighting on instinct as it sinks deeper. The creature holds me tighter when I buck, soothingly cruel, as though reminding me who I belong to. My vision sparks white at the edges. I feel the heaviness descend like a curtain — I’m going to pass out again.

Abruptly, it’s gone, and I’m thrown upward into the cold night air. I burst through the surface with a ragged, desperate gasp — spluttering, sobbing, tears instantly hot against my frozen cheeks.

There’s no mercy.

In the next second, he hauls me right back under.

The tentacle wraps tight around my throat this time, choking off my scream before it even starts as it stuffs my mouth again, violating my throat with slick, ruthless thrusts that match the brutal pounding in my ass and cunt. Salty. Slimy. Tasting of fish and ocean and him. My throat bulges obscenely around it, my belly lurches as every hole is stretched, used, filled.

My mind begins to shatter at the edges. I can’t remember my name. I can’t remember the sky. There is only the sickeningly delicious burn of my body being forced open again and again… and the unnatural warmth of the half man, half fish wrapped around me — holding me steady as he fucks me with all the tools at his command.

Somewhere in the crushing dark, I hear his voice.

It curls into my skull like a hallucination — low, cold, undeniable. I don’t know how he’s speaking underwater. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’m already dead.

“You’re going to be my Queen.”

The words graze the shell of my ear as bubbles bloom over my neck and tangle in my hair like crown jewels of salt and sin.

Suddenly, the tentacle spearing my cunt is yanked free — suction pads peeling from my inner walls with a lewd, wet pop that makes me jolt, empty and sobbing. Barely a heartbeat later, something else claims the space. Something warmer. Flesh. Human… or close enough. The blunt, pulsing heat of him fills me in one brutal push.

He grunts. The sound reverberates through my bones even down here.

The violation doesn’t stop — if anything, it deepens. The tendril in my throat plunges further, bulging my neck. Another writhes ruthlessly inside my ass, pressing up into my guts so high I swear I can feel it coil behind my ribs. And now him, thick and hot and unmistakably male, tearing into my pussy with savage ownership. They move in sync. A merciless rhythm designed to destroy.

His body presses to mine from behind — corded muscle, radiant warmth against my frozen skin — and his hand slides down, finding my clit with terrifying accuracy. He toys with it lazily as though he has all the time in the world to dismantle me. A growl, muffled and monstrous, rolls against my ear.

There’s no light. No up. No down. No air.

Just pain. Pleasure. Him.

It’s too much. I feel it building — molten, hideous, ecstatic. I don’t want to come. I don’t want to give this creature that satisfaction. But my body betrays me. I shatter around him with a scream I can’t make, muscles locking as I convulse. Water floods past the tentacle in my mouth, pours into my lungs. I retch, choking soundlessly, and begin to drown.

My heart slows. My limbs slacken.

He doesn’t take me up.

He’s forgotten the game.

I spiral helplessly as darkness creeps into the edges of my mind. I feel everything slipping from me. Faraway, I hear him groan — a short, guttural sound — and inside me, deep in my cunt, something hot erupts in violent pulses. Claiming.

Then all at once it’s quiet...

I wake up face-down in mud.

It’s raining — cold, pounding, relentless. I almost laugh at the irony as I heave up seawater, then bile, my ribs screaming with the effort. My body is ruined: split, sore, leaking, raw. I can’t see properly; everything is a haze of grey and bloodshot colour. The earth squelches beneath me, thick and clinging. I don’t care. I’m not going back in that water — not if my life depends on it.

I crawl pathetically up the shore, shaking, retching, half-blind, until I collapse among tall reedy grass. My thighs are slick with something not seawater. I drag trembling fingers between my legs and stare.

White. Viscous. Seed.

Revulsion and heat crawl up my spine in equal measure.

I force myself to glance back at the ocean. For just a moment, through the rain, I see a flash of silver — the sleek ripple of a tail disappearing beneath the surface far out in the waves.

He’s still watching.

Deep in my belly, something flutters.

His claim already taking root inside my body... before I even realise I’ve been changed.

Chapter Text

The nightmares come first.

I wake in the early morning, lungs heaving like I’ve drowned again. Sweat slicks my body, salt still stinging the back of my throat. My skin feels fevered, too tight for my bones. I push the blankets down, gasping. That’s when I see it.

My wrist.

The faintest glimmer beneath the skin — blue-white veins pulsing dimly in the dark.

“No…” My voice cracks. I press trembling fingers to my arm, trying to smother it, but the glow surges faster, harder. It doesn’t feel like my heartbeat. It’s irregular, foreign. Until it isn’t. Until I realize it’s syncing. Slowing. Matching something vast. Something out there, beyond the shore.

Him.

I curl in on myself, nausea twisting through me. I tell myself I’ll never go near that water again, never. But my thighs clench tight, betraying me. A raw, aching heat blooms between them. I can’t stop thinking of him — his voice, his eyes, the way my body opened under his control.

“God help me…” My hand slides down anyway. My glowing wrist trembles as my fingers circle my clit, shame boiling through me. Each stroke makes the light flare brighter beneath my skin. By the time I come, biting the pillow to smother the sound, my veins are a map of starlight.

And when it’s over, the glow doesn’t fade.

**********

A week later I can’t deny it.

My stomach is swelling.

I stare at myself in the cracked mirror of a half-collapsed shack, fingers splayed against taut skin that wasn’t there days ago. It’s obscene. Wrong. My body looks months pregnant already. Time hasn’t moved fast enough for this to be real.

Horror twists in my gut, but my hand drifts lower again, helpless. My cunt has been soaked every night since, desperate, throbbing. Everytime my fingers slip inside, light bursts in my belly — glowing veins radiating out from the swell beneath my navel.

And then I see him.

Not in the mirror. Not in front of me. Behind my eyes. A vision. Steel-grey eyes, bottomless, hungry. His mouth moving soundlessly, calling me back. My whole body aches in response, traitorously eager.

I fall to my knees, shuddering, the luminescence fading only after I come again.

**********

By the time the townsfolk see it, it’s too late.

I stumble through the reeds near the shore, my swollen belly glowing faintly through the fabric of my dress. Their faces twist in horror, but I don’t care. My clit throbs, my thighs are slick, my body so empty I howl.

The sea calls.

I stagger into the waves, collapsing to my knees in the cold shallows where he first took me. Salt spray lashes my face, rain mixing with tears, and still the ache between my thighs won’t stop. I spread trembling fingers over my cunt, sobbing. “Please… oh god please—”

The moment I touch myself, it ignites.

My belly bursts into light, beaming so brightly through my skin it looks ready to split me open. The swell beneath my navel pulses like a lantern, veins sparking outward in violent phosphorescence. My back arches, hair plastering to my face as a raw, desperate cry rips free of my throat.

I claw at myself harder, shame and need boiling together until I’m shaking. Cold water slaps my skin as I thrash in the surf, waves breaking against my hips, splashing up my breasts, cascading down my glowing womb. Every convulsion sends arcs of light dancing across the tide — as if the sea itself is reflecting me back to him.

The orgasm detonates. Not human. Not earthly. A violence of pleasure so sharp I unravel. My body bucks in the waves. Fists pound water. Spray erupts around me like shattered glass. My thighs clamp, then fling open, cunt clenching around my own fingers, begging to be filled again.

“Ah—ahhh—” The sound tears from me raw, strangled. My vision explodes white. Stars. Lanterns. Whole constellations rip through me as I writhe in the surf. My stomach heaves grotesquely, light spilling from it in radiant beams that pierce the water like searchlights. For one insane heartbeat I swear the ocean itself bows to me, waves recoiling in awe before crashing forward again.

And in the middle of it — shame so deep it burns. Because I know. I know this is for him. Every convulsion, every wail, every splash of phosphorescent water — it’s an offering. My body betrays me with beauty, radiant in the black night like some obscene beacon built to summon him.

The waves crash higher. My body writhes and convulses until my thighs are soaked, my hands slipping against slick folds as light pours out of me in ragged pulses. When it finally breaks me open, I scream — and the sound is swallowed whole by the storming sea.

For a moment I think it’s done. But then my belly lurches again. Growing. Swelling, as though the orgasm has bloated me full-term in seconds. My trembling hands clutch the swell in horror as it ripples beneath my palms — and I realize, too late, what’s coming next.

Something shifts inside me.

A ripple. A twitch.

And then — movement.

Spawn.

Glowing, wriggling things force their way out of me into the shallows. My thighs spread wide in helpless convulsions as they slither free — eel-like, slick, radiant with pulsing light. They spill from my cunt in obscene streams, each one writhing against my trembling skin before darting into the surf. I sob, clawing at the wet sand, as wave after wave tears through me, womb deflating in grotesque spasms. My body seizes, back arched, hair whipping wet across my face as the spawn pour out.

The water around me glows with them. Dozens — no, hundreds — of glittering, radiant offspring streaking toward the open sea. Their bodies flash like lightning as they vanish into the abyss.

And then I see him.

My blood freezes.

A shape cuts through the dark water, slicing clean against the storm. Tail flashing silver. Muscles surging sleek beneath the waves. Heading straight for me.

“No, no, no—” My voice cracks, swallowed by the surf as I try to crawl backward on shaking arms. But my limbs won’t obey. My abdomen flickers dimly, the brilliant flare of climax drained, now just a weak, guttering flame.

The spawn circle him. I watch in horror as they swirl around his massive form, dancing, spiraling, radiant with devotion. They worship. They obey. And then, as if dismissed, they vanish into the trench, leaving me alone in the shallows with the one they were born to serve.

My heart seizes.

He’s here.

He rises from the black water, towering over me in moonlight. Jet black hair plastered to his pale face, eyes silver and merciless, cut from steel and salt. He stares, unblinking, water sluicing down his chest in rivulets that cling to corded muscle and glimmering scales.

Before I can scream, his hand seizes me.

Tentacles lash out with lightning precision, knotting around my legs, waist, wrists. Cold, slick bands yank me upright, binding me so tightly there’s no separating where he ends and I begin. My ribs crush against his chest as he drags me to him, a puppet jerked by strings of flesh.

And then he kisses me.

It’s brutal. Wrong. Lips crushing mine without softness, without skill, only imitation. A mimicry of humanity, clumsy and hungry. Salt floods my mouth as his tongue spears past my lips — slick, alien, tasting of brine and iron. I gag, choking, but his grip on my jaw is a vice. My cries are swallowed by him.

The world tilts. His tail lashes, muscles coiling with monstrous strength, and in the next heartbeat I’m wrenched off my knees. He drags me with him, hauling my bound body back into the surf. The sand vanishes beneath me, replaced by sucking undertow as he plunges us both into the black. The cold hits like knives. My scream dissolves in a rush of seawater. Above me, the shoreline shrinks — a trembling silver smudge. Below me, nothing but void. He doesn’t stop until we’re swallowed whole by the deep, his tentacles cinched tight around me, keeping me pinned against the heat of his chest.

There is no escape.

Tentacles surge into me again. Violent. Merciless. My cunt is speared open, walls dragged raw by suction pads that latch and squelch. Another limb rams into my ass, splitting me wide, gut bulging with grotesque pressure. A third plunges down my throat. I gag. My jaw cracks. My vision stutters.

The cold crush of the ocean presses in from every side. There is no moon, no horizon, no sky — only gloom. The water is thick, heavy, endless, carrying the faint groan of the trench like the breath of some god that shouldn’t exist. Darkness clings to me like a shroud. My skin flares faintly, flickering with every thrust, light bleeding into nothing.

I convulse against him, body distending around the invasions. My insides are full. Too full. There’s no space left — every cavity claimed, every inch packed and stuffed until I can’t tell where pain ends and pleasure begins. My cunt clenches wildly, fluttering in desperate spasms, trying to milk the limb lodged inside me even as terror claws at my chest.

Something burns at my neck.

He bites.

Teeth pierce clean through. Flesh splits like paper. Agony sears. Copper floods my tongue. Blood gushes down my throat, mixing with seawater. Then it changes. The moment his tongue drags across the wound, it hisses — blood curdling into brine, copper into seawater. The gash seals under his mouth with unnatural finality, leaving only the sting of salt carved into my skin.

I thrash. I sob.

And then — I gasp.

And breathe.

Not air. Water. Cold. Infinite. It floods my chest in one brutal rush, lungs filling without pain, gills tearing open at my throat like a grotesque new mouth. The sensation is alien, foul, exquisite — like drowning inverted, suffocation turned to orgasm.

The panic should kill me. It doesn’t.

Instead, my body shudders violently. The orgasm rips through me like lightning, so savage it feels like my bones are shattering from the inside. My spine bows hard enough to snap. My legs thrash in the crushing dark, kicking up clouds of phosphorescent plankton that swirl around me like splintered bone.

The tentacle in my cunt pistons deeper, suction pads slapping wetly with every brutal thrust, each one a lewd squelch echoing in my ears. The one in my ass punches higher, grinding into places no human touch should ever reach, wringing sobs and moans from me as my belly blooms with obscene pressure and radiant light. The limb in my throat pulses thick against my gagging convulsions, bulging my neck obscenely as it pumps in time with the others. I can feel him everywhere, inside everything, stuffed to breaking. My body is no longer mine — it’s an instrument, a vessel, being played until it unravels.

My throat convulses around the mass filling it. Salt water erupts, bubbles sparkling faintly in the gloom. My vision explodes in brilliance, blinding white halos burning through the black.

There’s nothing left. No fear, no thought. Only him.

The glow shifts — no longer the blaze of spawn, no longer the swell of alien birth. Now it swims through my veins, flooding my womb, pouring out of my skin like starlight. Now it’s steady, unyielding. Eternal.

Not pregnancy. Not seed.

A tether.

I am the beacon.

And he is the abyss.

⸻

His arms cinch me tighter, chest to chest, tentacles locking me in an unbreakable knot. My fate is sealed in him, my body claimed beyond return.

With one flick of his tail, he drags me down, deeper and deeper. Pressure closes in from every side; my bones creak under the weight, ears screaming, but I breathe the dark as if it were air. Each gasp burns cold, tasting of salt and eternity.

The black swallows us whole. Then—light.

First faint, like distant stars. Bioluminescent specks pulsing in the gloom. Then more. Lantern-bellied fish, skulls translucent, jaws unhinged and glassy with teeth. Tentacled shapes spiral slow as galaxies. Eyes shimmer in clusters of three, of six. Vast eel-serpents coil with silent devotion, spines flickering with fire. They don’t flee from him. They bow.

They bow to me.

My body glows like a drowned star, neon spilling from every pore, and the creatures swarm to follow it. Schools spiral in our wake, weaving patterns like constellations. The ocean doesn’t feel empty anymore — it feels endless, a vast cathedral carved in water and pressure. Pillars of volcanic stone rise from the abyss, inky spires studded with colonies of luminous coral. They flare as I pass, igniting like torches, as though the trench itself recognizes me. Welcomes me.

I try to scream but only bubbles bloom, silver halos tumbling from my lips to vanish into the void. My skin pulses brighter in answer, and the trench pulses back — the walls alive with living light.

The pressure deepens. My skull should crack, my ribs should collapse — but instead the weight feels divine. Holy. Every pound of the abyss presses me harder into him, sealing me tighter in his grasp, as if the sea itself conspires to fuse us.

Below, the trench yawns open. A chasm without bottom, rimmed with jagged cliffs like teeth. From its depths pours a slow, eternal effulgence — a black sun rising in reverse, painting the water in alien fire.

He takes me into it.

I never surface again.