Main Route

Mermay Masterlist

Here's a list of my underwater themed works so far.

Stories

Yandere!Octopus Hybrid x Reader Yandere!Circus Merman x Reader Yandere!Merman x Reader [Obra Dinn inspired] Yandere!Merman x Reader x Yandere!Prince [Rusalka inspired] Hammerhead Shark Hybrid x Reader Shark Loan Shark Series

Art

Kraken First Mate x Dumbass Human Captain Comic Sea Slug Boyfriend Comic Dating the Loch Ness Monster Comic Yandere!Merman Comic Yandere!Merman vs Prince Comic Shark Facts Comic Octopus Mating Habits Doodle Octopus Hybrid Design Doodle Yandere!Merman Doodle

Misc

Yandere!OC's as sharks [Patreon Character] Sea Sheep Hybrid

Coming up this month

Sea Creature x Fisherman!Reader [Dredge inspired]

Algae Monster x Reader [ft. @/natansiik's character]

Hammerhead Shark Hybrid and Catcalling [Patreon Request]

Jellyfish Hybrid [Patreon Request]

Suggestions are welcomed!

There's a specially terrifying type of isolation at the bottom of the ocean

bride of the abyss

Pairing: Yandere Siren x Reader Description: Years after you saved him, Zeiryn returns to drag you beneath the waves—where his love waits, fierce and inescapable. Warning/s: Yandere | Noncon/Dubcon Themes | Kidnapping | Possessive Behavior | Captivity | Obsession | Emotional Manipulation | Mild Violence | Body Morphing/Transformation Note/s: Commissioned on ko-fi! Thabk you for trusting me with your commission! Idk if you've received the email. I hope you enjoy this one! Tags will be added later!

Commissions are still open!

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar

The first time you met him, the sun was so high it burned your shoulders through your shirt. Your sandals had long been discarded, the soles of your feet pressed against coarse, grainy sand, warmed by the afternoon heat. Vacation meant freedom, and for you—a curious child with scraped knees and untamed hair—that meant wandering far beyond the adults’ lazy eyes and picnic baskets.

You weren’t supposed to be near the cliffs. The locals had told stories, murmured warnings of tides that dragged unsuspecting feet into the undertow. But you were eight, and warnings slid off your ears like water. You’d chased a crab across slick rocks, nearly slipping once—okay, twice—before rounding a jagged stone formation and stopping short.

A glint of silver caught your eye. At first, you thought it was trash—a bit of foil or an abandoned soda can. Then it moved. Just slightly. Enough to catch the sun and reflect a brilliance so blinding it made your eyes water. You stepped closer, heart thudding, and gasped.

He was tangled in a net.

You didn’t know what he was—some strange fish, perhaps? But then he turned his face to you, and your world cracked open.

He had eyes like the sea after a storm—grey, but not dull. There was depth there. Sorrow. His skin, though damp and streaked with grit, shimmered faintly under the sun. Hair, long and tangled with bits of kelp and shell, framed a face that was almost too lovely for this world. And below the waist…

A tail. Silver-scaled, powerful, twitching weakly with every shallow breath he took.

You froze.

He didn’t speak. He just stared. His lips slightly parted. You noticed the way he held himself, cautious and ready to defend. His hand—webbed and claw-tipped—twitched when you shifted your weight.

“I won’t hurt you,” you said, holding out your hands to show you had nothing. No rocks. No spear. Just your palms, scraped and pink from climbing.

He blinked slowly, suspicious still.

“Are you stuck?” you asked.

No reply. But he didn’t back away when you stepped closer. You knelt beside him, the scent of salt and something sharper—like rotting seaweed baking in the sun—invading your nose. It made your stomach twist. But you pushed it aside and began working at the net.

The knots were tight. You pulled and untangled, ignoring the barnacles slicing your fingertips. Time passed, but neither of you spoke. It wasn’t silence. The waves talked, the seagulls screamed above, and your own breath came hard with effort. Still, it felt sacred—like speaking would shatter something delicate between you.

Eventually, the net slackened.

He let out a sharp sound—surprise? Relief?—and pushed himself forward, dragging the last threads free with a flick of his tail. Then, to your astonishment, he touched your arm. A light brush of damp fingers on your skin. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to. The look in his eyes—raw and electric—said everything.

And then, he was gone. A splash, a spray of saltwater, and silver glimmering beneath the waves.

You never told anyone.

You convinced yourself it was a dream, a fantasy born from too much sun. But you visited that rock again. And again. Just in case.

Years passed. You grew up. He did not fade.

• • — ✦ — • •

Beneath the waves, he remembered everything.

Zeiryn had been young when you saved him, and even then, his mind was unlike the others. While his kin drowned sailors and split hulls for fun, Zeiryn watched the world above with a secret hunger. He had never known mercy—not until you. He thought you were an illusion at first. A sun-struck phantom, kindness shaped like a child.

But you were real. You touched him without fear. You saved him.

And he had never forgotten.

Seasons passed above and below. He grew stronger, his voice deeper, the gift of his lineage blooming in his throat. His tail thickened with muscle, the silver of his scales deepening to something more molten, almost iridescent. His hair, once wild and matted, was now woven with the treasures of the deep—rings of coral, braids of pearl, beads carved from whalebone. He was no longer a drifting child of the tide. He was a leader now.

Yet every dusk, he swam to the same stretch of shore, peering through kelp and coral, waiting for the only face that had ever haunted him.

And then—finally—he saw you.

You stood there, older, but still you. Your eyes held the same wonder, the same distant sadness. He watched from the rocks, heart hammering, the sea rising with every thrum of anticipation. You were holding a bottle. The scent reached him even through the water. Alcohol. Sour and sharp.

You stumbled closer to the edge, barefoot like before. He didn’t understand your tears at first. But when they hit the water, he tasted them.

Bitterness.

He had never tasted sorrow before.

He moved without thinking, cutting through the water with a predator’s grace. When you stepped into the sea—lost, maybe hoping it would take you—he was already there. His arms wrapped around you just before your knees buckled. He caught you. Held you. And for the first time in years, he felt whole again.

He turned to the shore. His eyes, once filled with awe, hardened. There were people there. A town. A world that had allowed you to suffer.

He would never forgive it.

The water closed over your head.

And he took you home.

• • — ✦ — • •

The cold hits you first. It pierces your skin like needles, forcing your eyes open.

Then the pressure—thick and heavy—presses against your chest. You try to gasp and choke instead. The world is liquid. Blurry shapes. Movement. Panic claws through you. You thrash—

Then you notice the shimmer.

Your legs—no. Not legs.

You scream, but no sound comes out. Just bubbles.

The tail is yours. You move, and it moves with you—powerful, golden, alien.

Your lungs don’t ache. You aren’t drowning.

You’re breathing. Underwater.

A presence approaches. You backpedal—awkward, instinctual.

Then he’s there.

The siren.

Older. Towering. Regal in a way that defies language. His eyes widen as you meet his gaze. He reaches for you like a lover, a prayer on his lips without sound.

You float, stunned, your heart racing in your chest.

"You're awake! Welcome home!" he says—somehow, impossibly, the words sliding into your mind like a current. His voice doesn’t echo in your ears. It resonates in your bones. Inside you.

Your lips tremble. “What... what did you do to me?”

He cocks his head, almost confused by the question. “I saved you.”

You glance around. Coral walls. Bioluminescent plants. Faint shadows darting beyond what your eyes can track.

“I didn’t ask to be saved.”

His face falters, just briefly. But then the soft smile returns. “You did, once. When I was dying. You touched me. You gave me your warmth. Your kindness.” He swims closer. “You were the only one who ever did.”

“That was years ago.” You try to back away, but your body is sluggish in this new form. “I was a kid.”

“You remembered me.” His voice is gentle now, like a lullaby. “You returned.”

You shake your head, panicked. “No. I—I was just walking. I didn’t know—”

His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek. His touch is warm now. Familiar. Like seawater kissed by the sun. “You were hurting. They made you cry. But you don’t have to cry anymore.”

“I want to go back,” you whisper.

“There’s nothing there for you.”

He’s not angry. Not yet. Just... patient. Like he’s waiting for you to understand something you’ve missed.

“You belong here,” he murmurs. “With me.”

You remember the way he looked at you back then—curious and soft. But this is different. There’s devotion in his eyes. A fire born not of gentle affection, but of obsession that has steeped too long.

“You changed me,” you say, voice shaking. You look down at the tail. “How?”

“There’s a pearl,” he says, pointing to your side. You notice now—embedded near your hip is a small, glowing orb, barely visible beneath your skin.

“I couldn’t risk losing you again.”

You turn, frantic now. “No, no, this isn’t right. I can’t—this isn’t real.”

“You are real.” His voice is sharper now. “I dreamed of you so long I thought you were only in my mind. But you’re here. Flesh and spirit. And you’ll never have to suffer again.”

You shake your head. “I’m not your wife.”

Silence.

Then he leans close, his breath warm against your ear even underwater.

“Yet.”

• • — ✦ — • •

Back on the surface, a woman named Marina squints at the shore where she last saw you. She’s a local—grew up with the sea in her lungs and warnings stitched into her grandmother’s lullabies. When she saw you walk into the ocean, something in her gut twisted. She waited hours. You didn’t return.

Now, she’s standing with a fisherman and an old priest, their gazes following the waterline.

“No body,” the man mutters. “Currents here don’t drag far. Should’ve washed up if she drowned.”

“She didn’t drown,” Marina says softly. “She was taken.”

The priest mutters something in an old tongue. The fisherman scoffs.

“By what? Sea spirits? Merfolk?”

“No.” Marina’s eyes don’t leave the water. “A siren.”

“Those don’t exist.”

“They do,” she says. “And if it’s the one I think… she won’t come back.”

And deep beneath the waves, Zeiryn brushes a strand of hair from your face as you lie curled in coral-silk bedding. You’ve cried yourself into a stupor. But your skin is warmer now. The transformation is complete. Soon, you’ll forget what it was like to walk. To speak above the waves. To live without him.

He hums you a song—a melody he’s written over the years, just for you. It wraps around your heart like a net.

You stir in your sleep.

He smiles.

Tomorrow, you’ll love him back.

You have to.

After all… you’re home.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans@ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

Double it and give it to the next person

Everyone who sees this post has five minutes.

When half your sinners are dead and the guest ID corroded into a WAW E.G.O :)

They may, in fact, be cooked.

He did the reader/MC a massive favor. Imagine people got called to investigate your dead body and found out you technically perished from "death via vibrator". The embarrassment alone would be strong enough to make me a spirit

Yandere!Grim Reaper

Male Yandere x Bimbo Fem!Reader || possible light dub/noncon, jerking off, fingering, sex toys, stalking, voyeurism.

A Grim Reaper has been following you around since childhood, bringing you back to life every time you die. But one foolish mistake has him finally revealing himself to you

Yandere!Grim Reaper first met you when the two of you were young. He was only a fledgling Reaper and you were actually his first job. He had been watching you all day, watching you float through life so utterly clueless about everything around you. It was cute… and it would be your demise.

While playing out in the yard you accidentally throw your ball too hard and it rolls onto the road. Like a brainless little pup you go prancing right off the sidewalk, completely unaware of the car zooming down the street.

Seeing you so sweet and happy one minute and now seeing your soul slowly float out of your body causes something to churn in his stomach, his frown deepening. This wasn’t right, you were only his age. There was so much life to live.

So before your soul can completely detach from your form he rushes over and just kinda… pushes it back in. His head jerking from side-to-side as if someone was around to catch him.

Of course, the minute you pop back up, completely ignoring the frantic shouts of the driver, you get up and grab your ball like nothing even happened. Assuring the driver and heading back into the yard to play. He stares after you with his mouth agape.

What was he going to do now? He had broken the rules for you. Did the unthinkable. Now he had other jobs to do, but you were kinda… dumb. He couldn’t just leave you, you’d surely stumble onto another accident soon with how you were going about. No, he had to stay with you. Watch over you and keep you safe. That was his new job.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he may have felt physically unable to leave your side. The thought of not seeing you so joyful and full of life every day creating an unbearable ache in his chest. He needed you as much as you needed him.

And it’s a good thing he stayed too, his previous statement coming true as over the years, now well into your college career, you stumble upon accident after accident. Where he’d have to come over and slam your soul back into your body before you went on without a care. That’s how he liked you after all.

He’d lost track of how many times you’ve technically died. You were a regular at your closest hospital, friends with all the staff. A medical marvel they called you. None of them knowing it was because of him— because of how much he loved you even from the very first day you met. But you have seemed to take the nickname seriously, somehow growing more reckless with your life.

You thought yourself invincible. And perhaps in someway you were. He would not allow you to die and in fact, he may never.

But even he has a limit.

He stands in the corner of your bathroom, his arms crossed over his chest. Watching you intently as he always does while you prepare yourself for a nice soothing bath. He had to watch you. Danger could be lurking behind every corner, especially when it came to you.

So he didn’t exactly have a choice but to watch you in your dorm every day. It not being his fault his cock gets so hard every time, never able to resist fucking himself to the sight of you changing. Or keeping watch of you overnight as you sink your toys deep into your dripping cunt and he finds himself rutting against your bed in time with your thrusts, hovering over you. So close yet so far.

And even something like this now, watching you take a hot bath, was not uncommon for him. Hey, if he could slip in to take a shower with you every morning then watching you bathe was nothin’. It didn’t matter if you never have a clue he’s there, he’s just doing it to protect you after all. A silent observer.

You walk back into the bathroom and he perks up, spine straightening against the wall as you’re already shucking off your clothes. Throwing them carelessly across the tiled floor. Saliva pools in his mouth as you reveal your soft curvy body to him, yes, to him, with a painful slowness. Almost like you’re trying to tease him, torture him with what he desires most.

He pushes off the wall, hovering close to you as you throw your shirt off and reveal your drool-worthy breasts to him. And he has drooled. He’ll probably do it again. Maybe right now. Fuck, he wants to suck on your tits so bad. He shifts uncomfortably, his cock straining against its confines even in his loose-fitting robes.

It’s so easy to get lost in you and that sexy ass body, but when a smile that promises trouble lights up your face, it quickly snaps him out of his trance. He knows that look. He’s seen it every time just before you do something stupid and he has to bring you back to life.

You spin around and rush back into your room. He groans at the way your ass jiggles as you run, a shiver rolling through his body and making his cock twitch. Though he swears it instantly begins to deflate as you come waltzing back in with your electronic vibrator wand and its charger.

You’re not serious, are you? You not actually going to do this.

Though you quickly prove him wrong as you take a step into the tub, an excited giggle leaving you that nearly distracts him. Shaking his head to refocus, his brows furrow and his hands clench at their sides. This may just be a new low, even for you. No, he can’t let this happen, this is where he draws the line.

An idea so wicked forms in his head he almost banishes it. A smirk spreads across his lips and he knows it’s not going away. It’s time, he deserves this. And it’s the best way to protect you, he’s sure of it. This way he can keep you even more closely by his side. You won’t be able to get away from him for a minute. That thought is all the motivation he needs.

So as you bend over, oh so erotically, to plug in your vibrator wand, his hand snaps out to catch your wrist in his grip. Touching you, really touching you, for the first time. His cold dead heart flutters. You try and jerk back on instinct, a gasp pulling from deep within your chest. Your wide eyes snap up to meet his as he finally reveals himself to you. His smirk only widens at your reaction as if so utterly pleased with himself.

“Why don’t you let me take care of ya this time ‘round, yeah, little pup?”

<Blood... I need blood.>

i can't tell if this is funny

I do think repressed priests should be allowed to be corrupted and seduced by a demon once or twice. Like, is it really falling into the sin of lust if the devil himself had to send lust incarnate to tempt you? Everyone else is being led off the path by run-of-the-mill humans; you resisted that! You should be allowed to feel the dizzying, corrupt pleasure only a demon can offer. as a treat. You can repent afterwards, if you really think you have to, if you really think something that felt so good was wrong.

Maybe the sex itself isn't even the issue, as we've established you deserved that bit of depravity, but the lingering ache for more- maybe that's your real sin. Now you've had a taste of what's out there, you want it again, don't you? Oh, but everyone aches for something, longs for something they cannot have; it's more human nature than a sin. Really, what's worse? Having sex with a demon or touching yourself, thinking about having sex with a demon?

If you just lie back, let the Demon have you and bring you to orgasm over and over again, are you really even the one sinning there? hardly seems like your fault. You even weakly protested "no" a few times before giving in fully.

When you touch yourself, it's you who's in control, it's your own dirty thoughts and sinful hands that are bringing you pleasure, the sin is entirely your own.

So really, it's the more holy option to invite the demon into your chapel and let them do the hard, dirty work. Keep your hands clean, Father.

And if you can't manage that, if you just have to fist your hands into the demon's hair or grope and touch and feel their hot skin as it presses against you, they can help with that. Bind your wrists and tie you down so you can't sin. Which do you prefer? hands tied behind your back, or should they be clasped in prayer position and bound that way? Either way, you're forced onto your knees for them, you can't touch them, but you can still worship, your tongue is still free- for now, consider it a payment for helping you keep your purity.

Go on and denounce them one more time- tell them how you hate them and their sin before they hook a leg around your shoulder and push your head to their groin. It's alright, they're forcing you into it, so it's not really your fault. It's not really a sin. And no one has to know how much you enjoy it.

This bastard has seized me by the neck and stole the favourite sinner spot from Gregor. I need to obtain each and every single one of his identities just to read all the uptie stories and dialogues. The game already spoilt me, I drew 2 000 IDs in one pull and one of them was him. It might be emotional manipulation but man is it working. I'm stuck on Canto V and will explode if I get spoiled when his canto comes out.

Think my unobtained favorites are Fanghunt (insane) and R Corp (desperate for ibuprofen), while favorite ones that I have are Dieci (key sounds make my brain ding) and Tingtang gang leader (gambling and also blood. did i mention the blood). He doesn't speak much but when he does, he's either being the most oblivious person in the room on purpose, saying the most therapy-needing statements you've ever heard, or getting on everyone's nerves. Maybe all 3 at once, who knows. But somethings so off about him that he's trying to keep hidden and I'm waiting for his canto to strap him to a vivisection table to forcefully out his secrets

His eyes are unfathomably pretty

UMMMMMMMMMM