im too lazy to make a proper fic rn so have a thread-"sequel" to my femsheith fic ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713583 ) u rly don't have to have read this one though. femshiro's an octomer...merctopus? and femkeith's a regular gal

nsfw as fuck

After all, humans aren't quite meant to live underwater, even in cozy, damp caves. So Keith swims back to the surface, lips numb from kisses, loving marks left all over her body, stinging even under her wetsuit.

What is this woman Keith had met? Something bad? Something good?

A dream perhaps, born out of Keith's long years of touching nothing and no one, of no one loving her, of no one needing her. Whatever spell the mermaid had put on her had been disbanded when Keith had woken from her sleep, gentle fingers carding through her hair.

"Will you come again?" Shiro had asked, somehow almost timid despite her height, the swirling mass of her tentacles. She had been so careful with her teeth, sharper than Keith's own, careful of the strength in each of her limbs. She had even blushed when Keith had kissed her jaw.

Of course Keith will come again. She wants to know if Shiro is true, alive, a creature who could be a nightmare but is more like a warm, wet dream.

When Keith returns home, unsteady on her feet, drying her hair, she finds her phone filled with texts.

It had felt like a small eternity, down there in the dark and the dampness, in the embrace of Shiro's tentacles, her strong arms. What a conflicting being: clearly an apex predator, hiding so deep, yet she has the softest lips, the softest breasts, her hair like silk.

She could have kept Keith down there, yet she had let her go.

With a little disgruntled pout, Keith begins tapping through her texts. A couple sternly worded ones from her mother, a string of emojis that are clearly from her father. Those two are still on their Hawaii-vacation. They don't know.

Keith's been gone for an entire day.

The rest of the texts, and two calls, are from her friends.

Goddammit. Shouldn't they know by now what a recluse Keith is, what she prefers to be? Her being off the grid for a day isn't anything new.

Unless - oh. Oh shit. Was it today? A promise of a dinner and a movie.

A friend date, chittering chattering of her friends, fingers sticky from nachos, laughter bubbling in her stomach.

/Sorry. My dive went a little further down than I expected. Found a cool cave./ It's all she sends to the group chat. Barely half a minute later it explodes.

Keith flops down on her ratty armchair and winces, as pleasant ache shoots up her spine. Her toes curl, her cheeks flush. She lowers her phone to look at her legs, bare from her shower, the marks Shiro left on her on full view.

Her shower had been quick and efficient.

Now she sees teeth marks, gentle pink marks from fingers, from eager lips. Something that can only be a suction cup of a tentacle. Keith bites her lip, pokes one of those. Instantly she shivers.

Surrounded by Shiro, embraced by Shiro. Shiro around her, inside her.

Keith's phone buzzes and releases her from reminiscing. She blinks bleary eyes at it. Friends. Worried, wondering, someone - Laila, of course - is pissy, someone - Pidge, thankfully - is understanding. After all, a recluse recognizes another recluse.

I dove deep and found a hot octopus-lady and she fucked me so good I passed out, probably isn't something Keith should say.

Passing out after sex had been a little embarrassing, but waking up on Shiro's lap - squirmy, wet, but warm - had made up for it.

Just thinking of Shiro makes Keith want to squirm. God. Fuck. She runs her fingers through her hair.

/You know me, guys. Just a long dive. One of you guys better come with me sometime./

Pidge scolds her for diving alone again. Keith sighs.

/I know what I'm doing./

Does she? She had never been so...

so eager. "Fuck," she murmurs into the still air of her little apartment. She lets her phone drip from her fingers to the carpet.
Shiro isn't a dream. She is real: a wet dream come to life, she had caressed Keith like nobody else matters.

a quick little octo femshiro aldkhslg

When Keith slips a careful, warm finger inside herself, just the tip teasing her, her cheeks flush. In some hours, her body isn't going to forget what Shiro's touch felt like.

She pleasures herself until she's buzzing and warm, gets up from the armchair to wash her hands.

God, jesus, fuck, dammit she's lost. Maybe another round of sleep and work out and more sleep. But -

Shiro had wanted her to stay.

How long had Shiro been alone? Keith hadn't seen evidence of anyone or anything else. Just Shiro, in that underwater cave system.

Is there anyone like Shiro? Is she the only one of her kind? She is so tall, so broad-shouldered, yet she speaks in faintly accented English, clear as day.

The questions pile up until Keith is pacing, annoyed, frustrated.

She pulls her hair into a ponytail and decides to wonder about Shiro the next day - if she can.

She goes for dinner with friends. It would be fine if -
"Sooo," Laila starts, twirling a strand of brown hair around one long, clever finger. "Got the hermit out of her cave?"

(Laila = femLance in this case)

"Eat my dick," Keith says and shoves a handful of fries into her gullet. She shifts on her seat, trying to play it off as finding a good sitting position and not, you know, leftover aches from having tentacles ... in places.

"I might not be as good of a diver as you, but-"

Hunk's sweet enough, but he's more at home with tinkering and baking and stuff, not down there in the sea.

Keith still leans over the table to steal a bite of his pancake. "I'll be fine, you worrier."

"Do we have a reason to worry?" Asks Pidge, ever the inquisitive one.

She's sitting next to Keith, mainly because she's the only one Keith can stand to be around for more than some hours. And also because Pidge has the exact same taste as Keith when it comes to greasy diner food.

"Nah," says Keith. "I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."

Or let a six foot something alien mermaid handle her, that's for sure. Instead of the cold, slimy touch of fish scales, Shiro had been so warm.

Keith clears her throat.

Pidge narrows her eyes. "Is it me or are you blushing?"

Laila guffaws. "As if! Keith isn't capable of anything but glowering and - " Hunk has gently elbowed her to her side. Laila wrinkles her nose. "I mean, you're cute but not that cute, you feel?"

"Didn't ask you."

Keith flips her the finger. "And I don't know what you're hinting at, Pidgeon, but I'm not blushing. I just feel warm."

"Suuuuure."

The familiar bicker and banter is so easy to fall back into, but the thought of Shiro lingers - and Keith knows, she just knows she'll be heading back soon.

When she closes her eyes in her bed that night, she dreams of crashing waves and the quiet cave.

***

Taking all the necessary precautions, she heads back to her usual spot with her gear. The morning is glorious and sunny, her face shadowed by her cap and her sunglasses. Her little boat, scratched up from years of sailing, beloved by both her and her parets, stops.

Only then, after pulling on her wetsuit, leaving messages to her friends, does she stop.

Will she even find Shiro again? It had been by mere accident that Keith had even found that cave, a little curious hallway leading to it.

Keith takes a moment to breathe the salty, warm air, her diving goggles over her dark, braided hair.

"Shiro," she murmurs.

The sea murmurs her own song around the little boat. A splash on the side, perhaps a school of fish.

She blinks, curious. A flash of white and black, something glittery and shiny, right under where she's sitting, her flippers barely above the water.

When Shiro emerges, Keith's heart jumps.

It is a wild sight: a head bobbing out of the waves, no diving gear on her whatsoever. Shiro's long, long hair dances in the water, black and white and beautiful. She stares up at Keith, her eyes warm and beautiful.

Then her face softens. "Keith," she says, her voice rough.

She squints, her nose wrinkling at the sunlight. She slips a little further down into the water, until only her eyes are visible. Those interesting finned ears peek out from beneath her hair.

"Ah, I was - I was thinking of you," Keith says.

Ah, the way her heart jumps. Her fingers threaten to curl. Her skin blooms with heat. "Show me the way down, will you?"

Shiro grins, revealing her teeth. She reaches and curls her hand - big, warm, strong - around Keith's ankle. "Baby girl," she whispers.

The ocean is so still, so blue and clear, that Keith can almost make out the powerful shifts of Shiro's tentacles.

Keith swallows. Her cunt throbs with sudden heat, sudden need. "Just ... wait a moment while I put the rest of my gear on."

Shiro gazes up at her, patient.

When the sea closes down around Keith, so do Shiro's arms. Whatever words there are, are lost in the haze. Keith curls her arms around Shiro's waist and meets Shiro's eyes: down here, underwater, the secondary eyelids having closed over them, they look hazy and grey.

But Shiro smiles, strokes her fingers down Keith's cheek.

Then she wraps her arms around Keith and - oh, oh! Keith knew, no, she knows the strength of those incredible tentacles, but the speed with which they surge through the water is incredible.

Keith's startled laugh is muffled by her snorkel. When they slow down, Keith lifts her head from Shiro's shoulder and blinks at the darkening blue.

Underwater, everything is always so silent. Everything is like a dream, a glimpse of a life lived in a haze.

Slowly, slowly they go, and if Keith was alone, she'd be keeping an eye on her sensors, her meters, her clock. Even when she never dives deep enough for it to be too dangerous, or the water to turn too dark. She likes to look around and know that the light is the sun.

She tugs on Shiro's earlobe and gets her ass gently pinched, muffled laugh escaping before she can stop it. She wriggles herself free of Shiro's arms, but then reaches to cup her face.

Shiro blinks at her: oh, she looks disorienting, unreal like this.

Shiro's gills open and close steadily on either side of her neck, now fully visible. Her hair is lazily drifting around her, like a dark halo.

Her tentacles sway lazily under her, a couple of them drifting curiously towards Keith. She cradles them in her palms.

Visibly, Shiro flushes. She shifts closer and presses cold lips to Keith's forehead, to her nose. Shiro points down, tilts her, questioning.

Keith's heart beats a staccato inside her ribcage, even as she eagerly lets herself be embraced once more.

(they gun do the do)

Down they go, as calmly, as gently, like any. Like they both belong here, in the blue and the green, swaying, swaying.

Keith closes her eyes, her feet kicking behind her, getting tangled up in Shiro's eager tentacles. She only opens her eyes when she feels the air pocket.

However Shiro's little underwater home works, Keith doesn't know, doesn't really care to know. Her snorkel is helpfully removed by big, careful hands.There is air in her lungs, and in Shiro's lungs. Her eyes pop and she takes a moment to breathe. Deeply in. Deeply out. Deeply in.

"Keith, Keith," whispers Shiro, her palms wet and cold from the swim.
Keith lays on her back on this moss-covered rock, her feet still half-way into the water. Shiro's on top of her, hair dangling down to tickle Keith's cheeks.

Keith blinks. Smiles. "Hello."

"For a moment, I thought - "Shiro's brows knot in worry. "You were taking a moment to look at me."

"The joys of being human. Adjusting to pressure and such." Keith reaches to brush Shiro's cheek. "I'm fine. I wanted to see you again."

Shiro's answering smile is slow, careful, so painfully sweet. Keith's earlier ponderings upon Shiro being lonely for a long time starts to feel like a possible truth. Keith gently tugs on one of hanging dark strands.

Shiro still blinks down at her.

Something familiar and slippery slicks up Keith's body, between them. Keith smiles. "Are you being shy now? You weren't so shy last tim- mmhm - " Her words are swallowed by a kiss: slow, hot. Shiro shifts, her heavy bare breasts pressed against Keith.

Keith hums, starting to toe off her flippers, making a frustrated noise when the buckles get in the way. Licking into Shiro's eager mouth helps distract her for a moment, feeling one of the tentacles tickle her cheek.

Keith laughs. "Hey now -"

She gives Shiro a little nudge and Shiro takes the hint, shifts a little further away to let Keith sit up and then stand up. The tentacles shift and sway and make Shiro taller, moving her better to the rocks. She offers her arm for support for Keith.

Keith takes it, gets her flippers off, the rest of her gear off. She tugs and tugs her hair free from the damp ponytail.
"Honestly, Shiro," she murmurs as she's finally done and gets herself pulled into a hug. "Are you okay?"

Whatever scent lingers around Shiro, it's hot.

It's intoxicating. Keith's knees begin to feel suspiciously weak. She licks her lips.

"Now that you're here, I am," Shiro whispers and nuzzles Keith's hair, slips her arms around Keith, to her wetsuit's zipper.

"I thought I dreamed you up out of sexual frustration," Keith admits, ears hot. She licks a droplet from Shiro's collarbone, lifts her hands between them to Shiro's tits. Fuck. They're warm, they're so soft. This cave is so much warmer than the surrounding ocean.

She still shivers when her zipper is pulled down and she's divested of her wetsuit, of her underwear. She tugs Shiro down for a kiss, rocks her hips against a couple of those tentacles, eager to explore this new warmth.
"I feel good with you," Keith says.

"For what it matters, I trust you. It's weird. Maybe I'm weird." She offers a little rueful smile, when Shiro tilts her head, her eyes filled with questions, even as her hands reach Keith's ass and squeeze.
"You're a pretty human," Shiro says carefully. "And you taste good."

"And you - you came back. You wanted to come back, right?" Her tentacles don't seem to care of talking, because one of them is already brushing between Keith's thighs, making her shiver.
"Y-yeah. Yeah. Who could forget a gal like you?" She gives Shiro's nipple a playful tug.

Slep tiem