![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Slippery Subconscious
Fandom: Disney (The Little Mermaid)
Pairing: Ariel/Ursula
Rating: NC-17
Words: 698
Notes: Questionable consent. Tentacles. For a prompt at the Fourth Annual Femslash Kink Meme and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_women, prompt "dreams".
Summary: Even with Ursula dead, Ariel cannot escape her reach.
The dreams haunt her.
Each night Ariel drifts into a restless sleep, and each night Ursula visits her once again.
She has tried to convince herself that the dreams aren’t real, that she is being foolish to consider them anything other than feverish conjurings of her mind.
But they feel so vivid.
She’s confessed to Eric, told him that each night is the same, if only to ease his worry at finding her awake at sunrise each morning, dark circles ringing her eyes and a light sheen of perspiration across her brow.
However, no matter how much she loves and trusts him, there are some details she cannot bring herself to confide.
He knows that Ariel sees Ursula in her dreams, but he doesn’t know about the way Ursula touches her.
Just the thought of it can make Ariel shiver, leave her flushed and skittish, even in the light of day.
Ursula’s smile is there when she closes her eyes. Ruby-red lips pulled back to show teeth, her eyes narrowed in wicked delight.
Sometimes they are beneath the ocean and Ariel can breathe as if she is a mermaid once again, although her human legs remain. Sometimes they are on land, Ursula clawing her way forwards across sand or grass and Ariel’s legs will not obey her when she wills them to run away.
Ursula’s hands will reach for her, fingernails curled out like claws. Tearing at Ariel’s nightclothes, baring her to Ursula’s watchful eyes.
She will try to hide herself, aware of her body in a way that she wasn’t even when she was first transformed into a human.
But Ursula is strong, so strong, and she will hold Ariel’s wrists apart, exposing her.
It should terrify Ariel, and it does, every time.
And yet she also feels something else, something that makes her struggle all the harder just for the sensation of Ursula holding her down.
Ursula will murmur and purr, threats and declarations, cruelties and praise, as she strips Ariel of her clothing and her dignity.
And no matter how much Ariel fights and sobs and aches to get away, she cannot deny the part of her that enjoys it.
She cannot deny the way she arches into the touch when Ursula’s lips and tongue and teeth taste her skin. Lapping up sweat, biting at soft flesh, dragging over every inch of her, from her throat to her palms to the backs of her knees to the balls of her feet and everywhere in between.
And then Ursula’s tentacles are moving over Ariel’s flesh, slick with seawater, slippery as they grip at her, turning her this way and that, moving her like a doll. Spreading her, holding Ariel’s thighs open, and she quivers in their grasp, knowing what comes next.
It is as if her voice has been stolen again, only able to gasp and pant as they open her, as the tentacles press inside. Penetrating her sex, rippling within her, deep and rhythmic, and if Ariel had her voice she would be screaming.
But the scream would not be caused by fear and pain.
It would be caused by ecstasy.
Each night she wakes, trembling and dripping, pleasure coursing through her body like she has never known, dark and forbidden and intoxicating.
They are only dreams. She has consulted with her father, and he has assured her that he has swept the entire ocean for signs that Ursula could remain. There are none, she is gone.
They are only dreams, not a spell or some fragment of Ursula’s mind living within her.
But every night, when Ariel slips from her marital bed, still trembling with the intense bliss Ursula has given her, searching for privacy so she may touch herself and try to recreate that sensation, she wonders if this is worse.
For if they are only dreams, then she cannot blame Ursula.
If they are only dreams, this strange and twisted hunger, this desire, it can only be Ariel’s own doing, and that thought is what rattles through her mind each morning as she stares blankly through her window, Eric sleeping peacefully beside her, the sun beginning to rise beyond the ocean’s horizon.
Fandom: Disney (The Little Mermaid)
Pairing: Ariel/Ursula
Rating: NC-17
Words: 698
Notes: Questionable consent. Tentacles. For a prompt at the Fourth Annual Femslash Kink Meme and
100_women, prompt "dreams".Summary: Even with Ursula dead, Ariel cannot escape her reach.
The dreams haunt her.
Each night Ariel drifts into a restless sleep, and each night Ursula visits her once again.
She has tried to convince herself that the dreams aren’t real, that she is being foolish to consider them anything other than feverish conjurings of her mind.
But they feel so vivid.
She’s confessed to Eric, told him that each night is the same, if only to ease his worry at finding her awake at sunrise each morning, dark circles ringing her eyes and a light sheen of perspiration across her brow.
However, no matter how much she loves and trusts him, there are some details she cannot bring herself to confide.
He knows that Ariel sees Ursula in her dreams, but he doesn’t know about the way Ursula touches her.
Just the thought of it can make Ariel shiver, leave her flushed and skittish, even in the light of day.
Ursula’s smile is there when she closes her eyes. Ruby-red lips pulled back to show teeth, her eyes narrowed in wicked delight.
Sometimes they are beneath the ocean and Ariel can breathe as if she is a mermaid once again, although her human legs remain. Sometimes they are on land, Ursula clawing her way forwards across sand or grass and Ariel’s legs will not obey her when she wills them to run away.
Ursula’s hands will reach for her, fingernails curled out like claws. Tearing at Ariel’s nightclothes, baring her to Ursula’s watchful eyes.
She will try to hide herself, aware of her body in a way that she wasn’t even when she was first transformed into a human.
But Ursula is strong, so strong, and she will hold Ariel’s wrists apart, exposing her.
It should terrify Ariel, and it does, every time.
And yet she also feels something else, something that makes her struggle all the harder just for the sensation of Ursula holding her down.
Ursula will murmur and purr, threats and declarations, cruelties and praise, as she strips Ariel of her clothing and her dignity.
And no matter how much Ariel fights and sobs and aches to get away, she cannot deny the part of her that enjoys it.
She cannot deny the way she arches into the touch when Ursula’s lips and tongue and teeth taste her skin. Lapping up sweat, biting at soft flesh, dragging over every inch of her, from her throat to her palms to the backs of her knees to the balls of her feet and everywhere in between.
And then Ursula’s tentacles are moving over Ariel’s flesh, slick with seawater, slippery as they grip at her, turning her this way and that, moving her like a doll. Spreading her, holding Ariel’s thighs open, and she quivers in their grasp, knowing what comes next.
It is as if her voice has been stolen again, only able to gasp and pant as they open her, as the tentacles press inside. Penetrating her sex, rippling within her, deep and rhythmic, and if Ariel had her voice she would be screaming.
But the scream would not be caused by fear and pain.
It would be caused by ecstasy.
Each night she wakes, trembling and dripping, pleasure coursing through her body like she has never known, dark and forbidden and intoxicating.
They are only dreams. She has consulted with her father, and he has assured her that he has swept the entire ocean for signs that Ursula could remain. There are none, she is gone.
They are only dreams, not a spell or some fragment of Ursula’s mind living within her.
But every night, when Ariel slips from her marital bed, still trembling with the intense bliss Ursula has given her, searching for privacy so she may touch herself and try to recreate that sensation, she wonders if this is worse.
For if they are only dreams, then she cannot blame Ursula.
If they are only dreams, this strange and twisted hunger, this desire, it can only be Ariel’s own doing, and that thought is what rattles through her mind each morning as she stares blankly through her window, Eric sleeping peacefully beside her, the sun beginning to rise beyond the ocean’s horizon.
