#at least it's like....slightly more aesthetically pleasing

[kingofbodyrolls]

Deep Dive (m) | knj

You’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue aquamarine. Searching for the missing piece and your new rival, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a quest for crystals.

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au, soulmate!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff, smut, angst + a very small sprinkle of comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 19.8k → Warnings (general) + triggers: not much, honestly it’s all very very fluffy, lovey dovey and cute (you’ll probably get a cavity). There’s also a lot more lore and worldbuilding in this one compared to the others, as this is the first time we’re properly introduced to the seacity🧜It’s also rather existential and philosophical.  → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), oral (male and female), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, love making, kissing, breast play (licking, sucking, biting), handjob, fingering, clit play, hair pulling, creampie, very brief cockwarming. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note(1): I really don’t know what happened when writing this one; my fingers totally slipped and most of this is just world building 🫣 At least I had a shit ton of fun writing it! I tried to make the smut a bit different than I normally do, because I just feel like what I write is getting very repetitive… So I tried changing the pace of it a bit, but I don't know if it worked or not. Anyway, I really hope you like this one too, and I managed to finish it before Namjoon’s birthday, which means I’ll release it on that day 🥳 Please do let me know what, and if you liked it, and if you’re excited for the rest of the mermaid stories ✨

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The boat sways gently with the rhythm of the waves, each crest and trough sending a flutter through your stomach, a tantalizing whisper of the adventure awaiting below. The sea has always been your muse, its vast, enigmatic depths a sanctuary where you’ve carved out your own livelihood. As a freelance scuba diver, you descend into the ocean’s embrace, hunting for hidden treasures—crystals and gems, and occasionally, the rarest of finds. These treasures are not just artifacts; they are fragments of the earth’s ancient soul, preserved in the watery depths.

Hae, your best friend and partner in this aquatic quest, stands beside you, her hands steady as she helps you prepare for the dive. She runs a holistic and spiritual webshop called Soulful, a name that seems to capture the essence of her being—a blend of spirituality, sustainability, and an eye for the aesthetically divine. The gems and crystals you unearth find their way into her shop, where they are revered not just for their beauty, but for the energy they carry. The world has turned its gaze towards the mystical these days, and her shop has become a beacon for those seeking solace and healing in the arms of nature.

With your wetsuit snug against your skin, fins secured, and the weight of the oxygen tanks settling on your back, you feel the familiar thrill course through you. Hae hands you your goggles with a smile, and before placing the mouthpiece between your lips, you flash her a grin. “See you soon,” you say, voice laced with excitement. The small tool bag—your fanny pack of excavation tools—rests comfortably at your side, ready to assist in your quest for nature’s buried wonders.

You take a deep breath and plunge into the ocean, the water swallowing you with a resonant splash. As you breach the surface, your arms stretch forward, parting the water with a smooth, practiced motion. The ocean welcomes you, wrapping you in its cool, serene embrace. Here, beneath the waves, you are home, surrounded by the vibrant tapestry of sea life. Jellyfish drift by, their tendrils trailing like delicate threads of silk, while schools of tiny fish scatter at your approach, shimmering in the filtered sunlight that dances through the water. Deeper you dive, into the world where time slows, and the ocean whispers secrets long forgotten by the surface. The seafloor is a hidden gallery of nature’s artistry, where crystals and gems lie in wait, forged over eons by the earth’s elemental forces. Each one tells a story—of undersea volcanoes, tectonic pressures, and the alchemical dance of minerals. Hae often speaks of these gems as if they are living beings, infused with the spirit of the ocean itself, each one a relic of the deep’s quiet, patient creation.

You smile to yourself, recalling her poetic musings, almost as if you were reading straight from her website. But you know the truth behind the beauty—these crystals, formed through evaporation, precipitation, and the intricate dance of minerals, are more than just pretty stones. They are pieces of the earth’s heart, shaped by the hands of time and nature’s immense power. Sodium, magnesium, calcium, potassium—their chemical symphony plays out in each crystal, each gem a unique testament to the forces that birthed it.

To you, they are not just beautiful—they are a testament to the majesty of the natural world, a tangible link to the planet’s deep, unspoken history. Hae’s customers, too, are drawn to this connection, to the knowledge that each crystal was not mined en masse, but discovered and unearthed by your hands alone. This makes each piece not only ethically sourced but also one-of-a-kind, carrying with it a story that can never be replicated. And then, there’s the healing. The myriad of spiritual properties attributed to these gems opens another world entirely, one that you and Hae have only begun to explore. It’s a world where science and spirituality entwine, where the physical and the metaphysical dance in harmony. But for now, as you dive deeper into the ocean’s embrace, you’re content to simply marvel at nature’s handiwork, knowing that whatever treasures you find will carry a piece of this underwater realm back to the surface.

A glint catches your eye in the distance, a shimmer that pulls you deeper into the ocean’s embrace. You’ve lost track of how far you’ve dived—perhaps just a few meters, or maybe more. Time seems to stretch and compress down here, as fluid as the water around you. A quick glance at your watch reveals that only ten minutes have passed, but you know you must be mindful of the oxygen left in your tank. Still, the ocean’s siren call urges you onward, tempting you with secrets yet to be unveiled.

Something blue sparkles ahead, its brilliance cutting through the murky depths, and you find yourself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Your body moves with the fluidity of the water, each motion a dance of instinct and harmony. Down here, you’re not just an explorer—you’re a part of the ocean itself, swaying gently in time with the currents. The source of the light reveals itself as you approach a small rock formation, where gems of varying shades of blue glisten like forgotten stars scattered across the ocean floor. Aquamarine, calcite, and amazonite—Hae’s voice echoes in your mind, recalling the knowledge she’s shared with you. Aquamarine, the “Sea Water Stone,” born from the cooling magma of the earth’s depths, its color an echo of the ocean’s own hues. It’s a stone that calms the mind, eases stress, and sharpens communication, a talisman of courage and clarity. Blue calcite, a crystal forged from calcium, carbon, and oxygen, soothes like a lullaby, its gentle presence calming nerves and quieting anxieties. It also opens the mind’s eye, enhancing intuition and inner vision. And then there’s amazonite, a gem you’ve always favored. Its cool blue-green tones speak to your soul, a “Stone of Courage” that promotes truth, honor, and positive communication. It balances the masculine and feminine energies within, weaving harmony into the fabric of life. You reach out, your fingers brushing the rough texture of the rock, marveling at the beauty before you.

Carefully, you pull out your tools—a smooth flat file and a soft silicone hammer—and begin to work. The gems yield to your skillful hands, and soon, you’ve gathered a small collection of aquamarine, blue calcite, and amazonite, each piece a perfect reflection of the ocean’s quiet majesty. You tuck them safely into your bag, their weight a comforting presence at your side.

But the ocean isn’t done with you yet. You swim further, your eyes scanning the seabed where kelp and other sea plants sway like ethereal dancers. A small cave catches your attention, its entrance barely large enough to accommodate you, but you’re compelled to explore. You squeeze through the narrow opening, and the sight that greets you steals your breath away.

Before you lies a treasure trove of green crystals, their surfaces shimmering like serpent scales. Serpentine—Hae has spoken of this gem, formed deep within the Earth’s mantle by the transformation of silicate minerals through water. This is your first time finding it, and you can’t help but marvel at its beauty, the green hues reminiscent of a forest hidden beneath the waves. You run your fingers over the rough surface, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within the stone. Carefully, you chip away a few pieces, their weight adding to the growing collection in your bag.

But the bag is heavy now, laden with the ocean’s gifts, and a glance at your watch tells you it’s time to return. With a reluctant sigh, you leave the cave behind, swimming back toward the surface, your heart still lingering in the depths. As you break through the water, the sunlight dazzles your eyes, and Hae is there, her hands reaching out to help you back onto the boat. The weight of your gear is a burden you’re glad to shed, and you push the bag toward her, eager to share your discoveries.

“Wow!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with wonder as she sifts through the gems. “You really found a lot—and serpentine? You’ve never found that before. My customers are going to be over the moon!”

Her excitement is infectious, and you can’t help but smile. “That makes it all worth it,” you say, pulling off your hydro fin shoes with a satisfied sigh. “But I’m keeping one piece of serpentine for myself—it’s too beautiful to part with.”

Hae nods, still mesmerized by the treasures you’ve brought to the surface. The joy in her eyes is a reflection of your own, and you feel a deep contentment settle over you. The ocean has shared its secrets with you once again, and as you breathe in the fresh air, you know that the bond you share with the sea is stronger than ever.

You sail home under the setting sun, the ocean’s breeze carrying with it the scent of salt and adventure. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the boat lulls you into a state of serene satisfaction. Back on land, you join Hae in her cozy apartment, where the warmth of the evening light filters through the windows. Her small photo studio, a creative sanctuary tucked into a corner, is ready for the treasures you’ve unearthed. Together, you arrange the crystals with care, each one glistening like a piece of the ocean’s soul captured in stone. The camera clicks, preserving the gems’ beauty for the world to see, as Hae’s artistic eye transforms them into visions of wonder. The process is swift but meaningful, a quiet ritual that binds your shared passions. Soon, the crystals will grace her webshop, ready to bring a touch of the sea’s magic to those who seek it.

“This collection is huge, Namjoon,” Hoseok remarks with a warm smile, his gaze sweeping over the shimmering array of gems that adorn the older merman’s room. “There’s so much history embedded in these walls,” he adds, pointing to the meticulously arranged stones, and Namjoon feels a flush of pride rise to his cheeks. He’s poured countless hours into curating this collection, each gem—some calcite, larimar, jasper, peridotite, amazonite, and serpentine—bearing the weight of time and the ocean’s secrets.

Yoongi casts a sidelong glance at Namjoon and his prized collection, murmuring with a wry grin, “It’s impressive... but also incredibly dorky.”

Hoseok bursts into laughter, his joy so radiant that for a moment, Namjoon thinks they don’t need the sun in their underwater world—Hoseok’s light is enough to illuminate the depths.

“I’m not a dork,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms over his bare torso in an attempt to feign indignation, but his stern expression does little to sway the younger mermen. Their laughter echoes through the water, a melody of friendship that only strengthens the bond between them.

“Nerd, then,” Hoseok offers through another burst of laughter, his voice rippling through the water like bubbles rising to the surface. Yoongi, ever the skeptic, merely rolls his eyes, already weary of the conversation. Namjoon can sense that Yoongi’s thoughts have drifted elsewhere—likely back to his bed, where he longs to sleep away the rest of the day. But Namjoon’s heart beats with a different rhythm, one that craves adventure. He usually embarks on treasure swims with his friend Soo-ah, but she’s preoccupied with her fiancé, Seokjin, as they prepare for their upcoming wedding.

Namjoon casts a glance at his friends, hoping they’ll soon take their leave so he can slip away into the inviting embrace of the sea. The room feels too small for his restless spirit, and the ocean beyond the walls calls to him like a siren’s song. He had initially invited them over for their monthly book club, but the gathering has devolved into something else entirely—Hoseok couldn’t stop laughing at the protagonist’s ridiculous misadventures, and Yoongi, true to form, had forgotten to read the book altogether. The story, plucked from the land above, strikes Hoseok as particularly odd and amusing, especially since he’s never set foot on land himself.

“Book club’s over, right?” Yoongi asks with a resigned sigh, his voice heavy with fatigue, as if the very mention of reading has drained him further.

“Yeah, but do try to read the next book for next month,” Namjoon chides gently, though he knows his words will likely fall on deaf ears. Yoongi merely shrugs, not even bothering to pick up the worn book as he drifts toward the door. Namjoon watches them go, rolling his eyes as Hoseok flashes him a soft smile and a thumbs-up before they swim off to their respective homes.

As their laughter fades into the distance, Namjoon finally feels the freedom to pursue the adventure that has been stirring within him all day. The sea awaits, vast and full of mysteries, and he is eager to explore its depths once more.

Namjoon exhales a deep sigh, the weight of his thoughts momentarily heavy, but he renews his energy by nibbling on some fresh kelp. The taste is crisp and briny, filling him with the vitality he needs for the journey ahead. With a determined glint in his eye, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and sets off on his adventure. The sea has always been his home, its vast expanse a comforting embrace. His parents, both scholars dedicated to preserving the rich history of their underwater city, have instilled in him a love for the past. But while they focus on teaching the young minds of the city, Namjoon’s heart has always been drawn to the secrets hidden within the earth—gems and stones that hold their own silent histories.

He propels himself forward, his baby blue tail cutting through the water with graceful precision. As he gathers speed, the fish scatter in a dazzling display, their scales catching the light as they dart away. The underwater world rushes past in a vibrant blur of color, until something shimmering in the distance catches his eye.

Ahead, perched on a rock formation, are gleaming clusters of calcite and aquamarine, their surfaces dancing with the light that filters through the water. The sun’s rays, fractured by the waves above, cast a spectrum of blues across the gems, making them shimmer like the sky at twilight. Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat, as it always does when faced with such natural beauty. Each gem is a masterpiece of time and pressure, a testament to the earth’s patient artistry. He reaches out, reverently running his fingers over the cool, smooth surfaces, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within them.

He pulls out his tools, careful not to disturb the surrounding environment, and begins to collect a few of the precious stones. As he works, he remembers Soo-ah and selects a particularly radiant piece to bring back to her, a token of their shared love for the ocean’s treasures.

But his heart skips a beat when he notices something unsettling—many of the gems have already been harvested, leaving only a few scattered remnants behind. A frown creases his brow as he wonders who could have beaten him to this spot. None of his friends share his passion for collecting gems. Sure, Taehyung enjoys gathering trinkets and curiosities, but stones have never been his interest. The thought of another collector in these waters feels strangely alien, a mystery that tugs at the edges of his mind.

Who else, he wonders, could be drawn to these underwater treasures with the same fervor that drives him?

You find yourself submerged once more, the embrace of the ocean welcoming you into its depths as you embark on yet another treasure hunt, eager to unearth new crystals. Your path leads you back to the familiar cave where you previously discovered the serpentine and calcite, their beauty still vivid in your memory. Yet, something feels different this time—there are fewer crystals adorning the rock formation and scattered across the seabed. The ocean’s depths, a canvas for nature’s exquisite artistry, have always been a sanctuary for the many fascinating crystals that dwell there. But you’ve never encountered another diver who collects them as passionately as you do. The realization leaves you momentarily puzzled, until a flicker of purple catches your eye in the distance.

Intrigued, you glide through the water with graceful urgency, approaching the new discovery. As you draw closer, you recognize the delicate gray and rose-hued crystals as lepidolite, known for its ability to enhance astral travel and lucid dreaming. You’ve rarely come across these gems in your dives, and even now, only a few precious stones cling to the rock formation. Carefully, you retrieve your tools and begin to collect the lepidolite, tucking each piece into your bag with a sense of reverence.

Continuing along the seabed, you pass by schools of vibrant fish, their colors a blur of life around you, until something extraordinary catches your attention—massive aquamarine crystals, far larger than any you’ve ever seen before. They seem to pulse with a quiet energy, drawing you in with their mesmerizing blue hue. As you approach with a gentle hand, you feel an inexplicable connection to the gems, as if they are whispering tales of the ocean’s mysteries and the magnificence of the world beneath the waves.

Gingerly, you touch the aquamarines, and a surge of calm washes over you, a tranquility deeper than anything you’ve ever experienced. The sensation is strange, yet profoundly soothing, as if the ocean itself is sharing its serenity with you. 

Taking your time, you inspect the crystals, standing tall on a rocky pedestal surrounded by pink sea bushes and kelp that sways in the water’s current. A few curious fish glide by as you carefully chip away at the base of the crystal, hoping to extract a substantial piece. When you finally succeed, you notice something peculiar—the crystal’s twin, the piece that once stood beside it, is missing. The jagged edge where it was removed is unmistakable. The question lingers in your mind, unsettling and persistent: Who has taken the other piece?

As you wonder who else might be drawn to the allure of these hidden gems, your hands continue their careful work, collecting a few more of the larger pieces, along with several smaller ones. You know that the smaller stones, though modest in size, still carry the same potent energy as their grander counterparts, and some people cherish them all the more for their delicate beauty. Each crystal, whether large or small, holds within it the ocean’s quiet wisdom, waiting to be shared.

Gently, you tuck the treasures into your bag, the weight of them a comforting reminder of the sea’s generosity. With a final, lingering glance at the shimmering aquamarines, you propel yourself upward, your body moving effortlessly through the water’s embrace. As you break through the surface, the world above greets you with a rush of air and sunlight. Hae is there, her arms open wide, her smile as warm as the sun. She helps you back into the boat, her touch gentle and reassuring, as if she understands the wonders you’ve just encountered below.

Once you’re back in the boat, the weight of your gear feels heavier than ever as you remove it, but your heart is light with the excitement of your discoveries. You eagerly reveal your treasures to Hae, each crystal glinting in the sunlight as you lay them before her. With a grin, you hold up the largest aquamarine, its cool blue depths mirroring the ocean below. “This one’s mine,” you declare, the gem feeling like a piece of the sea itself in your hand. But then your tone grows more serious as you add, “I think there’s another diver out there collecting gems. So many were missing from the formation.”

Hae’s eyes widen, her smile fading into a look of concern. You can almost see the wheels turning in her mind, already strategizing, perhaps even considering whether it’s time to move to a new, more secluded spot. The thought of competition makes her uneasy, her gaze drifting over the precious stones as if they might vanish any moment.

Sensing her anxiety, you place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say with quiet confidence. “I’ll dig around, find out who it is. We’ve come too far to let this unsettle us.” Your words are meant to calm her, to remind her that together, you’ve weathered challenges before. After all, her webshop, with its unique blend of spirituality and sustainability, has always stood out in a sea of imitators.

Hae exhales softly, her tension easing as she meets your gaze. “Okay, thank you,” she murmurs, her hands gently gathering the remaining crystals, leaving you with your cherished aquamarine. The stone gleams in your palm, a symbol of the bond between you and the sea, and now, a silent vow to protect what you’ve both worked so hard to build.

The pull of the ocean is undeniable, a quiet voice in the depths of your soul that beckons you toward the gem, as if it carries the very essence of the sea within its crystalline heart. You know instantly that this piece belongs by your side, a reminder of the ocean’s mysteries and your bond with its vast, hidden world. The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the water as you sail back to shore, the quiet lapping of waves a soothing lullaby.

Returning to your apartment, you flick on the light, the familiar space bathed in a soft glow as you carefully place your ocean gift on the nightstand beside your bed. The gem catches the light, its surface shimmering like the sea at dawn. With a contented sigh, you brush your teeth, the routine grounding you after the day’s adventure. But as you lay in bed, your mind drifts back to the ocean, and sleep comes quickly, filled with dreams of underwater realms and the treasures that lie beneath.

Yet, even in sleep, a question nags at you. For days, the mystery has lingered in your thoughts—who could be venturing into the depths to collect gems alongside you? Your research has led you nowhere, each inquiry a dead end. No diver you know is as daring, or perhaps as mad, as you, willing to plunge into the ocean’s deepest reaches. The puzzle gnaws at you, an itch you can’t quite scratch, and the frustration builds like a storm on the horizon. It feels as if the answer is just out of reach, hidden beneath the waves, and the more you dwell on it, the more it drives you to the edge of your patience, a riddle you are desperate to unravel.

Driven by a spark of determination, you’ve hatched a bold plan—to dive back into the depths and catch the mysterious intruder who’s been claiming your precious gems. Hae thinks it’s a dumb idea, but she indulges you, knowing your spirit is as restless as the ocean itself. And so, once again, you find yourself out on the boat, with Hae in the vast expanse of the ocean under the midday sun. The boat sways gently, a rhythmic dance on the water’s surface as you methodically pull on your gear—your oxygen tanks, goggles, and hydro fins. The final touch is your backpack, securely fastened to the tank, ready to hold whatever treasures you might uncover.

With purpose in your heart and a steely resolve, you press your arms together and plunge into the ocean’s embrace. The world above fades away as you descend into the deep, your body slicing through the water with graceful determination. Thoughts of the smaller boats you saw earlier linger in your mind, fueling your hope that this dive will lead you to your elusive rival.

As you dive deeper, the current cradles you, guiding your body as you sway with the ocean’s rhythm, until you reach the seabed. The familiar terrain unfolds before you, a place you’ve visited many times, yet now it feels different, touched by the presence of another. Only a few small gems remain, their glint a reminder of what’s been taken. You scan your surroundings—kelp sways like dancers in the current, fish dart about in a symphony of colors—but no sign of competition yet.

Undeterred, you press on, swimming further along the seabed, following the contours of rocky formations. Your heart quickens as you reach a familiar spot, the place where you once unearthed a magnificent aquamarine. But as you approach, your breath catches—the rock’s surface is nearly barren, the aquamarine all but vanished, save for a few remaining shards that catch the light. Your fingers hover over the stone, tracing the empty space where the gems once gleamed, now a haunting reminder of what’s been lost to unseen hands.

A sudden jolt, like a spark of electricity, tingles through your fingertips, and before you can react, a blur of blue fills your vision, distorting the world around you. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the haze, but it remains—an ethereal presence in the water. Then, you feel a light, almost playful poke against your cheek, and a startled scream escapes into your mouthpiece, sending a cascade of bubbles spiraling upwards.

Instinctively, you jerk backward, heart pounding, as you struggle to comprehend what’s before you. No—this can’t be real. It’s not another diver. It’s not even human.

In front of you, suspended in the water like a living dream, is a merman. His face, heart-shaped and adorned with eyes like dragon-like darkened amber, is framed by short, blue hair that floats gently around his soft cheeks, jawline and pointed chin. Thin soft eyebrows arch over those wide, curious eyes—eyes that seem to hold all the wonder of the deep. His lips, thick and juicy are slightly parted in a soft ‘o,’ convey a mix of curiosity and surprise. Your gaze travels over his tall frame down to his bare chest, lean and strong, and then to the tail—an iridescent baby blue, shimmering with every subtle movement, a perfect extension of the ocean’s beauty. 

A wiggling tail instead of legs.

You blink again, desperate to make sense of the vision before you. A merman… It has to be.

He drifts closer, his tail flicking gracefully as he reaches out to poke your chin once more, his voice resonating through the water with an almost melodic quality. “Are you human?” he asks, his tone gentle yet filled with the wonder of a child discovering something new.

Your mind races, and you nod frantically, unable to speak with the mouthpiece still in your mouth, your feet paddling in the water as you fight to steady yourself. The reality of the moment crashes over you like a wave—this is no fantasy. A merman is right in front of you.

As your gaze falls on the backpack strapped to his shoulders, you notice a subtle shimmer, a gleam of something precious. In that instant, the pieces fall into place—he’s the one. He’s the mysterious collector, your unexpected rival in this underwater hunt for gems.

“I’ve seen humans before,” he continues, his voice carrying an almost casual tone as he swims around you, studying you like a creature from another world, “but I’ve never seen one dressed like you.”

Your heart aches to respond, to ask a million questions, but with the mouthpiece in place, all you can do is let him circle you, his eyes filled with an innocent fascination. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words, each glance exchanged like a whispered secret between the ocean and the sun.

As you take in the sight before you, your eyes are drawn to a necklace resting against his chest, the small piece of aquamarine nestled between the firm contours of his titties—chest, you mean chest! The gem, cradled in the hollow where his muscles meet, glimmers softly, almost as if it’s alive with the very essence of the sea. You can’t help but stare in awe, the allure of it tugging at something deep within you. Thank heavens for your goggles, masking the blush that would otherwise give away your wandering thoughts.

“You look funny,” he remarks, his voice laced with innocent curiosity as he reaches out to grab one of your hydro fin shoes. The unexpected touch throws you off balance, and for a moment, you find yourself flipping weightlessly in the water, your body twisting like a leaf caught in a gentle current.

“Is this supposed to be like a mermaid’s tail?” he asks, holding your foot aloft as though it were some ancient relic to be deciphered. His brow furrows in concentration, and you can’t help but feel a mix of amusement and bewilderment at the sight.

Instinctively, you jerk your foot back, breaking free from his grasp, and you push against the water with frantic kicks, a glance at your watch reminding you that time is running out. As much as you wish to linger here, captivated by the merman’s presence, the pressing need to return to the surface propels you upward.

“Hey! Where’re you going?” he calls after you, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation, but you’re already too focused on reaching the surface to notice the distress in his expression. The thought of what could happen if you don’t make it in time isn’t one you’re willing to entertain.

Breaking through the water’s surface, you take off the mouthpiece and  gulp in fresh air, scanning the horizon until you spot your boat, a distant speck where Hae waits, the other vessels having long since disappeared. It seems manageable, this swim back to the boat, as long as you stay above water—your oxygen tank now empty, its weight a reminder of how close you cut it.

But before you can begin the swim, something solid collides with you, stopping you in your tracks. “Ow,” you exclaim, startled as you float backward, only to find yourself face to face with a familiar figure, his blue hair dripping wet above the waves.

“Hi,” the merman says with a smile, his dimples appearing like little pools of light in the sun. The simple word carries a warmth that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re lost in the easy charm of his grin, the ocean around you feeling suddenly smaller, as if it were just the two of you in this vast, endless world.

“Hi,” you greet him with a soft smile, still astonished that he followed you to the surface at all. A swirl of unspoken questions rises in your chest, but they tangle in your throat, leaving you staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless. The world seems to blur, save for the merman before you, his wet blue hair plastered against his forehead, his dragon-like eyes sweeping over you with a curious intensity, as if he’s memorizing every detail.

“What’s all that stuff you’ve got on?” he asks, pointing a slender finger at your goggles and then at the oxygen tanks strapped securely to your back.

“These?” you say, finding your voice as you point to your goggles. “They help me see underwater,” you pause, feeling the weight of the tanks pulling at your shoulders, “And these let me breathe while I dive—they hold the oxygen I need when I’m down there.” You gesture to the tanks behind you, your explanation feeling small in the face of his wide, unblinking curiosity.

He hums thoughtfully, nodding as if piecing together a puzzle. “Makes sense,” he says at last, though his gaze strays past you, catching sight of Hae waving from the boat that rocks gently on the surface, her silhouette framed by the scorching sun.

“I... I have to get back,” you mumble, pointing toward your friend, the words feeling heavy as they leave your lips. You try to steady your thoughts, but they swirl like the currents beneath the sea, a thousand questions dancing just beneath the surface, questions you don’t quite dare to voice.

“Okay,” he says, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, perhaps. “But before you go…” His voice halts your movements, drawing you back to him like the pull of the tide. You turn toward him again, heart fluttering in the quiet space between you, as if the ocean itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what comes next.

“What’s your name?” His voice is soft, carrying a gentleness that ripples through the water.

“It’s ___,” you reply, offering him a smile that’s both shy and warm.

“That’s pretty,” he says, and when his lips part into a smile, his dimples carve deep into his cheeks, making him almost impossibly cute, but dangerously so. 

“I’m Namjoon.” 

His name lingers between you like a secret, sweet and mysterious. “Will I see you again?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow raised in curious hope.

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, the warmth filling your chest. There’s something about him—this enchanting creature of the deep—that makes you feel drawn in, like the tide itself is pulling you closer. You nod, the joy bubbling up inside you as you answer, “See you later, Namjoon.” There’s more than one reason you want to see him again. The unspoken questions whirl in your mind, but there’s also the thrill—because maybe, just maybe, you want to get your hands on the best crystals before he does.

As you turn and swim back toward Hae, your thoughts a mess of wonder and disbelief, a blush warms your cheeks. Did you just make a date with a merman? The thought sends a tingle of excitement through you. But when you glance back to where he was, Namjoon is already gone, having disappeared beneath the shimmering surface, like a dream fading with the dawn.

You finally make it to the boat, the sun still hanging high, bathing everything in golden light. As Hae helps you out of the water and hands you a towel, her eyes are wide with confusion. “Who was that? And how did he just vanish into the water like that, without any diving gear?”

“A merman,” you pant, peeling off your oxygen tanks and goggles. The words slip out of your mouth so naturally, like it’s something you’d say every day. Not the revelation of a magical creature, but a simple truth.

Hae stares at you, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A merman,” you repeat, more firmly this time.

“A merman?” she echoes, her voice faint and incredulous, as if the very idea is too fantastical to grasp.

“Yes. A goddamn merman,” you say, grinning wide as you meet her disbelieving gaze. “Scaly tail and all.” And then the absurdity of it all hits you, and before you know it, you’re laughing—a bright, bubbling sound that lifts the tension from your chest.

Hae blinks, her mind racing to catch up with the truth you’ve laid before her. When she finally does, her gaze shifts to the shimmering crystals you’ve collected, and without another word, she turns the boat towards home, lost in thought as the ocean waves lap against the sides. And all you can do is sit there, the excitement of your encounter buzzing through your veins, as you wonder about the next time you’ll meet Namjoon beneath the waves.

The next time you set sail, the open sea stretching endlessly before you, a current of giddy anticipation courses through your veins. Thoughts of the blue-haired merman, Namjoon, fill your mind, sparking excitement deep within your chest. Will he be there today, waiting beneath the waves? You wish you could speak with him underwater, to ask him the thousand questions swirling in your heart, but the surface would have to do for now. You can’t help but smile at the thought of seeing him again.

Hae steers the boat through the shimmering water, the horizon vast and infinite. As you slip on your gear and dive beneath the surface, the ocean’s cool embrace pulls you into its depths. You swim purposefully, eyes scanning the underwater world, searching for both gems and a glimpse of Namjoon. 

Suddenly, something blue catches your eye, sparkling in the distance. Your pulse quickens as you think, just for a moment, that it might be him. But as you swim closer, your heart sinks—it’s only a cluster of aquamarine, glittering like pieces of fallen sky. You feel a bit foolish, letting your hopes get the better of you. Shaking off the disappointment, you turn your attention to the task at hand, collecting the gems with careful precision, though your thoughts continue to drift back to the mysterious merman.

You move to a new spot, finding a hidden cave adorned with larimar crystals. The stones are breathtaking—swirls of blue, white, and gray blending like waves crashing upon a shore, smooth and radiant. The sight brings a smile to your face, the beauty of the moment settling into your heart. You gently gather some of the crystals, placing them in your bag with reverence, as if each one carries a secret.

Just as you’re about to leave the cave, a shadow falls across the entrance. Your heart skips a beat, startled by the sudden presence. But then, the familiar voice reaches your ears, warm and apologetic, and you see him—Namjoon, his figure filling the space, his smile soft and full of quiet charm.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand nervously scratching the back of his head, his eyes filled with a gentle sincerity.

Relief washes over you, and with a playful wave of your hands, you signal that it’s okay—that he needn’t worry. How you wish you could speak to him down here, let your words float freely in the water like the bubbles escaping from your gear. But for now, your gestures will have to suffice. Your smile says the rest—you’re just glad to see him again.

“You’re collecting crystals, right?” Namjoon asks, his voice cutting through the liquid silence as he gestures toward your already bulging bag. You nod in response, still catching your breath from the weight of the gems you’ve gathered.

“Do you want me to show you a cave with lepidolite?” he mumbles, his tone casual but a bit uncertain. “They’re pretty rare, but I know of a cave that’s full of them.” For a fleeting moment, you wonder if this is the ocean’s version of Netflix and chill, the awkwardness of the offer landing with the charm of a bad pickup line. You can’t help but smile at the thought. 

Still, you nod, knowing that Hae would be thrilled to get her hands on more lepidolite, and besides, you’re curious. You figure underwater Netflix and chill is a bit different from what you’re used to anyway.

Namjoon leads the way, his brilliant blue tail weaving effortlessly through the water, shimmering like sunlight caught in a sapphire. You trail behind him, captivated by the rhythmic sway of his form, the way his muscles ripple across his broad back like waves sculpted by some divine hand. You can’t help but wonder—do they even have gyms down here? The sight of him, so fluid and powerful, is mesmerizing, and before you know it, time seems to slip away, your focus narrowing to the subtle dance of his movements.

“This is the cave,” he suddenly announces, pulling you out of your reverie. You hadn’t realized just how long you’d been swimming, utterly absorbed by the quiet beauty of the journey and him.

You follow him inside, and the sight that greets you takes your breath away—deep violet lepidolite, sparkling in the dim light like stars scattered across a twilight sky. You’re awestruck by the sheer abundance, the rare gems nestled into the cave walls as if nature had painted this secret world just for you.

“Beautiful, right?” Namjoon giggles softly, his voice echoing gently through the cavern as you nod, too taken by the sight to speak. You pull out your tools, carefully beginning to gather the precious stones, all while feeling the warmth of his gaze lingering on you. His silent watchfulness stirs a strange flustered feeling inside, like he’s studying you with the same intensity you’ve used to admire him.

Once your bag is heavy with lepidolite, Namjoon takes you on a quiet tour of other hidden gem spots. Each place he shows you feels like a secret whispered by the ocean itself, and soon your collection grows so large that the weight of it tugs at you, as if the sea itself is trying to pull you back down. When Namjoon offers to carry your bag, you try to refuse at first, clinging to your independence. But as your arms grow heavy, you relent, watching in awe as he effortlessly takes your overloaded bag, slinging it across his broad frame with ease. He carries it as though the weight is nothing, his strength as graceful as the tides themselves.

With a raised arm, you gesture that it’s time to surface—your oxygen running low, the familiar ache of needing air settling into your chest. He seems to understand immediately, and together you ascend, the world around you turning brighter as you rise toward the surface.

Breaking through the water, you gasp in the fresh air, peeling off your goggles and mouthpiece, eager to speak to him in the open air. Namjoon surfaces beside you, droplets clinging to his skin as the sun catches the water in his hair, casting a shimmering halo around his smiling face.

“We should do this again,” he says, his voice warm and full of excitement. “Wasn’t it fun?”

“It really was,” you reply with a smile, your heart still buzzing from the underwater adventure. “Thank you for showing me all those caves. My friend, Hae, is going to be over the moon,” you say, casting a glance toward the boat swaying gently in the distance.

“That’s great to hear,” Namjoon replies, his voice as smooth as the rippling waves.

A flicker of frustration tugs at your chest, and you bite your lip. “I just wish I could talk to you down there,” you admit, your words heavy with a longing that feels both simple and profound.

“It would be nice, yeah,” he muses, his soft smile brightened by the sunlight. “But I don’t mind coming up here to talk. I like the air up here too,” he adds with a gentle chuckle, his gaze warm and steady.

“I have so many questions,” you blurt out, the words escaping you before you can hold them back. There’s too much wonder bottled up inside you, too much curiosity, and it needs to spill over.

Namjoon laughs, a sound so genuine it feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Shoot,” he says, his dimples deepening like two small whirlpools at the corners of his mouth.

You pause, your mind swimming with possibilities, before settling on the most obvious. “Are you the only merman, or… are there more of you?” you ask, your voice tinged with awe.

“There are more,” he says with pride, his chest lifting slightly. “There’s a whole city beneath the sea—Naraeum, where we live.” His eyes gleam with the pride of someone who belongs to something ancient and wondrous.

A thrill runs through you at the revelation. An entire city of merfolk hidden beneath the waves. The thought makes your pulse quicken, the realization that you’ve stumbled upon something so extraordinary, so secret, that few on the surface could even imagine it. You feel as if you’ve been let in on the universe’s greatest mystery, and it fills you with a giddy excitement that hums like electricity in your veins. 

“Are there cities or kingdoms beneath the waves? What are they like?” you ask, your voice soft with curiosity, eager to glimpse the world he calls home.

Namjoon’s eyes light up with a quiet pride. “Naraeum is a vast kingdom,” he begins, his words gentle yet full of wonder. “There’s pink coral stretching as far as the eye can see, ancient golden buildings weathered by time, and bright green kelp that sways like dancers in the currents. Dark caves hide beneath the surface, teeming with life—fish, crabs, creatures of every kind. And at night, everything glows with bioluminescent light, turning the ocean into a dreamscape.” A faint blush rises on his cheeks as he adds, “Maybe I can show you one day.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the thought of seeing an underwater kingdom beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. “That sounds unbelievable. I’d love to see Naraeum,” you say, barely able to contain the excitement bubbling within you. The idea of diving so deep, into a world untouched by human hands, feels too surreal to grasp.

“There are other cities too,” Namjoon continues, a smile tugging at his lips. “Some are smaller, some are larger, but Naraeum is like the heart of our region, the capital of sorts,” he adds, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

Your mind whirls with possibilities, questions tumbling out before you can stop them. “Do you have art? Music? Stories? How do you create them underwater?”

Namjoon laughs, a full-bodied sound that echoes across the waves. “We do,” he replies with a sparkle in his eyes. “Human books, for one—we’ve learned to preserve them so they don’t dissolve. Otherwise, we etch our stories on stone, carving our history into the bones of the sea. For music, we use instruments that echo your drums, flutes, and strings, but they’re crafted from merfolk hair, delicate yet strong.”

He pauses, a wistful look crossing his face. “Naraeum is ancient, filled with art and stories older than any of us. But,” he adds, adjusting the heavy bag on his back, “I fear I don’t have enough time to share them all right now. This bag,” he says with a light grin, “is starting to weigh me down.”

“Oh right, the bag!” you exclaim, snapping back to reality as a wave of panic ripples through you. You mentally scold yourself for letting the moment sweep you away, your feet kicking gently against the water as you make your way toward the boat. Namjoon swims by your side, effortlessly graceful, his shimmering tail flickering beneath the surface. 

Hae is there, waiting with a patient smile, and as she pulls you aboard, you reach out to take the heavy bag from Namjoon’s hands. “Thank you so much,” you say, a warm smile spreading across your face despite the unspoken whirlpool of questions still swirling in your mind. You wish you could ask him everything, but those wonders will have to wait.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Namjoon replies, his voice soft like the lull of the ocean. His own smile is tender, a quiet acknowledgment that leaves you feeling light despite the weight of the bag. 

Hae chimes in with a grin, “So, you’re the famous merman,” she teases, still a little wide-eyed as Namjoon flashes his bright blue tail above the surface, the sight leaving her speechless. The tail vanishes just as quickly, a flicker of the magic below.

“I’ll have to go now,” Namjoon says, his voice carrying a gentle farewell as he begins to swim backward, his gaze lingering on yours. “But I’ll see you again soon, ___.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, and despite yourself, you smile and wave, heart fluttering in a way that’s both exhilarating and unsettling. You watch him dip beneath the waves, his form disappearing into the deep blue, leaving the water still and the air quiet.

Hae turns to you with a knowing look. “You’ve got a crush on the merman, don’t you?”

You can’t deny the warmth spreading through you, but you push the thought aside, the reality of it sinking in. He’s a merman. You’re human. It feels impossible, like something from a dream. But maybe—just maybe—being friends isn’t out of reach. Friends, you think, as if convincing yourself. That can’t hurt... right?

In the following weeks, you find yourself swept into a world beyond imagination—each adventure with Namjoon feels like diving into a storybook of magic and wonder. He takes you to hidden underwater realms where gems glimmer like stars, and schools of fish, dolphins, and whales glide by as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s as though the ocean has opened up just for you, revealing its secrets with every dive. The more time you spend with him, the stronger your heart tugs, pulling you deeper into your feelings. You try, futilely, to convince yourself you’re just friends, but every shared laugh, every meaningful glance, makes that harder to believe. 

Namjoon is an incredible friend, one who listens to your ramblings with genuine interest. His conversation is as vast and deep as the ocean itself, leading you into existential tangents that leave you pondering life and its mysteries long after the talks are over. You wish for more—there’s an ache that grows inside you—but how could that even be possible? He’s a merman, you’re human. It feels like some impossible fairy tale. Yet, you’ve caught him stealing glances, his cheeks tinged with blush, and sometimes he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter in ways you can’t ignore. But does that mean anything? How do merfolk even love? You wonder if their hearts beat the same as yours.

One quiet afternoon, as you sit with the sun lazily dipping below the horizon on the boat, you find yourself asking the question that’s been gnawing at your mind. “Are there any consequences if a merman falls in love with a human?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. 

Namjoon, floating beside the boat, nearly chokes on the beer you brought him, his laughter turning into a cough as he searches for air. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more careful. “There aren’t really... any consequences,” he murmurs, the tips of his ears turning pink. His eyes flicker nervously to your lips, then meet your eyes again, a quiet vulnerability swimming in their depths.

Good to know, you think, your heart skipping a beat. But before the blush overtakes you, you scramble to change the subject, your curiosity pulling you in another direction. “Is there magic in the ocean, like the old legends say? Can you control it?”

He laughs softly, the sound like the ebb and flow of waves. “There is magic, but no, I can’t control it. None of us can. There’s a Sea Witch, though—she’s the only one with that kind of power, as far as I know.” His words are laced with mystery, and your mind spins with possibilities.

“Can merfolk live forever?” you ask, half-dreaming of a life that stretches beyond the boundaries of time.

“Yes and no,” he replies, his voice thoughtful. “We can live for so long it feels like forever, but we’re not truly immortal.” His gaze drifts across the water, as if pondering the weight of time itself. 

“Interesting,” you murmur, your thoughts swirling. “What happens when a merperson dies, then? Is there an afterlife?”

Namjoon’s smile is wistful as he explains, “When a merperson dies, we hold a celebration—a spiritual send-off, really. There’s singing, dancing, it’s more of a party than a funeral. We celebrate their journey into the afterlife.” You must look puzzled because he quickly adds, “In the afterlife, we become ghosts. But if friends and family don’t send you off properly, there’s a chance the spirit might come back to haunt them.” He chuckles lightly, and you gasp, wide-eyed at the thought.

A cool breeze dances over the water, and for a moment, the world feels suspended between reality and the dreamlike expanse of the sea. You sit there, awed by the depth of his world, your heart both heavy with questions and light with wonder. And in that moment, despite the impossible distance between your two worlds, something seems to shift—something delicate and unspoken. You don’t know what the future holds, but maybe, just maybe, there’s magic enough to bridge the divide.

He passes the beer back to you, and you take a gentle sip, letting the taste linger without wanting the haze of drunkenness to settle in. Out here, in the middle of the endless ocean, everything feels both vast and intimate. A small taste is enough.

“Do you ever feel lonely in the vastness of the sea?” you ask, a quiet melancholy softening your voice as you gaze out at the seemingly endless horizon. The sea is breathtaking, yes, but the weight of its endlessness stirs something in you—a humbling reminder of how small one can feel in such a world.

“Sometimes,” Namjoon admits, his head dipping as his gaze finds the water. “There are moments when the ocean feels too big, too quiet.” His voice is soft, vulnerable. “But I have good friends,” he continues with a faint smile, “and I have my books when the solitude feels too heavy.” He looks at you with eyes warm and reassuring, as if to say that the sea might be vast, but he’s found beauty in its stillness.

“Oh, what books do you like?” you chuckle lightly, trying to brighten the mood, though his quiet sincerity tugs at your heart.

“Human books,” he replies with a gentle grin. “I love historical tales, but fiction is my favorite—stories that let me dream of other worlds.”

You smile, curiosity dancing on your lips. “What kind of fiction? Should I bring you some next time?” The words tumble out before you can catch them, your eagerness spilling over into the space between you.

A blush blooms across his cheeks, so deep it even colors the tips of his ears. In a shy, almost bashful voice, he says, “I... I like romance.” His admission is soft, as if he’s unsure of how it will land.

You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling with affection. There’s no shame in it, not to you—if anything, it’s endearing. “I have some romance books I can bring next time, if you’d like,” you offer, your voice gentle, feeling the warmth of your words fill the space between you.

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle, a soft wonder lighting them up as his blush deepens. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his voice as tender as the evening breeze.

The sun has begun to sink lower, casting a golden glow over the water. Namjoon glances at the sky, then back at you with a smile that feels like the closing of a chapter. “It’s getting late. I was thinking... next time, I could show you Naraeum.” His voice is proud, almost glowing with the thought. “If we go at night, the whole kingdom shines,” he adds, a spark of excitement in his eyes as he recalls the bioluminescent beauty he once described to you.

Your heart leaps at the thought. “I’d love that,” you say, feeling the pull of the ocean’s magic once more. “I’ll ask Hae to man the boat, so I’m not alone when it’s time to head back.”

Namjoon nods, his smile softening as the sun dips lower, its light casting golden hues over both the water and his blue hair. “See you soon,” he says, waving as he begins to slip beneath the surface.

You wave back, feeling the warmth of his presence linger, even as you sail toward the shore, the fading sunlight a reminder that the ocean holds many mysteries yet to be uncovered. And with each adventure, your connection to him deepens, like a current pulling you both to something inevitable.

"I’m telling you, you’re totally whipped, man," Yoongi says with a playful eye roll, his voice teasing but laced with truth.

“I’m not,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms defensively, but deep down, he knows resistance is futile. His friends have been relentless, teasing him ever since you entered his life—how his smile stretches wider, brighter, after spending time with you, how your name slips into conversations that have nothing to do with the human world. It’s like you’ve seeped into his very soul. He knows he’s fallen, and fallen hard, but the weight of his feelings confuses him. He has no idea how to navigate them, unsure of your heart, or if you could even feel the same pull toward him. And how could it ever work between you two? The thought of venturing onto land to be with you dances through his mind like a fragile dream, but there’s a storm of questions swirling beneath the surface—questions he’s too afraid to ask, too scared to drown in all the unknowns.

“Just don’t get your heart broken,” Yoongi mutters, his voice softer now, tinged with caution. Namjoon nods, the words settling heavily in his chest like stones sinking to the ocean floor.

“Hey man, don’t throw your past experiences at Joonie like that!” Jimin chimes in, smacking Yoongi’s shoulder, a little too forcefully judging by Yoongi’s wince. “If he’s in love, he should go for it. Take the dive, see where the current leads him,” the blonde merman insists, eyes sparkling with mischief and optimism, trying to fill Namjoon’s heart with hope, pushing away the shadows Yoongi’s cynicism casts.

Namjoon, though, can only sigh. “I just don’t know…,” he mumbles, fingers trailing along the spines of his beloved books, rearranging them in some futile attempt to quiet the storm inside him. Anything to busy himself, anything to keep thoughts of you from consuming him. But it’s hopeless—why does his mind keep drifting back to you, like the tide, relentless and unyielding?

“It will never work,” Yoongi shrugs with a quiet scoff, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s seen too many relationships slip away. His words linger in the air, heavy like the deep sea.

Jimin, unphased, shoots him a scolding glare. “You never know that,” he says firmly. “Just because your love life’s been a shipwreck doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone else.” There’s a sharp edge to his words, a flicker of irritation.

“And look at Seokjin and Soo-ah!” Jimin adds, his voice lifting again, the gleam of an idea flickering in his eyes. “Soo-ah was human once too, remember? She turned mermaid for love. Maybe ___ would want to become a mermaid as well? Who knows what fate has in store,” he grins, ever the romantic, eager to plant seeds of possibility in Namjoon’s mind.

Namjoon’s heart stirs at the thought, but even the idea feels like a dream too distant, too fragile to reach. Could you really be part of his world? Could love, like the sea, find a way to bridge the impossible distance between you?

“I would never put that on her. She has a life—one she’s likely content with on land. I couldn’t ask her to leave it behind,” Namjoon says, his voice laced with breathless resignation, as though the weight of his own feelings has left him deflated, crushed beneath the impossibility of it all. 

“She’s a good friend. I’ll just... enjoy what we have for now,” he adds softly, placing the book you’d given him gently on his nightstand, his fingers lingering on the cover. He already treasures it, not for the words it contains, but because it came from you. Though he hasn’t yet reached the end, he finds himself lost in the pages, immersed in the tale of a woman struggling with feelings for her best friend—torn between preserving their friendship or risking everything for love. If Namjoon sees a reflection of his own heart in those pages, he’ll never admit it, not even to himself.

“Love sucks anyway,” Yoongi mutters, his voice sharp and bitter, like a wound still raw and bleeding.

“You’re killing the vibe, Yoon,” Jimin sighs, shaking his head as he swims closer to Namjoon, his energy warm and comforting. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin adds, draping an arm around Namjoon’s broad shoulders, trying to lift the weight that presses down on his friend. “He’s the last person you want advice from when it comes to love. He’s forgotten what it means to believe in it.” Jimin shoots another glare at Yoongi, who merely shrugs, unmoved.

Namjoon lets out a weary sigh. He likes you—no, more than likes you. Perhaps he’s even in love, but he’s still learning to come to terms with that revelation. What if telling you his feelings drives you away? What if, in confessing his heart, he loses the precious friendship you’ve built together? You, who’ve brought laughter and life into his days. He’s never been close to a human before, not like this, and the thought of losing you weighs heavier than the ocean above him. 

It’s not like he hasn’t ventured to land before, tasted fleeting moments with humans—flings that flickered out as quickly as they began. But this, you, feel different. And he’s in deep water now, uncertain of the way forward. It doesn’t matter to him that you’re human. If you were a mermaid, he doubts it would make things easier. What draws him to you isn’t your species, it’s your soul. 

It’s the way your hair dances in the wind, or how it clings to your skin when it’s soaked from the sea. The way your cheeks flush red, that soft blush that dusts even the bridge of your nose. The way bubbles rise and swirl around you when you dive beneath the waves, how your lashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly. The way your presence calms the storm inside him, as though you carry the quiet strength of the sea itself.

Yes, Namjoon thinks, his heart heavy with the undeniable truth. He’s got it bad.

“Hae, I don’t know what to do,” you sigh, the weight of indecision pressing down on you as you sit at the coffee shop, staring at the steam rising from your untouched cup. You feel like you could pull your hair out, frustration boiling inside as you wait for the coffee to cool, though it’s really your emotions that need calming.

The midday sunlight filters through the window, casting soft golden light over your table, but you can’t appreciate the warmth. Your mind is too restless. What are you supposed to do with these feelings?

“It’s actually quite simple,” Hae says, her tone far too casual for the magnitude of what you’re feeling. She takes a sip of her coffee—how does she drink it so scalding hot?—and you scoff softly, half out of envy, half in disbelief at how calm she seems. “You just have to talk to him.”

You groan, the sound louder than you intended, pulling curious glances from the tables around you. Embarrassed, you lower your voice, but the frustration lingers, tugging at your insides like a tangled knot. 

“It’s not that easy,” you say, pushing your coffee aside. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if I ruin everything between us?” Your voice drops to a whisper as your hands fall to your lap, palms sweaty and clammy. “How would it even work? He’s a merman, Hae. I... I’m just me.”

Hae raises an eyebrow, amused. “Girl—have you seriously not noticed the way he looks at you?”

You blink. “What do you mean? He looks at me... normal.”

She gives you a look that suggests you might be the most oblivious person on the planet. “Nah. He looks at you like he’s ready to drown in your eyes—like you’re his whole world.”

Her words hit you like a sudden wave, stealing your breath for a moment. Could she be right? You’ve never seen Namjoon look at you like that, at least not in a way you could recognize. 

“Really?” you whisper, unsure, heart fluttering with both hope and fear.

“Yes,” she emphasizes, laughing a little as she sets her cup down. “You’re kinda stupid for not noticing.”

You finally take a tentative sip of your now-warm coffee, trying to hide the way her words unravel you. As the warmth settles in your chest, your mind starts racing, replaying all the moments you’ve shared with Namjoon, all the times he’s looked at you, spoken to you with that gentle smile. Had there been something more in those glances? Had you been too blind to see it?

“You should confess your feelings,” Hae says, matter-of-fact, sipping her coffee like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

But it’s not that simple, not for you. The thought of baring your heart feels like standing at the edge of a precipice, with no way of knowing if there’s solid ground beneath you—or a fall. What if she’s wrong? What if you’re wrong? 

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know if I can. What if I ruin our friendship? What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Hae gives you a knowing look, but you’re already spiraling, lost in your own thoughts. Maybe... maybe you could watch him a little longer, try to see what she’s seeing, catch more evidence that there’s something there, something more. 

Because the risk of losing him over your feelings—that terrifies you more than anything.

It’s a few nights later, and the sea is a blanket of darkness as you and Hae venture out into its endless expanse. The sky above is nearly pitch black, save for the delicate shimmer of stars scattered like diamonds, casting faint light upon the inky water. The moon hangs low, its pale glow mirrored perfectly on the surface, creating a fragile bridge between the heavens and the sea. You pull Hae into a hug, murmuring your gratitude for her being here, for her unwavering companionship on this strange, otherworldly journey. She laughs softly, her voice breaking the silence of the night, and tells you she wouldn’t let you drown—not when she’s here to keep you safe. Her words bring a smile to your face, easing the quiet tension in your chest as you pull on your gear in the dark.

You slip into the water, the sea swallowing you whole. Beneath the surface, it’s as black as ink, the deep blue fading into a near-impenetrable navy that borders on oblivion. But there is no fear, only the pull of the unknown as you dive deeper, surrendering to the quiet pull of the ocean. Your breath is steady, your heartbeat louder in your ears than the sound of the waves above.

And then, there he is—Namjoon, his gentle smile waiting for you like a beacon in the depths, dimples carving softness into the darkness. His presence is steady, grounding, and for a moment, you forget you can’t speak, forgetting that the words you wish to say—I’m glad I’m here, thank you for this—are trapped behind the mask of your breathing gear.

Suddenly, his hand reaches for yours. The touch surprises you at first, a flicker of warmth against the cold of the sea, sending a soft spark up your arm, a silent current that makes your heart stutter. But then you relax into it, realizing how right it feels—his hand in yours, the silent understanding between you. It’s just a hand, you remind yourself, but even the smallest gesture carries weight in the depths of the sea.

“It’s dark,” he gestures to your joined hands, his voice a whisper through the water. “I’ll guide you.” You notice, even in the dim light, how his eyes shift nervously, and if the ocean weren’t so dark, you’d swear there was a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Together, you swim deeper, your hand still clasped in his as the world around you begins to change. In the distance, something gleams—a glint of gold, faint but unmistakable. As you draw closer, it becomes more defined, taking shape as towering structures rise from the seafloor like monuments from another world. Tall, ancient buildings glitter beneath the water, their surfaces gleaming with gold, adorned in intricate lettering and symbols you can’t begin to decipher. The curves and arches remind you of something familiar, some echo of human architecture, though far grander and more ancient than anything you’ve ever seen. These aren’t just buildings—they’re castles, palaces from a forgotten fairy tale. Everything is bathed in the ethereal glow of bioluminescent light, soft blues and yellows emanating from plants that pulse like stars, making the entire city shimmer as if alive with magic. It’s breathtaking—otherworldly in its beauty—and you feel your breath catch in your throat, mesmerized by the impossible splendor before you. 

How many wonders exist beneath the surface, hidden from the world above? you think, the weight of it all is almost too much to grasp. That such a place could exist, a vast city of gold and light, thriving in the deep—how could you have never known?

“Welcome to Naraeum,” Namjoon says, his voice soft, gesturing toward the city center that teems with life. Merpeople of all shapes, colors, and ages drift through the streets, some lost in their own rhythms, others laughing and chatting, and children darting through the water in playful games. The whole scene is alive, vibrant, and full of warmth, and the sight of it fills you with something indescribable—joy, wonder, perhaps even belonging.

A smile spreads across your face, unbidden, as the reality of this magical place settles over you. For the first time, you feel like you’ve truly discovered something beyond the world you’ve known, something boundless and beautiful. And with Namjoon beside you, it feels like you’ve only just begun to understand its depths.

“This is the city hall,” Namjoon gestures toward the tallest of the castles, its golden spires reaching upward like fingers trying to touch the ocean’s surface. “The royal family lives there too.” His voice is soft, but there’s a weight to his words, something ancient and significant about the building that looms over the city like a silent guardian.

You glance at him, blinking, wishing you could ask more, the curiosity burning inside you. If only you could speak, but the water and the mouthpiece keep your questions trapped behind your lips. The tug of his hand interrupts your thoughts, and once again you’re being gently pulled deeper into the heart of Naraeum, where the city unfolds like a dream in slow motion.

The water sways with life—delicate kale and other greens move in rhythm with the gentle currents, shells glint beneath the sandy floor, and tiny crabs scuttle between the rocks, oblivious to your presence. Shoals of fish—bright yellow, orange, and black—dart past, their quicksilver bodies flashing through the twilight water. And now, the eyes of the merpeople are on you. Their gazes, curious and shimmering, follow you as you move through their world, and for the first time, you feel like a true visitor in a land not your own.

Three merpeople approach, their figures graceful and effortless in the water. One, a striking merman with a pink tail that shimmers like rose quartz in the dim light, looks you over with an intensity that makes you feel seen in a way both comforting and unfamiliar. You notice his hand intertwined with a mermaid beside him, her tail a stunning shade of purple that gleams like amethyst. Together, they are radiant, like a pair of jewels. They look perfect together, you think, a bit in awe of how seamlessly they belong to this world.

“This is ___?” the pink-tailed merman asks, his voice smooth, his eyes darting to Namjoon for confirmation.

Namjoon nods, and the mermaid smiles, her face brightening with warmth. “Pleased to meet you,” she says, her voice light like a melody. “I’m Soo-ah, and this is my fiancé, Seokjin.” You nod in response, acknowledging them with a smile behind your mouthpiece, feeling a sense of camaraderie in their presence.

But before you can speak—or even think of what to say—your eyes catch on the third figure. A dark-haired merman with a tail the color of midnight, streaked with gold that glimmers like starlight. His aura is different—colder, detached. His black eyes flicker over you briefly, then, with a dismissive scoff, he turns away, arms crossed over his chest as if to close himself off from the world. 

Namjoon sighs, his voice edged with irritation, “That’s Yoongi.” The name comes out rough, almost an apology. “He forgot to take the stick out of his ass today.”

You can’t help but chuckle, bubbles escaping from your mouthpiece, rising toward the surface like tiny pieces of joy. Even in this underwater kingdom, humor survives, softening the tension. But Yoongi, unmoved, swims off into the shadows, his figure disappearing into the vastness of the sea. 

“Don’t mind him,” Namjoon mutters, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Come on, I want to show you the rest.”

Soo-ah and Seokjin swim alongside you as Namjoon leads you through the winding streets of the marketplace, stalls lined up like sentinels, though empty now in the quiet of night. The architecture is both foreign and familiar, illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent plants. Everything feels untouched by time, and yet alive with history. You pass the grand library next, its shelves filled with tomes both ancient and new, merfolk stories and human books resting side by side. You can almost feel the weight of untold stories and hidden lore that fills the space, waiting to be discovered.

Namjoon’s excitement builds as he takes you to a fitness center unlike anything you’ve ever seen—massive bars with stones at either end, weights crafted from various-sized rocks, and machines clearly designed for strength and agility in the water. It’s a glimpse into the life of these beings, how they build themselves in this weightless world.

After a while, Soo-ah and Seokjin bid you farewell, their presence a quiet comfort as they swim off together, leaving you alone with Namjoon. Your pulse quickens. His hand, still clasped in yours, feels warm even in the cold depths of the sea. The way he glances at you—those fleeting, secretive looks that you’ve caught out of the corner of your eye—makes your heart race even more. Hae’s words echo in your mind, whispering truths you’re not sure you’re ready to admit. 

Could it be? you wonder, as the two of you drift toward his home.

“This is my place,” he says softly, his voice reverberating through the water as he turns on the light—an iridescent seashell hanging from the ceiling that casts a gentle, pearlescent glow throughout the space. His home is carved into the heart of a cave, the walls smooth and cool to the touch, like the sea itself has shaped them over countless years. Your eyes fall on his bed, draped in what looks like a soft, inviting duvet, but as you get closer, you realize it’s woven from delicate strands of kelp, swaying ever so slightly in the currents. It’s an unexpected beauty, intricate and organic, like everything in this underwater world.

The longest wall is dominated by a towering bookshelf, its shelves lined with books, arranged meticulously by color and size. It’s mesmerizing, this ocean of stories he’s collected, and you can’t help but wonder what worlds and lives he’s explored within these pages. You want to tell him, to say how beautiful it all is—his home, his soul, him. But your words are trapped beneath the weight of the sea, tangled with the breathlessness of being in his presence. 

Your fingertips brush the spines of the books, imagining all the narratives they contain, each one another layer of who Namjoon is. You glance down at your joined hands—his fingers laced with yours, and in that quiet moment, you swear you can feel something electric passing between you. A pulse of warmth, a silent exchange of emotions you can’t speak. You want to kiss him, more than anything. The way he’s gazing at you, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken, the gentle curve of his lips hiding a blush you wish you could see more clearly.

But here, in this quiet cavern beneath the sea, there’s nothing you can do. You can’t ask him what you’re dying to know, can’t lean in and feel the warmth of his lips against yours, can’t tell him that you’re falling, deeply, helplessly. All you can do is float here, heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid. 

He clears his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head. His mouth opens as if he’s about to speak, then closes again. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, lingering in the air between you. He tries again, and this time his voice, soft and hesitant, finally breaks the silence. 

“Thank you for letting me show you my world.”

You squeeze his hand gently, pouring all the gratitude and affection you can’t voice into that single touch. You hope he feels it—the appreciation, the awe, the quiet longing you carry for him. And in that touch, you wish you could invite him into your world, share everything that you are with him, even though he’s been on land before. But you don’t know if he’d want that. You’ve never asked, never dared to imagine what it might be like to share your lives across these two worlds. You’re afraid to impose, afraid to hope too much.

The moment hangs fragile between you, but like all perfect moments, it begins to fade as reality presses in. You feel the pull of time, the reminder that you need to return to the surface. Namjoon feels it too. His eyes flicker with understanding as he leads you back out into the city, guiding you through the soft glow of bioluminescent lights, past the merpeople still moving gracefully through their midnight routines. 

The silence between you stretches as you swim toward the boat where Hae waits, but it’s not the kind of silence that weighs heavy. It’s filled with possibility, thick with everything you haven’t said. Your heart beats faster as you realize that, once you’re back above the water, you’ll have the chance to speak. To ask. The thought of it sends your pulse racing, a swirl of excitement and terror mixing in your chest. 

What if he doesn’t feel the same? The question spins through your mind, gnawing at the edges of your courage. But the way he looked at you, the way his hand feels in yours, gives you hope. And maybe—just maybe—that will be enough.

As you break the surface of the water, you push your goggles up to rest like a headband, feeling the cool night air kiss your damp skin. It’s crisp, almost electric, filling your lungs with a freshness that makes the world above feel more alive than ever. Namjoon surfaces beside you, offering you a soft smile, but your attention is caught by the subtle blush dusting his cheeks, a faint rose bloom in the moonlight. He seems hesitant, his uncertainty mirroring your own, as if you’re both standing on the edge of something vast and uncharted, too afraid to take that first leap.

For a heartbeat, he swims closer, his presence looming gently in your space. You hold your breath, your pulse quickening with the thought that he might—maybe—kiss you. Instinctively, you close your eyes, ready to surrender to that moment, but instead, his fingers brush your cheek, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear with such tenderness it sends a wave of warmth through your body. His touch lingers, delicate and deliberate, and though it wasn’t the kiss you imagined, it makes you blush all the same. The heat rises to your cheeks, flooding you with a mixture of longing and disappointment.

But then something stirs within you—some reckless courage sparked by his closeness—and before you can think it through, you lean in. Your lips find his, a soft, quick kiss, almost like a whisper. It’s gentle, just a peck, but his lips are warm, softer than you ever imagined, like the sea breeze caressing your skin on a summer evening. 

When you pull away, you see the surprise flicker in his eyes for just a moment before his features soften into something tender and full of quiet affection. His ears burn red in the moonlight, and his dimples deepen as he gazes at you with a look that leaves you breathless. His brown eyes—dark and shimmering, like polished amber—glow with something more, something deeper. You think, just for a second, it’s desire, simmering beneath his calm exterior.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the soft lapping of the waves. You squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth and strength of him, and smile. “It was so beautiful.”

Namjoon doesn’t speak; he simply looks at you, his dragon-like eyes full of quiet intensity, his dimples softening the tension in the air. It’s a look that makes your heart skip, that holds a thousand unsaid words between you. And as you reluctantly pull away, swimming toward the boat, your mind is still spinning from the kiss, from the closeness, from everything left unspoken.

Hae pulls you up into the boat, and as you sit, catching your breath, you catch her sly grin. You know she saw everything—the kiss, the blush, the way Namjoon looked at you—but for now, she stays silent, letting the moment hang in the air. You wave to Namjoon, watching as he offers one last gentle smile before disappearing back into the deep, dark waters, the night swallowing him whole.

And even as the waves settle, your heart still swells, full of the hope and mystery that the night—and Namjoon—left behind.

The days pass in a blur of anxious thoughts, your heart heavy with doubt. Every dive into the ocean feels colder without a trace of Namjoon, and the silence is deafening. Each time you resurface alone, your mind spirals further into uncertainty. Did you overstep? The kiss lingers on your lips, but now you wonder if it was a mistake. It feels as if he’s vanished into the depths, leaving you adrift. Is he avoiding me? The question gnaws at you, twisting your insides. Maybe this is his way of saying he doesn’t feel the same, that he wants nothing more to do with you.

Hae, ever the caring friend, drags you to a fancy restaurant in an attempt to soothe your restless mind, insisting that you’re worrying yourself to death. You look like a dog that’s been kicked, she had said with a shake of her head, trying to make you laugh. But now, as you sit across from her, poking at the salad you barely have the appetite to eat, the weight of your uncertainty presses down even harder. Your stomach twists with every bite, the anxiety clinging to you like a shadow.

“Maybe he’s just busy, or caught up in merfolk stuff?" Hae suggests, her voice light, trying to pry you from the dark corners of your thoughts. But your mind won’t let you escape. Busy? No, your treacherous thoughts whisper, he’s avoiding you—he’s forgotten you, and the kiss meant nothing.

You say nothing, only stabbing your fork into the salad with a kind of quiet fury, each jab into the leaves an outlet for the storm brewing inside you.

“Uh, ___?” Hae’s voice breaks the tension, but you barely lift your head. She stumbles over her words, clearly uneasy, her tone cautious as she leans in closer. “There’s a man—blue hair—he’s looking at us.”

At her words, something stirs in you, curiosity overriding the anger for just a moment. Blue hair? Your heart skips a beat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn around, almost instinctively, as though drawn by an invisible thread. Your gaze collides with a pair of deep, brown eyes that hold all the mystery of the ocean. Namjoon.

His eyes glisten like the sea at dawn, reflecting both depth and tenderness, swirling with something unspoken—regret, maybe even desire. You swallow hard, feeling the magnetic pull that has always existed between you, but this time, it’s stronger. The air around you thickens as he walks toward the table, his presence unmistakable, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft, laced with an apology that doesn’t need to be spoken yet. The smile he offers is gentle, almost shy, and you can see the guilt in the way his eyes search yours. He knows. He knows he shouldn’t have disappeared without a word.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you manage to reply, the sound of his name on your lips stirring something deep inside you—something that’s a mixture of relief and frustration. You’re a little mad, of course you are. But as your heart races, you know you can’t stay angry with him, not when he’s standing there with that look in his eyes. He’s here now. And that’s enough for your heart to forgive him.

Your eyes travel down to his legs—strong, toned, perfectly human. He’s traded the water for the land, just for you, standing there in beige shorts like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And yet, your mind spins with the impossibility of it all, as if he’s a dream made flesh, and part of you still can’t believe he’s really here.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words, a tension that seems to ripple like the sea itself. Namjoon scratches the back of his head, his eyes shifting with uncertainty. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” he begins, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to disappear like that, but something happened in Naraeum—”

Before he can finish, the weight of your own anxiety breaks through, forcing the words from your chest. “I thought you didn’t like me, or just forgot about me.” The admission tumbles out, raw and trembling, the very fear that has haunted you for days finally taking shape between you. As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel exposed, vulnerable. You brace yourself for his response.

For a moment, he just stares, his expression frozen in disbelief, like your words have knocked the wind out of him. Then, his face softens, eyes wide with something close to shock. “Baby, no,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, the nickname slipping from his lips so naturally that it sends a flutter of warmth through your chest. He steps closer, worry etched in every line of his face as his gaze falls on you, sitting there with your heart in your throat.

Baby?

“I’d never forget about you,” he continues, his voice trembling slightly as he bites his lower lip, as if trying to hold something back. The intimacy of that small gesture makes your breath catch.

Hae clears her throat opposite you, breaking the charged moment. She rises from her seat, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, drawing both your gazes toward her flushed face. “Namjoon, please, take my seat and talk. I’ll go home and shower this tension off,” she says, her tone teasing but kind.

You open your mouth to protest, but then close it, realizing she’s right. The tension is palpable, thick as the ocean depths, and part of you is grateful for the space she’s offering. Even though nerves twist inside you like a storm, you know this is a conversation you need to have.

As Hae leaves, Namjoon sits down across from you, his eyes soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry I worried you, baby,” he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. His hands rest on the table, inching closer to yours, like he’s afraid to cross that final distance too soon.

There’s that word again—baby—and it stirs something deep inside you, butterflies rising in your chest, fluttering wildly, desperate to escape. It’s more than just a nickname; it’s a promise, a reassurance that melts the cold fear that has been gnawing at you for days.

“It’s okay,” you reply, your voice softer now, the storm inside you beginning to calm. “My mind just... got the better of me.” Your gaze flickers to where his fingers hover near yours, and your heart beats wildly at the nearness of him.

Namjoon is here, in front of you, and you realize with a quiet, overwhelming relief—he’s never really been gone.

“I could never not like you,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the truth is too delicate to be spoken aloud. “I think I... love you,” he finishes, the last words barely audible, yet they linger in the air between you like a fragile secret.

Did he just say love? Your heart stumbles, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. “You do?” you ask, your voice trembling with disbelief, your pulse fluttering wildly in your chest. Could it be real? Could he feel the same way?

A flicker of uncertainty dances across your mind, and you can’t help but press further, needing clarity. “Wait—do you think, or do you know?” Your question is gentle, but it carries the weight of hope, a hope that has been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Namjoon smiles at himself, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry,” he says, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I know. I know I love you.”

Time seems to slow, the world slipping into a dreamlike state where everything feels soft, suspended, as if wrapped in the warm glow of your shared confession. The air between you feels charged, but also tender, like the fragile moment before the first petal falls. You can feel it now—he’s there with you, and this love, this real thing, is finally mutual.

You reach out, taking his hands in yours, and lean in closer. “I love you too, Namjoon,” you whisper, the words feeling both daring and true.

For a moment, silence settles between you, but it’s a comfortable silence—one filled with the weight of what’s just been said. His hazel eyes, flecked with warmth and softness, hold yours, and you swear you could drown in them. Drown and never wish to come up for air.

The pull between you is magnetic, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, unfiltered and bold. “Do you... want to come see my place?” The second the words leave your mouth, heat rushes to your cheeks. The invitation is brazen, filled with unspoken implications, but you know it’s what you want—all of him, not just this moment, but something more, something deeper.

Namjoon’s breath catches, and he stands, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yes, baby,” he replies in a voice that is almost a whisper, but carries the weight of everything he feels. That one word—baby—sends shivers spiraling down your spine, and you bite your lip, holding back a smile.

Hand in hand, you walk together through the quiet night, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth building between you. You don’t need words now; the simple contact of his hand in yours is enough, grounding you as you lean into his strong frame. It feels so natural, as if you’ve always been walking beside him, as if this was always meant to happen.

When you reach your apartment, you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door with a nervous flutter in your chest. As the door swings open, you flick on the light, and for a moment, you glance around, hoping he won’t find your space too cluttered or small. You’d cleaned just the day before, but still, anxiety lingers.

Namjoon steps inside, his eyes roaming the space, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he looks at you, his gaze heavy with something unspoken, something that makes your heart race. His hand tightens around yours, and you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit, like gravity drawing you closer.

You look up at him, studying the moles that dot his skin, noticing the way his features are softened by the low light. He’s so close, and in this moment, with his warm eyes on yours and his hand gently holding yours, you think—this is what it means to truly be seen, to truly be wanted. And God, does he look so handsome.

Then, without hesitation, he dives in, his lips crashing into yours with a desperate, urgent need. The moment you let out a soft moan against his mouth, he releases your hand, now free to explore you. Both of his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, yet with a fierceness that pulls you deeper into him. The kiss consumes you, leaving you feeling like water melting in his palms—soft, fluid, and utterly surrendered. His lips tease yours, grazing them in a way that demands more, and when he seeks entrance, you grant it willingly. Your tongues meet in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, moving like waves crashing together under a moonlit sea.

Another moan escapes you, and you feel heat pooling deep inside, a yearning that’s overwhelming. And it’s only a kiss—yet it has you unraveling like a ribbon coming loose.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze locks onto yours, desire simmering in the air between you, thick and electric. “Baby, I want you so bad,” he breathes, his lips curling into a soft pout that makes your heart melt. How does he look both fierce and endearing at once?

You can’t help but smile, your own need burning just as fiercely. “Me too... Please call me ‘baby’ more,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes as you cling to the warmth in his eyes. “I love it.”

He chuckles, the sound like a low rumble of thunder. “Oh, I’ve noticed,” he says, amused. “Every time I call you ‘baby,’ your eyes dilate.”

You didn’t know that, but you feel the truth of it—the way that simple word makes your heart race, how it draws you even closer to him, making you crave more.

“I want you...” You pause, feeling the boldness rise within you, “I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is breathless, your gaze holding his with an unspoken plea.

Namjoon grins, a softness creeping into his eyes. “Oh, baby, I’m going to make love to you,” he whispers, and the words are like honey dripping slow and thick. “Don’t you worry,” he adds, his lips capturing yours again with a hunger that makes your head spin.

Each kiss sends you spiraling further into him, your sanity slipping, but God, you love every second of it. It strikes you then how much of a romantic he is, how the passion in his touch mirrors the stories he loves in his books.

He pulls back, his breath hot against your lips. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asks with a playful chuckle.

You point, and before you can say another word, his strong hands find your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around him, straddling his hips as he carries you across the room. He opens the bedroom door with a sweep of his foot, not bothering with the light, and gently lowers you onto the bed. Laughter bubbles between you, soft and sweet, as his lips claim yours again in a kiss that is both feverish and tender.

Your fingers tangle in his blue hair, tugging at the strands, and he hisses in pleasure, the sound sending shivers racing down your spine. He grinds against you, his erection pressing firmly against your core, and you feel yourself unraveling again, melting beneath him. God, he feels big, you think, your body aching to know him, to feel him completely.

Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin as you tug the fabric upward, longing to see his bare chest again. You know what lies beneath—his broad, muscular frame, every inch of him beautifully sculpted, chest rising and falling with each breath. And you need to touch him, to feel his strength beneath your hands.

In this moment, nothing else matters—just him, you, and the gravity of everything that has led you here.

He pulls away, sensing exactly what you want, and in one fluid motion, grabs the hem of his shirt, peeling it off in a way that feels almost sinful. The sight of him should be illegal—holy hell, the way his muscles flex as he undresses is enough to take your breath away.

Your hands move instinctively, drawn to the expanse of his chest, a perfect blend of softness and strength. The skin beneath your fingers is warm, and the way he feels—solid, yet yielding—is intoxicating.

“Like what you see?” he teases, his voice low and full of that gentle confidence, and you can only gape at him, feeling the warmth of your admiration blossom into something deeper.

“God, Namjoon, you’ve always been beautiful... inside and out,” you murmur, your voice filled with reverence, because while his looks are striking, it’s his soul that captivates you.

His lips curve into a soft smile, his gaze tender as he leans down, brushing light kisses along the curve of your neck. The sensation sends waves of laughter bubbling out of you, light and breathless, as the tickle of his lips spreads joy and heat all at once. He keeps moving lower, trailing kisses down your body like a map only he knows how to navigate.

When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Can I?” he asks, his voice both eager and gentle.

“Yes,” you whisper, and as he unbuttons your pants, you arch your back to help him slide them off, heart racing. He pauses again, staring for a moment, captivated by the sight of you, the evidence of your desire already showing.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he says, his voice hushed and full of wonder. “All for me?”

You nod, breath hitching, your body already trembling with need. “Yes, Joon. You make me so damn wet,” you pant, writhing beneath him, desperate for more. “Please, just touch me.”

His gaze darkens with lust as he licks his lips, then dips his head lower, trailing kisses across your stomach, inching closer to where you need him most. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you giggle softly, unable to contain the lightness you feel even as desire coils tighter within you. His lips press against the hem of your lace panties, nothing extravagant, yet he looks at you like you’re the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.

With agonizing slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down with deliberate care. The cool air of your apartment contrasts sharply with the warmth between your thighs, and you gasp, aching for him. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but in the most delicious way—his gaze heavy with desire as he takes you in.

“Joonie…” you moan softly, voice trembling, as his eyes linger on your glistening pussy, admiring you. You wonder if he finds you beautiful like this, spread bare before him, and his awestruck expression tells you everything.

“Damn,” he whispers, voice thick with astonishment. “You’re so pretty… already dripping with need.”

Your breath catches as his words wash over you, and when he asks, “Can I taste you? Can I touch you?” you can barely manage a nod as you spread your legs wider, inviting him in.

“Please,” you beg, feeling delirious with want, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation.

His touch is featherlight at first, a single finger brushing over your swollen clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. You flinch, already overly sensitive, a gasp falling from your lips as your body responds immediately.

“More,” you plead, rolling your hips into his hand, urging him to press harder, to give you what you crave.

His fingers glide over you, warm and sure, stroking your slick skin with precision. Every movement sets off another spark, and a moan escapes you—high-pitched, breathy, and filled with need. His touch is both tender and demanding, and with every stroke, you feel yourself unraveling, caught in the storm of pleasure.

His fingers continue their rhythm, rolling over your sensitive clit with perfect precision, each movement making it throb with want. Your body reacts instinctively, hips rising to meet his touch, chasing more—chasing everything. You need all of him, and the craving is almost unbearable.

Namjoon watches you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his eyes filled with both desire and wonder as he works you with his fingers, and then, slowly, his lips find the tender skin of your inner thigh. His kisses are featherlight, but they leave a trail of fire in their wake, and you tremble under his touch. With each kiss, he moves closer, until finally, his mouth finds your pussy, his warm tongue lapping at your slick folds, tasting you with reverence.

He groans, the sound vibrating against your core, and your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you want him to drown in your pleasure. His tongue flicks over your sensitive nub, teasing, tasting, and the sensation makes your whole body tense in anticipation. His fingers slide to your entrance, probing gently before slipping inside, one at a time. The stretch feels divine, his fingers curling to reach deeper, and soon two, then three fill you, stretching you in the most perfect, delicious way.

Your toes curl, your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel the wave of your climax building, rising with every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers. “Joon,” you gasp, a warning, but he only sucks harder, his lips and tongue working in tandem as his fingers thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside you that sends you spiraling.

The world tilts, and your back arches as the orgasm crashes through you, white-hot and electric. You thrash beneath him, pulling at his hair as pleasure floods your body, and all you can do is moan his name in a broken, breathless whisper. Even as your body shudders, he doesn’t stop, his mouth still on your clit, drawing out every last wave until you’re trembling with overstimulation. You tap his shoulder weakly, and finally, he pulls back, his face glistening with your slick, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his hand brushing softly over your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His touch is light, reverent, and though you’re still floating in the bliss of your release, you feel the need to return the favor rise within you.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper, your voice thick with desire as you shift, pushing him down beside you. He opens his mouth to protest, but the words are swallowed by a low groan as you straddle his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his cock press against your wet core. You grind down on him, teasing him with the friction, and he lets out a ragged moan that makes your pulse quicken.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on him. “I don’t know how mermen make love, but as humans—I want you to feel good too.”

He chuckles softly, his hands resting on your hips, eyes dark with hunger. “It’s definitely not the same,” he admits, voice low and breathless, and that’s all the encouragement you need. You slide down his lap to the floor, your eyes locked on his, your intentions clear.

Your fingers find the waistband of his shorts, and he helps you pull them down, revealing his muscular thighs. When you see the thick outline of his cock straining against his boxers, your mouth waters, anticipation making your pulse quicken. Tugging down the last barrier, you free him, and his cock springs forward, thick and long, the head flushed red with need. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, and your breath hitches at the sight of him, hunger twisting deep inside you.

You lick your lips, your hands moving with purpose—one resting on his thigh, the other wrapping around the thick base of his shaft, feeling the weight of him in your palm. Slowly, you begin to pump, your fingers sliding over the velvety skin as you build a steady rhythm.

Namjoon groans, the sound so deep it reverberates through your core, and you can feel him tense beneath your touch, his body reacting to every stroke. His groans are like music, deep and sinful, and they make you want to push him further, to hear more of those primal, desperate sounds spill from his lips.

Damn, you need more of him.

You glance up at him, mischief in your eyes as you give a playful wink before taking him into your mouth. The taste is salty, a mix of his precum and something else, something almost elemental, as if the sea still clings to him. It sends a shiver down your spine, urging you to lose yourself in the act. You move with intent, your lips and tongue working in unison, breathing deeply through your nose as you take him deeper, each stroke making his body tremble beneath you.

He gasps your name, his voice barely a whisper, like it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment. His hands find their way to your hair, gentle, not controlling—just resting there as if he’s entranced by the sight of you. He glances down, watching the way your mouth moves over him, and his breath quickens, as if the very air has become too thin.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice strained, “you’re so damn good at this.”

You smirk inwardly, already knowing, but the praise sends a thrill through you. There’s something intoxicating about the way he fills your mouth, the way you feel him pulse against your tongue. It makes you wonder how your pussy will take him, how it’ll feel when he’s buried deep inside you, stretching you wide.

You’re making a mess of him—your saliva slicks his length, dripping down onto the sheets—but you don’t care. Not when he’s like this, writhing beneath you, his muscles taut with need. Your hand moves lower, cupping his balls, rolling them gently in your palm, and you feel them tighten as he draws closer to the edge.

“Damn,” he rasps, voice rough with desire, “you look and feel so fucking amazing.”

The sound of his praise sends another wave of heat rushing through you, making you wetter, a needy ache building low in your belly. You take him deeper, determined, your throat tightening as you try to swallow him down. But your gag reflex protests, and you pull back slightly, not wanting to push too far. Instead, you focus on teasing the head, your tongue circling slowly before flicking across his sensitive frenulum. He groans sharply, his hips jerking, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you.

He’s unraveling, his control slipping, and you love it—love the power you hold over him in this moment, love seeing him lost in you.

Suddenly, his hands come to your cheeks, stilling your movements as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. “Baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with both lust and affection, “you’re dangerous with that mouth. If you keep going, I’m going to come right down your throat… and I want to make love and come inside you.”

You release him with a soft pop, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you lick them slowly, savoring the taste of him. “You can always come down my throat later,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry. Rising to your feet, you peel off your shirt, followed by the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts spill free, and the heat in Namjoon’s gaze intensifies as his hands instinctively find your hips, his grip firm yet tender.

“Is every inch of you just perfect?” he breathes, awe in his voice. The compliment sends a flush of warmth to your cheeks, and you chuckle softly, not answering because his words feel rhetorical, like they’re part of the worship that’s building between you.

Instead, you lean down to kiss him, pouring every bit of your desire into it. His cock twitches beneath you, hard and throbbing against your thighs, but you take your time, savoring the kiss—long, slow, and tender. You straddle him, hovering just above his cock, your body aching to sink down, to feel him inside you. But instead, you pause, letting yourself get lost in the depth of his gaze, his eyes like molten gold, swirling with emotion.

He kisses you again, his lips soft but insistent, and in that moment, you feel weightless. Like you’re floating, caught in a current, drifting between pleasure and affection. You feel cherished, like a treasure he’s unearthed from the depths of the ocean—glimmering, precious, and adored like the gems you’ve been collecting.

He groans, a deep, feral sound vibrating from his chest, and his hands tighten around your hips, the pressure promising bruises that’ll bloom as tender reminders of this moment. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby,” he pants, his eyes dark and hooded with lust, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve of your face. His lips search for yours, hungry, desperate to close the space between you again.

“Likewise,” you breathe out, your voice shaky, your pulse racing. One of your hands trails down his body, fingers grazing his taut abdomen before wrapping around the thick length of him. You lift yourself slightly, feeling the heat of him against you. Just as you’re about to guide him inside, his deep voice cuts through the haze of desire.

“Should we use a condom?” he asks, his words momentarily shattering the tension, leaving the air thick but still.

You blink, slightly caught off guard, but quickly recover. “We don’t have to,” you murmur, sensing his hesitation. His brow furrows, so you add, “I have an IUD, and I’m clean. It’s… it’s been a long time for me.” Your words taper off, embarrassment creeping into your cheeks, suddenly feeling vulnerable beneath his gaze.

He studies you for a second, his expression softening before that same, dark hunger returns. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” he rumbles, his voice like molten velvet, sending shivers racing down your spine. The sound of him, the depth of his tone, makes your body respond instinctively—your pussy clenches with anticipation, aching for him to fill the emptiness inside you. “It’s been a long time for me, too. So, I’m sorry if I don’t last long…”

You shake your head, silencing his concern with a gaze that speaks louder than words. You need him, now. The heat between you both is unbearable, every second a sweet kind of torture. You guide the head of his cock to your entrance, teasing yourself by gliding him along your folds, feeling his hardness slick against your wetness, sending delicious tremors through your body.

Slowly, you position him at your opening and sink down.

The stretch is exquisite—a burn that ignites every nerve as he fills you inch by glorious inch. He’s thick, and the sensation of him sliding deeper feels like nothing you’ve ever known. Your breath catches in your throat, and you swear you hear him curse under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as he savors the feel of your walls closing around him.

“Fuck…,” he groans, his voice wrecked, vibrating through you like a shockwave. “So damn tight.”

“Yeah…” you pant, your head spinning, your body adjusting to his size. Inch by agonizing inch, until finally, he’s fully seated inside you. You pause, trembling, your insides fluttering as he twitches deep within. You let out a soft moan, your lips searching for his in a fevered kiss, one that feels more like a collision than anything tender.

When you pull away, your gaze locks with his, your voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so fucking good… like you’ve always belonged there.”

He hums in response, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he traces your body with his hands, unable to take in enough of you. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, the words low and reverent.

Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you lift yourself slowly, your body trembling with anticipation. Then, with a burst of need, you slam down, impaling yourself on his cock, a scream of pleasure ripping from your throat. Namjoon moans, the sound guttural and raw, as you ride him with renewed vigor, losing yourself in the rhythm.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, catching his attention, and without hesitation, his hands move to cup them. His lips trail down to one nipple, his mouth warm and eager as he takes it between his lips. You gasp at the sensation, a surge of heat flooding your core, and you feel a gush of wetness coat him as your body responds to his touch. You didn’t realize you’d come until the tremors hit, your pussy clenching tightly around him, your body quivering in waves of pleasure.

His tongue circles your nipple, flicking it gently before his teeth graze the sensitive bud, and the sensation sends you spiraling. Your breath stutters as he switches to your other breast, his hands roaming, kneading your skin, every touch heightening the electricity between you. Just as his mouth closes around your other nipple, his teeth accidentally bite down harder than intended, and a sharp cry escapes your lips—his name, ripped from your throat like a plea and a curse all at once.

He freezes, eyes wide, concern flashing across his face. But the look you give him—wild, consumed with lust—tells him everything he needs to know.

“I’m so fucking sorry—,” he gasps, but his words barely register through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. Your gaze softens, your eyes half-lidded with desire, a gentle delirium swirling in their depths.

“No, no, it was good, Joonie,” you whisper, your voice a breathy melody. Your hand drifts to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair, tugging lightly. “I loved it.”

He pauses, a chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest, and you feel the twitch of his cock still buried inside you, a silent promise of more. His lips descend to your chest again, worshipping your skin with slow, languid kisses. His tongue finds your nipple, teasing it with a delicate flick before sucking, nipping just enough to make you moan his name, the sound a song on your lips.

Your body trembles, another orgasm crashing over you like a summer storm, your walls tightening around him in waves of bliss. He groans, a low, primal sound vibrating through your entire being. “Fuck, you—” His voice breaks with need as he rises from the bed, lifting you effortlessly, his body still entwined with yours. In one swift motion, he turns and lays you back down, pressing you into the sheets, his hips surging forward with raw intensity.

“This fucking pussy,” he growls, the words so feral, so laced with hunger that it sends a jolt of heat through you, your toes curling as your body responds to the deep, relentless thrusts. You moan, overwhelmed by the sensation of being pushed up the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets in desperation. Could you come again? Already, your body is teetering on the edge, caught in the rhythm of his passion.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so gorgeous, baby,” he rasps, each word dripping with lust as his hips drive into you again, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as though all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“Are you gonna come again?” he asks, his voice rough with need. You bite your lip, uncertain if you can, but the fire in your core tells you otherwise. Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers seeking out your clit. Everything is so slick, so impossibly wet, but you manage to find that perfect rhythm, circling the sensitive nub as your breath hitches in your throat.

It’s like the tide pulling you under—a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you with blinding force. Your orgasm overtakes you, your body shaking beneath him as you cry out his name, each syllable a desperate plea, a prayer to the god of ecstasy. You thrash beneath him, lost in the throes of release, and still, he keeps thrusting, deep and deliberate, as your body flutters around him, the aftershocks rippling through you.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as his cock twitches inside you, on the edge of release. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his warm seed filling you as his orgasm hits him hard, his body trembling with the force of it. His face—god, it’s beautiful in this moment—the way his lips part, how his brow furrows in pleasure, how he keeps moving, riding out the last waves of his climax until he begins to soften inside you.

Both of you are left panting, gasping for air like you’ve surfaced from the depths of the sea. He collapses beside you, pulling you close, your bodies still warm, still trembling. Your chests rise and fall in sync, the silence between you heavy with shared satisfaction.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp against your ear.

You chuckle, cheeks flushed and glowing. “Yes… we should definitely do that again.”

He turns on his side, his fingers brushing your arm tenderly as he gazes at you, eyes filled with warmth. “We really should.”

But then, out of nowhere, a ripple of anxiety courses through you, tightening your chest. You turn to him, your heart suddenly heavy. “Can we really make this work?” you ask, your voice small, vulnerable. “You, being a merman… and me, human?”

Namjoon’s expression softens, his gaze tender as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. His hands trace soothing circles along your back, grounding you in the moment. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll make it work. We have to.”

In his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, the world feels possible again.

→ Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld @bangtannie7 @suker4angst → Disclaimer: the banner is obviously partly made with AI— I just want to point that out, to clear the air. I’d normally never use AI in my work, but for this specific fantasy series, I just came up really sort with making them myself with pre existing images of bangtan 😭 Because I want a certain aesthetic (no, a moodboard is not what I was looking for), I decided to use AI to crunch out the merman— I did not, and I repeat this, I did not write any of their names for the prompts, which is also why I do not want to show any faces in these banners, because I know how the guys feel about making AI with them, and I agree. Which is why, this is in short just generically made images that are prompted by a scene in the story. In the end, I still made the banner— did retouching, color grading, added and/or removed stuff, added background etc. Just to let you know. Normally, all my banners and graphics are made by me, unless otherwise stated! (lol, what I mean here is that I’m making them myself, I still sometimes use stock photos and vectors made by others in my work (the banners)). → Author’s note(2): Only four mermaid stories left now! 🥳I hope you’ll like the other ones as well, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜

[kupidachillea]

Olympians x You (hcs or imagines)

Author note: Geez, it’s been awhile. Sorry, I’ve been in bit of a funk, got both writers block and art block but I just want to drop this. I still have a few things in my drafts, but for now I’ll feed you guys this.

TW (trigger warning):This may have a few Yandere themes in it. And while the Olympians themselves aren’t really yanderes- they do share similar tendencies considering their myths. Please note that this isn’t completely accurate to their mythology- but it’s just a bit of fun so please take no offence and be nice in the comments.

CW (content warning)⚠️: readers either 17-18+ (to read this I mean), light mentions of nudity, molesting and sexual harassment, toxic behaviour. General (hinted) Yandere behaviour. Reader’s discretion is advised.

🏺- You weren’t sure how you got here but somehow you ended up on mount Olympus of all places.

🪡- Your brain was fuzzy and you hadn’t yet registered the 12 + looming faces above you. When you did notice, they were bickering in a language you didn’t understand (or at the very least, understood a little). It was jarring and you were still trying to get your bearings.

-🏺 You noticed one of them, a woman, dressed in garments fit for royalty (in ancient times at least) and had somewhat of a peacock aesthetic to it, yelling and pointing accusingly at a man, presumably her husband. She didn’t seem happy. Hera. Queen of the Olympians..that means the other must’ve been Zeus..oh boy

🪡- Zeus looked as if he was trying to quell his wife’s anger before things got more out of hand. There were a few others in the back that looked bored of the situation- as if a similar thing has happened before, while others looked mildly amused.

🏺- Despite all that- the argument seemed to have turned completely to you. Hera turning her rage towards you. “You! Where did you come from, how did you arrive here!?” She’d ask in anger, it was evident she had very little patience if any at all, thankfully though she was now speaking a language you could understand. You scrambled to answer her, your body trembling slightly at how her voice shook the marble floor you were sat on.

🪡- You tried to explain to her that you didn’t know how you got here. Your brain still fuzzy with images that didn’t clear up or make sense. This obviously didn’t help the Queen’s anger and you could see her patience slipping. She would scoff and turn back towards the other gods, them discussing what they should do with you.

🏺 - Some suggestions were thrown around, some you weren’t so fond of. Multiple times did they suggest either killing you or throwing you off the mountain (which would kill you anyway). However those ideas were shut down immediately by more ‘kindhearted’ gods. This hasn’t happened in centuries- a human spawning on top of their mountain out of the blue..they aren’t really prepared for this.

🪡- They were almost all out of ideas, until one golden haired music deity bent down to your height and took a closer look at you. His eyes shining as he took in your appearance before a smile started to work its way on his lips. “How about we keep them..?” He suddenly asked, his gaze still set on the little (little to them anyway) human in front of him.

🏺- This made everyone pause and even you were shocked by the suggestion. You found it ridiculous and you argued that despite how flattering it was- you didn’t want to stay with them and you wanted to be returned back to your home. The gods only seemed to ignore you, as if you were a child having an unreasonable temper tantrum. They were all considering keeping you here!

🪡- “Well…” Hermes started. You could tell since he was a bit shorter than the others and he had his signature winged sandals. “It has been quite awhile since the gods have had a plaything..” he would mutter reluctantly. He wasn’t entirely sold on the idea, despite how his father and brothers (most anyway) were grinning like idiots. You, obviously , did not appreciate being referred to as a plaything.

🏺- “Then it is settled..this little one shall be our new plaything!” Zeus grinned, a little too happy for both yours and Hera’s taste. You were about to give them a piece of your mind but was swiftly silenced by a threatening gaze from Hera..to your surprise. And thus began your horrible life with the Olympians..

….

🪡- You were stripped of your modern clothing and given a chiton to wear instead. “It’s too modern for our liking..” Aphrodite would say as she felt up your body in ways that made you shiver in discomfort. “We’re use to our people…how should I say this? Showing a little more skin…” the goddess of love would chuckle sweetly, while you would stare at her in embarrassment and maybe even a hint of disgust. While you could understand where she was coming from- it still didn’t stop you personally from being uncomfortable with they way she was touching you.

🏺-You’d also be dressed up in fine jewellery, much to your surprise..anklets of gold, bangles made of bronze, necklaces etc. sweet smelling oil perfumes covering your body- anything to make seem more ‘appealing’ to the gods and goddess. You were their plaything after all, so it made sense for them to dress you how they liked..no matter how much you disliked it.

🪡- They’d occasionally have you pour them wine at banquets or sit on their laps to just sit there and look pretty. The main gods that did this were of course Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, definitely Dionysus and at some point Hermes. You didn’t really appreciate this, but rejecting their request would result in a ‘punishment’ for you.

🏺- To your surprise..Ares rarely touched you without your permission, but he was a little mean here and there. He along with Athena and Demeter weren’t as…’touchy’ as the others. And Artemis …you appreciated that..though just because they didn’t touch you in inappropriate ways doesn’t mean they weren’t as ‘crazy’ as the rest.

🪡- For example, while Artemis wasn’t big on being a pest in terms of touching you, she did take you out on hunts..which..wasn’t so bad in your opinion. It was much better than being up on the mountain most days..she thought a little more rationally- but of course- her twin, Apollo, would see you hanging out with his sister and get a little possessive about it. Which you didn’t understand- you weren’t any of their lovers (even if they thought so), but even so..most hunting trips were cut short because of him.

🏺- When you finally got moments to breathe away from the gods..you’d spend it out in the garden..hidden away from everyone and thing..it was your quiet time up until one of the gods summoned you. You found out that you weren’t the first human to be in this position (and probably not the last)..according to one of the lesser known gods (maybe Hebe) you were told that centuries before, a young lad was taken into the heavens to serve Zeus but had been placed into the stars as the constellation known as Aquarius.

🪡- You shivered at the thought..you didn’t want that to happen to you. To be placed in the stars? Doomed to forever look down on earth and watch your family and friends grow? It may have been an honour back then but to you it was almost like a death sentence.

🏺- Either way, life with the Olympians got harder to cope with. Your privacy was always compromised and you were forced to many things you didn’t like. Sometimes the gods would be as bold to sneak up on you while you were bathing and either join you in the pool or touching up your nude body.

🪡-Often giving excuses for why they would do so, or simply ignoring your protest. It wasn’t hard to manhandle you after all..they were gods, and you were a puny human. Why should they care about your thoughts and feelings. It progressively got worse with them kissing your neck or cheek without your permission too- Apollo was the main culprit of that..

🏺- Sometimes you found yourself crying in a corner by yourself at the situation you were in. The only person willing to comfort you being Hestia. She obviously didn’t approve of this but she couldn’t do much besides being a safe space for you to turn to, which you appreciated.

🪡- But no matter how you protest, run, hide, or try to defy them; you are still theirs. That how they see it anyway, and they won’t change their mind..

[threewaysdivided]

New Desktop Dash, No Bueno

Okay so, new dash layout on desktop.

As seems to be a common reaction: not a fan.

Let's talk about some of the issues:

1. Really visually cluttered

The new sidebar crowds out the dashboard content and the bright blue popup notifications (now at the side AND top) and create-post bar pull your eyes in different directions. There is no space for the eye to rest on anymore - it's all noise. The end result is that everything flattens - there's no focal point anymore.

It's also pretty overwhelming - even for someone like me - so I can't imagine it would be very user-friendly to someone who was photosensitive or struggled with visual overload (especially when paired with the high-contrast 'true blue' default site palette and animated icons for the changes-on-tumblr/staff-picks/trending buttons).

2. The activity pop-up now covers dashboard content

This is really bad from a usability standpoint. In the old layout the activity pop-up used to drop down over the recommended blogs sidebar. Now it actively gets in the way of looking at core content. The dash is why we are here, burying it like this is baffling.

The search bar now drops down over the recommended blogs banner instead, but where the old design had non-critical space on each side of the dashboard to visually allow both features to pop in, this new layout is way worse for efficiency. And for what? Having a rarely-used former drop-down menu now permanently active? The old banner with quick-links for the key use-features (notes, messages, askbox) made much more design sense.

It also means that the activity pop-up gets now completely covered by the blog pop-up that opens when you click the notification, so double demerit there. 0/10.

3. It's harder to navigate to the activity page, and the new page-stretch means you can't see new notes without scrolling down

That first bit is kind of a nitpick but cramming the 'See everything' link down at the bottom of a browser window isn't a great navigation choice. (Again, the visual signifiers and eye-direction in this new design are incredibly poor.)

That the main activity page now requires you to scroll to even see the top note due to the new display ratio is really egregious. It makes another key site feature just slightly less convenient and accessible in a very irritating way. Bad choice.

4. The new ratio pushes the Radar and Main Sponsored slot completely off-screen

This one is directed the tumblr staff: that's also a bad choice, guys. That's your main ad-slot for people loading into Tumblr so hiding it is going to hurt both your ad-impressions and your ability to promote the ad-free option. The new layout ratio also means that the in-dash ads are going to be a lot more invasively screen-filling - and let's be real most users will either add-block or leave before purchasing ad-free. I have no idea what the new layout is trying to achieve but if ad optimisation is the goal then this ain't it, chief.

To be honest I cannot comprehend the rationale for this change. I guess it's visually a bit more like Twitter... but that site is currently being demolished from the inside by poor management decisions so maybe it's not the best aesthetic to be aping.

Well then, what do?

Okay so, new dash bad. And so, in true Tumblr spirit: we complain. However, to get results we must deploy the art of kvetching productively.

If you want the old dash back (or at least, a better new-dash design that corrects some of these big weaknesses) what you should do is head over to https://www.tumblr.com/support and lodge a feedback ticket pointing out the problems. The more users who do that, the more likely you are to see an effective response.

Remember, tagging @staff and @support in posts won't fix this. There's no guarantee they'll see it among the notes barrage.

Also: please don't be rude or abusive when you lodge tickets. Whoever is manning those blogs and inboxes probably isn't the person who forced through this change. Save an intern, be polite.

Go forth in disgruntlement to keep this hellhole a hellhome.

[moodymisty]

Request: Horus, full-on breeding kink, no teasin' or quickies. Straight up pound town on his wife. The full Lupercal Special. Leave that woman whimperin' and unable to walk. Put a baby in that oven Mister Warmaster 🫡

Author’s note: I know it would largely be a horrid idea but I’d let all the Primarchs knock me up tbh.

Relationships: Horus Lupercal/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Breeding kink, Size difference, Slightly rough sex

Horus watches his men work, detailing their upcoming route as they prepare to depart from Terran space.

While the primarch is more than capable of multi-tasking, of listening into multiple different voices all giving out different information with ease, he also finds himself drifting off a bit.

Due to the length of many of these crusades, Horus sometimes elects to leave you on Terra in his personal wing of the palace. You don't like it- he doesn't either - but knowing the danger of these unknown paths he does it for the sake of your safety.

He may not particularly like Dorn, at least his stiff and unfriendly personality, but he knows the man has built the greatest and most impenetrable fortress humanity has yet seen. It's one of the few places he can leave you where he won't worry.

This last evening, his final one with you for what will more than likely be months, he made sure to make it one that would be remembered.

"Horus! M-more, please, more!"

Knees almost by your ears Horus drove his cock into you as deep as he could possibly go and past it, listening to you squeal as the thick base of his cock stretched you almost impossibly wide. You felt so tight, warm and wet; Horus wonders in a sadistic, selfish way if your body has been ruined and reformed to fit only him by his rutting.

With each thrust the bed groaned, creaking and cracking for mercy. Imperium builders struggled to form beds that looked appealing to the eye and the aesthetic of the palace that could also hold the full weight of a primarch, and settled somewhere in the middle. Though that middle ground didn't account for the added force Horus has put onto it, the frame threatening to break if he continued.

"Greedy, greedy girl. I spoil you too much,"

Horus chuckled at you, at the way one of your hands gripped his forearm as he pressed your left thigh against your stomach. The other laid in a similar position, knees by your ears, while your other hand grasped the pillow behind you for some semblance of support against him.

"You want me to cum in you again? Are you going to command a primarch?"

Horus loves to joke that you are his princess; His love that he'll give the very stars to if you only asked. That it's cute when you try and command him with your quiet, gentle voice.

You nodded, squealing and moaning as Horus thrusts into you and his hips slapped against your bruised thighs over and over. He forced his cum out of you each time, what wasn’t shoved out by the size of his cock and leaking out of you was sloshing around inside of you, filled to the brim.

"I want to come back from this crusade and see you with child. I am going to make sure of it."

You incoherently whined as your nails dug into his skin, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

He felt the way you tighten around him as you cum again, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as his movements overstimulated you to almost pain. He could hear the dryness in your voice, from your whining and moaning, and you'll surely lose your voice tomorrow.

He had told you that you could be as loud as you wanted, but he wonders if you know that with astartes hearing, it's quite possible the guards outside could hear you. You would surely perish of embarrassment, but Horus is a boaster- and would love nothing more than for the entire palace and everyone inside of it hear how much you love when he fucks you.

“One more, Horus please one more,”

Horus chuckled. He wanted to give you one more; To fill you up one more time. He refuses to believe the Primarchs are sterile. You will get pregnant- he refuses to give in.

“Are you sure you have room? I don’t want you wasting it.”

He could feel how sticky you were, how much of his cum he had fucked out of you.

But he did give you one more despite his teasing, and one more after that, and only then did he finally pull out of you and listen to you whine in pain as the head of his cock popped past your entrance out of your abused cunt. More cum leaked from you without his cock to bully it inside, though he was sure it was only a fraction.

You fell asleep not long after.

He rose from his bed before the sun had risen, waking you up. The sleepy look on your face was so endearing as he kissed you goodbye, and you indeed had a sore voice. He had warned his men stationed as guard for his quarters that you were feeling a bit tired, woman’s troubles, and needed needed a few days of rest- they wouldn’t see much of you those few days. They didn’t pry or have any context and blindly accepted Horus’ orders, before he left some of his men on Terra and boarded The Vengeful Spirit satisfied.

"Will Lady Lupercal be alright on Terra?"

Tarik is the only member of the Mournival currently at the holotable, looking at his primarch with a typical astartes neutral expression. Horus' attachment to you has seemed to spread to them in some odd way, as if his geneseed did more than just alter their appearance; That they share a little bit of his emotions as well.

"I made sure she has everything she needs, she'll be fine."

Tarik gives an unimpressed hum. Horus raises his eyebrows and looks at the man curiously.

"You don't agree with my choice?" Tarik shakes his head, adjusting his jaw with a soft crack.

“The choice was not mine to make.”

Horus laughs. He can hear the discontent in his son's voice quite easily.

“She will be fine. I am sure we’ll have a letter from her soon enough.”

Returning back to the topic at hand Horus slots the memory of the previous night firmly in the back of his mind, where he could return to it later. These crusades always try his patience, so it'll be something to keep with him in those frustrating moments. To keep in mind what he has waiting for him.

He eagerly awaits for that letter; Hoping for it's content to show if all of his hopes and effort finally paid off.

[lokideservesahug]

A Taste Of Victory

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing: Jenson Button x reader (implied), Mark Webber x reader (implied).

Warnings: Jenson is a bit of a dick to reporters, sexism,

Notes: This isn't even the big peice of writing that started all of this but that is coming soon... And the photos may not be aesthetic but they sure as anything are time accurate (even using photos from the specific days). I tried to make sure of it (as well as the dates) to give you good visuals so I hope at least someone appreciates it. Also I tried a new header format. Please tell me your thoughts

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, the newest 2009 rookie who's also...a woman? The media are desperate to pick her apart and see how well she'll do so let's have a look:

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Y/L/N residence, 7th September 2008

You sit back and sip happily on your coke bottle. Any minute now. Any minute and your phone will be blowing up. Or at least that's what Frank had told you (you still can't get over the fact that THE Frank Williams insists that you call him that, or that you'll be working for him next year). You focus back on the image on your screen,

Lewis Hamilton in his McLaren. Of course a favourite to win this season especially after his incredible performances even from his rookie season. And despite trying to clear your mind of all bias for next year, you can't help but wish that he might win. He seems like a nice guy and it's a better him than some of the others. As Hamilton reaches the ever famous, ever gorgeous Eau Rouge, the image changes, the camera focuses on the white, green and red Honda of Jenson Button. He swerves slightly, performing a certainly showy move especially for just FP2.

Despite the numbers not being as much as Hamilton supporters, some F1 fans are putting their money on Button winning the championship instead. You scoff at the thought alone. Goodness knows Formula 1 doesn't need another cocky playboy as the world champion and goodness knows Jenson Button appears to be exactly that. Gosh why couldn't a more sensible seeming driver win say Mark webber or even Fernando Alonso again. You internally scold yourself, these men will be your co workers in only a matter of months. Just the thought makes you feel a matter of emotions; which you are quickly pulled out of as the commentators voice grows louder. You watch as Fernando Alonso puts in a particularly fast lap and the more you think, you can't help but feel almost a bit...nervous.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Albert Park paddock, 27th March 2009

You hold your head up high as you enter the paddock. Bright flashes of cameras shine in your peripheral but you try your hardest to just keep your head down and focus on getting to the Williams hospitality. You glance up, taking in the sights surrounding you. The bright Australian sun paints the paddock? that you've been so long awaiting, in such a light, that you finally feel a sense if fulfilment- and you're not even in the car yet.

Too entranced by the sights around you, you fail to notice the person just in front of you. You're met with the sight of a crisp yet untucked shirt. You panick, instantly going to apologise when you meet the eyes of the person you bumped into. "Woah, careful there." Jenson Button. Oh gosh. "Someone needs to slow down." He laughs and you assume his enjoyment is coming from your misfortune. Now you'd never thought you were the type to become speechless but as you're finally met with the first driver on your official Formula 1 debut, you can't help but panick even more, squeak out an apology and speed walk towards Williams.

Gosh, you wanted today to be perfect and here you are crashing into people already. What a clumsy fool you must look like. You groan as you realise what you've done.

Now, like any unfamiliar place, you find that it was pretty easy to get yourself lost, even in place with such an easy concept (curse Melbourne event planners for trying to make too much go on at once and make it confusing). Most people also don't expect to get recognised in an unfamiliar place even if it's where you work (and your hiring was widely broadcast).

"Hey, are you alright?" You turn to look at the Autralian man whose voice, up until now, you'd only heard through a screen. You meet the eyes of Mark Webber and smile shyly. "Hi, sorry to be a bother but do you know how to get to the Williams hospitality." He just gives you a small grin, clearly not seeing your lack of knowledge as incompetence or anything like that "Of course, follow me and welcome to the paddock by the way." And as Mark leads you away, you can't help hut feel glad you'll be seeing more of him (and not just for how polite and kind he is).

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Post race interviews, 29th March 2009

After you step down from the podium, and your team has dispersed (after all congratulating you, some even with tears in their eyes). You walk away to a quieter part of the paddock to gather your thoughts. You go behind the tows of hospitalities only to find Mark Webber hunched over. You aobseve him, he's sporting a serious, disappointed and almost worried looking expression as he looks out into the distance. You walk up to him and place a soft hand on his shoulder in an attempt to gently coax him out of his thoughts and to try and offer some comfort

Without a word, he turns to look at you and his shoulders raise slightly. You give him a small smile and sit down next to him. You both sit next to each other in silence, sharing a comforting moment, silently offering support and understanding to one and other.

The air shifts (and you try to not get to excited at the prospect that your presence alone may have somewhat comforted him). The air shifts, this time it isn't tainted by negative emotions but rather fatigue and acoplmisent on your part. The both of you probably look like a true sight, disheveled, tired and sweaty, however there's a warmth between you both as you share a brief moment of tranquility amongst the chaos.

Someone calls your name and the moment is broken. You nod to Mark who gives you a small smile back and a short "Well done for today." As you smile at him and walk off to go to interviews.

You pass some fans, signing their Williams caps and exchanging excited "Well done!" And "Thank you." Pleasantries. You revel in the post win glow. It's one thing to win in your rookie season, but to win your first race? Now that's just unheard of. You hurriedly sit down in the assigned seat for you and wait for the other few straglers to arrive. You look down, placing your hands on your lap in an attempt to thwart the nerves threatening to bubble.

Brawn driver, Rubens Barrichello is the second to arrive followed not long after by Jenson Button. Rubens gives you an easy smile and yet another congratulations. You feel incredibly fortunate to have you welcomed so quickly and easily by him over the past few days of testing. You return his smile with one of your own and a small wave.

When Jenson finally sits down, an FiA representative gives the 3 of you a short introduction and then begins. Quite a few people had warned you before you entered this room that many people would want to speak to you, but you didn't expect such an onslaught.

A short, bald man stands up and adresses you. "So Miss Y/L/N, you just managed to win your debut race, which is an incredible feat but how much of it do you think is down to the car." You try not to take offence to the question, it was a pretty basic question afterall (even if it was worded a bit harshly.) You let out a small laugh. "I think it's a joint effort really. The car was looking really good this weekend but I also have a history of running fairly well at this track." The reporter nods his head and continues. "So do you think this victory will encourage other women to become involved in F1?" You nod excitedly at him. "Oh I hope so. I hope it's encouragement to all women out there that weren't sure if they could." The reported thanks you and sits down.

A few more reporters ask questions. 90% of which are adressesdfor you and a few others adresses to the men beside you (mainly to Rubens and Jenson about Braen and its last minute establishment).

This time, a slightly more lean, dark haired reporter speaks up, once again directing his questions towards you. "Y/N, how did your fellow drivers perceive your and your entrance into F1?" You nearly furrow your brows at the biazzre question (Well it's possibly bizzare that it's adressed to you). "I uh don't know. Why don't you ask them." You gesture to the drivers either side of you as the reporter repeats his question to the other pilots. "Gentlemen, your thoughts on the newest addition to the paddock?" Rubens gives you an encouraging pat on the shoulder mid sentence "She's obviously fast and I think she's managed to impress us all." The reporter nods to Jenson; and despite your belief that he's he's too cocky for his own good, you can't help but feel a bit excited and a bit anxious to hear his repsonse. "Her lap times were phenomenal during the race." You smile at his words, maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought. However, he continues "I think my only criticism I have of her is that she seems to smile less than Kimi." The reporter smirks as you lower your eyeline slighty. "Yeah and she's much easier on the eyes than Kimi." The room erupts into low laughs as you feel shame and embarrassment pool in your gut.

The reporters continue to ask a few questions that you don't pay too much attention to as you nearly get complety lost in your thoughts. One asks Jenson if he thinks you have the potential for the championship. He laughs as he awnsers "There's no denying that she's fast. But she's in a Williams, she's not going to win the championship." You bite your tongue at Jenson's words and what you think is a jab at you (not realising the true intention if insulting his old team).

Yet another reporter asks you a familiar question along the lines if how exactly you think you managed to win. Fed up being in a room with a bunch of old men, trying to pick you apart and insult you with the same few questions just worded differently, your resolve finally snaps.

"Well not that anyone is caring to ask, but I've done this track a million times over. I've practised again and again and again to get my performance perfect yet no one is congratulating me on how well I went around that track. Brawn were amazing today and I'm sure they will be in the future as well but please dont let that take away from what I've done today." You shuffle back in your chair slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the stares but stay strong, unbreaking (and not noticing the stare of admiration coming from the British driver to your left and never knowing the love filled look of another Australian pilot, watching on a screen not far away).

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Top Gear Studio, May 2009

You listen anxiously as Jeremy Clarkson introduces you. Yes, Jeremy Clarkson. As he shouts your name, the camera pans to you and you walk forward, shaking Jeremy's hand and sitting down in the green, faux leather sofa.

"Now obviously I want to ask the obvious..." He speaks over the crowd's quietening bustle and you expect the next question to be one you've hears bwfore. About your gender, you- "What on Earth have you done to that Williams to make it so good?" You laugh, the familiar humour of the Top Gear host you've only ever seen on a screen putting you at ease.

"Well I don't know but maybe its because I'm far more polite to the car than other drivers." Jeremy smiles at your words and invites you into light conversation about you finally being viewed as a serious title contender. The two of you continue until you hit more general off-track talk "So, how much do you train and have you managed to find enough time to see your friends and family. Because some people have such an odd view on things like that." You let out a dramatic sigh. "Gosh they're making me train so much. More than just once a day and there are so many regimes that I can't keep track of anymore. But family wise, well I spend far less time with them than I do do training, I can tell you that much." The audience laughs which encourages you to continue. "I see my friends and family in-between weekends when I can and sometimes they'll even come to races. But gosh. I feel awful saying this." Jeremy leans forward slightly "No, go on..." Your smile becomes a bit embarrassed as your cheeks warm. "Well even on free weekends, with how crowded the paddock can be, I'll come home and just want to be alone." Jetemy shakes his head. "Well that makes sense. But you're in a very crowded space all weekend, does that mean that you've you've asked out by a lot of guys throughout the season so far?" Your eyes widen widen the insinuation. At your lack of instant response, Jeremy clarifies, "Come on! Gorgeous girl such as yourself in such a male dominated sport, I bet loads of men and probably even some drivers too have asked you out." You quickly deny the claims and the two of you move on to your lap times in their old car but you don't miss the way your mind flashed with the image of a certain dark haired Red Bull driver as Jeremy asked his previous question.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

>To be aired 28 June<

You huff out a low sigh. If you overthink today anymore, you think you might be sick. Your phone pings. You know you shouldn't have it on you but it has helped to keep you entertained as you wait. You look down and see a text from Mark. His text, wishing you good luck makes you smile and you shoot him a small thanks and silence your phone as you hear footsteps behind you.

"Are you ready?" You turn you head and nod to your future teammate as Michael Schumacher steps forward. "Question is, are you old man?" Your words make him smile and your nerves ease slightly. "I don't think I can ever be ready for something like this. But the more important thing is you." He places a caring hand on your shoulder.

If you told your child self, or heck even yourself a year ago that you're friends and future teammates with 7-time world Champion Michael Schumacher, you think you'd have laughed at yourself until tears streamed down your face. But in recent months and more specifically recent weeks, the two of you have been getting much closer. Michael offering you advice, you offering great support on current drivers habits firsthand as a warning for next season. And you even met Michael's family a month or so ago; them nearly adopting you into their clan.

A woman with headset approaches you both and taps you on the shoulder, "A minute to go." She gives you a small thumbs up and walks away, mumbling into her headset. You give her an uncertain nod as Michael pats your shoulder again. "Go out and show them what you've got kid and I'll see you out there." You give him a nervous smile and as you hear a distant shout of your name, you pull yourself together and pull your face into an excited expression, ready for the reaction to your announcement and overjoyed to have a front row seat to people's reactions to your teammate.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You sit alone in a booth of a bustling club. Loud music nearly deafening but you'd take it any day over the continuous commentary you heard at track. You don't know how many time you can hear "It looks like the title fight is over. Y/L/N's engine is overheating and she's slowing down. It looks like Jenson Button may be champion." Without feeling sick especially when it's directly followed by your voice on the team radio, voice cracking during an apology as your mechanics tell me to back off to cool the engine.

You think of the image of Jenson's Brawn overtaking you and pulling futher into the distance; the sight of not one but two Red Bulls overtaking to fight a battle that should be yours. A voice cuts through your thoughts. You look up, meeting the eyes of the person speaking. "Are you alright?" You're surprised that Jenson came to speak to you, especially after his victory. Gosh in your vulnerable state, you even think that he might not be too bad. How silly of you. You give him a gentle nod (clearly not enough to convince him). He gestures towards the seat next to you "Is it alright if I sit here?" You nod, not Trusting your voice in this moment. "Well-" "You w-" You finally crack a smile as you speak at the same moment. He gestures to you "Sorry, you go." You smile at him. "Well done Jenson you gave a great drive this season." You expect him to smirk, to revel in your compliments but instead he just gives you a soft smile and a shake of his head. "Don't be silly. That championship would be yours if Williams ever learnt how to build cars properly. But thank you." You look down at his words, all of your emotions finally coming to the forefront. "Hey, you look like you need to be cheered up. You don't need to feel like this going into next season..." He passes and his brows furrow. You look up at Jenson who is now standing and for the first time all year, allow yourself to admire him. The way that his still slightly hair drops as some strands stick to his forehead. "You-" He furrows his brows again and then laughs freely. "Oh yeah, you're taking my job. Well Miss Y/L/N, he grabs your hand and pulls you up from your seat, Elliciting a small noise from you. "Then we need to dance to celebrate and to cheer you up." You just shake your head and follow him, finally smiling as you follow his foolish adrenaline (and probably slightly alcohol-fueled) giggly nature; placing down your phone and missing the texts.

Mark Webber: Hey Well done on today and I'm sorry what happened. Hoping to speak to you at some point later...

M.S: Hey Hase, well done on today, you drove so well I hope you know that. Corinna and I wanted to invite you to our...

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss 4

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses? 💋

CHARACTERS: Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive

WORD COUNT: An average of 430 words per character.

COMMENTS: The last part of the Meaningful Kisses series. These were the four least voted characters, however, I had a lot of fun writing them.

I hope you enjoy reading it too. 😘

Meaningful Kiss (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus)

Meaningful Kiss 2 (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)

Meaningful Kiss 3 (Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia)

CONTEXT: This can be seen as if you were at the beginning of the relationship, or already in an established relationship.

Cater is into PDA for sure! He likes to be lovey-dovey and flirtatious. And especially enjoys showing it on his social media. EVERYONE knows about your relationship. You are "that" couple. Or at least that's what Cater's photos and PDA suggest.

Whenever you two are together, you are glued to each other. He will always have one or both arms around you. Especially if you are on a date. Of course, if you're not that into PDA yourself, he'll respect it, but in that case you'll have spoil him with cuddles in private, kay~?

However, this fact that Cater likes to show his feelings for you in public and on social media will end up bringing you some "hate". People saying he's only with you because your relationship is aesthetic pleasing. That you like to have coordinated clothes is just a facade for an exaggerated and false romanticism.

He gets a little sad and hurt when people say bad things about him in the relationship, like when they imply that he's just using you. But whenever an attack is directed at you, like when saying that a person like you doesn't deserve a boyfriend like him, the people pleaser side of him disappears. And he starts using his social and conversational skills to defend you, even if he has to insult the other person to do so. This is if it is IRL, which rarely happens. On social media, he just deletes the comment and blocks the person. Good vibes only.

But of course you also feel bad when you read or hear things like that. A lot of people criticize the fact that Cater only shows the good parts and that's why it's all fake. Of course he only shows the good things, that's what social media is for. He likes the popularity and all that, but, unlike certain influencers, he knows what limits are. He would never publish anything bad about you, much less humiliating like an argument or you crying. Mainly because at these times, if they happen, he will be more concerned with consulting you or making you feel better to the point of forgetting his cell phone somewhere.

This can lead to his most meaningful kisses. The ones he gives you when these things affect you, to prove that those things people say are lies and they don't know anything. When he is hugging you and saying cute and funny things to make you feel better. Everything he does in public he also does in private, including kissing your cheeks and lips. But this specific kiss is one that is exclusive to the private sector.

It's not extravagant like the ones he usually gives you, this one is soft, sensitive, and slow by his standards. Basically the opposite of what he usually shows himself to be. You feel that they are calm and that he is enjoying the moment.

Trey is not really into PDA. I mean, it's not like he's averse to it, but it's just not his thing. He is a simple man, he shows and knows how to see love in small things. That and he's not, shall we say, the flashy and extra type. Too much attention can embarrass him.

However, even though he's not much of a show-off, he thinks it's fun to mess with you in public without anyone seeing. Like kissing your cheek discreetly and casually when no one else is paying attention to you and surprising you in the process. Beside that, you continue to behave like good friends. Nothing very different from how he would treat any other friend.

In private, it often doesn't change much. Just like I said, he's a guy who likes his peace and quiet. So the two of you end up looking like a long-term couple even if you aren't yet. However, it is also in private that he feels most comfortable hugging and kissing you. He's more welcoming to you doing the same to him.

If there's one type of surprise he's a fan of, it's you hugging him from behind when he's cooking. Many of your cutest moments happen in the kitchen. He likes to have you as a tester to his food and sweets.

The problem is when he feels more naughty and takes advantage of your trust in him to use his signature spell to change the flavor of what you taste to play a trick on you. For example, you're expecting to taste the sweetness of strawberry cake, but instead you taste the saltiness of an oyster. He will laugh at your reaction and your sulky face.

Then he will apologize, without regret for what he did, and that won't be enough for you. By feeling comfortable being himself with you, you'll end up getting to know his cheekier side. He hugs you around the waist with his rare smug expression and his gaze fixed on you. He's "really sorry" but maybe he can redeem himself. He runs his thumb over your slice of cake to remove some of the icing and puts it on his own lips. Why don't you try it again? No tricks this time, he promises.

And this leads to his most meaningful kisses. Not the soft, sweet, affectionate ones he usually gives you in private, but the ones that show that sassy side of him that most people don't think exists.

It depends on Floyd’s mood, obviously. But as a general rule, he likes PDA, more giving than receiving. He likes to be in control of these things, he doesn't like to be the one being "squished", you know.

He does what he wants, if he wants to hug you, he will hug you, if he wants to kiss you, he will kiss you. And no one will even have the courage to look at him the wrong way. No one wants to get in trouble with an Octavinelle student, especially Floyd Leech. This ends up guaranteeing you instant security and a sense of immunity. Everyone will know that you are together, not in a gossip way, but more in a sense of warning other students of the danger of messing with you.

He will hug you and kiss you however he wants, whenever he is with you. This part doesn't differ much from public to private (with one or two exceptions of course, chill!) If anyone can be embarrassed by PDA here, it's you, because he's never embarrassed. If others have a problem with it, that's their problem, and if they upset him... well... let's just say it will be the first and last time.

His affection only fluctuates when he is in a bad mood, and he becomes even more unpredictable. You can never predict whether he's in an "I want to be alone" bad mood or an "I want to hug you like a stuffed animal" grumpy mood. Either way, you don't need to know because he'll tell you. When he's in a bad mood he's not one to make people guess what he wants, he'll tell them directly and specifically.

Floyd’s good-mood kisses range from casual and lazy kisses just because to passionate and cheeky kisses to mess with you. But surprisingly, his most meaningful kisses are when he's in a bad mood and wants to be with you.

Just like he secretly likes to entertain and cheer you up when you're in a bad mood, he loves that you can do the same for him. He can be very clingy when he's in "I want you to hug" grumpy mood. He likes that you let him hug and kiss you however he wants to make him feel better.

This may lead to him starting to kiss your cheeks, moving on to your neck and finally your lips. His kisses are like his mood, in this case, grumpy, but not for long. Kissing you is fun for him, so you'll start to feel the kiss change at the same time as his mood. His pout starting to change into a lazy smile. And if you're not “careful” and he ends up in a REALLY good mood...

If words of affection could be considered PDA, well, I think you know. Rook is a man of words and everyone knows it. Some even know it too well. Prepare to receive the same treatment as Vil.

Surprisingly, he's not much of a toucher. He’ll never think twice before greeting you with charming words and a tender kiss on the cheek, or on the back of your hand like a prince, but never on your lips. At least not initiated by him.

He won't take the initiative to hold your hand or hug you. He will only do so if you ask or in response to your initiative. In this case he will gently hold your hand and caress it with his thumb, or hug you gently as if you were a precious little thing.

And why? One of the reasons is because he likes it when you ask. There's something about the need for his touch that he enjoys. Luring you with words to deliberately make you fall into the “trap” of wanting his touch. And the more “difficult” you are, the more he loves it.

Another reason is that, when hunting, touching the prey is usually the last step, right after finally catching it. He's a hunter, not a pet owner. He uses words because they are his bait, physical touch is the prize. And he likes that each other's touch is as much a reward for you as it is for him. He wants to make you want him as much as he wants you.

And that's why true physical touch only happens in private. He likes to show through words how much he likes something or someone, but he is also a man of secrets, and how he enjoys the prize of having you in his arms is one of the secrets between the two of you. Especially because his touch manages to be as flattering and appreciative as his words.

He likes to run  his hands over you like someone appreciating a work of art. Kiss your neck and lips like someone savoring an exquisite delicacy. And these are his most meaningful kisses. Kisses of appreciation, of care, of passion and at a certain point, of desire, for a prize that can slip out of his hands at any moment because you have your own free will and that is exciting.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[b1rds3ye]

I love your writing style!

(also love how you always go for gn!reader!)

Silly request for another masked reader?

Masked reader who has those more solid material masks that can easily be cleaned has in the past painted their mask during one holiday just for the fun of it and they boys wanna do it too. Variation of it; masked reader got injured and has to stay bed bound for a while so their mask is being written and painted on like people do with casts :D

(there would be so many pictures)

PLEASE THIS IS SO CUTE (also tysm anon!! It means a lot that you like my writing and writing decisions AHHHHH). I'm thinking a white-hockey mask sorta vibe that can look intimidating for missions, but also far too tempting for the 141 to wreak havoc on. Of course, they'll ensure you always have at least one spare blank mask so you can keep being the ominous badass on missions, but when a mission goes south and you escape with barely your life, they do what they can to make your bed-bound recovery as entertaining as possible.

Soap in particular truly treats your mask as a canvas. I already touched that Johnny has a journal of alternative designs for your mask and with a plain mask his mind is racing with so many ideas! He also has a general knack for drawing, in the quiet nights when he's done with training and can visit the med-bay he can spend hours just drawing on your mask with a thin sharpie (think like those highly intricate black-ink tattoos). His art is a little rough and scratchy but the artistry is there. He also provides his signature which lacks the tact of his art - if another member of the 141 hasn't he'll be the one stamping his name across your forehead with an obnoxious "SOAP WAS HERE!!".

Ghost is not an artist. There isn't a single artistic bone in this poor man, when he draws a circle it somehow looks like a square. Instead, Simon writes. A card is too sappy but your mask makes the perfect patch of parchment. His handwriting is legible but far from aesthetic, it's practical and hastily done with your head shaking slightly as he writes on it. Eventually he has to stabilise your head with his other hand, and his hold is surprisingly gentle. It's a general message wishing you get better soon, and a special military pun for everyone to read when they see your mask. He says that now your mask is a little more customised it almost looks half as good as his. While being unable to draw, he does accompany Johnny or Kyle if they pay a visit to vandalise your mask.

Price is straight forward. You want people to sign your mask? He'll sign your mask. John is surprisingly sentimental, he genuinely treats your mask as a get-well-soon card. He encourages you to rest - which is admittedly redundant since you can't get out of bed - but also to hurry up and get back on the field because he's losing his mind putting up with the rest of the 141. His handwriting is small because he has a lot to say, his message taking up the expanse of your cheek. He puts effort into his message and handwriting, it's going to be on your mask for everyone else to read and when he tries the captain has some exceptionally nice cursive. When he's done, he pulls away and lets out a satisfied huff at his message and how it looks on you... and then a consequential sigh when he looks at what of the rest of the task force has done to your poor mask.

Gaz does everything with your mask. He first covers the basics, signing his name and a quick, encouraging message for your health. Then Kyle goes ham on redesigning your mask and making it look as terrible as possible. Because it's a plain white mask, in particular he loves to use coloured sharpies on it. He'll shade panda-like eye bags where your eye sockets will be, or colour the area of your nose with a bright red circle like a clown. If you ever complain he'll just say this is the price you pay for getting injured and being sent to medbay. It's a joke but the underlying concern isn't missed from you. He's not the best artist but he'll leave a cute little doodle like a flower or that "S" sign that's used to graffiti everything known to man. He also enjoys giving you something to do (laying in med-bay all day must be terrible!), taking your hand in his to guide your hand across your face so you can draw a simple little star or love-heart on your own mask.

Surprisingly, it's Simon who initially asks for your permission to take photos of your mask. He says it's for the rest of the task force so they can have a reminder of what they're fighting for as they continue doing operations in your absence. John did add on that it was also simply for the memory as it's expected that you'll keep the mask once you've gotten better - unless you're willing to auction it off in which Kyle already called dibs.

It's only when you can freely move around do you take off your mask to realise that under your chin would be, generally obscured from view, one of them drew a shoddy little penis. You have half the mind of chasing up on who it was but it was simply too funny and you let it go. (Also because you already know deep down it was Soap)

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔 𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕣 𝕡𝕣𝕠 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @wabatle request: ASK FOR OBEY ME REQUESTS AND I SHALL DELIVER!!!!

anywayssss can I req the brothers (but if all of the brothers are too much just Lucifer, Satan, and Asmo pls!) + Diavolo with an mc that's INSANELY GOOD at playing the electric guitar please?

Thank you pookie you're the best 🤭🥰😍💗

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ THANK YOUUU I choosed the option with less chars hope you don't mind -w-"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ Lucifer plays on piano and you play on electric guitar... he listens to classic music, you most likely listen to something harder, you're literally opposites!

✧ the only thing you share is most likely that you're good with hands...

✧ your instruments don't match tho so unfortunely you have no way of playing together...

✧ as for different tastes... it never hurts to try, right? As long as you won't insult his taste, he won't insult yours. And who knows? Maybe the two of you will find some nice songs that you normally wouldn't even reach for?

✧ he's definitely a bit surprised when you tell him you do it professionally, but he's also interested second after...

✧ maybe he never considered playing on electric guitar but now he certainly thinks about at least trying... especially with you as his teacher

"You want me to try this badly? Maybe later... I'd like to see you on piano as well, are you aware, my dear? So do we got each other a deal~?"

✧ he's not really the best player... he may not want to admit it, but you can see his fingerprints aren't really used to strings

✧ as for you... if you won't success at playing piano either, he'll tease you just a little bit

✧ tho if you are... he'll be proud of you, but also his pride is slightly hurt that you had no problem playing on his instrument...

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@wabatle - come get your scary brother!

✧ Satan definitely has some electric guitar solos and songs on his playlists... I mean he's literally avatar of wrath! It just kinda goes along that he'd let it out in way of stronger music... plus it's opposite taste of Lucifer's which adds onto it...

✧ he doesn't play himself but he still knows a lot about it

✧ he asked you quite straightforward to just play something for him, expecting to catch something he may correct but... it was harder than he imagined...

"Well... Maybe you should learn more advanced chords- You were just warming up? Alright, I'm listening..."

✧ surprised that you're actually professional with electric guitar but after a day he's already used

✧ will say stuff like "my lover's better at playing electric guitar than you're at playing piano" to Lucifer just to piss him off

✧ if you actually win in the little competition he made against eldest brother tho... he's gonna have the time of his life by rubbing it into his face whenever he gets the chance

✧ other than that, he actually likes hearing you play! Especially if you're playing more aggressive songs, he finds it a bit calming!

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@miya-akane @wabatle - come get your cat lover!

✧ you can't tell me Asmo doesn't find it hot whenever you play electric guitar for him

✧ he'll shamelessly beg you to play a song for him, while he watches you or does his make up

✧ but you'll always get the best and loudest applause from him, followed by big hug and wave of kisses!

✧ he loves the most the finger play you do during complicated solos

"Well that's quite an experienced~ I dare say even better than mine! Hehe~ Oh c'mon, it was a compliment, darling!"

✧ he wanted to learn how to play guitar untill you told him he can't have long nails whole doing so

✧ now he sees playing on guitar as a curse... so! He does his best to plan aesthetic short nails design for you, so they'll fit your style and guitar design!

✧ whenever you come over, he'll make you sit down so he can do or fix your nails first and only later he'll let you play on guitar

✧ he gushes a lot to everyone he meets about you whenever the topic drops even slightly to music. He's just such a proud boyfriend!!

✧ you never have to worry about not knowing what to play or learn around him too... he goes to so many parties, he usually gives you few ideas, be it for songs that already exist or for your own songs

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@vodka-glrl @wabatle - come get your pretty princess~

✧ Diavolo is the type to appreciate any talent, especially if you're so dedicated towards it

✧ maybe Barbatos sent you annoyed glare when you payed such a hard songs in the middle of castle but... if it doesn't disturbs Diavolo, than what can he do?

✧ I feel like he'd actually enjoy how electric guitar sounds and may even get so into it he tries finding some songs dedicated for that instrument

✧ definitely asked you if you could teach him how to play electric guitar out of pure curiosity

✧ he's actually pretty good at it! He may not get it first time but he's definitely a fast learner

✧ if he was as dedicated as you, you two could probably play together, but he has slightly different interests too...

✧ tho he mostly still enjoys listening to you play! He won't even mind it if you play a song or two while he's doing his work

"Oh no, no need to leave! Your music helps me concertate. But if you're bored, I have few ideas what we can do during my quick break!"

✧ he'll definitely get you into few concerts if that's your dream and you bet he'll be there cheering for you!

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@wabatle - come get your childish ruler!

[flomelias]

the boys ; nsfw alphabet!

requested by anon! afab, feminine reader. includes the deep. warning for nsfw. fandom masterlist found here. 🖍��� . . . author notes: sorry this took so long to roll out! my mental health’s been so up & down <\3 but i think i’m back on track!

the deep

— a = aftercare — doesn’t know the world aftercare. he does know generally to hold you for a few minutes afterwards. but i’ll be honest his street name with women is probably “get off and go”… the ridiculous way he fucks and ducks would be funny if it wasn’t so annoying. just coax him ( or demand of him ) to stay. you’ll have to train him a little like a pavlov dog but he’ll get there.

— b = body part — not sure about your favorite body part of his but his favorite part of you is likely your tits. i think kevin’s a total boob guy, they’re just so aesthetically pleasing to him. doesn’t matter if they’re big enough for him to rest his head on or small enough to fit fully in his palm; he loves tits.. first thing he does when a girl undresses is sucks on her nipples. he’s actually really good at palming, kissing, sucking, and occasionally nipping at your breasts.

— c = cum — a tinge salty. usually a warm off-white color. thick, also. the deep’s favorite place to cum is of course on your tits, but he also enjoys seeing your thighs all sticky and shaky too.

— d = dirty secret — is not an anal virgin! i just know he’s taken it up the ass at least once, though he refuses to say whether it was from pegging or from a man. one day you bring pegging into the picture and moskowitz’s a little too casual about letting you slide that strap of yours into his eager hole. it’s a lot less tight than you imagined, too.. that’s when you realize he’s not new to the concept.

— e = experience — he’s fairly experienced especially in the realm of vanilla sex. he’s not new to toys or to taking it up the ass but he doesn’t exactly say that he’s experienced with those things.. so you’re introducing them and thinking he’s never done it before and then you’re like “wow he’s taking this really well… wait.” i feel like he goes on freaky side quests so he’s got knowledge on some more taboo things but he’s slightly ashamed of it in a way? he’s ashamed of getting off to things like being pegged or being in positions where his partner’s in power. fragile masculinity and such.

— f = favorite position — he would probably tell his friends something stupid like “whichever one where she’s bent over and i’m fucking her from behind”. but secretly? kevin’s favorite positions involve you standing up or sitting in a chair and him on his knees or somehow lower than you. when he gets to kiss up your legs or eat you out from under — sometimes you make him ride your boot and ( despite his hesitation each time ) he likes it a lot more than he cares to admit. he likes being put in his place. loves when you ride him like he’s nothing, too. he’s fucking you but you’re still in charge.

— g = goofy — he’s usually pretty goofy, making jokes until you tell him or force him to shut up. on the bright side, things will never be awkward! he’s relaxed enough to let a lot of mistakes slide if you’re inexperienced. he’ll laugh it off, though he might bring it up to tease you later. i think the only time he’s not so goofy is when you’ve got him needy and restless, pleading with you for something. when he’s all desperate, his only focus is behaving for you. no jokes, just pleas and whimpers and those darling eyes of his tearing up as he begs.

— h = hair — shaves when you ask. doesn’t shave unless you ask him to or unless he gets bored and wants to clean himself up.

— i = intimacy — the deep is definitely not the most romantic in the book but he tries during foreplay. he’ll press his forehead to yours and maybe make a corny ocean related love pun. you’ll laugh and he really likes that, your laugh, and he’ll kiss your neck and then.. he’ll see your chest rise and fall and.. fuck, he’s getting hard. and then it’s all out the window — sex, now. please. he’ll be romantic again afterwards if you’ve schooled him on aftercare but — babe, when you look so good and you’re already so close to him? sex, sex, sex.

— j = jack off — sometimes calls you in the middle of the work day just to jerk off. he finds it so hot when you talk him through it from wherever you are.. also, moskowitz has definitely jerked off in the seven meeting room when no one else is around 😭 don’t flash any uv lights around his spot at that fucking table. if you tell him not to masturbate, he’ll try his best not to. but, i do think he is a victim of supe libido ( though not as much as a-train.. ).

— k = kink — being dominated easy. this is a man born to be a sub, forced to be a dom. doesn’t mean he doesn’t love pounding into your cunt every so often and making you scream his name despite yourself. but he is just as, if not more interested in being your little boy toy to use and abuse and all those things. and then tell him he’s a big strong man afterwards, that’s the cherry on top. he just took your strap like a champ — only real, tough men can do that!

— l = location — if you’re down, he’s down, especially when he’s horny. any location will do, though preferably somewhere with a little bit of privacy so he doesn’t have others seeing your body.

— m = motivation — the deep’s not extremely easily motivated but, c’mon. it’s you. if he’s in love with you he’s going to be aroused by whatever you happen to do in relation to him. you compliment his work? hard. you laugh at one of his stupid jokes? hard. you slap him? ouch.. hard. and probably needy too.

— n = no — don’t touch his gills ever or he will freak out. it honestly takes a bit of time for him to even be comfortable taking off his shirt around you. i think this is something you could try to work on but even as he grows more confident in himself and his body, kevin doesn’t want you touching his gills. you can kiss around them, however, once he’s close with you.

— o = oral — oral king. loves to eat, loves to be sucked. absolute adores oral, it’s easy and it’s fun and it makes his toes curl, giving or receiving. genuinely, i think he’d be a big fan of it.

— p = pace — depends on his mood, your mood, and what you’re both wanting in that moment. he’s usually not very sloppy until the very end unless he’s been edged for a while. every now and then he wants it fast and reckless but most of the time he’s fine with going at a medium sort of speed.

— q = quickie — if it’s oral then yes to quickies! but a strong no outside of that. moskowitz doesn’t want to fuck you for ten minutes, no, he wants it to stretch. to be fair, head is like perfect for quickies anyways. especially if you’re giving and he’s been pent up that day.

— r = risk — generally, if you’re down, he’s down. just talk to him about it while you’re kissing on each other, don’t spring it on him. you might have to walk him through the concepts you’re bringing up, maybe have a video handy.

— s = stamina — supe stamina is nothing to play with. he stops when you tell him to but if you don’t speak up he knows to stop when you’re all fucked out and babbling or out of breath. especially if he’s sub, he stops when he thinks you can’t take anymore because he’s a good boy who can take care of you. the deep doesn’t want to fuck you to death, silly.

— t = toys — not inexperienced with them but not a full fledged toy master. he’s open to using whatever you have if it looks interesting or sounds promising.

— u = unfair — every time he tries to play unfair, you quickly put him in his place and he loves that. just a little bit of a brat sometimes. he’ll tell you to beg for his dick and all you have to do is pull his hair a little — he’s rolling his eyes all playful and pretending like he’s not harder from that. “okay, okay, miss impatient…” as kevin lines himself at your entrance.

— v = volume — not loud, not quiet. kind of just average or normal? he doesn’t like it when you’re quiet though, makes him feel like he’s fucking a dead fish. react, respond, insult him, anything. just don’t be quiet, don’t seem bored.

— w = wild card — i think you guys should try using vibrators on each other throughout the day. i think he’d enjoy that. you both come home all shaky and aching and desperate for each other, barely making it to the bedroom because you’re undressing each other in the hall. 🫶

— x = x-ray — again, not good at describing penises. i don’t think his is the prettiest but it’s definitely big. homelander’s is the prettiest in my mind.

— y = yearning — medium to high range supe libido. jokes about fucking you all the time but he’s really not as sex obsessed as you’d think.

— z = zzz — he likes sleeping with you after sex a lot.. it’s something that surprises even him, as usually he does the good ol’ fuck and duck. he loves when you cuddle into him or when he’s able to cuddle into you, holding onto you by the waist and finally relaxing. he’s so content with the sound of your breathing or snoring. like constant ocean waves.. so comforting. you’re like home to him, in moments like these.

[slut4satoru-blog]

Parent-Teacher Conference—Toji Fushiguro-Zenin. +18 CONTENT MINORS DNI

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a singledad!Toji fic to fill my empty heart. i’m a slut for toji and i hope you guys are too. making this a 3 part series! please enjoyyyyyyy. 💜

content warnings: f!reader, AFAB, tiny kabedon, height difference, healthy age gap (6 years), trying my best to keep body descriptions to a minimum, hickeys, sex toys, marking, jealousy, slight possessiveness, oral (f!receiving), tiddie sucking <3, fingering, edging, public use of sex toy, pet names, and whatever else might had slipped my mind.

word count: 2.2k

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It’s been a busy 2 weeks with the PT conference being tomorrow. I have 0 time for myself. There’s two places I’m always at, either at school teaching my students or at home grading and preparing student reports. The end of the 10 weeks is always a mess. At least I teach High School, and my kids are so good they help me with the stuff.

There’s always a few students from each class that volunteer to help organize and store papers and that has helped me for sure. Like whenever Nobara, Yuuji and Megumi from my 10th grade class stay after school every Tuesday to help me out. They really are the best and I 100% could not survive without them. Talking about the kids, Megumi is really special. I’ve literally taught him since middle school, and it’s kind of funny because when I first started teaching him he would accidentally call me “mom” sometimes, his cute little face always made me smile. I remember when his mother passed away and I attended the service, it was the first time I saw his dad.

Toji Fushiguro, what a sight to remember. He was one of those people I knew I would never forget about. Year after year, conference after conference Toji and I’s friendship grew closer. Of course, always formal since he is my student’s dad. But there’s always a part of me that dreams of it being more than just that. The way he would slightly touch my hand with his fingers, acting as if nothing happened. Whenever he says “Hello” and puts his hand on my waist as he brings me in for a hug. I swear, one time that man was as hard as a rock and he just acted so normally. His tall, muscular build haunted me in my dreams.

Every single night, I would dream about him ravaging me in different positions. The way he would eat me out, fuck me senseless. I would imagine how he could roughly handle me and just how good he would feel inside of me, leaving me clenching around my fingers as I tried to satiate the need for his cock. However, every single morning I had to remind myself that it would never change. At least that’s what I always thought.

I decided to get up 1 hour earlier and get myself ready. Since today we had no class and I wasn't going to deal with any cooking, I wouldn’t have to wear my go-to chef uniform. Rummaging through my clothes, I decided to wear a simple emerald green and black pants suit, along with some 2 inch closed platforms. Also, I took the opportunity to wear some makeup and style my hair since I rarely got the chance to do so in school.

Once I arrived at the Jujutsu Technical School campus I quickly went up to finish setting up my lab to greet the parents and guardians of my students. For each parent student teacher conference I would have the kids make something for their families so they could snack as they picked up the grades for the quarter and discuss some details with me. They all decided to make some cake pops and they looked adorable. Some are movie themed, others by colors and even by aesthetics. Kids these days, am I right? When I finished everything I decided to sit patiently at my desk and wait for all of the parents to arrive.

Not to my surprise, Toji arrived first. I could sense his presence even with me being against the door. His sultry, silky and sinful voice decided to greet me. “Hey there Ms. _____. It’s been too long since our last encounter.” I turned my seat around to face him, getting startled as he was way closer than I anticipated. His hand went for my arm, sliding one finger over my bare hands. “Hi Sir, it’s a pleasure to see you get here so early. As you know, Gumi’s sweets are at the left corner of the table. You can grab the cake pops he made you and Sumi this time. He worked really hard on them.”

He looked at the table, walked up to it and got his and Tsumiki’s bag and returned to my desk. He shoved the sweets in his pocket and plopped his hands to either side of my desk. Trapping me in to smell his fresh, clean cologne. “I was thinking of doing some experiments. What do you think? Megumi tells me about everything you guys do in this class. And, it gets me thinking. Are you as fun in bed as you are in the classroom? I’m sorry Ms. ____ but I know I’m not the only one that feels this tension.”

He stopped for a second, eyed me up and down. Taking one of his hands and moving it to my chin as he lifted it up to continue his sermon. “I‘ve seen the way you look at me. How your thighs clench whenever I tease you. I’m not blind you know? And you’re not hiding it now either.” He took his eyes off of mine and dragged them across my body. I could feel his intense stare burning through the fabric. Starting a fire in my core that would soon become too hot to control.

“Sir, this isn’t right… Anyone can come up now and see us like this. I work here, I don’t want to risk that for whatever my body feels like. I can deal with it later. This is wrong.” I tried to believe the words that came out of my mouth. We both knew i was lying about it not being right. We were both adults, he was only a few years older than me since he had Megumi at 16. We were only 6 years apart, so it wasn’t inmoral. However, there was something about this being too good to be true. I just couldn’t wrap my head around how things were happening.

“Can we try something? Please? I swear if you say no I won’t bother you after this.” He opened his black suitcase that he always brought to store all the papers us teachers would bring to the parents. Once it was open, he pulled out a weirdly shaped pink toy. I’ve seen this before, it’s called a love sense. He saw the way my eyes lit up to the toy and asked. “I figure you’re familiar with this, right? I promise I’ll behave if you’re a good girl.”

I stood up and walked up to the door. Looking at the empty hallways since the pt conference was 30 minutes away. “Am i really about to do this…?” I whispered to myself as I closed my lab’s room and locked it. I went to Toji, sat on top of my desk and responded. “I’ll allow this… experiment. But you have to promise not to go too far. This is my job, and I’m not willing to lose it because I moaned while talking about bread.” He laughed at my remarks and sighed beautifully, standing between my legs and wrapping me in his arms. I could feel his cinnamony breath near my lips as he spoke. “Don’t worry darling, this thing is nothing compared to what I want to do to you. Consider this preparation for what comes next.”

Without saying more, he leaned in to kiss me almost as if he was afraid of ruining whatever it is that we had these past years. His hands diligently went under my satin shirt, taking it out of the pants to grope my tits. “They’re so soft, I could drown here.” He whispered in your ears as he lifted the shirt up completely to suck on them, leaving cute little markings all along them. “Just wait till you see my ass.” I playfully dared him, ruffling one of my hands through his soft, black hair as i left one of my hands on the desk for support. Throwing my head back as he sucked my nipples with such expertise. It really felt like he was french kissing me there.

“Oh, please don’t stop. This feels so good.” I whined at him as I started feeling new sensations, I had never before felt so sensitive on my breasts. Maybe because of my lack of sex partners. It had been such a bad experience with none of my other flings getting me to orgasm. So frustrating I ended up stopping all together. I could feel his grin across my nipple as he slowly popped it as he let it go. “Time to see that ass babe, can’t wait any longer.”

He flipped me skillfully, carefully pulling down my pants & lingerie that I wore that day. “All wet for me baby? So nice and plump; you keep wrapping me up in your little finger, huh?” He took one of his hands and teasingly slid it across my slit. I shuddered; his cold, big fingers clashing against my hot plump core. He started to play with my arousal, slipping it up and down. Occasionally grazing above my clit as to piss me off. “Toji, please. We have 15 minutes until the parents arrive. Just fuck me already.”

“Fuck you? Oh no baby girl, you’ve got it all wrong. You see…” He stopped talking for a second, and I groaned when I felt his mouth on my clit. Skillfully eating me out like he had 1,000 years of experience. “My plan isn’t to fuck you now.” He planted another kiss on my cunt, tongue skimming all through my folds. “We‘ll talk about that later. ‘Kay sweetheart?”. With that he stopped, removing himself from my needy core and slipped the toy inside of me, filling me up instantly as a moan slipped through my teeth.

“Remember, this is connected to my phone. You better act nice if you want me to be nice.” He grinned like a man-whore and I enjoyed every single of it. He licked my thighs to “clean-up after himself” and then wiped it dry with some tissue I had laying around. After that, he walked to the chair in the back and waited for the classroom/lab to fill up with more parents.

“Hello, thank you all for attending today’s PT Conference. I’m Ms. _____ and as you all probably know by now, I’m your kid’s Culinary Arts elective course teacher….” I roughly explained the next 2 big projects the kids had to make. And how the Culinary Arts elective course was partnering up with the Science program to form a “Food Science” exhibition for the upcoming science fair. It was all going good. Actually, too good. I would eye up Toji every now and then but he was never looking at me, just looking at his phone. Mysteriously the vibrator was off for all of my speech. I was kind of glad, I didn't want to trip on my words or embarrass myself. However, things started to take a turn when parents started to ask to see me after class.

When Mr. Nanami, Yuuji’s foster dad, asked to see me after class. That was the moment I felt the vibration instantly turn on. It was slow, steady motions that started to relieve the tension I had going on. I said my goodbyes to all the parents, and when my lab was almost empty, since Toji refused to leave, Mr. Nanami went up to me. “Hey Ms.____ I was wondering if i could ask you something about Yuuji’s grades. You see, he’s having some trouble with math and since I know this course involves a lot of that i was wondering if you would be willing to tutor him. I would be paying, of course. It could be over at our home or we could meet up at some place of your choosing.”

I gave him a tiny smile, he was always so observant over Yuuji. “Of course! We can work something out. He always works my math out easily, I imagine it’s because I try my best to break everything down before giving it to them. Thanks for your concern on Yuuji. He’s a bright kid, he’s in good hands.” I put my hand on top of his to give him security, and in that instant I felt how the vibrator just jumped in velocity. It was hard, inconsistent and just random and all over the place. I contained myself from yelping and decided to shift in my seat instead. When I looked over at Toji there he was, man-spreading in all of his glory swiping his phone in different directions as he looked intensely at how my hand rested in top of Nanami’s.

Nanami ended the conversation shortly, handing me his business card that contained his contact information so we could set up the meetings and left quickly, not forgetting to wave at Toji at the end of the room. Toji stood up, and waved him a tiny goodbye as he walked towards me. Long, slow steps making small clacks across the marbled floor. He looked at his phone once more and swiped up, leaving the vibrator at the highest speed as I tried to shush the moans that escaped my mouth. Eventually giving in as i sat in my comfy chair.

“I told you I would behave if you were a good girl. But you just had to make me jealous, didn’t you?”

Masterlist

part 2, part 3

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hi! Do have any mattress and bed-related advices for someone (my partner) fat (about 600lbs) with sleep apnea?

We don't have much money, what we have is either donated by family and/or DIY. Our first (metal) bed broke and our old mattress had a sunken spot where my partner sleep. Thankfully our family gave us an old wooden bed that has been reinforced with a DIY structure of wood bars. Not really aesthetically pleasing, but if guess it does the job for now if we're careful of the random nails (I cut myself a couple times). The "new" mattress was my partner's brother old one when he still lived with his mom. It's good quality, but it's getting old now. My partner also has a mountain of blankets and pillows to keep his upper body elevated.

This solution won't last forever and I think we'll have to find at least a new mattress and maybe a new bed soon. Do you have thoughts/ideas/tips about this situation?

:(((( First off: I’m so sorry. It sucks that beds are so expensive when everyone needs them, especially when they wear out under weight so fast.

Long term, the beds that hold up best to weight tend to be firmer. I personally had a lot of positive anecdotal of the very high density foam beds but they’re more expensive. However I did see someone mention how much they liked their Big Fig which is made for bigger folks. The specs check out but I’m slightly wary of coils for weights over 500lb.

I’d recommend scoping Craigslist and Facebook for Tempur or Serta all foam mattress. You could probably find a steal if you’re checking consistently.

For sleep apnea pillows and blankets are really gonna struggle to help. If you can’t find an adjustable look for a wedge pillow, it’ll be better than nothin.

[honeycomb-fics]

Kenjaku x Reader

~800 words

(Bickering, implied relationship, was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away)

Kenjaku sat with his companion as he worked on his preparations for the culling game. He couldn’t help notice the long drawn out sigh that left your lips. He thought about ignoring it but he knew that it would only cause him further trouble down the line if he left you to stew in whatever thoughts you were having, even if they were.. in his mind, foolish.

He glanced over at you, “Pray tell, what is it this time?”

You let out another dramatic, exasperated sigh, “how come you only use the hideous cursed spirits?”

Kenjaku almost choked on the tea he was drinking, “W-what?”

He usually expected you to complain about something ridiculous, often wondering why he kept you around in the first place. Other than the fact that he found you aesthetically pleasing, you served absolutely no purpose to his plans. Although he occasionally found you amusing.

You drawled on, “Geto had some beautiful curses stored up yet you’re for some reason always whipping out those gross centipedes.. and other creepy things. Must you be so macabre?”

Kenjaku laughed softly in your face while you pouted childishly, “I don’t really think macabre is the word you’re looking for, my dear” he said condescendingly, his face maintaining that ever present smile, “But I can see why my choices may unsettle you.”

With your cheeks puffed out you whined a bit, “You could use rainbow dragon but you choose the centipedes! I literally don’t understand.”

This earns an eye roll from Kenjaku, something that you would normally relish in if you were not genuinely annoyed with his inability to utilize cursed spirits that didn’t give you the creeps.

“Y/N this is not a game of Pokémon,” He chastised you, “I am not going to pick and choose which cursed spirits I summon because you think they are cute. Cease your complaining.”

You didn’t stop, not in the least. “Okay but why don’t you even use the worm? It’s like GTA pockets. You have to admit it’s convenient and you aren’t even utilizing it..”

Kenjaku side-eyed you, considering if he should answer you honestly or just give you a non-answer. He sighed and mumbled. “It’s old man face… makes me uneasy.”

“It seems friendly for a cursed spirit,” you said shrugging your shoulders.

“It’s a damn cursed spirit! None of them are friendly. You probably would think Mahito was your best friend if he smiled at you. You really need to be more cautious about them,” He scolded you for the millionth time. Kenjaku wondered if it was even worth bringing you into the fold of his plans or if you would inevitably just end up ruining everything with your inability to think critically.

You flinched back slightly and looked up at him with a bit of a doe-eyed expression, “b-but I thought Mahito was my friend..”

He ran his hands through his long hair and let out an exasperated sigh. Kenjaku truly looked like he was running out of patience, “How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from that curse unless it is absolutely necessary for you to talk to him? And it is rarely, if ever, necessary for you to converse with him!”

Despite Kenjaku’s obvious annoyance and frustration you decided to defend your decision to associate with the curse, “Well Mahito is funny and he once showed me the shrunken human he keeps in his pocket.. it was… a little weird though.”

“And you didn’t stop to think that you’re very lucky you didn’t end up as the shrunken pocket human? Never occurred to you, hm? Ensuring that you do not die is becoming a full time job.” Kenjaku snapped at you, his hands holding your cheeks in his palms, “And quite frankly I do not have the extra time to expend on it.”

Your eyes shifted up to meet his scrutinizing gaze, letting yourself linger on his features a bit before speaking. Taking in the way his brow was furrowed in frustration despite his normally calm demeanor. You knew it was time to concede.

“I’m sorry, Kenjaku. I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal,” You said softly, in an attempt to play off all of his valid concerns.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against your own. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply in an attempt to center himself again. His hands were still on the sides of your cheeks keeping you still. Kenjaku allowed himself to have this pleasure for a few moments before he pulled away.

“You are very fortunate you are cute. Otherwise I would not tolerate any of this.”

You smiled enjoying the compliment, “okay but can you maybe try to use rainbow dragon?”

[driftingdryad]

Omg Bestie! I know I wanted to wait a bit with new request but hear me out!

Shikamaru or Shikaku teasing his girlfriend / partner with the Shadow technique 🥵🫣 Please! 🤭

Ask and you shall receive babes! xox

Listen I'm no jutsu expert and the Naras probs can't use the Shadow Sewing Technique to do all this filth, buuuuut for the sake of the spice let's pretend they can m'kay? lol

Also this is like the third time I've ever written anything smutty so pls be gentle! Thank yooou 🫶

((P.S. just so it's stated in multiple places, Shikamaru is in his mid 20s here!))

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

Word count: 2.2k

18+, Mid 20s Shikamaru, Clan Head Shikamaru, established relationship, consensual objectification, D/s dynamics, bondage, a little bit of pain play, mild overstim, inappropriate use of shadows lol

You waited in anticipation as you knelt upon the ornately embroidered cushions in the corner of Shikamaru's private office. ‘Be still,’ you reminded yourself, only moving your eyes as you cast a glance around the room in hopes of finding something to take your mind off of the heat rising between your thighs.

Shikamaru's private office was spacious, but minimalist in its aesthetic. The walls were lined with shelves housing a plethora of books, scrolls, and clan documents. When the titles of books on strategy and history didn't hold your interest, you wished Shika would let you fill the small gaps on his shelves with knick knacks. Then you'd at least have something to focus on and keep you still ‘like a good doll.’

You subtly clenched your thighs as your mind drifted back to your current situation. No, knick knacks probably wouldn't help you, and they weren't his style anyway. His office was the embodiment of function over form. Sure there were a few personal touches here and there, the large antique desk Shika had inherited from his father; a single picture of Team 10 in their genin years sitting on the windowsill overlooking the private garden; the well loved shogi set that sat mid-play on a low table on the opposite side of the room from you. There was no decor, though. Shikamaru didn't find such trivial things necessary to the overall function of his space. Plus, what man needed decorations when they had a gorgeous little thing like you — naked with your pretty little pussy weeping onto the luxurious pillows you knelt on — to liven up his space instead?

You were never usually one for sitting still long; something that Shikamaru endlessly grumbled about, though with adoration in his eyes; but something about being the only piece of true decoration in his office made you feel all floaty, and you wanted nothing more than to please him. Who knew being objectified by the man you love could feel so good?

You knew how much of a drag all his tedious paperwork was, and it made your heart soar to know that you made it more bearable for him. The wonderful feelings that came from Shikamaru directing you to kneel in your designated display space in his office was enough to keep you still, blissed out on the idea of being nothing more than an object, a porcelain doll, for him to devour with his eyes between reports.

Well… it kept you still for the first couple of hours. After that, the anticipation of what would come next — after all the paperwork was neatly filed away and Shikamaru finally relaxed into his high back chair and graced you with his full attention — had you starting to lose composure. He'd never made you wait for longer than two hours before. Today, it was nearing the four hour mark, and you weren't sure how much longer you could take it. You wanted to please him, gods you wanted to please him so badly, but your calves had long ago gone numb and you were certain that if you weren't touched soon you might start humping the pillow beneath you like a feral dog.

You shifted slightly hoping to ease some of the pressure on your calves, but only really succeeded in accidently squeezing your sensitive pussy between your plush thighs. The subtle pressure almost made you moan, but you didn't want to draw Shikamaru's attention to your rule breaking. Dolls weren't allowed to move, nevermind pleasure themselves, even if it was an accident.

A deep sigh had your eyes locked on Shikamaru in an instant. He met your gaze with half-lidded chocolate brown eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. Apparently, you hadn't been as subtle as you thought.

“Getting needy, are you?” Shika drawled, his voice low and calm as he inspected you. “Troublesome woman.”

His heavy gaze trailed your form slowly, taking in every detail from your quivering thighs, to your pink nipples that pebbled under his stare, then up to your large pleading eyes.

Troublesome woman indeed. You so badly wanted to tell him that yes, you were so incredibly needy for him, and that if he'd just please give you the release command you would crawl across his office on numb legs to the space beneath his desk that you loved so much and keep his cock warm in your throat until he was done work please, please, please!

But he didn't give you the command, and so you remained in place, unable to move or speak. A soft, pathetic whimper bubbled up your throat instead, a noise you were able to make on technicality alone.

A lazy grin lifted the corner of Shikamaru's lips. “I've kept you waiting a long time, haven't I, baby? You've done so good for me, though.”

His praise lit you up inside, warmth spreading through your system and lifting you higher into that fuzzy, floaty place. Shikamaru must have seen it on your face because his grin widened and something calculating flashed in his eyes.

“I still have two more reports and some scrolls to sign off on...”

Your heart dropped, and you're sure that your desperation was showing in your eyes. You wanted to whine in displeasure this time but held it back. You wanted to keep being a good doll for him, to make Shika proud of you. Whiney girls did neither of those things. You could tell he was waiting for it, though, giving you a moment to process. When you didn't make a fuss, he nodded, pleased.

“How about a little warm-up while I finish up? You'd like that, wouldn't you, pretty girl?” His gaze smoldered and trapped you within their depths.

Your eyes widened. Had Shikamaru read your mind? Your tongue flicked out and wet your lips unconsciously. Oh, how you loved having him buried in your throat. Your body tensed, waiting for the release command so you could throw yourself across the room at his feet. You could feel a rush of slick dribble down your inner thigh at the dirty images flashing through your mind.

The command never came. A single fluid hand gesture later, and Shikamaru's face fell back into his regular bored working expression as he opened the next file folder on the stack. You kneeled there, still as a statue, in utter confusion. Didn't he say…?

And then you saw it. Flowing out from beneath Shikamaru's desk were long tendrils of his shadow. You watched awe as the shadows glided across the floor towards your quivering frame. The Nara clan's secret techniques never failed to amaze you.

A jolt of excitement ran through you as the tendrils reached you, gently prodding your skin where it met the floor. You sighed softly at the familiar coolness of Shika’s shadow as the tendrils glided up along your heated skin.

Tearing your eyes away from the shadows that were exploring your body with gentle brushes, you turned your attention back to Shikamaru. You knew that while it seemed that the shadows had a mind of their own, in actuality, every move they made was at his behest. You'd never be able to tell though with the way he was diligently focused on the papers in front of him, pen scratching across the page here and there.

A small but sharp pain on your thigh drew your attention back to the tendrils. It seemed Shika wanted you to focus on yourself, not him. The sharpened tendril on your thigh dulled again before trailing over to your hand that rested palm up on your thigh. It wrapped around your wrist, tight but gentle, before forcing it behind your back. More tendrils mirrored the action with your other hand, binding them in shadows behind your back. You tugged experimentally on the binding hold — more out of curiosity than an actual want to escape — and were met with another needle like prick of warning against your skin.

You let your body relax into the hold of Shikamaru's shadow, enjoying the feeling of the many tendrils exploring your body. Some caressed gently while others pricked against your skin, only to be soothed by a softer touch. You reveled in the feeling of finally being touched after such a long wait, gasping and twitching as Shikamaru's shadows teased you. They were almost everywhere. You couldn't tell where one tendril began, and another ended. You had no clue how many there were either. All you knew was that they felt amazing teasing against your skin, and the need between your thighs was reaching a fever pitch.

Desperation bubbled up inside you as the tendrils explored; curling around your legs, whispering across your ticklish tummy, smoothing down your arms, and even softly caressing your cheeks, but not a single one strayed to the places you wanted them most. Your ass, breast and cunt were left untouched and alight with need. Sure, the feather light touches and sparks of pain already had you gasping, but you wanted more.

When finally a single shadow ghosted along the underside of one of your perky tits a whimper escaped your throat. Your hips stuttered forward against your will, raising your bottom off your calves, searching for something to grind against. A tendril that had wound its way around your hips tightened and jerked your body back to the proper position.

Shikamaru made a ‘tsk’ sound but didn't raise his head to acknowledge you. “Doll's can't move on their own. You know this,” he chastised.

He wasn't looking at you, but you lowered your gaze in apology either way. You did know that, but you couldn't help it! It didn't matter, though. Shika's shadows would help you.

The shadow tendrils tightened their grip on your wrists and spread further up your arms, binding them together from wrist to elbow. At the same time, the one around your hips extended out more tendrils to the floor, effectively anchoring you in place. The worst part, though, was the thicker tendrils that encased your folded thighs and yanked them apart with a strength that always surprised you.

Your glistening, sopping wet pussy was suddenly exposed to the cool air of the room, your clit peeking out from between your spread folds. Your most intimate parts displayed for Shikamaru. You could feel the heat of a mortified blush spreading from your chest to the tips of your ears. The embarrassment had your poor little pussy clenching down on thin air, even more aroused than you'd been seconds ago.

A shadow brushed along your inner thigh, trailing up, up, up to your spread core. Finally your pathetic pussy was going to get the attention it needed. Or not. Just before reaching the apex of your thighs the shadow shot up your body and wrapped tightly around your left breast. A keening cry left your throat at the unexpected move, so different from the slow sensual touches you'd been receiving thus far.

The shadow gripped your flesh, the tip of the tendril reaching out to flick your taut nipple. It hurt, but felt so good all at once. You arched against Shikamaru's restraining shadows and felt more of your slick dribble down your inner thighs. Another tendril climbed your body to tease your other nipple.

The tendrils enveloping your body continued to play across your skin, the mix of pleasure and pain so great that you soon began losing yourself to it, floating further away from reality with every second. You quickly lost track of time, but very briefly a clear thought crossed your mind: Your gasps and moans were probably distracting. You didn’t want to cause trouble for Shikamaru. You probably shouldn't let yourself float too far into the fuzzy space in your head. You needed to reel yourself back in, but you felt so good.

When you managed to pry your eyes open though Shikamaru was still diligently working away as if you weren't a twitching, near overstimulated mess on his office floor. His indifference fanned the flames within you and it felt like all he would need to do is send a single bored glance at your drenched cunt for you to fall over the edge. You could already imagine his teasing, ‘poor baby, so worked up and pathetic that you came without me even touching that pretty little pussy’. You mewled out a sob at your imaginary Shikamaru's words, closing your eyes again and throwing your head back, letting yourself fully fall into the overwhelming sensations swarming your body.

You didn't know how long you were bound there, spread wide and on display as Shikamaru teased you into oblivion with his shadow, but it all came crashing down around you in an instant. A single, electrifying brush of a cool shadow against your throbbing clit was all it took.

Your eyes flew open, unfocused, as a broken cry ripped from your throat. Your pussy clenched hard around nothing as your body went taut against your bonds, Shikamaru's name a worshiping chant in your head. The tendrils of shadows lost their chaotic vigor, instead caressing soft and gentle easing you through the intense orgasm.

When all that was left were the aftershocks and you managed to raise your head, you were once again met with Shikamaru's half-lidded gaze. His eyes were full of such heat and adoration that a soft, dopey smile took over your lips. He'd enjoyed the show. He'd enjoyed you.

“Such a good little doll,” Shikamaru said lowly, pushing himself away from his desk and rising. Your smile widened as he crossed the room to you.

For him? Always ♡

[miloformula123fan]

Hi hi, hope ur doing well :), I'd really love a mark webber fic with either fem tattoo artist reader or heavily tattooed fem driver reader

ahahah thank you so much :)

apologies it took so long to get out

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

mark webber x fem!tattoo artist reader

---

“Mark, you don’t have to get anything. They just require an adult over 21 to come in with me for some reason, they require a legal adult there, that doesn’t have to be a parent. I think it’s so you don’t bail halfway through, and you are the closest, and I didn’t want to drag my parents out and…” Daniel pleaded to Mark. This was not Mark’s plan of how he wanted to spend the winter break.

“Fine! Damn it Daniel, you really are a piece of work sometimes. As long as I don’t have to get a tattoo, sure.” Mark conceded.

“Thank you thank you thank you!”

“Let’s go kiddo, before you make me regret it.” Daniel wasn’t a kid, not at all if he was going to race in f1 next year and get a tattoo this year. But compared to Mark, who still felt somewhat young, Daniel was a baby. So he took him to the tattoo place.

Mark would’ve been slightly worried that he was walking into an elite escort club if it weren’t for the fact that he had read every review of this place to make sure it was safe and triple checked that they were at the right location before they entered and he had asked every staff if they were in the right place. He’d asked the 3 people so far who had checked his ID, the 2 who had searched his bags, the 2 who had chatted to Daniel about design and the 2 that had chatted to him about his design until they realised he wasn’t getting one, and they had all confirmed that he was in the right place. And then finally, they had emerged into a room that looked like a tattoo and piercing studio. 

While the lighting seemed to be mostly based off of lamps, it was a relatively well lit building. The aesthetic was very dark and grungy, but the place was lit well enough that the piercers and tattoo artists could see what they were doing. The tattoo reclinable chairs were all black, Mark imagined so they didn’t have to be cleaned when patients bleed.

“Okay, hey Daniel, I’m your tattoo artist for today. There’s just a few final things I need to check on, and then we are ready to go! Hey, I’m Y/N, are you Daniel’s Dad?”

“Uhhhh, no. I’m just a friend who offered to come. I’m Mark.” Mark offered his hand and Y/N shook it politely. He took note of the bats and snakes that trailed up her right arm and was about to inspect them, before realising that this handshake had gone on for way too long and now appeared borderline creepy.

“Um…okay, are you getting a tattoo today?” Y/N asked, when Mark had finally let go of her arm

“No. Definitely not.” Mark shuddered at the thought.

“Okay, back to you then Daniel. Do you have a drink bottle, or at least some way of hydrating today?”

“Yeha, I have this water bottle.” Daniel held up a small crinkled plastic water bottle that Mark was sure was max half filled. He watched Y/N cringe at it.

“Do you have anything else? I know this is your first tattoo, so I don’t blame you for being a little underprepared but based on the tat we’re doing today, and how big it is, I think you’re gonna need more water so-” - Y/N

“I have some in my bag, just to be safe.” Mark smiled at Y/N who smiled back before turning back to Daniel. Mark pulled out the backpack he had brought and pulled out some snacks, 2 big water bottles, and a smaller one for himself.

“Eaten a big meal today? We’re gonna be here a while and have you put moisturiser on your thigh?” 

“Yeah, I ate a big meal for lunch with Mark, and there’s moisturiser on my thigh, although it may need a bit more.”

“Okay, I’ve got extra, don't worry about it. Have you shown Mark your design? Maybe take off your shorts, and then while I get the moisturiser you can show him your design.”

As Y/N wandered off, Mark watched as Daniel shimmied his shorts off before lying back on the chair and pulling a piece of paper from the backpack and turning it around.

Mark had to admit, it was a very pretty tattoo. He gasped as he looked at it, and if another artist had turned round to him then and there he would’ve immediately agreed to have a tattoo done. The art was stunning and Mark agreed that while the tattoo would take a while, the concept drawing would’ve taken even longer.

It was a lighthouse and a ship, with ‘no regrets’ in a banner on top and ‘only memories’ in a banner on the bottom. The ship and lighthouse were very intricate and Mark could almost see every pen stroke that had been put on the piece of paper. As he studied it, he heard Y/N come back and pop the bottle of the moisturiser, and start murmuring to Daniel about pens and needles and colouring. Finally he heard the 2 laugh and looked up from studying the artistry.

“Sorry Mark. I do need the design to uhh tat Daniel up here and so I do need the design. Now Daniel, have you had any ibuprofen, alcohol, coffee or fish oil in the last 48 hours? These things tend to be blood thinners, and I really don’t want you bleeding out on my floor. It’s also more painful for you, as you’re going to end up with more skin irritation, which is not fun.”

“Why are you doing such a big and intricate tattoo to start with? Surely most people start with smaller tattoos.” Mark curiously asked

“Yeah but I figured if I get one big one, I’ll only ever get one so it’s fine.” Daniel said sheepishly

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that kiddo. That’s what I thought, and now look at me. I personally like my smaller tattoos better, but it’s all personal preference.” Y/N smirked before she grabbed the needle and began the long process.

Mark tried to watch with interest, wanting to absorb everything Y/N was doing. But he ended up having to turn away as Daniel got a needle stabbed into him multiple times.

“Why’d you bring a squeamish one, Danny?” Y/N laughed from seeing Mark’s reactions

“Haha, I didn’t know. Maybe you should give him a tattoo, see how he reacts?” 

“No. No tattoo.” Mark chanted as he stared up at the ceiling, hands clenched into fists on his legs.

“How about a piercing? It can just be in your ear, you won’t even see the needle, and it’ll be painless, mostly. A lot less pain than this tattoo, hey Danny?” 

“Yeah, come on Mark! I did my ears when I was 13. Very painless, at least compared to this.”

“Fine. When are you gonna do it?” Mark conceded, done with their antics and persuasion.

“Probably in about an hour, when Daniel needs a break from this tat. Do you want me to do it, or would you prefer someone else to do it, like Jayden, or Alex or Leo? They’re all specialist piercers, as opposed to me, who’s technically a specialist tattoo artist. I can pierce your ear, obviously, but if you’d rather someone who’s probably a bit better, and if you just want to get it over and done with, then you can do someone else!”

“Uhhh, no, no. I’d rather you’d do it, if that’s okay?” Mark shuffled awkwardly, unsure.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, that’s fine. I may get Leo to just talk you through everything, cause I can’t multitask, and he’ll take your notes on preferences. LEO! Get over here.” - Y/N

Mark ended up getting quizzed by a man with more piercings and tattoos than Mark could care to count. He quizzed him on piercing placement, what earrings he wanted in and the care required afterwards, until finally Daniel asked for a break.

“Alright, all good by me. I’ll get Jayden to grab you some food and some drink to get you through while I…” she spun around to face Mark “pierce Mark’s ears.”

Mark gulped. He was certain that this was a bad idea.

And yet Y/N was so soft with him. She sanitised his ears, and put numbing cream on it. She talked him through everything and what she was doing, and the actual piercing of the ears was unnoticeable. Because she was talking the entire time, about motorsport and any random things she could think of. Mark was happy and content, at least until she pulled back and turned back to Daniel.

“Are you ready to resume, Daniel?” - Y/N

“What happened to you piercing my ears?” - Mark

“Mark…I have pierced your ears. You’re all done.” - Y/N

“What?” Mark put his hands up to his ears and felt the small pieces of metal stuck in his ears.  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t even feel it.” - Mark

“Good, you’ll start feeling it soon, don’t worry, particularly the more weight.” - Y/N smiled before turning back to Daniel’s thigh and kept going with his tattoo.

Mark smiled and watched as her hands delicately worked on Daniel’s skin. The tattoo looked even better than it did from her sketches. He tried to not be too creepy but he loved watching the planets on her fingers crinkle while she concentrated. She brushed some hair out of her face and Mark was drawn to the bee behind her ear, looking ready to buzz away.

Way too soon Daniel's tattoo was finished and they had to leave. Mark did give Y/N his number and they started talking, as Mark begged her to come to a race. She came for Daniel’s F1 debut race down in Melbourne and kept texting Mark throughout, asking what certain terms she heard thrown around were.

---

BONUS SCENE

“Nice earrings Mark, when’d you get them?” Seb asked as they met before pre-season testing.

“Oh over the winter break you know?” Mark grinned, determined to not spoil his secret of Y/N

“Nice, you planning a tattoo next?” Seb grinned. He could always tell when Mark had a secret.

“Ha, nope. Just taking Daniel on more expeditions.” Mark said ‘i hope’ he added in his head

“More piercings then?” Seb grinned mischievously.

“Ha, maybe, maybe seb, maybe.” He smiled thinking about getting more piercings, letting Y/N touch his body with her surprisingly soft hands, maybe he’d get a piercing in a more intimate spot next time.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206 @tallrock35 @janeholt3

[lambment]

So I completely missed your drawing of white lion narinder and the goat (shits majestic excellent work) and I was wondering what your thoughts on their relationship would be vis a vis the lamb and the one who waits/narinder’s relationship shifted slightly to the left? I imagine the lion to be more magnanimous and performatively regal than standard narinder. There’s also the shift in the goat’s idiosyncrasies in comparison to the lamb (limited for us to interpret given player character positioning).

You always have really fun characterization and relationship thoughts so genuinely interested to hear your thoughts if you have any.

Last fun thing, yknow how the one who waits has blackened skeletal hands? What if the white lion has golden skeletal hands/claws? The aesthetics…Pluto/Hades as the god of Wealth, jewels and gold, and the god of Death.

damn im eating this analysis up btw, I at least imagine the white lion, like you said, to be more showy in their benevolence, to counter Narinder in his more arrogant and caculated show of power.

at first I'd like to believe the Goat, upon revival (if it mirrors the lambs beheading at the beginning), to be entirely enraptured by them. quickly as they get to know eachother, the goat realizes the lion is lowkey an idiot in their neediness for attention lmfao (they were worshipped as a god I cant blame em). with his attendants long past being impressed with him and finally having a new target, I think the lion would grow more liberal with the theatrics of trying to wow the very increasingly unimpressed goat. the veil of awe for goatbert would be quickly shaken.

(from the silly pov) Im imagining the lion getting frantic with their displays of power as the plot of the game moves on and we visit him more, to the point its no longer majestic and just gaudy.

like "yes worship me and be wowed, I am your all powerful god."

the lion does a fucking kickflip, while the goats over here like

"can we please get back to the revenge plot." a very tired coworker

needy for attention + benevolent + jovial + (and dont get me wrong) still majestic

the goat is only truly impressed when the Lion is less concerned about how others view him/showy with his power and gets back to being serious

extrovert Lion vs Introvert Narinder LOL

In love with the way you cooked on the gold aesthetic aspect. Narinder overall is pretty aescetic imo, the most showy part of him is his veil, meanwhile his siblings have drip (tragic) whether thats because he's a prisoner or not. the Lion would absolutley double down on displays of grandeur with fineries and jewels. somewhat content with being imprisioned if he continues to be given gifts, I think the goat would take advantage of his craving for worship and convince him to join his revenge plot to escape.

I want to humble him. im going to make the goat and lion kith.

[booksandabeer]

Rant time!

I'm so, so sick and tired of seeing AI "art" everywhere on my dash. There is no escaping it.

The awesome art noveau building front? AI. The gorgeous porcelain flowers? AI. The fluffy mushroom armchairs? AI. The supercute pre-war Steve and Bucky fanart? AI. The beautiful embroidery of blooming flower meadows? AI. The fun lettuce bed? AI. The gasp-worthy stained glass furniture made from "recycled" plastic? You guessed it: Fucking AI!

To be clear, I'm not calling out people who have unknowingly reblogged AI "art"—it's happened to me, too. Several times even. All I'm asking is that people who feel they absolutely have to share their AI "creations" with the world stop pretending and instead clearly label them as such so that others can make an informed decision as to whether or not they want to have them on their blogs. Nobody has time to put in 10 minutes of fucking detective work to ensure the authenticity of an image every time something about it seems even slightly suspicious.

I'm aware that many of the accounts that share things like the above are aesthetic blogs churning out 50 posts a day and they do not give a fuck. I am also not naive enough to believe that all this can be reversed—that we can somehow put AI back in its box. That ship has sailed. It has taken off into space, never to return.

But maybe we can at least stop lying about it? At least in our fan communities?

So. I am directly addressing the people who pass off AI-generated fanart as their own work. Please stop. Have some respect for your fellow fans. Have some respect for the many artists who have spent years teaching themselves to draw, and even more years to improve their skills, to find & perfect their personal styles, and who spend days or even weeks working on their creations. Have some respect for the new artists who are just starting out and who are still struggling and feeling insecure about sharing their work, which may not be technically perfect, but which they have put so much heart and soul into.

Have some respect—maybe at least for yourself—and stop lying.