#THIS WORLD IS SO MUCH FUN TO PLAY IN AND BUILD WITH FRIENDS!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

romugh · 2 months ago

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SUDDENLY, THE STAR I STUDIED WAS YOU- NR

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight lactation kink (if you squint), slight exhibitionism (?), slight praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, i think that's all?

wc- 12k??? smut (6k worldbuilding - angsty (?), 6k smut)

a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!

request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.

synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x

The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.

Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.

Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.

For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.

Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.

Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.

The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.

Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.

But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.

Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.

Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.

You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.

And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.

For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.

You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.

With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.

The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.

As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.

On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.

As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.

Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.

The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.

As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.

As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.

Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.

The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.

Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.

Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.

As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.

The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.

When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.

The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.

The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.

You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.

As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.

As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.

Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.

"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."

Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"

Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"

You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."

As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.

As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.

Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.

Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"

Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”

The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.

With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.

As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.

Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.

As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.

As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.

Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.

The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.

When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.

The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.

With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”

The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.

Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.

She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.

As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.

Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?

“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.

You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.

In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.

Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.

Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.

You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.

In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.

You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only

added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.

Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.

For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.

And that only made you push it more.

Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.

Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.

By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You

could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.

As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.

When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.

"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."

Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."

You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."

Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"

Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."

You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."

Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.

"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."

Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"

That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"

She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.

"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.

Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her.

When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.

You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.

“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.

“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”

Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."

And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.

For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.

The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.

She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.

Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.

You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.

The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.

As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.

You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.

"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.

"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."

And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.

The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.

Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.

Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind

of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.

You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.

But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.

Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.

Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.

The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.

She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.

"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.

Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.

Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.

You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.

Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.

Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.

Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.

You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.

As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.

You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.

With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.

Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.

You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.

She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.

Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.

She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.

You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.

“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.

But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.

Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.

You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.

You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.

But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.

She realised you would choose her too.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.

Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.

As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.

Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.

The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.

With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.

In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.

Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”

This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.

Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”

This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.

Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.

Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”

Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.

In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.

Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.

Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.

The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.

Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.

You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.

Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.

Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."

Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.

You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.

Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.

You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.

Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.

Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.

As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.

With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.

Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.

You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.

Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."

You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.

Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.

With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.

When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.

"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."

She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.

A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.

Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.

Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped

around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.

Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.

Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.

Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.

Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.

Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.

She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.

Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.

The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.

As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.

You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.

For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.

You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.

But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.

Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.

With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.

With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.

As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.

The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."

Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.

Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.

“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.

Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.

You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.

Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.

The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.

Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”

You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.

“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”

Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.

As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.

You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.

“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.

She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.

In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.

As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.

a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x

#romugh writes #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff reader #natasha romanoff x reader #romugh's requests #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson reader #marvel #black widow

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imaginaryf1shots · 3 months ago

Text

You’re Mine | Charles Leclerc

WC: 6K

Possessive!Charles x Innocent!reader

Summery: You’re Arthur’s childhood BFF, you’ve been around the Leclerc for years before you had to move away. But now you’re back for a few months, not knowing that you’re here to stay.

Warning: Manipulation, jealousy, toxic relationships, more things to come.

AN: Honestly I have no idea what I feel a bout this, I’m not 100% satisfied. I may delete it later. my fist attempt at a dark fic.

Also, this was requested a very long time ago, I lost the request, though.

Masterlist

Charles Masterlist

Growing up in Monaco, you went to the same school as Arthur Leclerc. Arthur, with his messy brown hair and infectious laughter, was your closest friend. Your friendship began in a playground and quickly formed an unbreakable bond. You’d always race your bikes down narrow lanes, building sandcastles on Larvotto beach, or exploring the markets with insatiable curiosity. You two were inseparable.

Your families met because of your bond, and they formed their own friendships. It was due to the closeness that your families formed that you got to meet his brothers.

You saw Charles and Arthur karting, and you;d go with them from time to time, but while they were competitive and wanted to do it for life, you just wanted to join them and have fun. One of the reasons you and Arthur got so close is because you got into what the other liked and had fun while doing it.

Yet, in the background of your friendship with Arthur was your crush on his older brother, Charles. Charles is older by a few years and carried an air of confidence that captivated your young heart. He always seemed so cool, had that unattainable air around him, his striking looks and natural charm didn’t help. He was the epitome of everything you admired, but to him you were just his little brother’s friend, a mere child.

Charles has always been so sweet with you, and no matter how much time passed the blush that always graced your cheeks around him always stayed, it was permanent whenever he was in the same room as you.

You remember vividly the simmer afternoons spent at the Leclerc household. Arthur would always drag you along to play video games or just spend time together, while Charles, often busy with his racing aspirations, would give you a smile. Those moments, however brief and meaningless in the scheme of things, fouled your childish infatuation. You watched him from a distance, never expecting to actually catch his attention one day.

You thought you were discreet with your crush, but once you’re out of earshot, the adults would always joke about it, your mums dreaming of being one family one day and planning the wedding. It amused them to see how much you hung on every world Charles said and looked at him as if he was an angel, and how oblivious Charles was.

You remember the day your world turned upside down very well, it’s etched in your memory. Your father announced out of the blue, “We’re relocating to New York.” He said, excitement in his voice. The news felt like a punch to the gut. You were only twelve, but the thought of leaving Arthur and your familiar world behind was devastating.

“We’ll stay in touch, promise?” Arthur, who was equally crushed by news said his voice was shaky but he was determined. You both exchanged trinkets as tokens of your friendship. A bracelet from you and a racing car from him.

“Always.” You replied, tears brimming your eyes.

The move was a whirlwind, and soon you found yourself in the concrete jungle of New York City, a stark contrast to the serene beauty of Monaco. Despite the distance, you and Arthur remained in touch. Long phone calls, video chats, and countless messages kept your friendship alive. You shared your experiences, your struggles, and your triumphs, growing up together despite the miles between you.

Years passed, and your infatuation with Charles dimmed to a fond memory as you immerse yourself in your new life. But as you matured, you often wondered how different things might have been if you had stayed in Monaco. The thought lingered in the back of your mind, a faint but persistent echo of your childhood dreams.

Now, at twenty-one, you stood at a crossroads, ready to reconnect with the past. The opportunity to return to Europe for a summer was too enticing to pass up. Once Arthur heard about it he was ecstatic at the prospect of you two meeting again, and plans were quickly made for your grand reunion. The anticipation of seeing him again, of revisiting the places that shaped your childhood, filled you with excitement and a touch of nostalgia.

Little did you know, this trip would be more than just a walk down memory lane. It would be a journey that would intertwine your fate with Charles once more, in ways you could never have imagined.

The plane descended towards the Côte d'Azur Airport, and as you gazed out the window, your heart raced with anticipation. The Mediterranean's blue expanse sparkled below, the coastline of Monaco coming into view. It had been a decade since you'd seen these familiar sights, but they felt like a distant yet vivid memory.

After clearing customs, you wheeled your suitcase through the bustling terminal. Your excitement was palpable, mingled with the nervousness of reuniting with a childhood friend after so long. Would Arthur have changed much? Would your bond still be as strong? It has been the same online but, being face to face could be different.

Stepping out into the arrivals area, you scanned the crowd. And there he was, Arthur Leclerc, standing tall with that same mischievous grin you remembered. His hair was a bit shorter, his features more mature, but the spark in his eyes was unmistakable. A spark that video class couldn’t carry.

“Y/N!” Arthur called out, his voice filled with joy. You waved back, and in moments, you were enveloped in a tight hug.

"Arthur! It's so good to see you." You said, pulling back to take in his appearance. “You’re so tall now.”

"It’s good to see you! You look amazing." He replied, his eyes shining with genuine warmth. "I can't believe it's been ten years, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You say tearing up, Arthur’s eyes get glossy as well, and you’re hugging once again, this time you stay in each other’s arms for a bit longer.

“Come on, let's get you out of here and catch up." Arthur says after you pull back, he takes your bags and heads to his car.

The drive from the airport to Monaco was filled with laughter and stories, both of you eager to fill in the gaps of the years apart, things that haven’t been said on calls. Arthur had grown into a confident young man, his passion for racing more intense than ever. You shared your adventures in New York, the highs and lows, and the dreamlike quality of returning to Europe.

As you arrived in Monaco, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. The narrow streets, the bustling harbour, the luxurious buildings. It was all like you remembered, yet with a sense of newness. Arthur drove you to his family's home, where you'd be staying.

Stepping inside, you were hit with memories of your childhood. The familiar scent of the house, the photos on the walls, it was like stepping back in time. Arthur took your bags to a room in a house, before you followed him.

“Y/N!” A delighted voice came from the kitchen as you walked in. Pascale Leclerc, Arthur’s mother, emerged with a warm smile. She looked hardly changed, still radiating the same kindness and elegance you remembered.

“Mama Pascale!” you exclaimed, rushing to hug her.

“It’s been too long, mon ange” She said, hugging you tightly. “Look at you! All grown up and even more beautiful.”

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. It feels like coming home.”

“We’ve missed you around here. Arthur has talked non-stop about your visit.” Pascale’s eyes twinkled.

Arthur rolled his eyes playfully. “Well, she’s finally here. And I’ve got big plans to show her around.”

“I’m sure you do. But first, let’s get you settled in.” Pascale laughed. Arthur led you to your room.

“You’ll be staying in Charles’s old room.” He said, opening the door. “He moved out a while ago, but we’ve kept it nice for guests.”

The room was spacious and neatly arranged, with a large window offering a stunning view of the city below. It felt both strange and intimate to be staying in Charles’s old room, surrounded by remnants of his past, trophies, posters, and photos of his racing career.

“Wow.” You said, looking around. “This is amazing.”

Arthur grinned. “Glad you like it. Make yourself at home. We’ve got dinner in a bit, and then I’ll show you around the house.”

After freshening up, you joined the Leclerc family for dinner, minus Charles and Enzo who were out of Monaco for a race. The meal was filled with laughter and stories, and you felt a warmth that you’d missed in New York. Pascale’s cooking was as delicious as you remembered, and the conversation flowed easily, with Arthur and his mother making you feel like you’d never left.

Later, Arthur gave you a tour of the house. As you walked through the house, memories flooded back, each room telling a story of your shared past. You spent the first week catching up, going to your favourite sports when you were young, going into Nice, meeting his friends and having the time of your lives.

"Guess what?" Arthur said with a twinkle in his eye as you joined him in the living room, one afternoon. "I've got a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" You echoed, curious.

“Charles got us tickets for the Spain race next weekend.”

“Race?” Your heart skipped a beat. “That sounds incredible, thank you Arthur.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Charles when we see him.” Arthur shrugged off your gratitude.

”I will.” You say softly, a hint of nervousness hits you.

That evening, you and Arthur walked along the promenade, reminiscing about old times. The city was alive with activity, the sound of laughter and music filling the air. You couldn't help but feel a deep sense of belonging, a feeling you'd missed more than you realised, making you want to move back here and not return to New York after the summer.

You flew to Spain with Arthur, it was like going on a trip with your best friend after speaking about it for years, the trip made it out of the chat. You made it for qualifying day, you dressed casually, but delicately. Your style is very feminine, yet stylish, and you weren’t afraid to show some skin here and there.

You followed Arthur through the vibrant energy of the race circuit. The roar of engines, the cheers of the crowd, it was electrifying. Arthur was in his element, greeting fellow racers and team members with ease.

As you walked through the paddock, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Turning, you met the gaze of the one and only Charles Leclerc. He was standing with his team, his attention focused entirely on you. Time seemed to freeze. The boy you once had a crush on was now a strikingly handsome man, exuding charisma and confidence.

Charles hadn’t looked you up on social media so he had no idea how you looked after 10 years. Yet, he had no doubt in his mind that the female Arthur was walking with is you. His eyes ran over your cream sundress with small flowers on it, the straps were thin and there was a slit up your thigh. With every step Charles could see your leg peaking through.

Charles approached, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Arthur, who's this?” He asked, though his gaze suggested he already knew.

”Y/n, you remember her from school, she moved to New York.” Arthur grinned.

"Of course, Y/N. You've...changed a lot." He said, his voice heavy, thick.

“Well, I’m not eleven anymore.” You say with a sweet smile.

”Clearly.” Charles says under his breath, you’re more beautiful up close. “Welcome back.”

”Thanks, Charlie, it’s good to be back.” Your heart fluttered, the old nickname slipping so easily from your lips. Charles had to swallow and force a smile, it’s been seconds since he saw you again, and you already have some type of effect on him.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of excitement. You watched the quali with Arthur, cheering loudly as cars zoomed by, the drivers skillfully navigating the track. It was exhilarating, a stark reminder of the world you'd once been so close to. Charles qualified P2. You weren’t able to see him for the rest of the day, due to briefing, and strategy meetings.

The next day during a break, Arthur introduced you to some of his friends, including a few drivers. You chatted amiably, feeling the warmth of their welcome. But all the while, you were acutely aware of Charles' presence. His gaze followed you, filled with something more intense.

At one point, you found yourself alone with him in the team’s hospitality area. Charles leaned against the table, his eyes locked onto yours.

"So, what do you think of everything so far?" He asked, his voice smooth.

"It's amazing." You replied, trying to steady your nerves. "I've missed this energy."

"I’m glad you’re enjoying it. It’s good to see you again, Y/N. You’ve grown up." He smiled, a slow, deliberate smile that sent a shiver down your spine. The way he said it, made your heart race. There was a hint of something possessive in his tone, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it is.

"Thank you, Charles. You’ve...changed too."

”Here give me your phone, so I can put my number in.” Charles held out his hand and you gave him your phone. Charles quickly punched in his phone number and saved it. You were distracted by some shouting some people were doing and didn’t see what he was doing, giving Charles the perfect opportunity to send himself your live location and delete it from your chat. “Here you go.”

”Great.” Before you could delve deeper into the conversation, Arthur returned.

"Ready to head back?" He asked, looking between you and Charles with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, let's go." You said, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment.

Back in Monaco the days flew by in a whirlwind of races, dinners, and nostalgic explorations with Arthur. Yet, no matter where you went, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Charles’ eyes on you. Always watching you.

Charles would appear at the cafe where you and Arthur were having lunch, or join you for a spontaneous outing. His attention felt flattering, a validation of the childhood crush you’d once harboured.

One afternoon, you were walking around Monaco, before you had to meet Arthur after his appointment. While you were walking Charles found you and took the liberty to stay with you. Charles suggested a walk along the harbour, and you agreed, enjoying the idea of catching up with him.

As you strolled along the waterfront, Charles’ hand brushed against yours. The first time you deemed it an accident, but as it kept happening, that childish blush you used to have in his presence reappeared.

“You know.” He began, his voice low and serious. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you since you came back.”

”Really?” You looked up at him, surprised by his tone.

”Yes.” He said, his eyes darkening slightly, but he gave you a slight smile to cover up his inner thoughts from showing. “I can’t help but feel protective of you, you’ve grown up so much, and… well, I don’t like the idea of you being here alone, so just whenever Arthur is busy just call me, yeah?”

”Yeah, I will.” You continued walking with Charles, when a store caught your eyes. "Charlie, can we go into that store?"

“Of course.” You and Charles head into the boutique. Charles places his hand on your back as he guides you in the shop. Your cheeks flushed, you thought he'd remove his hand once you're inside the shop but his hands stayed there. Charles followed you around the shop as you looked at all the trinkets, a vintage jewellery box gaining your attention.

“Charlie, look, isn't it cute?” You pick up the box and open it, turning to show the man behind you, Charles's hand stays on you, but it moves from your back to your waist.

“It's very cute.” You look up only to see him looking at you, you bite your bottom lip to stop the smile from forming on your face, Charles' eyes fall onto your lips before they go back to your eyes. You turn back around and look through the shelves, smiling to yourself now that he couldn't see your face. Or so you thought, Charles caught your smile in one of the mirrors on the shelf. He was happy that he made you smile, your smile is so sweet he wants it all to himself. After a bit of browsing you end up with a couple things that you liked. The guy at the till smiles at you, Charles' jaw clenches. Charles' hands drop from your back to his pocket he takes out his card and hands it

to the guy.

“Charliee, I can pay.” You whine and try to give the guy your card, but Charles takes your hand in his and drops it.

“You're never paying when I'm with you, amour.” You pout but put your card back in your small bag you carried with you, trying not to over think the pet name he called you. Charles takes the bag from the cashier and you both head out, this time Charles' arm is around your shoulder. You're walking closer to each other now. Closer than before for sure.

“Thank you.” You tell him after a moment of silence, you look up at him and his face is much closer to yours now with his arm around your shoulder. “F-for buying me this, and-and for keeping me company with Arthur being busy.”

“Any time, whenever Arthur is busy just call me I'll always keep you company.” Charles says with a charming smile, reiterating what he said earlier. “Even if you want to take a break from him just tell me."

“I will.” You say with a giggle.

It was another race week and you're invited, Arthur was with his friends in F2, and so you decided to stick with Charles for most of the day. He introduced you to Rebecca and so you sat with her for lunch before KiKa also joined you and soon also Lily came. The girls were super polite they didn't ask you what your relationship with Charles, they all went through fazes of wanting to keep their relationship private, and

not confirming anything. Charles knew what he was doing, he was walking through the paddock to go from one place to the other when he saw the female gathering, he walked up behind you placing his hand on your shoulder. You look up startled before smiling when you see Charles, he greets the ladies. He leans to whisper in your ear.

“Do you need anything?”

“No thank you, don't worry about me.”

“Hard not to.: He says before he gives everyone one last smile and he leaves. The girls all share knowing looks, but keep their thoughts to themselves. It's been a while since Charles has been in a relationship, but they can see the signs.

When Charles finished his duties and heads back to where you are, he stops dead in his tracks. You're talking with Lando, smiling at what he's saying.

"Come on, mate, it's just Lando." Carlos who was walking with his teammate said seeing the look on Charles' face. He's not happy, at all. Why is Lando talking to you? Didn't he know you're with him? What could he be saying that's so funny? Lando isn't that funny. Charles walks up to you and places his hand around your shoulder, Leaving Carlos to go talk to his own girlfriend.

"Hey, I see you met y/n." Charles says with a cold smile.

"Yeah, I was telling her about Quadrent." Lando said, he picked up on Charles' demeanour and it left him confused, Charles is always kind, and easy going. He's never cold or standoffish.

"Why?" Charles asks and you look up at him confused.

"Charlie." You mumble softly, he glances down at you before his eyes settle back on Lando, who looked very uncomfortable at the moment like he wanted to be anywhere but here. "I asked him what he does when he's not racing."

"Hmm, okay, we have to go." Charles says and doesn't leave room for argument before he steers you away from the conversation and Lando.

"That was a bit rude." You mumble to Charles, he sighs and looks at you for a moment.

"I was just trying to protect you."

"From what?"

"Look, stay away from Lando, he was only talking to you because he wants to be with you." Charles tells you with so much assurance, like what he's saying is a fact.

"What? I don't think so." You frown, going over the conversation you just had with the British man, nothing standing out to you.

"Amour, I know Lando, believe me when I say he had anterior motives." You weren't 100% convinced, Charles stopped and turned you to face him, his hands on your shoulders. "Who knows Lando better?" He asked you.

"You do."

"Who knows his history with women?"

"You do.”

"Then believe me, when I say him talking with you wasn't innocent." You nod, believing him. I mean why would he lie to you? There's no reason for him to do that. You trust Charles.

The sun dipped low over Monaco, casting a warm golden glow across the city. You were sitting with Arthur at a cosy café near the harbour, sipping on an iced coffee and catching up on the latest gossip. Arthur was recounting a particularly amusing story from the paddock when you felt a familiar presence approaching.

Charles strolled up to your table, his smile bright and confident. "Hey, Arthur. Y/N," he greeted, his eyes lingering on you. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, pull up a chair." Arthur waved him over.

As Charles sat down, you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze seemed to drink you in. It was intense but not entirely uncomfortable. You smiled shyly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

"So, Y/N." Charles began, leaning forward slightly, "I've been thinking. You've been back in Monaco for a while now, and I haven't really had the chance to take you out properly."

"Oh?" Your heart skipped a beat, is this really happening?

Arthur grinned, sensing what was coming. "Sounds like someone has an idea."

"I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me this weekend.” Charles nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Just the two of us. I want to show you around, maybe take you to a nice dinner. What do you say?"

You felt your cheeks flush with excitement. The boy you had once idolized was now a man, standing before you and asking you out on a date. The crush you thought you'd outgrown resurfaced, stronger than ever. You bit your lip, trying to contain your giddiness.

"I'd love to." You replied, your voice almost a whisper.

Charles' smile widened, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. "Great. I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Seven it is." You agreed, your heart fluttering.

Arthur chuckled, giving you a playful nudge. "Looks like you have a date."

”Shut up.” You say under your breath fighting the blush that was a permanent fixture on your face. Arthur laughed and wiggled his eyebrows at you.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of conversation and laughter, but you couldn't shake the excitement bubbling inside you. Charles' invitation had lit a spark in you, one that had been dormant for years. You felt a renewed sense of anticipation, eager to see where this evening would lead.

When the weekend arrived, you found yourself nervously preparing for the date. You chose a dress that was elegant yet understated, wanting to strike the perfect balance. As you applied the finishing touches to your makeup, you couldn't help but smile at your reflection. This was it, the night you had been waiting for.

Right on time, Charles arrived at the Leclerc home, looking effortlessly handsome in a tailored suit. He greeted you with a warm smile, his eyes filled with admiration.

"You look stunning." He said, offering his arm.

"Thank you." You replied, feeling the blush return to your cheeks.

As you walked to his Ferrari, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The car roared to life, and soon you were speeding through the streets of Monaco, the city's lights twinkling around you. Charles drove with ease, occasionally glancing over at you with a smile.

He took you to a luxurious restaurant perched on a hill, offering breathtaking views of the city below. The maître d' greeted Charles warmly, leading you to a private table by the window. The ambiance was perfect, soft music, candlelight, and a stunning vista.

Throughout dinner, Charles was the perfect gentleman. He asked about your life in New York, genuinely interested in your stories. You talked about your friends, and the adventures you'd had. In turn, he shared his experiences on the racing tracks, the highs and lows of his career. The conversation flowed effortlessly, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

After dinner, Charles suggested a walk along the harbour. The cool night air was refreshing, and the city seemed to glow under the moonlight. As you strolled side by side, you felt a sense of contentment, like everything was falling into place.

Charles stopped by the edge of the water, turning to face you. "I've really enjoyed tonight," he said softly. "It's been wonderful getting to know you again, Y/N."

"I've enjoyed it too." You replied, your heart racing.

"I hope we can do this again. Soon." He took your hand, his touch gentle but firm.

“I'd like that, Charles." You smiled, your heart swelling with happiness.

As he walked you back to his car, you felt a sense of warmth and belonging. Charles opened the door for you, and as you slid into the seat, you couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of something special.

The drive back to the Leclerc home was quiet, filled with comfortable silence. When you arrived, Charles walked you to the door, his hand lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He said, his voice filled with promise.

"Goodnight, Charles." You replied, your heart full.

As you watched him drive away, you felt a sense of joy and anticipation. The night had been perfect, a dream come true. And as you lay in bed, replaying every moment, you couldn't help but smile.

Waking up the next day you open your phone and find your social media accounts which are private and full of follow requests and DM requests. You’re so confused, before you open Twitter and see pictures of you and Charles last night on a the date everywhere. You groan and lean down in bed closing your eyes.

Charles is happy with himself, those paparazzi he leaked his date info to, did a good job, taking pictures in angles that made it look like you two were kissing at one point, and much closer than you were. Now everyone will know that you’re his. His plan is working, now what he has to do is get you to come stay at his house.

One evening you found yourself at a glamorous cocktail party, filled with drivers and Monaco's high society. You wore a stunning dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, leaving very little for the imagination. Many eyes looked your way when you passed. And of course, Charles was by your side, his arm firmly around your waist.

As you chatted with one of the drivers from F2, you felt Charles' grip tightening. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. The driver complimented your dress, and you laughed lightly, thanking him, a slight blush covering your face. A blush that has always been meant for Charles only. Before you could continue, Charles interrupted.

"y/n, can I speak with you for a moment?" He said, his voice strained but polite. You excused yourself, following Charles to a quitter corner.

"What's wrong?" You asked, noticing the tension in his posture. Charles takes a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours, in an interlock that had you shivering.

"I don't like the way he was looking at you."

"He was just being friendly, Charlie, it's a party." You say looking up at him through your lashes, Charles just wants to pull you closer and crash his lips on you in a heated kiss.

His expression darkened further. "Friendly or not, I don’t want anyone looking at you like that."

The possessiveness in his voice sent a chill down your spine. "Charles, you’re overreacting. We’re just talking."

"I don’t care. You’re mine, Y/N.” He leaned in, his face inches from yours. “And I won’t have anyone thinking otherwise."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the intensity in his eyes silenced you. It wasn’t just about protectiveness. There was a dark edge to his possessiveness, something you hadn’t seen before.

“Okay.” YOu agree meekly, Charles kisses your cheek right next to your lips, and smiles oh so sweetly at you, lacing your hands together.

“Come stay with me.” You look up at him, surprised with your eyes wide.

”What?”

“Come stay with me, I want to spend as much time with you as I can before I have to get back to Marnello.” He looks at you pleading. “Pretty please.”

”Alright, might give Arthur free time to hang out with his other friends.” You say convincing yourself that it’s a good idea, you look at your best friend and see him talking with a woman by the bar. “Or someone else.” You say with a giggle, Charles sees Arthur and smile. Good, if Arthur finds and lady friend then that would give him more time to spend with you, this sis going better than he expected.

You moved in with Charles, you had the spare room. Charles tired to convince you to stay with him, but you wanted things to go slow. But more often than not, you fell asleep on the sofa while watching something together and Charles would put you in bed with him.

Most nights will end with you sipping on a drink he makes for you, always insisting that he just wants to spoil you, after a while you’d start feeling exhausted, and fall asleep.

The next mornings, you’d usually wake up in his bed, with him laying next to you, the times you woke up after him, you’d see him awake and watching you with a deep in thought look on his face, the moment he notice you’re awake he’d smile and press a kiss to your forehead.

"Good morning.” He said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Morning." You replied groggily, a strange sense of comfort washing over you.

You were browsing through a quaint boutique downtown. Charles had suggested you update your wardrobe, and you were eager to please him. As you moved between the racks of clothing, you found yourself drawn to a beautiful blue sundress. It was light, airy, it’s something you’d usually buy without a second thought.

You held the dress up to yourself, admiring it in the mirror. It was perfect for the warm weather and would look great with the sandals Charles had bought you last week. But as you stood there, a familiar uncertainty crept in. Would Charles like it? Would he think it was appropriate?

You pulled out your phone and took a quick photo of yourself holding the dress. Your fingers hovered over the send button as you debated whether to ask him. The decision felt simple enough, yet you couldn't shake the need for his approval.

Finally, you texted him: "What do you think of this dress? Should I get it?"

You waited anxiously, your heart pounding. Within a few moments, your phone buzzed with his response: "It's pretty, but I think the neckline is a bit too low. How about looking for something else?"

You sighed, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. Charles always knew what was best, you reminded yourself. You put the dress back on the rack and continued browsing, looking for something that fit his description of appropriate.

As you moved through the store, you picked up a simple white blouse and a pair of high-waisted jeans. They were nice, but they didn't make your heart sing like the sundress had. Still, you knew Charles would approve, and that was what mattered most.

Later that evening, you returned home with your purchases. Charles was waiting for you in the living room, his eyes lighting up as you walked in.

"Hey, how did the shopping go?" He asked, standing to greet you.

"It went well." You replied, holding up the blouse and jeans. "I found these. What do you think?"

He inspected the clothes, nodding with approval. "Good choices. They'll look great on you."

His praise filled you with warmth, and you felt a sense of accomplishment.

"Thanks. I'm glad you like them."

He pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead. "I always want you to look your best. You know that, right?"

“I know. Thank you for helping me." You nodded, resting your head against his chest.

As you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you realised just how much you had come to rely on his guidance. Even for something as simple as picking out a dress, his opinion was the deciding factor. It was comforting, in a way, to know that he was always there to help you make the right choices.

Gradually, your independence faded. Charles' influence seeped into every aspect of your life. You stopped wearing the dresses you loved, opting for the ones he chose. You stopped going out with friends, preferring to stay home with him. Your world narrowed to the confines of his desires, and you didn't even realise it was happening.

Before making any decision, you looked to Charles, waiting for his approval. If he nodded, you felt reassured; if he frowned, you felt anxious. Your happiness hinged on his reactions, your self-worth tied to his validation.

Charles marked you in other ways, too. He began leaving hickeys on your neck, a visible sign of his possession. "I want everyone to know you're mine." He would whisper, his voice both tender and possessive.

You accepted it, feeling a strange sense of pride in his attention. The marks he left were a symbol of his love, and you wore them like badges of honour. When people asked, you smiled and brushed it off.

But it wasn't just protection. Charles' control over you deepened, his possessiveness consuming him. You found yourself agreeing to everything he asked, trusting his judgement over your own. He convinced you that he knew what was best for you, and you believed him.

Charles made sure you stayed close. He monitored your phone, controlled your social interactions, and kept you under his watchful eye. You didn't see it as manipulation; you saw it as love. He was protecting you, caring for you, making sure you were safe.

As the months passed, you lost sight of who you were outside of Charles. Your dreams, your desires, your sense of self, all became secondary to his needs and wishes. You became a shadow of your former self, a puppet dancing to his tune.

But you didn't see it. You were blind to the darkness that had enveloped your life, the possessiveness that had taken root in Charles' heart. You were happy, in a way, content in the illusion of love and security he had created.

Charles had what he wanted: you, completely and utterly his. And you, in your innocence and naivety, believed it was exactly where you were meant to be.

Taglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house .

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its-your-mind · 1 year ago

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ALWAYS rotating TAZ: Balance around in my brain like microwave but ESPECIALLY with the announcement of The Suffering Game graphic novel

The dope thing they can do (and are doing) with the graphic novel series is sprinkle in moments of foreshadowing and hints to the reader about what REALLY might be going on here, which is so cool and I’m a huge fan of it, especially when you’re telling a story in this form.

But what is REALLY FUCKING TASTY about Balance as a story is that none of the motherfuckers telling it had any clue what they were doing when they started

Gerblins is dick jokes and not knowing how dice work and making fun of each other for voices. LICHRALLY the scene where Taako grabs the Umbrastaff is immediately proceeded by Clint trying different voices for Merle while Justin begs him to stop, as Taako. Merle gets launched across the room cuz he failed his save, and now Taako has an umbrella. The scene moves on.

Griffin brought them up to the BOB, introduced them to the Director, and gave them memories of a war fought over nameless, lost, powerful but mysterious artifacts. The memory that Taako takes from it is the idea of soured cream (ya know, for his taco quest).

And then they’re off, on different adventures, making friends, saving lives, making more dick jokes, and Griffin is in the background, slowly building in the meta-plot, as all DMs do.

But this meta-plot was HUGE. It was ALL-CONSUMING. It completely changes everything we know about this world and these characters. It takes the moments of dick jokes, and arguments about character voices, and flirting with death, and adds a layer of tragedy and complexity that just wasn’t present the first time they told that story.

AND THAT’S WHY THIS STORY KICKS ASS. The vibe of the story changed as Tres Horny Boys grew closer and closer to remembering the lives they had lost, as Griffin upped the stakes, as people started dying. They still don’t know shit for most of The Suffering Game, but you absolutely could not have predicted the tone of that arc after just listening to Gerblins. It sounds like a completely different story. And so when the other shoe drops, when shit breaks bad, when it’s the end of the world… again, and they have to reclaim their Stolen Century…

It makes sense. The tone has shifted enough to accommodate that kind of change. The characters have grown (back) into themselves enough to make this work.

Because TAZ: Balance is a tragedy. But the tragedy happened before the podcast even started, and had been erased. So of course it started off with goofs and dildo jokes. Of course the three of them started being standoff-ish with each other and making light of every situation that should have had a lot more weight. They didn’t know what they had lost, and we, the audience, didn’t either. So it was easy to laugh and joke… until slowly, it wasn’t so much anymore.

Plenty of people have praised Griffin’s storytelling abilities, but I think the thing that was most impressive to me was how he took the disparate threads laid out behind the Boys on their adventures, and followed them backwards, into the story they had lost, and forwards, into the ending they earned. I fucking love that he settled on Istus as the deity to interact with them, because I don’t think there’s a better representation of the story Griffin was weaving behind the scenes of the arcs.

Story and Song wasn’t really an arc driven by dice rolls and role playing - but it wasn’t railroading either. Griffin took every story they had told, every happy ending they had fought for, and twined them around and through each other. The world was saved not because of a lucky nat 20 roll, but because every person they had helped through the story came out in force to fight beside them to save their world.

And so in the end, the Stolen Century was a tragedy. But The Adventure Zone: Balance was a story of hope, of family, of the power that just a few loveable doofuses can have when they move through the world, making friends and saving lives. So when the world was ending and they needed help, there were dozens of people waiting to hear the Story and the Song that would give them the push they needed to fight, and the hope they needed to win.

#taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #taako adventurezone #merle highchurch #magnus burnsides #McElroys #griffin mcelroy #the adventure zone

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fastandcarlos · 2 months ago

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Number One Fan : ̗̀➛ George Russell

summary: the reveal of george’s relationship with one of the best footballers in the world

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liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 2,958,068 others

georgerussell63: such an honour to get to watch the lionesses for the very first time tonight, and see my girl out on the pitch, congratulations on a great win 🦁🦁🦁

178,493 comments

landonorris: can’t believe you went to the football and didn’t invite me 😭

username1: hope you had the best time george, the game was so good!

maxverstappen1: they can’t have been playing us if it was a good game for you guys, I bet we’d demolish you 😂

georgerussell63: @/maxverstappen1 trust me, these girls are unstoppable

username2: now wishing my dream to play for england actually came true 😭

lewishamilton: bracing myself to hear all about this at the office tomorrow

username3: how has it taken you this long to see just how talented this group of girls are??

lionesses: thank you for coming and supporting our team ❤️

georgerussell63: @/lionesses you girls were awesome, so glad to see it in person ❤️

username4: wait…everyone ignoring the part where he said watching his girl or just me 🤯

mercedesamgf1: mr wolff wants to remind you that work starts bright and early in the morning!

georgerussell63: @/mercedesamgf1 don’t you guys worry, I’ll be there!

username5: watch me stalk every player’s socials now to find out who it is 🏃🏻‍♀️

username6: I want to be mad but george and a footballer are such a good pairing 😮‍💨

oscarpiastri: still waiting for you to actually explain the rules of football to me…

username7: bracing myself for the sexist comments to arrive and defend these girls with my honour 💪🏻

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liked by alessia, leahwilliamsonn and 397,597 others

ynusername: last bit of recovery before we head into the build up for the euros. luckily for me I’ve got the best company to make sure I’m super relaxed 🥰☀️

48,361 comments

username8: yn you can’t just spring something like this on us…I wasn’t ready

alessia: can you stop making the rest of us feel extremely jealous please 😮‍💨

username9: can’t wait to see you absolutely smash it at the euros ⚽️

maryearps: can’t wait to reunite with you best friend 🙌🏻

ynusername: @/maryearps the only reason I agreed to play was secretly you!

username10: 🎶 it’s coming home it’s coming home 🎶

lionesses: we can’t wait to welcome you back to camp soon 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

ynusername: @/lionesses buzzing to be back and try and win this thing!

username11: whoever you are sir pls don’t lift our girl like that…we can’t afford any injuries now!!

landonorris: good luck yn, I know you girls will give it your all!

ynusername: @/landonorris thanks lan 🫶🏻🧡

username12: someone’s gotta be able to zoom in and figure out who this mystery man is 😧

alexgreenwood5: missed your beautiful face so much, it needs to spill all the gossip with me asap 😘

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liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 392,727 others

ynusername: apparently seeing as he came to my game I’ve got to come and see what he does too 😂 thank you mercedes for such an incredible day with you all 🩵

68,493 comments

username13: stfu please don’t tell me the mystery guy is actually THE george russell

georgerussell63: thank you for being here, hope you had the best time darling ✨

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 it was amazing!! who knew f1 was so much fun 🥳

username14: it was so obvious how did we not piece it together 🤦🏻‍♀️

jillscottjs8: I always told you you’d love f1 and you never believed me 😂 now you’re dating one of them 🤦🏻‍♀️

ynusername: @/jillscottjs8 turns out you might’ve been right all along 😔

username15: I can already tell these two are gonna make such a cute couple!!!!

lewishamilton: an absolute honour to meet you, good luck with the lionesses this summer ⚽️

username16: it’s adorable how supportive they are of each other’s careers 🥺

landonorris: smiling through the pain knowing you picked mercedes over mclaren 💔

ynusername: @/landonorris when george signs a contract with you I’ll be the first one over there 🧢

landonorris: @/ynusername when???? spill your secrets my friend 🫢

username17: can’t wait to enter football hooligan era george over the next couple of months 😂

mercedesamgf1: thank you for paying us a visit yn, you’re welcome back anytime 🩵

danielricciardo: still got no idea what football truly is, but it was so cool to hear all about what you do ☺️

username18: my heart is so full it could burst right now 💓💓

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liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 2,974,088 others

georgerussell63: saying goodbye to my favourite person in style before she heads off to the euros, good luck darling 🏆⚽️

284,073 comments

landonorris: you got this yn, bring football home ⚽️💪🏻

username19: okay well I’m now officially obsessed with these two 🤩

lilymhe: alex told me I’m an honorary brit in order to support you for the next four weeks

ynusername: @/lilymhe I’ll always welcome you with open arms 🫂

username20: george pretending to say goodbye like he’s not going to be at every single game

ynusername: thank you for the most beautiful couple of days, no better way to prepare for the tournament 💞

georgerussell63: @/ynusername you’ve got this, everyone’s behind you - especially me!

username21: have you ever seen two better matched people in your life???

carlossainz55: england are gonna win the euros there’s no doubt about it 🦁🦁🦁

carlossainz55: @/georgerussell63 george stole my phone during the parade and wrote that btw

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 you mean to say you don’t want england to win? 😱

carlossainz55: @/ynusername you’re a close second behind spain I promise 🇪🇸⚽️

username22: I want to be heartbroken that I’ve lost my chance with george but damn yn is just stunning 🫠

alex_albon: go out there and smash it yn, just like you always tell me!

oscarpiastri: seeing as I have zero affiliation to europe I think this time I’m allowed to say that I’m rooting for you!!

username23: good luck yn, we’re all rooting for you 🎉

username24: can’t wait for all the football content we’re gonna get over the next month!!!

lewishamilton: have the best time yn, and make sure you score lots of goals 🥅

ynusername: @/lewishamilton I’ll try my best just for you ☺️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maryearps, lucybronze and 428,497 others

ynusername: first couple of weeks and first couple of wins, trust me when I tell you this team is something special ✨🫶🏻

78,372 comments

chloekelly: so in love with what a superstar you are 🤩

username25: I heard the heart was a sign to george, someone pls tell me that’s true

username26: @/username25 it’s true!! someone on x said they saw george doing it back when she scored 🥺

username27: you’re doing amazing yn, let’s go all the way!

alex_albon: george has not stopped talking about how amazing you are at the paddock btw 😂

ynusername: @/alex_albon tell him to worry about the racing instead 🙄

landonorris: FOOTBALL’S COMING HOME 🎉🎉

ynusername: @/landonorris let’s not get too ahead of ourselves just yet lan 😂😂

username28: how does george ever get to a race with how often he’s in the stands cheering her on 😂

maryearps: have I mentioned recently how much I love playing with you???

ynusername: @/maryearps I love being on that pitch with you so much more!!

username29: you girls are smashing it, dare we say it’s coming home???

georgerussell63: keep pushing my love, you’re making everyone so proud 💕

username30: forever wishing I could be as cool as you…

lauren_hemp: in love with the fact I get to lineup with you, what a team 🤜🏻

ynusername: @/lauren_hemp the striker to my winger 🤛🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, ynusername and 3,017,492 others

georgerussell63: gutted I couldn’t be there in person but still making sure I support them all the way. onto the semis and I couldn’t be prouder of the girls (especially yn!) 🦁🦁🦁

284,507 comments

ynusername: I can’t believe you made the whole of silverstone watch 😂 you’re the best sweetheart

georgerussell63: @/ynusername wouldn’t have missed it for the world…and neither would thousands of others apparently 😂

username31: if anyone ever doubts george’s dedication to yn then just show them this post!!

lilymhe: never watched a game of football in my life until now…turns out it’s pretty cool when one of your best friends plays

username32: I love the fact he point blank refused to miss the game 👏🏻

oscarpiastri: beginning to see why you brits are so obsessed with football, I’m on tenterhooks watching this 😬

username33: loving that lewis joined him to cheer yn on too 🤩

lewishamilton: you were incredible tonight, good luck for the semi final, I’ll be watching 🙌🏻

ynusername: @/lewishamilton thank you so much for all your support!!

username34: the cheer of the crowd at that full time whistle made my heart swell 🥺

mercedesamgf1: wishing you all the best in the final stages yn, we know you and the girls can go all the way!

danielricciardo: no idea what’s going on, but you’re doing amazing yn!!

username35: thankful they’ve got a week off so george can keep supporting irl

landonorris: how does it feel to have a girlfriend that’s so much cooler than you???

georgerussell63: @/landonorris how does it feel to have a girlfriend…oh wait, nvm 🫢

landonorris: @/georgerussell63 low blow my friend 😭

username36: I’m so excited, don’t think I can wait three days for the semi final 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 429,716 others

ynusername: CHAMPIONS OF EUROPE 🏆⚽️💕

59,737 comments

georgerussell63: words will never do justice to tell how proud I am of you, my champion, always 💓

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 thank you for all your sacrifices over the past month, couldn’t do it without you ❤️

username37: so damn proud of you yn, you’ve been insane all tournament 👏🏻

lilymhe: I’m SO damn proud of you my girl 💪🏻

username38: it finally came home ⚽️🎉

landonorris: the best game of football ever, you’re a total legend my friend!!

ynusername: @/landonorris tysm for coming and cheering me on!

username39: I’ve not stopped crying since that goal went in, such a thrilling game ☺️

carlossainz55: my second favourite team (but favourite player!) are champions, felicidades mi amiga 🎉

username40: when the camera panned to george in the stands I swear I almost died

chloekelly: just two girls scoring in the final of the euros like it’s no big deal 🤩🤩

heidiberger_: when I next see you we’re celebrating this with sooooo many drinks 🥂

username41: george looked like the proudest man in the world omg

danielricciardo: congrats yn, you’re incredible!

maxverstappen1: so proud to call you a friend, good job out there ☺️

oscarpiastri: thank you so much for the invite, honoured to have been there and watched this in person!

username42: we all knew you could do it, champions of europe 💞💞

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 3,958,726 others

georgerussell63: celebrating you, my love. all the hard work has been worth it in the end, I couldn’t be prouder of you and the whole team for what you’ve achieved over this past month. can’t wait to have you all to myself again, ily 💞✨

329,271 comments

username43: can’t begin to imagine how proud you must be feeling rn george 🥺

leahwilliamsonn: it’s been amazing to have you alongside us during the past four weeks too george!!

landonorris: turns out you’ve got yourself a pretty cool girl there russell 👏🏻

georgerussell63: @/landonorris trust me I remind myself how lucky I am everyday!!

username44: in the future my partner better be as supportive of me as george is of yn…

oscarpiastri: hope you guys had the best night…you both deserve it 🍺

maxverstappen1: make sure you get yn a drink on me 😂

username45: seeing george’s feed has been the most adorable thing throughout this entire tournament

alessia: thank you for loving our girl as much as we do ❤️

username46: please don’t tell me this is gonna be the end of fangirl george now 😂

mercedesamgf1: admin reminder that yn might be done but we still have a season to finish!!

username47: the softest human being who ever existed 🥺

lionesses: we’ve loved having your support behind us all the way, thank you george ⚽️🦁

username48: manifesting to one day have a relationship as wholesome as this 🤞🏻

lewishamilton: can’t wait to see you guys and hear all about the final, we’re all so proud of you yn 🩵

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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paleopinesofficial · 1 month ago

Text

An important update to our Paleo Pines Community🦖💙😞

Transcript Below;

Paleo Pines Needs Your Help

A lot of you have been asking what’s next for Paleo Pines and we wanted to provide our community with an update on the challenges we are facing. The sad truth is, the future is uncertain.

For the better part of this year we’ve been working behind the scenes to create a plan for the next iteration of Paleo Pines, filled with stunning new regions, quirky new NPCs, plenty more adorable dinosaurs, plus eggs, babies and - yes - multiplayer. The job after launch seemed simple - listen to our community, provide a roadmap full of updates and DLC to ensure that our players can continue to enjoy the existing world… and double-down on that enjoyment with the plan for bigger, better, shinier Paleo Pines for you to enjoy with friends and family.

We've been searching high and low for a production partner, one that felt your love and passion to help us bring the next Paleo Pines to life. On several occasions in our journey, we were within a few small steps of the finish line, only to have circumstances beyond our control cause the future to fall through.

This isn't happening just to us. It seems the whole indie game scene is facing a sudden drying up of publishing and investment opportunities. Thanks to the unwavering dedication of our small team and the massive love from all of you, we've been able to support the first year of Paleo Pines on a shoestring budget.

We’ve managed to keep the lights on… until now. Unless we can find a partner who is keen to see the Paleo Pines universe grow, we won’t be able to keep our team together for much longer.

So, we’re making our situation public. Here's how you can help:

Do you know a publisher/investor who would be a great partner for Paleo Pines 2? If you're a serious publisher or investor and are interested in seeing a production plan, financial model, game design document and more, please reach out to [email protected]. (By the way, Paleo Pines isn’t the only property we’re working on... Our talented team has a diverse collection of small, medium and large scale projects, for PC, console and mobile. If you’re looking for something fun and a little bit different, get in here.)

Can you help in smaller ways? Every little bit helps! Here are a few ways you can directly support the devs:

Have you got our DLC yet? We've just released our very first Halloween DLCs – a great way to support us while getting more gameplay for yourself.

Still playing the demo? Are we on your Wishlist? Please consider buying the full game today, or in the next sale. We promise it'll bring you hours of dino-tastic joy!

Befriend a Paleo Pines plushie. These adorable creatures aren't just cute, our portion of the sales goes towards development. Our latest, Boo, the albino Styracosaurus, is available now. Our previous plushies helped fund our new Halloween DLCs and free update.

Order Paleo Pines merchandise. We’ve got dozens of fun items celebrating your favourite dinos available in time for gifting this year.

Even if you can't offer financial support, you can still be a hero! Share this post with anyone who might be interested in helping. Wishlist us, buy the game, talk about how it makes you feel, and share share share. The power of community is real, and every share brings us closer to making more Paleo Pines!

The team here can't express enough gratitude to the incredible Paleo Pines community. You've been with us through every step of this amazing journey, from the demo launch to the release last September, and through our adorable plushie collaborations with Makeship. You've become more than players and we couldn't have imagined building this world with a kinder, more supportive group.

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for supporting us on this roller coaster of a year since launch, and your patience and understanding with our current situation. Hopefully with your help, this won’t be the end of the Paleo Pines adventure.

Lots of love, The Paleo Pines Team

#paleopines #paleo pines #indie dev #game development #indiedev #indie games #dinosaur #paleoblr

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zepskies · 2 months ago

Text

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.

AN: Here we go! lol. This is the highly requested Part 2 to This One’s For You, over in the BMD-verse!

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, edging, teasing, fluff, and feels.

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

You gasped, your nails raking through his hair. Your grip threatened to rip out a few strands as you panted into his neck.

“Ben, please…for God’s sake…”

“Please what?” he said. There was grit in his voice when he spoke into your ear, but he was all too controlled. Taunting.

Asshole.

He was relentless, dragging his fingers inside your quivering pussy, rubbing his thumb around your clit, but almost never where you wanted him. Your thighs were shaking on either side of his frame as he had you naked on your back, writhing in the middle of your shared bed. You’d sucked him off until his spine rattled and his eyes nearly crossed, swallowing up as much as you could of what he had to give.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m sorry!” you burst in frustration, but you also had to stifle your laughter. Your husband narrowed his eyes at you, spying the hint of your smile.

“How come I don’t fucking believe you?” said Ben. With his elbow digging into the bed beside your shoulder, his occupied fingers curled inside you, finally brushing against the sensitive ridge of your inner walls. It drew a faltering moan from your lips.

“What exactly are you sorry for?” he demanded. He bowed his head and laid a biting kiss along your throat. “Use your fucking words.”

You exhaled roughly, gripping his hair tight again. Now that he couldn’t see your face, you could allow yourself to grin in amusement.

Three Days Ago…

Ben was tired and more irritable than usual when he stepped into the Flatiron Building. The night before had been a battle of wills between him and his infant daughter, who’d been finnicky, having a hard time going back to sleep. He’d done his best to help her get back to sleep, since you had been dead to the world and unable to leave the bed (or so you’d seemed).

Now, he took the elevator up to the right floor and used his key to get into the office suite, where Butcher and the rest of your delinquent friends were already dicking around.

Some horrible French rap was playing on the Bluetooth speaker. Kimiko was flicking tiny pieces of paper across the dining table, into a “goal” made by Hughie’s hands. Frenchie wore a “Kiss the Cook” apron as he pulled a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven in the kitchenette, while M.M. swept the excess flour stains off the counter.

Annie was trying to get Butcher to smoke his cigarette out on the balcony.

“Really, you had fucking cancer. You’d think you’d try a little harder to take care of yourself,” she said. Butcher gave her a wan smile, and blew a coil of smoke upward between them.

“Nice,” she said flatly.

But all that stopped when Ben strode into the room. They stared at him, each starting to smile, no matter how much some of them tried to hide it (like Kimiko, with a hand over her mouth).

“What the fuck’re you staring at?” Ben snapped. “We got a job, right?”

Butcher cleared his throat and recovered first. He dabbed his cigarette on an ashtray on the dining table and grabbed an iPad to give to the supe.

“Yeah, got us an escapee. Our little slumlord, Sapphire,” he said.

Ben frowned. Sapphire was the supe who nearly vaporized you a couple of years ago, after they broke up her drug ring. While he read the file documenting detailing her escape and what the CIA knew of her whereabouts so far, Hughie shared a look with Kimiko and Annie before he spoke.

“So, uh, how’s Lila doing?”

Ben shot him a look through furrowed brows.

“Fine. She’s with her mother,” he replied. Hughie predictably asked about you, and again, Ben said you were fine at home with the baby.

“Lila’s almost a year old, right?” Hughie asked. “Aw man, that’s gotta be a fun age, right? I mean, fun, but challenging. All the crying, the diaper changing. Getting her to sleep through the night must be tough.”

Ben’s attention piqued at that, and not in a good way. His dark suspicion grew when his gaze flicked up to Hughie’s dumb fucking face, and then the rest of them, with their dumbass smiles. Biting her lip to stop herself from smiling, Annie pressed a button on her phone.

All of a sudden, Ben heard his own voice playing from the speaker.

“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?”

“Now ain’t that a lovely warble,” Butcher remarked. Ben shot him a warning glare, but the Brit raised his hands in amused surrender. He crossed his arms and continued to smoke as he watched the scene unfold.

Ben tossed the iPad onto the kitchen counter and strode over to Annie with menacing steps, intending to put an end to this bullshit. She grinned and tossed her phone over to Kimiko, and Ben glowered, changing directions.

“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”

Kimiko’s eyes widened at the angry supe heading toward her. She tossed the phone to Frenchie next. The phone bounced between his flour-stained hands as he yelped in surprise.

“Oh, shit,” he uttered, when Ben began stomping his way.

“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”

“A voice like warm butter,” Frenchie praised. He quickly tried to move from side to side to evade his attacker. “You should be proud, Monsiuer Grincheux! A man soothing his baby is a beautiful thing.”

“Shut your fucking cockhole,” Ben gritted out, but he still reached out when the phone sailed under his arm—only to land in M.M.’s hands. He froze with widened eyes, not wanting to be in the game. But it was too late, for him and Ben.

“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” his voice sang, more quietly, more tender, deep and baritone. “This one’s for you…”

A brief pause. And then—

“What the fuck’re you doing?”

M.M. managed to pause the video. A beat of utter silence, and then...

Everyone burst out into laughter. Hughie started it; he was damn near folded in half, leaning heavily on his girlfriend as he wiped a tear out of his eye. M.M. tossed the phone back to Frenchie, whose entire frame was shaking with restrained glee.

Ben’s jaw worked as he contemplated how exactly he was going to kill every one of these cocksucking morons.

And then you. Because how else had they gotten that video? You had to have sent it somehow before he got ahold of you last night.

“All right, enough!” he bellowed.

The entire room fell silent.

“First of all, erase that shit right now, or it’s coming out your ass,” he barked, pointing at Frenchie. The other man jolted and did as he was told.

“As for the rest of you, I better not hear another fucking word about this, or so help me Christ, I’m gonna do some barbecuing.”

About three days later, Sapphire had been caught and re-imprisoned, and Ben returned home. He found you in the living room. He was taciturn to your happy smile when you welcomed him with a hug around his waist, though your smile fell after he didn’t respond to your kiss.

He slowly lowered his gaze down to you, and you knew.

Biting your lip, you soothed a hand along his cheek. “So, how’d it go?”

“Fine,” he said, but little else.

In fact, Ben didn’t speak to you for most of the evening. You tried cooking him a good hot meal, but he barely said two words to you. The only thing he did, before he was even showered and changed, was venture into the nursery to lay a gentle hand on his daughter’s head as she slept, over her downy brown hair. He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

After that, he strode past you in the doorway and slammed the door shut in the bathroom.

Aw shit. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help chortling with laughter. You should’ve known he’d be a great big man child about this.

So you decided to call your mom and see if she could take Lila for the night.

You had some damage control to do.

Now…

He'd brought you to the edge of your pleasure three times before he withdrew his mouth or his hand from your body, not letting you touch yourself, not letting you come—driving you to the point of frustrated tears.

You grabbed his head with both hands and guided him to look you in the eyes.

“Baby, please. Stop torturing me,” you pleaded. You used every tool in your arsenal to make him break, giving him soft, tearful eyes. You leaned up and pressed gentle kisses to his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I need you,” you whispered, drawing him into deeper, messier kisses. Part of him started to falter. He briefly closed his eyes and breathed into your kiss.

But then, he stubbornly broke from you with a frown.

“Nice try. You’re not getting off that easy,” he said. “Now say it. Why the fuck are you sorry?”

You huffed in aggravation, but you twined your arms around his neck and brushed slightly sweaty strands of his hair away from his forehead.

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you,” you said, even though your mouth began to curve upward. “It was a sweet thing you did, and I’m glad I captured it. But I am sorry that sharing that moment with our friends bothers you so much.”

“First of all, they’re your idiot friends,” he said. You wanted to interject on that one, but you knew he wasn’t in the mood, and you didn’t want to fight with him for real.

“Second of all,” he began…but he didn’t have any more words after that. They were caught between his irritation, and his unwillingness to even voice what it was he felt. Eventually, he found them.

“There’s some shit that needs to stay between us,” he said.

You smiled, but you mercifully drew him down for another slow kiss.

“Okay, okay. I hear you. It’s not that big a deal though. You love your family, and look! Your macho-ness is still very much intact,” you said, gesturing at his very much hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Now are you gonna fuck me like a man, or do I need to find a vibrator that will?”

At that Ben looked down at you with a raise of his brows. His lips twitched, mostly at your audacity. Shaking his head, he slid a hand behind your neck and drew you in for a kiss, fueled by passion and frustration in equal measure.

You wrapped your thighs around his hips, urging him closer. His straining length pressed against your center, the wet tip slipping against your glistening folds. He groaned at the sensation.

“Please,” you repeated, licking into his mouth for a sensuous kiss.

The once-iron grip on his restraint finally broke. Ben slid a hand between you to hold himself to your entrance. With one smooth thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. Your moan of relief echoed his own. If nothing else good came out of this situation, you two hadn’t had the time or the energy to go at it like this in a long time.

He grabbed your thigh and angled you higher, so he could sink in at an even better angle as he began to rut into you.

With all of his earlier edging and teasing, you were already so close. Your inner walls fluttered around him, welcoming him home and gripping him tight. All it took was a few well-placed swipes of his thumb over your clit to have you tumbling over the edge—a delicious cresting of pleasure that made you arch off the bed, biting your nails into his shoulders, a cry caught in your throat.

Ben fucked you through your release, all while chasing his own. His grip on your hip tightened as his thrusts grew ragged, his own breathing shallow and rough, until his balls tightened and his body locked up on him. He spent himself inside you, coating your inner walls until he had nothing left.

He just barely managed to keep himself from smothering you as his body relaxed. You still welcomed his weight on you, soothing your hands up and down his back while you both caught your breath. Your thighs slipped from his hips, your feet meeting bed and sliding out a little.

Ben brushed your sweaty hair away from your face. Looking down on you now, his face gentled from its hardened angles and furrowed brows. You smiled lazily.

“Still mad at me?” you teased.

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he let out a rough exhale through his nose.

“Something tells me you didn’t learn your lesson,” he said, somewhat incredulous, and yet, amused.

Your smile was undoubtedly cheeky, even as you leaned up to give him a sweeter kiss.

“Sure did, baby,” you said against his lips. And another kiss. “Lesson learned, I promise.”

He really did roll his eyes this time.

AN: 😂 Ben just can't win, can he?

Translation: Monsiuer Grincheux - "Mr. Grumpy" in French

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, Ben has his Adventures in Babysitting moment in Green:

Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

▶️ Keep Reading: Green

Join Patreon 🌟 || Series Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @rizlowwritessortof @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months ago

Text

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 💜

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