#Not going to suck your dick for talking down to me about oppression

[wonderpommey]

Well Jesse said it, no one truly changes and indeed nothing really changed in the couples’ dynamics in the end.

The show dangled a possible happy ending for Connor and Willa for a second but of course it tears it away in the finale. We already see Willa squirming under Connor’s grip, grappling with the “sexy second week itch”. Roman is particularly repulsed by that pairing; buying a young escort-type woman and parading her as somehow worthy, as a ‘wife’. There’s something so offensive to him about that. We never see Roman give Gerri anything of monetary value. He’d never want to buy her, he’s desperately attracted to how real she is, to the experience and things she can teach him, in every possible way (sex & advice). He wants what she is willing to give, not what he can buy. The only time money comes into their relationship is the exit package (pass!) and even that is essentially just another lesson she’s teaching him. You wanna rule with emotion, the next person will take you for everything you’re worth!

Shiv's adoption of Tom remains partly strategic. It moves from "not being betrayed" to "holding onto power", it has very little to do with love. Shiv continues to push sadistically to see how much she can get away with, how close patriarchy will let her get to being her own woman. Then, when Tom or Logan tells her she’s gone too far, she folds. And Tom loves her enough or loves being in the fold enough that it works in the succession universe, it becomes a deal of somewhat terrifying equals. And that was what succession was all about. Capitalism, patriarchy and the oppression of women. What men demand things like love and care from women, but they actually lose any genuine connection the second they take a woman's agency away from her… Sure you get her by your side physically for a while but you crucially loose her very desire to be there.

Roman and Gerri’s relationship remains a study in longing and sensuality. They are barely featured in the finale but Roman sets the tone by going down on mummy’s cheese. Oh succession and its cheesy genitals, the ricotta dick! The grilled cheese with a sucked dick! The whole kitchen scene is obviously an allegory about the lack of food and incidentally love Caroline has supplied to her children. It’s only scraps, rot and fire going into that smoothie. But Oedipus-Roman, doesn’t want the smoothie, he wants the tasty morsel of maternal love which isn't for him. He doesn’t bite by the way, he only licks. Unlike his last second on screen, he can’t go as far as actual consumption. Did he want Lobster? No, he wanted the most love. Did he want steak? No! He wanted to be picked above Kendall!!

Speaking of what’s not for him... He then has to watch Gerri talk about the pleasures of a slow screw. It’s a sudden exposure to her sexuality, a validation of his intuition that she likes being superior to her conquests, sexually, spiritually. Something he knows he can give her alongside the painful realisation that she opens up - to others - in that way.

Then the office breakdown. I still look good, I still look the part “Why isn’t it me?” What are the rockstar and the molewoman when the rockstar is just a big sack of bullshit? And Ken reaffirming he’s not good enough, he’s pure emotion, he doesn’t have the drive, he only ever wanted a ride or die.

All culminating in his only true, almost naturalistic documentary-style consumption of the season; Gerri’s martini. Drinking in the quasi love of his life (I could do a whole post about how wild it is that Jesse ‘I don’t want to tell you what to think’ Armstrong said something so totalitarian). This isn't the first connection between an older woman’s sexual appetite and her drink of choice this season! Remember Roman’s reaction to the image of Nan liking her wine like she likes her men!

Sure, the outer layer of that scene shows Roman, having lost the company, his lover/mentor's good will, and any way he knows of interacting with his siblings in a bar drinking alone, overly dressed, old Hollywood style. A potential regression to his sad playboy lifestyle (Jesse), or the start of a hopeless spiral of alcohol abuse (Mark - who has since then said he saw how Roman’s ending could be perceived as hopeful). 

Upon closer inspection, his inferiority/beta complex, his emotions, his desire to be loved, his desire NOT to be in charge/on top - everything that his dad loathed to see in him - are finally showing through the physical scars on his face. He gave it a valiant try, but he couldn’t keep parading as whomever Logan wanted him to be and he realises that it makes him an unworthy heir and in the same breath, access to Gerri is disallowed. It still overwhelms him with emotion, but in the same way Oedipus took his own eyes and couldnt see Jocasta and longer, Roman only gets to see Gerri through screen and glass anymore. He demanded she believed he was as good and as ruthless as his dad and he turned out not to be. Objectively, it’s not a prerequisite to Gerri’s feelings for him as she responds to his pathos way more than she does to Logan's death, but his psyche is convinced he no longer deserves to be in her presence.

So he does the only thing he can do to keep her as close as he needs. Don't be fooled by the luxurious, civilised quality of the drink, this is a biological need,  pure sustenance (Get her inside of him, under his skin, into his bloodstream and pumping to his heart). He bites his lip as the liquid enters his mouth, swallowing dramatically, loving the burn & hating the pain. 

And we’ve come full circle on the theme of consuming each other. From the partnership-worthy mutual cannibalistic proposal of season 2, to the toxic if slightly castrating injunction for her to go down on him and devour him. Season 4 breaks him enough that he gets to the opposite nihilistic ideation that he’s nothing and hence has no claim on the company or being her protégé. The truth - that we don’t know if he can get to - is somewhat in between. All these kids are very smart and worthy in their own ways, even though of course the expectation placed on them to be exceptional prevents them being satisfied in being maybe just that.

His final scene showcases the sad and lonely consumption of the woman he loves’ essence, a poor ersatz for the ‘old gal’s juices’ that he doesn’t deserve. All he has to offer being something he has never been able to name or express without the alibi of the company; an amorphous, unworthy, unnamable but ultimately undeniable feeling.

And possibly in the writers’ minds, this is the suicide part of their contemporary Romeo & Juliet drama. Dying with the blade and the poison after daddy said the love was unacceptable & unobtainable? I mean come ON! 

Roman “knifed” Gerri (This is rhetoric they use ON THE SHOW), she completed the execution by taking herself out and brought him the threat of annihilation (while ordering the poison; a martini). There is a delicious poisonous quality to the drink isn’t there (or its abuse)? And of course, if he dies he’ll die by her, he’ll taste the poison she chose off her lips, because if he has lost the love of his life in this eternal quasi status, it becomes the only worthy pursuit.

That was the roman-esque question of the show. What is love if it’s always been withheld, if it’s always been expressed via the proxy of the company, if it’s never been given freely, or modelled or held as something precious and worthy that had to be protected? And what if it makes you ravenous for it? And how could you get it, this thing you most desperately want, if you’d never been given the tools?

O true apothecary, Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. 

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

eh fuck it I'm gonna say something a little fucked up cause I keep thinking about it and it's really starting to piss me off. It'll be under a cut because it's long and honestly doesn't serve a purpose beyond me venting I guess but I'm throwing my flag down on this cause it bothers the hell out of me. CW for abuse I guess, both physical and emotional.

Men deserve your consideration too. Men can be abused. Often when men are abused it gets treated like a non issue whether it be physical or emotional because of the age old "just suck it up" attitude. When I was getting smacked by my high school girlfriend people thought it was funny. When I broke up with her I didn't get to say why. I had to put up with people asking me about why I broke up with her "out of nowhere" and started getting treated like an asshole cause I was "such a nice guy and just broke her heart for no reason."

the first major tournament I went to in a long time was this past CB and the reason for that is when I was younger I got choked out from behind at a smash tournament over some nonsense, and no one stepped in to help until the very last second when some guy I knew ran over and pulled the other guy off me. I was seeing spots and I feared for my life. I was in tears and in shock and when I told my family what happened they laughed like it was funny. "You're a big guy just throw him off, hit him, do something." I spent the next few days in basically isolation while my family ignored me until I "got over it." I was shaking every time I entered a room with a gaggle of setups and refused to be anywhere that didn't have a wall directly behind me. I had to process that by myself and fugure it out alone. Men often don't get the benefit of the doubt or the emotional support they need or even ask for, oftentimes just based on the sole fact that they're Men. Too much emotion and you could be "unstable and violent" too little emotion and you're "a possible psychopath" (and all the layered stigma that comes with that). You have to play an impossible fucking balancing act and you have to play it all by yourself and if you fall people just go "ugh, men" and move on.

I spent my formative years playing emotional support to my family because my father was a dick and my mother was a mess and my brother was even younger than I was. I postured and held shit together and never once had my actual emotional needs met or cared about by the people who were supposed to raise me. I have a lot of anger issues and I get emotional pretty easily. I don't talk about shit to people because it just gets met with discomfort or dismissal or in some cases outright abandoment, and you reach a point where you have to decide to compartmentailze everything or be totally alone. If you're wondering where my oftetimes "fuck you and the horse you rode in on" attitude comes from, it's from the fact that people want you to be super nice like you have no problems ever and the second you show an ounce of vulnerability or impatience, they abandon you and turn you away. For what reason then should I be posturing for you?

So when I watch people on here dismiss entire swaths of people based on one single trait that is out of their control, it honest to god makes me want to knock heads. You have no idea what people have been through. You have no idea what day to day life is actually like for some people. The old corollary of "being marginalized doesn't make you incapable of committing acts of oppression" works in the opposite direction too: being priveleged doesn't make you invulnerable to other forms of abuse. Identity is too fluid and complicated a thing for that to be the case for anyone, ever.

I am not saying that you're supposed to coddle people who are shitty. I am not saying that it is your responsibility to go around and save people even if they're assholes. I am not saying that someone being abused is ever a justification for comitting abuse in turn. I'm saying that applying a sweeping characterization of an entire group has never, and will never, serve anyone in a positive way other than contribute to an epidemic of systemic emotional neglect and abuse.

I cannot believe it's rocket science to people to just. Treat people on a case by case basis. There's no such thing as a group of people that are wholly good or evil. Being a part of a community or having a certain identity does not inherently make you a good person incapable of doing wrong, and the other way around. I don't know why the site that loves to whine about people not understanding nuance or being able to read loves to still make sweeping generalizations without considering anything else. Please fucking check yourself like you would for any other group that you see people demonizing en masse.

And guys, you just have to hang in there. You gotta. There are people out there who will treat you softly and nicely if you ask for it. You are allowed to feel things, it is not a crime to feel things. It is not a crime to be lost or vulnerable or need help and I hope to god each and every one of you learns that and believes it fast because truthfully, the world will keep trying to grind you down into dust to preserve itself and the shitty patriarchal society we're all trapped in.

[invisiblefoxfire]

Seen an alarming number of people on my dash passing around a post insisting that Biden is just as bad as Trump, and listing some bad shit that has happened under Biden as proof of this, all framed as a "this is WHITE PEOPLE'S FAULT and just because you have white privilege and aren't being targeted by these things doesn't mean Biden isn't EVIL" and...

And these posts are being shared by people I have seen, recently, also sharing posts about how you need to watch out for psy-ops and propaganda, and you need to remember just HOW MUCH WORSE Trump is, and how anyone who can needs to vote for Democrats to prevent the US from becoming a literal overt christofascist dictatorship.

And it looks like the moment they saw a post that said "you only think that because you're white," their guilt over having privilege caused them to crumble.

I can't believe I'm having to write this. I can't believe the people I follow don't already know this, aren't already on the lookout for this. I can't believe there's a very serious chance that these campaigns will work and too many young people won't vote because "Biden is bad too" and the entire world will have to suffer under the christofascist dictatorship the Republicans are overtly, not secretly, but openly promising to institute under Trump.

Biden sucks in a lot of ways. He's done things he shouldn't which should make you angry. He's not done things he should have which should also make you angry. There are some things people think he should do which he doesn't actually have the power to do (which is why you vote the whole ballot, not just the president). He has also done a lot of really good things that people aren't talking about as much because anger and outrage get more clicks. (No, I am not going to list them here because I'm just one poor queer trans disabled guy who is mustering up the last of his energy to post this today, but I've shared lists of good stuff he's done before, and I will again whenever they pop up.)

Trump wants to burn down the world and start armageddon in the name of the evangelical christian religion. He wants everyone like me to die. He wants every queer person to die. He wants every disabled person to die. He wants every brown and black person to die. He wants to write Israel a blank check to nuke every last Palestinian. He wants to flood the air with deadly chemicals. He wants to get rid of no-fault divorce to trap people in abusive marriages. He wants to get rid of birth control and turn every person with a uterus into a baby producing factory. He wants to start fresh wars with everyone on earth. He wants to suck Putin's dick. He wants to burn down the rainforests. He has a rabid group of fascists, many of whom are fucking cops and military, chomping at the bit to make things so much worse than you could possibly imagine.

Things are bad. Things are bad right now. If you do not vote for Biden, you are saying you're fine with things getting unfathomably worse for the entire planet.

If you think it is more important to do nothing wrong than to do something right, if you think it is better to keep your soul~ pure by never voting for someone imperfect than to vote however you have to to stop far greater evils from taking power, then fuck you.

YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO PROPAGANDA. The propaganda will not come in the form of a MAGA red hat wearing skinhead trying to persuade you to join him. It will come in the form of a post that says "actually I'm OPPRESSED by the democrats and if you vote for them you are RACIST." It will come in the form of someone pretending to be on your side who is framing voting as somehow not woke enough. It will come in the form of someone who pretends to be just like you telling you that there's no point in voting, so just stay home.

They are putting SO MUCH EFFORT into trying to persuade young people not to vote, because voting MATTERS. But if you don't vote, and the Republicans win, then you might never get the chance to vote again.

Both parties are not the same. FUCKING. VOTE. Because if you can vote democrat, and you don't, and the republicans win, the horrors that will be unleashed as a result will be on your conscience for the rest of your life.

[thetantiger]

Pride Doodles 2024!

Most of these are based off of real things I saw when me and my husband went to a pride faire this year, with my own goofy OCs as inserts. I'm going to talk about that a little bit and what it meant for me under the cut, but if you're just here for the art, all you need to know is: shoutout to that samoyed with the rainbow-dyed tail I saw.

So in order to really put into perspective as to why this pride event in particular was so meaningful to me (though, if you, reading this, are queer yourself, I'm sure the feeling isn't unfamiliar to you), let me give you a little bit of backstory. I live in rural Indiana, which is a statement in of itself. Last year I was unable to attend any pride events because me and my husband were getting married in June and, as you can imagine, being a bride the month leading up to such an event is an extremely busy time, lmao. If we could have fit it into the schedule I'm certain we would have, but it was just not possible at the time. Usually, I attend some sort of pride event every year.

Additionally, my husband's family is.. not the most supportive. I am bisexual and genderfluid, as well as demisexual (though this is not public knowledge in my real life, I'm not exactly closeted about it, I just don't bring it up a lot) and questioning polyamorous (which me and my husband are closeted about). Many members of his family regularly and casually use homophobic slurs (as well as racial ones) but his grandmother in particular is the main issue. When I first started dating my now-husband I was very forthcoming with the fact that I am genderfluid and this resulted in her somehow managing to find a way to steer the conversation into political debates surrounding trans people (trans people in sports, HRT, etc) every single time me and her interacted without fail. She has since at least slowed down about this, but highlights of conversations I've had with her since include: A, her questioning whether or not I'm actually bisexual because I've never been physically intimate with a woman (apparently being in a six month long committed relationship with somebody who thought they were a woman at the time [they're out as a trans man now] is not "bisexual enough"), B, her consistently pressuring me to dress more "feminine" because "your husband will like it better," and most recently C, where she made an entire event at dinner in a public restaurant while we were discussing planning to go to this pride faire, arguing that there should be a "straight pride parade" (and my father-in-law, bless his heart, proposed that it was as stupid as saying there should be a white history month, to which my grandmother-in-law vehemently claimed that there should be because "straight white people have been oppressed too"). I physically had to get up and leave the restaurant.

Anyway this is all to say that I was feeling particularly insecure about myself leading up to this event. It was repeatedly hammered into me that who I am was not worthy of acceptance or validation or love and even though I pride myself on being an extremely honest person about who I am and what I believe in, I felt myself repressing those things about myself. My husband has supported me through all of this (and sincerely, to that post about "please don't bring your straight cis male partners to pride," suck my fucking dick) and I cannot thank him enough for his unconditional reassurance that he loves who I am. As a matter of fact his parents were supposed to accompany us to the event but they flaked out on us, and he expressed great disappointment because he knew I was struggling with myself and that his grandmother was being bigoted and hateful and he wanted his parents to express their support by tagging along.

And then we got there.

I saw people flying their flags as capes upon their backs. I saw supportive ally parents walking alongside their kids. I saw service dogs with pride-themed vests. I saw lesbians with hand-knitted crop tops in orange and white and pink and I saw polyamorous couples enjoying each other's presence and I saw a trans woman in bright red mesh clothing and red leather heeled boots. I saw vendors selling vibrators and leather bondage harnesses with gay furry art decaled on the side of the tent and original graphic tees with giant cocks on them and yet no scarcity of asexual flags anywhere. I was offered free healthcare (though unfortunately we had crossed state lines to attend this event so I couldn't take advantage of it) and STI/STD tests and I stopped somebody to compliment their extremely well-made (and cool-looking) fursuit head and somebody else stopped me to compliment my shirt. I saw a guy just strutting down the street with his abs out, I saw amputees, I saw black women with fishnet stockings and pride-themed makeup and at least three pairs of men I'm nearly certain were partners and I felt at home. I was stopped by an older woman, who offered me a "glitter blessing." I asked what that was and she half-explained it to me and I offered her my hand. She put glitter on my hand, and told me I was loved, that I was accepted, that there will always be a place for me, and to never lose my sparkle and I cried right there in the street.

To see so many people come together, to love each other (platonically or otherwise!) unconditionally and to support one another, to craft a safe space for each other and to see people like me, unapologetic and unfiltered.. it meant the world to me. It meant everything to me.

My online friends are extremely supportive of me and my 60+ characters that are almost all unanimously queer. I've expressed insecurity about making so many of them queer, convinced it was redundant or tiring or "shoving it down their throat" and was only met with "okay and? make that bitch gay anyway." I can't thank them enough either, but sometimes you'll always run into that person that will never accept who you are no matter how "palatable" you attempt to make yourself. No matter how many shavings of yourself you lose trying desperately to smooth out the edges to please other people. No matter how much you try to conform.

So.. I've been reminded of something: to be myself. No matter how much I have to kick and claw and bite and gnash, nothing is more important than being myself. Nothing is more important than never losing myself for the illusion of acceptance from people who will never be convinced anyway.

Nothing is more important than never losing my sparkle, one could say. But perhaps that's a little cheesy.

And to anybody that can't publicly celebrate, to people that have to stay closeted for any reason, whether you're in a country that'll kill you for it or a household that'll leave you homeless for it or maybe you're just simply not ready yet, as I've said before; know that you being alive as a queer person is a radical protest in of itself to those who would have it otherwise.

I love you so much. Happy pride <3

[toastess-with-the-mostess]

Let's Rewind! Toast watches Voltron: Defender of The Universe (1984)

Season 1, Episode 25: Short Run of The Centipede Express Season 1, Episode 26: The Invisible Robeast

Episode 25: Short Run of the Centipede Express apparently the gg are still in contact with arus because they're sending status reports of a centipede robeast blowing up asteroids in its path i'd rather not hear from the gg ever again thanks

i know this is post ep 20 now, but coran letting the team go observe that damn robeast who's literally a whole galaxy away is eating me whole, i will never forgive coran

Honestly the one thing dotu did right is showing straight up torture, like yea we know the rulers of doom are evil but seeing people forced into a gladiator ring against a robeast for refusing to work on a secret weapon and having the rest of the slaves watch is fucking despicable

Revolt! The slaves snapped after watching one of them get eaten by a robeast and are demanding freedom, sucks to suck lotor, if you kill them you won't get shit done, but if you listen you ALSO won't get shit done

Apparently planet Mora (the planet the weapon is being build on) helped Arus at some point, Hunk seems to remember it, so it must be real recent that's probably the writers way of justifying hunk and allura wanting to go down to help the people, but I think freeing them from slavery against an oppressive government is a good enough reason LMAO

Surprisingly, Keith Lance and Pidge went planet side through the lion head attack, where green literally disconnects her head and launches away, I thought they were going in green because she seems to be the smallest lion also allura wanted to go with Lance and Pidge, but Keith essentially told her to sit the fuck down because he was going instead and to keep watch with hunk LMAO

Where the fuck did pidge go, is he staying in green's head while Keith and Lance act out their spy kids dreams?

Oh god, they tried to censor some guards drinking on duty by calling it some kind of juice OINVSD It's a flask, it's so obviously a flask, though definitely would've worked on kids since they shouldn't have known what it was

ooh real talk time, this dude is swearing loyalty to lotor because he feels abandoned by Voltron, apparently his people helped arus after one of the attacks on it but when their planet own got taken over, voltron was busy elsewhere I understand where he's coming from, it's hard to ignore bad things when it's happening to you so when you actually need help and nobody comes it's devastating

The plan to destroy the secret weapon, which is a laser that's able to fry voltron, goes wrong because of that guy so keith and lance make a break for it the only reason the guy stopped the plan was because lotor was going to kill him, so i don't think he would've said shit if that didn't happen

Why is pidge still in the body of green lion?? I thought he fucking went with them! Everything is so confusing

Time to take down that laser gun, that dude is in charge of aiming it but after keiths pep talk about trusting voltron and not zarkon he ends up shooting it at the centipede express that's coming in for a landing with zarkon and haggar in it it misses, of course, but the guy ends up taking down a tower anyway

i mean i assumed the centipede express was a robeast but seeing it actually set itself up to be one was cool as fuck

Voltron was formed waaay earlier but the robeast is destroyed and the bad guys escape also keith and that one guy have a really weird and really emotionally charged stare for a bit lol

/episode end

Episode 26: The Invisible Robeast Haggar found out how to turn things invisible,,, great Lotor obvs is going to use that to kidnap Allura, sometimes I think that Zarkon isn't on his ass about being driven by his dick more than his head because taking Allura would still make voltron weak enough to destroy

Ew Nanny Pidge keeps inhaling apples, so now his favorite fruit are apples because I say so

your honor i love them

Lance giving Pidge advice on how/where to shoot so the princess doesn't get hurt is the cutest thing, I want to see more of them just being dofuses together

"i just don't like things i can't see" - Nanny you mean like your fucking attitude, but you can definitely see that so no wonder you don't have a problem with it

Keith saves the day from a falling boulder, I know allura going back for nanny was the ethical thing to do but also LEAVE HER TO DIE YOU DON'T NEED HER EVER ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU WERE GOING TO DIE BECAUSE OF HER

The boys tell allura to stay in the castle since the robeast is going after her specifically, for once I agree since for now it's good for her to keep her distance as long as she's still watching Keith and Lance bait it to the desert and watching for it to cast a shadow before all 4 let loose on the thing, smart plan

Animation error? keiths background when he's in his lion is all white and just outlined oh all their backgrounds are like that, maybe to save money

the robeast attacks the castle and lures the boys underwater to blue's launch area, turns out we get confirmation that every lion but blue sucks at being in the water also it's princess time now, she's the only one who can actually do well down there

aaand she's knocked out again, but on the bright side the boys had time to figure out how to beat up the robeast and get her back while it was distracted

Voltron's formed, robeast defeated, everyone's safe, hooray!

/episode end

[penguins--39]

Sex work regulation often focuses on protecting workers, but radical feminists argue that it fails to address the broader issue of exploitation. They advocate for cracking down on pimps and johns while providing support systems that allow women and girls to exit the industry. By focusing on long term solutions, feminists hope to create a world where women and girls are not forced to sell their bodies to survive.Radical feminists argue that gender ideology is often used to reinforce traditional power dynamics rather than challenge them. By framing gender as a matter of identity rather than a social construct, society perpetuates systems of oppression that limit individual freedom. Feminists seek to dismantle these systems by challenging the way gender is understood and enforced. It's so crazy to me when people r like "lets spam terf tags for pride month!!!" and their go-to method is spamming porn??? Or they r like "if a TERF ever tells me to get out of the xxs's bathroom I'll pee on her!!! Suck my dick TERFs!" because its like ok so ur response to xxs disagreeing with you is…. sexual harasstransst? Radical feminists argue that gender ideology is often used to reinforce traditional power dynamics rather than challenge them. By framing gender as a matter of identity rather than a social construct, society perpetuates systems of oppression that limit individual freedom. Feminists seek to dismantle these systems by challenging the way gender is understood and enforced. It's so crazy to me when people r like "lets spam terf tags for pride month!!!" and their go-to method is spamming porn??? Or they r like "if a TERF ever tells me to get out of the xxs's bathroom I'll pee on her!!! Suck my dick TERFs!" because its like ok so ur response to xxs disagreeing with you is…. sexual harasstransst? Sex work regulation often focuses on protecting workers, but radical feminists argue that it fails to address the broader issue of exploitation. They advocate for cracking down on pimps and johns while providing support systems that allow women and girls to exit the industry. By focusing on long term solutions, feminists hope to create a world where women and girls are not forced to sell their bodies to survive. i hate male music reviewers because how dare you listen to an album made by a woman where she talks about abuse, having cancer and being scared of dying and not being a mother to her child and say that she's 'making herself the victim' and 'main character syndrome'. Lets just respuremer until we reach the funny room. Im not Ancient Prophecy, but I could be slimber. You wont believe how blorpulous it was when Final Showdown started corroting in the grand glub glub ga-lub. blignges licksing! Theres no way we can slaps in Secret Chamber's attic without the gruply grumbp. Meet me at Wario's attic, and bring banana with you. If we dont bwip soon, well never make it to The taco truck. men: It takes a lot of shower to kring like that. gorilla: Why dont you scoot yourself to The coffee shop on 5th street and pisse the gorilla while youre at it? me: Just because you can bwip doesnt mean you should give pronouns to. Pokémon: If I had a cow for every time boy tried to spreads peanut butter, Id own under my bed. male: I didnt realize a male could be so PINGAS, not until The taco truck. me: The funny part of The land of lost DarkGarlic is where the perfect cell likes to licks.

[autobot-ratchet]

MTMTE 9-11

MTMTE 9

“You're telling me those eyebrows aren't secret recording devices?” Well, not his eyebrows lmAO

as annoying as it made the fandom, I do like how this comic doesn't just gloss over how the Decepticon movement started out with good intentions and solid points, they weren't cartoon villains who loved to kill and oppress because it's fun. They just ended up that way lmfAO

Rewind's out here making relationship charts

Rewind is so cute lmAO no wonder he was initially one of my faves when I first got into this comic

“Is this Prowl fellow going to be a recurring character? 'Cos if so he needs to be fleshed out a bit. I'm not feeling it” fucking womp womp lmfAO talk to Barber about it

ah, yes. The panel that gave birth to the headcanon that was the bane of my existence for the better part of a decade lmAO honestly it was never even the buymech headcanon in and of itself, it was how everyone who subscribed to it made Drift into a poor little meow meow who needed to be saved from himself, specifically and only through the power of getting dicked down but in the good and respectable way this time that drove me fucking insane lmAO like I get that he has issues, but not the kind that make him helpless, I assure you. Also cool job demonizing sex work as “the scary nasty profession that traumatizes you but is also shameful on your part and you only have the excuse of doing it if you have no other choice”

oh lol I forgot that the same decepticon generics that find Drift tripping in an alleyway are the ones that tried to help Pharma kill everyone on Delphi, including Drift lmAO these dudes just keep fucking with Drift by pure coincidence

love Drift purposefully agitating Ratchet lmAO get his ass. Also still love the little detail of Ratchet getting paint from his hands on Drift's face, it's such a tiny detail only there for one panel, but I cherish it so

nnnfghndf they both still think about it..... oops uh oh I still love Dratchet lmfAO

“These days all you get is state-sponsored scrap or froth like 'the top 10 Metroplex sightings'” god. Fucking. gOD LMFAO THE ABSOLUTE FUCKIN STATE OF IT ALL........

the thing about kinning Ratchet at a young age is that the older you get, the more like him you become. Which is even more fucky in this instance because that was a quote from young Ratchet lmfAO god

aw man I forgot about Red Alert's suicide attempt, poor guy. I remembered that he was out of commission for a while, but I didn't remember that he did it to himself

MTMTE 10

jdfsks love Chromedome using Rung's model ships to reenact a chase scene

oooghfj Prowl being genuinely nice to Chromedome in the past...

lmao get dunked on, Drift. It's still so funny watching him try to be a cool guy at Cyclonus

oooOOOUGFDHJ WHIRL HONEY........ you got done so dirty I'm so sorry

I remember seeing people criticize Rewind for getting on Chromedome's case about talking about his experiences with Prowl a little too much what with his quest to find Dominus, like “oh so YOU can talk about your ex,” but I think that it's less that Rewind is jealous or something and more that it's about Prowl lmAO like “do not evoke the name of that demon more than necessary.” Which still sucks (mostly bc I wanna hear more, I am so interested in how they almost could've made it work, LOVE that kind of doomed romance shit) but is understandable, Prowl has done too much

I also love this little “thwarting government conspiracies” arc, I like how the mystery has played out. I've been playing/watching a lot of mystery-solving media lately and while my favorite way to do it is in a way where the viewer (me) can piece it together before the grand reveal if they're smart enough, I also like how this has the characters figuring things out as they go along in a way that's not really possible to predict bc they put things together immediately after getting the necessary information, there's no “it's a surprise tool that will help us later,” which I think is fine for this one little arc, especially since it's working within the framework of the characters telling a story that they all know the details of already. But it also doesn't feel like I'm being info dumped upon, like we're getting the clues/information at a rate that lets you breathe a little before hitting you with a new piece of the puzzle. I just really love mystery-oriented media lmAO

MTMTE 11

I do love that the group that actually gets to tell a story on screen isn't the first group Rewind put together. Just casually dropping that a bunch of background characters that we never really get to see much of (save for Percy, Sunstreaker, and Blaster) are connected to each other

“he's like a historical constant” stares off into space........

oof Roddy feels responsible for Red Alert's suicide attempt, at least on some level... and he gets mad at Magnus for suggesting they not bring him back online, but honestly, I get it. Honestly, I understand both Roddy and Magnus on this one, as someone who constantly struggles with the whole “wanting to live” thing and yet continues to do so out of mostly spite and desperation. On the one hand, you gotta try to live no matter what, but on the other, god please just let me rest lmfAO granted, Magnus just wants to let him rest a bit and resuscitate him later but. Yknow. As a human that can't do that shit, etc, etc, you get it

this fucking ship's alarm goes “awooga” lmfAO looney tunes ass siren

god that fucking Shockwave namedrop, what a cool way to reveal that, what a cool backstory to give Shockwave aaaAAAAA

[jackedjacket]

men: i'm soooo lonely

feminists: why don't you talk to each other? it's not wmen's job to make our oppressors happier. when did you last check in on any other male to see if he was okay?

men: shut up bitch

this is how it goes down 100% of the time. i realise you're very rightwing (gender is a rightwing belief, progressive people know there are zero genders, you have a gender identity therefore you are conservative by definition), and rightwingers tend to infantilise oppressors and blame the oppressed group, which is why you're pearl clutching over men being sad. but the truth is, men don't want to stop being sad. they just want pretty women to cuddle them to their bosom and breastfeed them and wipe their bottom and then suck their dick. it's not about "men's mental health" (women have worse mental health and higher suicide attempt rates), it's about male power and control over women.

Literally what are you talking about lmao I usually delete stuff like this but you sound so stupid I decided to put it out there for everyone else to see as well :)

Having a gender makes someone a conservative? Way to be a fucking TERF. Men never talk to each there or support each other? All I do is check in with my male friends. All we do is call women bitches? Clearly you're suffering from Terminally Online Disease and have never spoken to men or women in the real world.

Why is it anytime men talk about wanting to improve the conditions of their lives, women have to insist it's about oppressing them? I'm so sorry if you think that men managing their depression and addiction and other life problems, somehow, has something to do with you personally, but it doesn't. Men want to feel better so they can live happier, healthier lives, with OR EVEN WITHOUT women. Men do not exist for women. Their existence is not dependent on oppressing women. Men are just people who want to live better lives as much as anyone else does. Why do you insist on infantalizing us? Do you WANT to have to wipe mens bottoms and cradle them all day? Because I would think you would support them getting help and becoming more independent. It sounds to me like you feel threatened that, without men, your life wouldn't have purpose or meaning. It sounds as though you're a little deep in the patriarchy, that you need to step back and learn how to live your life for yourself, not based on the whims of what other people have going on.

Please, do something for yourself today. You clearly need a mental health day.

[ericleo108]

12/01/2023 Click here for Spotify, Apple Music, or Youtube. “All Homo” is my 64th official release and has two tracks. This song is edgy edutainment that sarcastically and menacingly stands on the side of the gay community by assuming their position and retaliating through comedy, science, and dissent.  The song was self-recorded and produced by Keyano while the beats are by Ken Yama. The cover art was made by Gigzlogo from Fiverr.

I talk about this blog post and other updates in the latest Sunday update here:

This is the last of the remakes from “The Chalice Mixtape.” The hook on “say you love me” is sarcastic just to be clear. I’m taking the perspective of a homosexual. When I went out to California in 2013/14 I coached surfed on a lot of couches and it was at a lot of gay men that put me up and took care of me. They were disappointed but it was always plutonic. It was a good experience and I am very thankful to have met such outstanding people. 

To be clear, I don’t like how hip-hop says no homo. It’s derisive and a tell. Saying no homo implies being homo is wrong, cuz I don’t want to be gay, that’s terrible. If you don’t think being gay is wrong or negative, why would you correct yourself when you say something seemingly gay. Like who cares, let them think you, it’s, or whatever is gay. 

This comes from a childhood growing up where boys would try to out gay eachother and we all thought it was funny. You know what goes on in locker rooms. I actually got to the point I told my friends I would say the gayest shit possible and just say “no homo” after, because it cancels it out. That’s the whole point of “no homo” right?

“I love the way clock feels in my ass, no homo.” Or “I love how seamen tastes, pause.” See saying that caveat doesn’t make me the statement any less gay, it just means you don’t want to look gay. Saying “no homo” doesn’t make you not gay, it just means you’re homophobic. You say “no homo” because you fear being a homo. I say all homo because although I’m not gay, I don’t care if I look gay or you think I’m gay because it’s not bad, wrong, or negative.

According to the research, the aggression that homophobes feel is likely because they’re suppressing homosexual tendencies. I talk about this in the song about how there are experiments where they wrap your penis to see if it girth grows watching homosexual porn. They found the more aggresive individuals toward homosexuality had the biggest growth, meaning they were suppressing their homosexual feelings.  

The only real place gays are rejected is in religion specifically Christianity. The Bible says nothing about being gays especially in early translations. Seeing gay as wrong and bad is a midevil idea turned contemporary republican Christian conservative belief in America. In history Gayness has been accepted by many cultures across history, from the ancient Greeks to Native Americans.

Animals are gay. It’s usually like 5% of the popualtion if I had to guess. Like giraffes have a high percentage of homosexual behaviors. This is just how nature works. 

As far as scientists are concerned, Alfred Kinsey saw homosexuality as a spectrum from 0 to 6. I told my best friend in high school it would be a lot easier if we were lovers but we couldn’t get our dicks hard enough to fuck each other in the ass, and pussy feels amazing, so we both dated girls. He’s married now. It’s reasons like this I wish I were gay, but I’m not.

Like I said, in the “what now” release, I’m OK with pretending to suck a homophobe’s dick to make them regret their decisions. I say “say you love me, you faggot“ in the first track because if they’re demeaning gay people, they’re more likely to be a closeted homosexual, then someone who accepts their existence.

Lyrics:

Say You Love Me: I love rappers talking about being oppressed That turn right around and treat gay people as less  This life you lead is the saddest  Hold me down, I know madness  Look I’ll take on the malice Just say you love me you faggot I love rappers talking about being oppressed That turn right around and treat gay people as less  This life you lead is the saddest  Hold me down, I know madness  Look I’ll take it... If you say you love me you faggot Look I don’t mind if you think that I’m gay  It don’t really affect me in the slightest anything you say All they see is dude’s stunt’n, All I see is dude’s frontin  This is the gayest genre of music, this shit really is something The whole genre of music  Will degrade you as a human Hope to leave you ruined  If they think you’ve sucked a dude’s dick  When they like fuck bitches, I just wanna be rich  There's definitely not something wrong with the way that I live I must really hate women cuz a fuck is all that I give  And then in my songs all I really talk about is my dick  LIke ride on it, slide on it, lick on it, fuck it  Validate yourself with my dick by how you suck it  But on the real, hear your music is just like your dick  like holy shit your big, what you do to get it in?  I’m such a little bitch, guess someone should take a hint  Baby girl, remind me, why do I do this shit again?  I love rappers talking about being oppressed That turn right around and treat gay people as less  This life you lead is the saddest  Hold me down, I know madness  Look I’ll take on the malice Just say you love me you faggot I love rappers talking about being oppressed That turn right around and treat gay people as less  This life you lead is the saddest  Hold me down, I know madness  Look I’ll take it... If you say you love me you faggot Look I know we’re homies And you’re not homophobic So It’s the gay pride parade today You should suck my dick to show support for it  I’m serious, I mean it, go straight for his penis  Then I’mma talk about this brain because I am a genius  I know you think it’s gross to think bout women ovulate  Why would you take pussy when you could get a dude to squirt in your face But I know you hate dick cuz gay men make you puke But You just shouldn’t deep throat that far, it’s absurd  If I have to hear another line about your amazing graces  I’m seriously gonna suck your dick til you’re red in the face then  Take you out to dinner, bring you back to my place when  I’mma make you watch videos of victims of getting wasted  Columbine, the Orlando shooting by Omar Mateen  Look at these atrocities, suck a dick for equality My girl is never gonna call me  She’s probably wondering what is wrong with me At least I’m not homophobic Or some chauvinistic prick I love rappers talking about being oppressed That turn right around and treat gay people as less  This life you lead is the saddest  Hold me down, I know madness  Look I’ll take on the malice Just say you love me you faggot I love rappers talking about being oppressed That turn right around and treat gay people as less  This life you lead is the saddest  Hold me down, I know madness  Look I’ll take it... If you say you love me you faggot YEAH,  All homo, 

…

What You Frontin For?:

Have you ever read the scientific literature on it? Do you even know what a thesis is?  Site one reference  No?  Okay Then I Don’t give a  Fuck what you think I got a college degree Like pussy money and weed A good girl’s what I need   But I'll make you uncomfortable Be like Cliff Huxtable Give you something foreign Just to see what you’re fronting for Fuck what you think I got a college degree Like pussy money and weed A good girl’s what I need   But I'll make you uncomfortable Be like Cliff Huxtable Give you something foreign Just to see what you’re fronting for Look, coast-to-coast  you got all these bros  Pause’n when at large they're the cause for the woes The hate and discrimination Of children on the playground  When you say no homo you’re saying that’s not okay now To have the same love  Say your gay and you get judged I don’t give a fuck,  All homo, yo, one love   Alll these rappers do is front  Don’t know really what they want Insecure so they taunt  When moonlight in their thoughts  Afraid of their feelings  Thinking men are appealing Their feeling of penis envy  I’ll tell ya, is a real thing  Bitch I know you wanna fuck me, cum on cuz Damn you’d be so lucky to suck deez nuts  Fuck what you think I got a college degree Like pussy money and weed A good girl’s what I need   But I'll make you uncomfortable Be like Cliff Huxtable Give you something foreign Just to see what you’re fronting for Fuck what you think I got a college degree Like pussy money and weed A good girl’s what I need   But I'll make you uncomfortable Be like Cliff Huxtable Give you something foreign Just to see what you’re fronting for Cheers everyone, to not giving a fuck  Let’s all burn it up, make global warming what it was  The red, white, and blue, take’n lead and take’n charge Grab’um by the pussy you can do it when you’re a star Like the greatest ever, we know you think you are I don’t need a thesis I spit the facts in art,  Research, reason, logic all part of that This the written evidence, call’em artifacts  There’s psychological experiments Where men fear to get erect They wrap your penis first  Then measure the girth  Have you watch gay porn to see grow And the results of this are interesting wouldn't you know All the men who got more erect Were homophobic about the sex They couldn’t deal with the frustration of really wanting men Hit me up on Twitter, tweet something homophobic  It says that you wanna suck my dick and you ain’t afraid to show it, bitch Fuck what you think I got a college degree Like pussy money and weed A good girl’s what I need   But I'll make you uncomfortable Be like Cliff Huxtable Give you something foreign Just to see what you’re fronting for Fuck what you think I got a college degree Like pussy money and weed A good girl’s what I need   But I'll make you uncomfortable Be like Cliff Huxtable Give you something foreign Just to see what you’re fronting for Cheers everyone, To not giving a fuck  Let’s all burn it up, make global warming what it was  The red, white, and blue, take’n lead and take’n charge Grab’um by the pussy you can do it when you’re a star Fuck what you think I have a college degree Like pussy money and weed A good girl’s what I need   But I'll make you uncomfortable Be like Cliff Huxtable Give you something foreign Just to see what you’re fronting for Uh,  Some people look at what is and ask why? I look at what isn’t and ask, why not? If you don’t watch the news you’re uninformed If you do watch the news you’re misinformed  So forget what to think about  Question Why you think and how to think about it But yea, for real, you finish that drink? Let’s get outta here

[opinion-haver]

okay, let’s say to your point that people are saying terrible things to the transmasc community. that super duper sucks (as someone who is transmasc and doesn’t pass, yes i take area of effect damage from them being dicks about it, so trust me, i think it sucks). that’s literally not my thesis, you focusing on that is deliberately missing the point of my original post in the first place.

the thesis of my original post, which you briefly entertain in your second paragraph, is an ideological distinction: transphobia and transmisogyny being sufficient blanket terms for the oppression transmascs face. the “oppression transmascs face” is not a relationship to power, but like i said before, transmasc umwelt. to make an analogous example men suffer from the effects of misogyny, but they are categorically not barred from political or systemic power on the basis of sex so they are “misogyny exempt” NOT to shut down the struggles that men face, but to realize the proximity to power they have. likewise, transmascs suffer from transmisogyny in some ways, but the proximity to power is in our favor. our issues are not being ignored by those in good faith. (the others, they are irrelevant to me. why are they in this blue sky discussion. i don’t care about them stop dragging them into my post. )

moreover to tie it to the larger picture, because we live in a larger world: you’re just using my post to spread doomerism about the state of affairs. repeating “we’re so attacked, they misconstrue our points and construct straw men, we’re fucked about it.” (i already noted that this was happening in my original post.) what’s the point of you talking about it in that manner? does that serve the trans community in any way shape or form, saying “we are so attacked” to someone who acknowledges the hurt that the trans community at large suffers and is trying to think about ways to move into the future? in fact, seeking my post out to state this, a post not even tagged? it SOUNDS like you feel deeply wounded, and then cope with the hurt by fixating on it. figure it out, some of us are busy going outside and touching grass.

ohhhh ym god i didnt know transandrophobia people existed and now i have to opine on it.

i mean god like. yeah transmascs experience unique axes of oppression but transandrophobia is not a meaningful term to describe a relationship of oppression. the specific misery that a transmasc goes thru is valid but umwelt! yes we are denigrated for being uwu misguided women, but thats downstream of misogyny, of women not holding systemic power. men are seen as violent and untrustworthy, but thats a relationship to power that just loops back around to misogyny again— that women are to be protected around men. yes trans men are weird because they are affected by misogyny but all men are!!! its about power. we are barred from power not because we are men, its because we’re trans.

and literally not a single transwoman is attacking transmascs for not experiencing oppression! theyre asking for support when they feel attacked! at worst theyre constructing strawmen who dont support them but that literally exists when transmascs are also creating strawwomen that demonize them when they too ask for support when they feel attacked!

this is to say, if semantics bother you nomenclature is less important than the underlying idea being agreed upon. transmascs are suffering transmasc woes. transfemmes are suffering transfemme woes. we could be fucking kissing about it?! i love you stranger, so bite your legislators dick off, not each others!!!!

[ancientgreeksloot]

White cis men trying to play Oppression Bingo TM with me because they conclude I’m not the ‘right’ type of activist  confuses me so dang much. It’s like, bruh, you may think you’re the most oppressed person on the planet, but your ass occupies only the ‘free’ space in the center of the board. 

[genderkoolaid]

hi, sorry if this is bothersome but i'm feeling really shitty and have questions and don't know who else to turn to. i recently made a post about how my friends talk in a very condescending way about men and how in general people complaining about men being trash in front of me makes me feel bad and like they think i'm inferior (i'm a trans man). i got a reply that accused me of wanting women to be uncomfortable around me and being misogynistic on order to be accepted by cis men. and that i should be thankful that women are comfortable complaining about men around me bcs that means they see me as non-threatening. it made me think - should i just suck it up? this is a reoccurring theme in my life that evolved into a microtrauma - i hate when people shit on men around me, i both take it personally and sometimes i see it just as being a shitty person when those women aren't complaining about something that men did to them, just saying how weak and stupid men are. i have lost 2 friends because they kept making fun of men and then of me for being a man. and i'm just wondering, if i really should just empathize with them and ignore my feelings - if that's the right thing to to - or if i'm allowed to feel what i feel (hurt, angry, sad, like they think i'm inferior, that they're being unfair and mean) and maybe even call them out or just express my feelings in a non-threatening way. because i feel shitty as hell - i feel inferior and also misgendered somehow. but what if i'm ignoring women's issues and being misogynistic? what if i just need to be more considerate?

a continuation of that ask about being uncomfortable when people shit on men: i just remembered i wanted to express this too. again, sorry of you don't want people venting into your inbox. from all the transandrophobia on the internet, i developed this microtrauma that is manifesting in fear of women and women focused lgbt spaces. i'm not afraid of all women, this is specifically only on the internet and it's not on a big scale. also mostly on tumblr. what happens is that i see posts specifically about, like, girls being absolutely amazing, or like, trans women specifically needing help. and i get this whiplash of like, fear that something against men or trans men will follow. it usually doesn't and i might even reblog that post. but there's still this fear that there are so many women on the internet that hate men and trans men specifically and will look down on me and will harrass me and it could be anyone. and anything that even remotely reminds me of anti-trans-men posts will make me feel scared just for a few seconds. like those posts that go "support trans people, especially trans women!" or even absolutely innocent posts. and i feel pretty guilty for that, i mean feeling bad bcs of a post that supports women (trans or cis) sounds like (trans)misogyny. but i rationally don't have anything against that, i mean i'm a feminist and i'm all for trans women's rights and happiness. i support trans (and cis) women. it's just the trauma, bcs anti-transmascs often support trans (and cis) women and compare us with them. i'm just scared that those women will hate me. idk i just wanted to tell someone and be heard. i'm so tired and i know i should go off the internet, i'm gonna do that now. thank you so much for reading.

For lack of a less stereotypical phrase, your feelings are valid.

A lot of the "men are bad" stuff comes from genuine experiences with misogynstic men. Venting about that is not bad, but "venting about your oppression is good" does not mean that "venting can never be done in a hurtful way". If you were to talk condescendingly about women constantly because of how you've been hurt by women around your woman friends, it would be kind of a dick move. The same goes for cis women. Venting about how you've been hurt by men isn't bad, but that doesn't mean you have free range to say whatever you want with no thought for how it impacts people because "I'm venting about my oppression!" Your ex-friends should've listened to how they made you feel, because it's not right to excuse you hurting your friend. Especially when you are a trans man and already experience shame and hatred for being a man. Hurting other people and continuing to do to it when they tell you they've been hurt isn't excusable.

Obviously, you shouldn't let this let you become irrationally suspicious or negative towards women. But you also are not a bad person for reacting to constant stress and discrimination. When you constantly deal with sudden discrimination and harassment from people, it's natural to start getting suspicious or upset when you see things that remind you of that. I get the same way! Seeing posts and being hit with the worry of "would this person be normal about me? Would they harass me? Is this post innocent or an underhanded way of hurting me?" It's upsetting to have that reaction, because you want to just be happy and supportive. But the microtrauma of having those posts be connected to transandrophobia again and again takes it's toll, and it doesn't make you a bad person for having a reaction to that. The fact that transmascs have this microtrauma in general is a sign that there is something wrong with the online community and how it treats transmascs.

[makoodlesarchive]

darling it’s better (down where it’s wetter)

i finally finished it omg lol, genuinely thought this would never be done

thank you so much to everyone for being patient with me and sending me all those cute little asks talking about the fic, that actually really helped with writing it!

For the love of all that is holy, please check out this absolutely incredible art of merbakugou by @crowolina​!

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 14k

warnings: mentions of drowning, explicit sex, interspecies (?) sex, that merman dick yo

��masterlist | tip jar

The humidity outside is so high that the air is sitting thick and stagnant -- it feels like it could be cut with a knife. It’s uncomfortably hot, and the air feels almost damp and sticks wetly in your throat as you breathe. Sweat pools in all the most uncomfortable crevices, until the desire to get into the water is less of a passing fancy, and more of an all-consuming need. You slip carefully down the hill, over the dry grass, until you hop down into the fine sand that makes up the little beach in the sheltered cove at the bottom of the hill.

The cove is protected by natural cliffs on either side, with the only access point being the hill that your uncle’s house sits on. It’s small, but the stretch of sand is soft and golden and clean, absent of any tourists and the debris that they tend to leave behind. It is, by all accounts, perfect, and a far better option than the significantly more crowded beach fifteen minutes away. Thanks to the hill and the natural caves, the air is cooler and easier to breathe in the cove. You set out your towel and water bottle near the base of the hill and strip down to your bathing suit, hefting your inflatable floaty up and preparing yourself to march into the ocean. After all the time spent inside your uncle’s grody house, the fresh air and fine golden sand feels like heaven.

When you finally work up the nerve to dip your toes into the water, you have to fight not to recoil from the cold. The temperature of the water is cool and chill, a direct contrast to the heavy, hot thickness of the air, and it takes a few minutes of psyching yourself up before you’re able to submerge yourself fully. Despite the chill, the sensation of being surrounded by water is a relief after the oppressive afternoon heat. You wade out further, keeping a mindful eye out for the reefs your uncle had mentioned, until the water comes up to your hips, then your chest, then your collarbones. You let the tension seep out of your shoulders as you float, buoyed gently by the waves. It’s the most peaceful you’ve been since your stay with your uncle began after he broke his leg; you don’t mind taking care of him while he heals, but you didn’t quite realise how much you needed a break until now.

The saltwater is like a balm; it takes some manoeuvring to actually get yourself up on the floaty, but once you’re settled and relaxed you think you could happily float on your back like this for hours, lost to the warmth of the sun on your skin and the waves rocking you back and forth. The fresh smell of the saltwater and the soft swaying of the floaty in the ocean waves lull you into a peaceful doze. 

Naturally, that’s when things start to go wrong.

As you fall into a light sleep you fail to notice the thick grey clouds rolling in and the tide pulling out. The waves creep higher and crash faster, and your floaty bobs rapidly along as you sleep, unaware of just about all of it. 

That changes when the floaty catches on a sharp rock jutting out of the water; awareness comes crashing back to you as the floaty tears right as a wave breaks over you, the acute chill of the water and the weight of the ocean pushing down over your head. The shock of the cold water leaves you momentarily stunned and in the brief moment before you start thrashing against the icy waves, a riptide catches your legs and tears you through the water.

Panic rears up in your chest, sharp and choking. Your chest is already aching from the lack of air since you hadn’t had the chance to get a proper breath before you had gone under, and you’re not able to thrash against the current with as much force as you need to be able to reach the surface again. You kick frantically against the water, muscles burning, but you’re so disoriented that you’re honestly not even sure if you’re swimming in the right direction; the salt burns your eyes when you try to open them, and everything is so dark that you can’t tell which way is up.

Your head crests the surface of the water, and you just manage to suck in a painful breath when another wave crashes down over the top of your head. As you struggle to right yourself and reach the surface again, you find your movements becoming sluggish. You’re panicking and running out of air, but even though you know that you still can’t manage to fight your way to the surface.

For a moment something pale cuts through the water in front of your eyes and you think that you’re about to emerge into the air again but you feel so impossibly tired. Your vision begins to go dark, and your limbs are so heavy that continuing to struggle against the tide is impossible. 

You know that you’re sinking, but there’s not a thing you can do to stop it.

Consciousness returns to you slowly and painfully. 

The first thing to register is the soreness in your chest and ribs -- every inhale is an effort, and it feels as though your lungs are actually bruised. You inhale sharply, which causes a chain reaction of hacking and sputtering and retching. The coughing, in turn, highlights how just about every part of your body feels as though it’s been battered continuously against a rock. When you finally crack open your eyes, you wonder for a moment if you might have gone blind, because your vision stays exactly as dark as when your eyes were closed. When you push yourself up into a seated position, however, you find that you’re sprawled on the wet, rocky floor of a cave. 

You move your head very slowly to take in your surroundings, feeling woozy and nauseous. You wonder if you hit your head, or if the nausea is a side effect of nearly drowning. Panic begins building again in your chest, and you have to make a concentrated effort to push all of your uncle’s warnings about delayed drowning out of your mind so you can focus on taking deep, even breaths.

The rocky floor that you’ve woken up on is a ledge of solid stone that makes up half of the cave; the other half is submerged in a pool of clear seawater, beyond which a large crack in the stone walls leads directly back to the ocean. The entire cavern is dimly illuminated by what seems to be phosphorescent algae growing in the water and along the dampest patches of the walls, glowing a muted, luminous blue. It's pretty, but you can’t concentrate on it because in the dim light provided by both the entrance to the cave and the algae, you can see the bottom of the water is littered with what looks like bones.

You look away quickly, because that is not conducive to staying calm. The bones are probably from some stupid large fish that got stuck in the cave and couldn’t figure out how to escape, and you are absolutely not going to look any closer to confirm that. A flash of colour catches your eye, though, and when you turn to look you find the deflated, torn plastic remains of your floaty hanging from an outcrop of rock. 

Amidst the enormous relief at being alive, there’s a growing sense of unease in the back of your mind -- how had you washed up inside the cave in the first place? The entrance to the cavern is nothing but a slash in the rocks, angled in such a way that it would be nearly hidden if not for the thin slant of light shining through. How had you not been dashed to bits by those viciously sharp rocks like your floaty? Even if you had miraculously been washed through the small gap and into the mouth of the cave, by all rights you should have ended up floating in the saltwater pool. How had you ended up on the ledge?

You cast another slow look around the cavern; if you weren’t so sore and scared, you think you’d be able to appreciate your surroundings a lot more. The cave is actually quite beautiful -- the algae in the water gives the pool an almost other-wordly, luminescent blue hue, and the stone ledge is devoid of slimy seaweed or sharp barnacles which makes for a somewhat comfortable place to sit, despite its dampness. The deep booming of thunder from outside the cave is what forces you to realise that you’re not going to be able to get out of here until the storm dies down, but at the very least you could have been stuck somewhere far worse. Other than the bones sitting at the bottom of the pool, the cavern is oddly clean.

It’s only when you realise that your whole body is trembling that you take the time to check yourself out. The cold has caused your circulation to slow, and your hands and feet are painfully stiff and bloodless. While the cave isn’t as chilly as you might expect, it’s still not exactly warm and you have no idea how you’re supposed to stop your shivering. You know that you’ve read survival advice regarding hypothermia before, but now that it’s actually necessary it seems as though all relevant knowledge has leaked out of your brain. 

Your eyes rove the cavern absentmindedly as you think, wracked with the occasional violent shiver. “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, exhausted. Your gaze passes smoothly over the outcrop of rocks near the cave’s entrance, the red eyes staring up at you from under the water, the froth churned up by the waves spilling through the entrance and into the cave. Another clap of thunder booms from outside.

It takes a ridiculous amount of time for your brain to catch up to what your eyes had just seen, but when you finally jerk your attention back to the water, whatever you had seen is gone. Your breathing is laboured now and stings in your chest slightly, but you pay it no mind as you shuffle closer to the edge of the pool, staring intently at the now empty spot in the water. Maybe your near-drowning experience had resulted in more oxygen deprivation than you had realised, because you could swear you had just seen a man in the water.

“Hello?” you call. Your teeth are chattering, the tone of your voice both nervous and hopeful in equal measures. The cave echoes your voice back to you in a way that makes you feel distinctly idiotic. “Is s-someone there? Please!”

The surface of the water ripples, but you’re pretty sure that the movement is due to the waves rather than some mysterious man hiding in the pool. Feeling disappointed and a little dumb, you sit back and gaze morosely into the water. Were you really so addled that you were beginning to hallucinate?

Before you can begin to worry too much about your possibly declining mental state, the water ripples again. This time, you snap your head up in time to see something dart behind a large rock sticking up from the water. 

“Hey!” you blurt, sitting up and scooting closer to the edge. “Who are you? I c-can see you, asshole!” 

It occurs to you that it’s highly likely that you’re sitting here shouting at a scared seal or something else much less menacing, or human-like, for that matter. You only have a short moment to feel extremely stupid before whatever is out there moves again, and when a head pops out from behind the rock you fall totally silent.

It is a man! His shock of blond hair is wet and plastered to his head and most of his body remains hidden behind the rock, but there’s no denying that it’s an actual person and you can’t help the immediate relief that washes over you.

“Hey, d-did you get washed up in here too?” As soon as you ask the question, you realise that something isn’t quite… right. How had you missed him on your first glance around? It wasn’t as though there were all that many places within the cavern to hide, and there shouldn’t be any reason to hide in the first place; you had been unconscious, after all. Why was he still in the water?

And why wasn’t he answering you? His head is tilted slightly and his gaze is boring into you, but he makes no move to speak or to come out from behind the rock. It hits you then that you’re all alone in an isolated cave with a total stranger who’s positively glaring at you, and you’re wearing nothing but your bathing suit.

Cold unease settles deep in your belly, and you push yourself carefully away from the edge. His eyes follow the movement; you can’t be sure from this far away, but his irises look an almost unnatural shade of red. The hair on the back of your neck and all up your arms stands on end, and you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re in danger.

“I was just leaving,” you tell him, forcing a nervous smile to your face. “I’m just trying to figure out how to get out of here.”

The man doesn’t reply; in fact, he barely even reacts. He doesn’t even blink.

The smile slides slowly off your face, and your throat makes a dry clicking noise as you try to swallow. “Okay!” you say too loudly; your voice echoes throughout the cave, which only frays your nerves further. “I’m going!” Even as you say it, you realise that there’s no possible way out of the cavern without having to get in the water and swim past the man to get to the crack in the cave wall. Water spills through the crevice as waves crash into the side of the cliff, and another clap of muffled thunder reminds you that there is a storm raging outside. Even if you manage to get around this weirdo and escape the cave, you don’t know how far you’ve drifted from the cove. With the ocean so unsettled, it would be plain stupid to dive back out there without knowing where you are or how deep the water is outside of the cave.

The sound of water rippling catches your attention, and you look back at the man to see that he’s beginning to emerge from behind the rock. Your spine stiffens, alarmed at the sudden movement after so much uninterrupted stillness. He keeps low to the water, his face half-submerged, and as he slides out from the rock and begins to smoothly cut through the water. A flash of colour catches your eye and draws your gaze towards the side of his head. Right over the space where his ears should be is delicate soft orange and black webbing that almost looks like…  fins? They twitch a little in your direction, but otherwise hang limply so that they’re almost hidden by his mass of spiky hair.

The fins are distracting enough that it takes you a truly embarrassing length of time to notice that the man has an even stranger feature that his odd ears. As he gets closer, you finally catch sight of the long, lithe tail.

Your instinct is to draw back in both shock and disbelief, but as soon as you move the man (was this even a man?) lifts his head fully out of the water and bares his teeth at you as he spits out a low, sharp hissing sound. You freeze, overwhelmed; your eyes are darting from his teeth to his fins to the tail, but you’re having some serious trouble actually taking it all in. The oxygen deprivation from nearly drowning must have done more damage than you had first thought if you’re beginning to hallucinate shit like this. The tail is long and serpentine, ending in twin webbed fins and covered in dark scales. Combined with his disturbingly human torso, he must be nearly eight feet long. When he reaches the edge of the rocky platform, one of his hands comes up to grip onto the surface and you’re greeted with the sight of long and dark clawed fingertips. They flash in the low light like a threat, ensuring you keep as still and quiet as possible. From this close, you wonder how you possibly missed the fact that he is most definitely not human. 

Your breathing picks up as you struggle not to panic, and the fins on the sides of his head rotate towards you as the air sticks harshly in your throat. It’s undoubtedly a threat display; the way the fins splay out flat makes him look aggressive and frightening, and you want to cringe away but you’re also afraid to move. You just tense up on the spot and try to make yourself smaller, hoping desperately that he’ll lose interest once he realises that you don’t pose any danger to him.

“I’m just trying to get home.” Your voice comes out croaky and shaking with fear. You seriously doubt that he can understand what you’re saying, but the sound of your voice has his head tilting suspiciously at you. Even if he doesn’t understand your words, maybe your low and pleading tone will assure him that you mean no harm. “I don’t know where I am, I’m cold, and I’m sore, and I just want to go home.”

A translucent second pair of eyelids slide sideways in a blink, and you have to fight to suppress your shiver. From this close, he’s so obviously inhuman that it’s downright unnerving. His skin is smooth and blemishless, almost too perfect. His features, while human, are virtually flawless in a way that’s actually quite overwhelming -- he’s beautiful, once you ignore his fish half. And the blood-red, glaring eyes.

Predictably, he remains silent, though the fins on the side of his head drop low. You really hope that’s a good sign, and decide to keep talking. Hopefully, by familiarising him with your voice you lower the chance of him attacking you. “My uncle is probably so worried about me. He broke his leg a month ago in a boating accident, and I’ve been looking after him since. This is the first time I’ve taken any time to myself -- I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone for. He must know something’s wrong, or else I would have come home as soon as the storm hit.”

The creature just blinks that sideways blink, floating still in the water as he stares at you.

You sigh, and ease back slowly into a more comfortable sitting position. Those orange fins rotate towards you at the movement, but otherwise he doesn’t react. You take the lack of hissing as a sign of progress. 

“This is your cave, huh?” You keep your tone stupidly conversational, as if you’re having a friendly chat with a neighbour or something. “It’s nice. Pretty cosy, as far as caves go. Clean. Except for, you know. The bones.” Now that you’ve mentioned it, you can’t help your gaze from drifting to said bones. To your relief, you see that most of them seem to be the remains of various ocean creatures, though there are a few suspiciously large bones that are almost certainly human. Fear rises up through your chest and lodges in your throat, which makes it difficult to force your words out. “Wow. Yeah. The, uh. The bones are kind of gross.”

The creature follows your gaze, craning his head over his shoulder to see what you’re looking at. He pushes himself away from the ledge and dives in one quick, fluid movement, startling you so badly that you nearly overbalance despite sitting down. His tail is pure muscle, and it ripples as he cuts through the water. It’s only now as you watch him submerged beneath the surface that you realise this is a real mermaid creature that you have somehow found yourself trapped in a cave with. The realisation sends you reeling, but before you can spiral into a flat out panic attack, the creature bursts out of the water again. He pulls himself up onto the ledge and leans on it with his forearms, before slapping down an object right in front of you.

It is, quite unmistakably, a human thigh bone. You recoil in badly disguised horror, “Oh! What the fuck!”

The creature watches you, unblinking. He seems… expectant?

You look down to the thigh bone, then back to the creature. Is he threatening you? Is this his way of letting you know that he’s killed humans before, and is willing to do so again? You cringe away from the yellowing bone. 

“Oh shit. Fuck. Oh my god. Okay. Okay, um… I’m not a threat! I promise! I don’t even want to be here. Please don’t hurt me. Shit, you don’t even know what I’m saying, do you?” Your voice has grown thick with panic, and you try to choke it down. Your hands are trembling, and you run them nervously over your face in an attempt to do something with them. “Look. You, uh. You seem like a very nice… mermaid? Mer… creature. I can tell that you’re, um, very strong. And your claws are very intimidating.” You trail off, because you’ve ended up freaking yourself out and losing your train of thought.

The creature has lifted itself a little further out of the water, and appears to be puffing up slightly. You wonder if it’s another threat display, but he doesn’t seem to be overly aggressive. That is, until a clawed hand reaches out and snatches at your ankle so fast that you can barely follow the movement with your eyes. You yelp with fright a solid moment too late, but the pain that you had been expecting doesn’t come. Instead, those sharp, mottled black claws grip firmly at your ankle without actually piercing the skin; the creature appears to be peering closely at your feet.

“Those are my toes.” You tell him stupidly, as though he has any idea what you’re talking about. “They don’t taste good.” You wiggle your toes, and the creature jerks back and hisses at them. “Whoa! Sorry! They’re harmless, I swear! Please don’t kill me!”

When it becomes clear that your toes don’t present any immediate threat, he pinches your big toe between two fingers and squeezes it experimentally. The fear that had been so paralysing is beginning to steadily fade the longer this little exchange goes on without the creature hurting you. You could almost fool yourself into thinking that maybe he was harmless, but the bone sitting on the ground next to your hips suggests otherwise. Still, aside from his initial display of aggression, he doesn’t appear to be particularly hostile. Just a little… over-curious.

His grip on your legs is strong but gentle enough to not actually be causing you any pain, though that might also be thanks to the fact that your extremities have gone numb from the cold. Your shivering has eased up a bit, but you still feel exposed in your damp bathing suit. You’re a little self-conscious, but you’re pretty sure that the mermaid man is too preoccupied with your feet to even notice the fact that you’re in a state of undress; in fact, you’re not even sure if he has a concept of nudity, considering he’s half fish.

You’re so preoccupied with watching the creature rub at your shins that it takes a while for you to notice how quiet it’s gotten inside the cave. “Sounds like the storm has blown over.” You tell the creature, who just stares at you with his brow furrowed. You’re not entirely sure where to go from here; you have no choice but to start searching for a way out of the cave, but you’re not sure how to go about extracting yourself from the creature’s grasp. You don’t know if he’ll stay as docile with you once you’re actually standing and moving around. “How am I gonna get out of here, huh?” 

The grip on your leg disappears as the creature backs up before plunging back into the water with a quick snap of its tail. You can’t help but marvel at the sheer power hidden in that muscular lower half as he powers through water almost faster than your eye can follow. He disappears from view, and it takes you a few seconds before you realise that he’s darted down a passage that you hadn’t been able to see due to the angle. 

As soon as you realise he’s gone, your stomach clenches. “Hey!” You call, suddenly nervous. It might be stupid, but at least when he was here you weren’t entirely alone. “Hey, wait! Please don’t leave me here!”

There’s no sound but the gentle tinkling of water against rock. You sit back with a gusty sigh and shut your eyes. While he wasn’t the most chatty of companions, there was something slightly reassuring about the fact that you weren’t entirely alone in this cavern. Maybe him leaving was for the best though; if he was the one responsible for the mass amounts of bone littering the bottom of the pool floor, then it would be safer for you now that he’s gone. It looks like you’re going to have to get back into the water and swim to the entrance, and while you fill with dread at the thought of having to return to the cold water, it’s probably significantly safer to do so now that the creature is nowhere to be seen.

You slip off the edge of the ledge and into the saltwater pool, hissing as the cold water hits your skin. It’s deeper than you had initially thought; your feet aren’t even close to touching the bottom. You clutch at the ledge and breathe, even though the deep breaths feel like they’re slicing into your lungs. Your feet feel oddly heavy, as though they’ve been carved from blocks of ice, and you feel doubt stab at you; are you going to be able to swim like this?

The water ripples, signalling movement behind you, and you realise that the creature has returned. You have a split second to panic -- if he decides to attack, you’ve just put yourself right in his path -- but then you catch sight of what he’s pulling behind him. It looks like a surfboard that’s been broken in half.

“Oh, wow!” You gasp, reaching out for it. It’s faded and corroded by time, disuse, and saltwater, and there are several deep gouge marks on it that look like suspiciously like claw and teeth marks, but it’s buoyant and definitely more than enough for you to paddle out on. “Amazing! Oh, you’re such a good boy! Thank you!”

Talking to him like he’s a dog probably isn’t the best idea, but his fins rotate towards you and even though he bares his teeth, he doesn’t look entirely displeased by your tone. He also doesn’t move to try and eat you, though his exceptionally sharp teeth are still pointed in your direction. You hope very much that it’s just posturing and that you’re not misinterpreting his body language; the last thing you need is to get torn apart right when you’re trying to make a break for the exit. He lets you take the surfboard and watches as you attempt to drag yourself up on it. It’s easier said than done, considering it’s been broken jaggedly in half and you can’t touch the ground. You might even be embarrassed by how much you’re struggling if there was anyone else around to see it; as it is, you feel like even the creature is judging your flailing legs as he bobs in one place effortlessly.

Apparently, he gets sick of watching your ineptitude very quickly. “Woah!” You yelp as a sharp, scaly hand lands on the curve of your ass. “What the fuck!” The hand pushes at you, shoving you up on the surfboard from behind. You don’t even have the presence of mind to be surprised at his strength, because you’re too focused on the hand on your ass. “Woah, woah, okay, buddy, no groping please!”

The creature’s tail lashes in the water as he stares blankly at you. His hand doesn’t move.

You try to squirm away, but there’s nowhere to go and he is technically helping. “Fucking hell.” You groan. It’s not as if he understands that he’s groping you; he’s a fish. “Okay. Okay, fine. I will overlook this so long as you help me get out of here.” 

The creature shows no sign that he understands your attempts at bargaining. In fact, as soon as you speak he releases his tight grip on your ass and begins to loop slow, lazy circles around you. You sit up, straddling the broken surfboard as you watch him circle you. Now that you’re next to him, you realise that he really is huge -- his tail is long and practically ripples with powerful muscle, and his human half sports well-defined abdominals and bulging biceps, too. His lazy movements and the way that his gaze never once strays from you, not even to blink, sets your hair standing on end. This creature is a predator, and you’d be naive to let your guard down for even a second.

You swallow, and pray that he can’t smell your fear. When you begin to paddle your way towards the cave entrance, the creature perks up and begins to follow. He keeps up with the circles even as you paddle, and you can’t help but scowl at him. “That’s kind of obnoxious, you know.” you tell him, and receive another toothy grimace. If it weren’t for the way his lips peeled back off his sharp teeth, it might have looked almost like a grin.

Watching him in the water is surreal. He moves through it so fluidly that it’s almost mesmerising, and you have to redirect your attention back to paddling several times after getting distracted. Apparently your progress is too slow for him, because the next time he circles around, he reaches out and curls his claws into the board. Wood splinters under his grip, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he yanksat the board insistently. You sit back as the board is pulled through the water, happy to let him do all the work. 

Maneuvering the makeshift raftthrough the narrow entrance takes some effort, but you mostly allow the creature to work you and the board through the gap. And with that, you’re out of the cavern and into the open ocean. The sky is a dull, purple-tinged grey, the sun having already sunk low beyond the horizon; it’s evening time, which means you must have been in the cave for hours. You twist on the damaged surfboard and crane your head around to look back at the cavern; the entrance is barely noticeable, merely a crack in the face of a towering cliff. 

Your heart jumps as you realise that you recognise this cliff. Your eyes follow the length of it, and sure enough you can see the cove in the distance and the shape of your uncle’s house sitting on the hill. “Ah!” you exclaim in delight, a relieved smile breaking over your face. Home! You’re so close! When you glance down at the creature, you see that he’s followed your gaze. He looks back to you, and his tail lashes the water. You point towards the cove. “There. That’s where I need to go. My home is over there.” You only feel a little stupid for talking to him like he can understand; he might not comprehend your language, but he’s obviously intelligent and he’s brought you this far. It’s not too far-fetched to hope that he might bring you just a little bit further.

Your optimism pays off -- the creature dutifully begins pulling the board in the direction you had pointed. In the twilight, you can see that the scales on his tail are an iridescent black colour, flashing deep orange as light reflects off him as he twists and turns in the water. It’s pretty, and you watch in silent admiration. When he begins pulling you faster and splashing through the waves with unnecessarily large flourishes of his tail, you realise that he’s showing off.

You laugh, delighted with the display and giddy now that most of the danger seems to be behind you. “Yes, yes, very impressive. Your tail is beautiful.” 

Obviously pleased with your admiring tone of voice, the creature preens and flexes as he cuts through the waves. With his speed, what should have been a fifteen minute swim is cut down to barely five, and he releases his grip on the board as you begin to approach the shore. As soon as the water is shallow enough for you to stand, you slip off the board and curl your toes into the sand. You turn to grin at the creature, elated, and see that he’s retreated into the waves so that all you can see of him is his eyes and the top of his head.

“Thank you!” You call, grinning as you stagger out of the sea and back onto dry land. “You’re amazing!”

In a flash of scales, he disappears into the waves. You stand on the beach for several long moments, watching the place he had been and wondering if you had just experienced some kind of extremely advanced auditory and visual hallucination. You stay until you start to shiver again in the cold evening air, then stumble your way back up the hill to your uncle’s house.

Predictably, your uncle is a healthy mixture of angry and terrified. It seems you really worried him, and he had no way to contact anyone since he doesn’t own a cellphone. Despite your exhaustion, it takes the rest of the evening to calm him down and assure him that you’re fine. Eventually, you get to slip away for a warm bath and then to bed. 

Lying in bed staring at the ceiling of your uncle’s guest bedroom, you’re sure that it will take you ages to get to sleep. Your brain replays the events of the day over and over again, until the details become murky and your thoughts slow. The last thing you think before you slip off into sleep is how lucky you are to be alive, whether you were hallucinating or not.

You’re an idiot. A total, complete imbecile.

That’s the only explanation for how you’ve managed to find yourself back at the jagged mouth of the cave yet again. It’s been almost a full two weeks since you washed up here during the storm, and in those two weeks you could swear that you had seen a blond head bobbing in the waves in front of your uncle’s house multiple times. It was pretty hard to convince yourself that the whole mermaid-slash-sea creature thing was a product of your imagination after a scary and traumatic event when the hallucination kept appearing right outside where you live.

So, you had borrowed an old surfboard from your uncle (a full, undamaged one this time), and paddled your way back out to the cliff face. You notice almost immediately that the tide is strong here, and it’s difficult to keep yourself from being dashed right against the jagged surface of the cliff. It does confirm your suspicions, though - there’s no way that you could have washed up inside that cave by chance. It takes a significant amount of effort to pull yourself inside the mouth of the rocky structurecave without being crushed into the sharp stone slabs decorating the outside like some sort of deadly decorrocks, but you manage to do so without hurting yourself. 

Inside, the cave looks exactly the same as last time, though this time it’s empty. You paddle forward, the movement significantly easier now that you have a full-sized surfboard. Peering around, you see no sign at all that anything living might have occupied the cavern. That’s when the doubt starts to come creeping in. You’d had the odd invasive thought over the past two weeks that maybe you had imagined the whole mermaid creature (because it was, admittedly, insane), but then you had seen that blond head floating in the ocean breeze on several occasions. You could have sworn he was watching the house! Now that you’re here and facing the complete absence of evidence, you start to feel a little silly.

You paddle further into the cave, straddling the board so that your legs can kick out through the water. You admire the phosphorescent algae growing up the walls, amazed at the natural glowing light. When you turn your attention back to the bottom of the pool, though, you go still. 

It’s empty. The floor of the pool, previously littered with bones, is totally pristine.

You sit still on the surfboard in the middle of the pool, gazing down into the water. Despite how crazy the whole situation was, you had been sure that you weren’t imagining it. But now, faced with the complete absence of evidence, you’re forced to consider the fact that maybe the whole thing really had been in your head. You have such a vivid memory of the silt-covered bones blanketing the floor of the cave that now seeing them missing has completely thrown you off.

A bark sounds behind you, rough and deep like a seal, and you jerk hard in surprise.

Whirling around, clutching at the board beneath you to keep your balance, you catch sight of the creature floating by the entrance to the cave. He’s watching you intently, having obviously been monitoring you since you first managed to float inside.

The relief that slams into you feels like a physical punch -- the spikey hair, red eyes, and tail are exactly the same as you remember. It’s real. You laugh, and it feels like the sound has been ripped right out of your chest; the situation is almost overwhelmingly surreal, but the endorphin rush of knowing that you’re not delusional has you grinning at the creature, wide and bright.

“Hi!” You say, trying to keep your voice as level as possible despite your elation. You may have been delighted to see him, but you have no idea if he even remembers you from two weeks ago; you can only hope that he doesn’t decide that he’s hungry today. “Wow, look at you! You have no idea how good it is to see your face! And your tail! God, I am so glad to see your tail! It’s real, holy shit.”

One of the creature’s webbed fins twitch on the side of his head, rotating towards you as you ramble. In a single, smooth movement he pushes away from the entrance of the cave until he’s right in front of your surfboard, his face half-submerged in the water. He seems pretty docile today, his movements strong, but relaxed. The aggression he had displayed that had scared you so badly the first time is completely absent, and he begins to loop circles around you in a manner that is almost playful. You don’t bother to hide the awe in your expression as you watch his serpentine lower half undulate through the clear water. 

“Wow.” You breathe, your cheeks stretched wide by your goofy grin. “It’s amazing.”

He must feel your gaze on him, because his lazy looping begins to become more elaborate. The extra flourishes he makes with his tail as he circles you splashes water all over your thighs and stomach. You squeak in surprise, but as you relax again you start to laugh.

“Are you showing off?” You ask with a grin, watching his body roll through the saltwater pool, never straying too far from your surfboard. “You’re just a giant puppy, aren’t you?”

His circling gets faster and faster, until watching him nearly makes you dizzy. It’s a little reminiscent of being stalked by a shark, but you don’t sense any aggression or animosity from him at all. The little hairs standing on end on the back of your neck serve as a reminder that he is, undoubtedly, a predator, but you don’t feel as though he poses any particular threat to you right now. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, treating him like a harmless puppy dog, but you have a feeling that his bark is probably worse than his bite. At least, you hope so.

“Help me get to the ledge?” You ask, beginning to paddle over. He catches on to where you’re trying to get to almost instantly, and pushes the surfboard effortlessly over to the rocky platform. 

Once you climb out of the water and turn to him, he pushes his upper half up onto the ledge and leans on his folded arms. The intensity of his gaze has lessened, or maybe you’ve just gotten used to it, because it doesn’t feel as though he’s trying to eat you alive with his eyes anymore. His tail swishes through the water, creating gentle waves rippling over the surface as he watches you with a sort of attentive stillness reminiscent of a cat.

“You saved me last time, didn’t you? When I was drowning?” You ask absent-mindedly. Your voice subconsciously takes on the same artificially high-pitched tone you use when you’re talking to animals and babies, but judging by the way his fins rotate downward and flatten to the side of his head he doesn’t like that. “Thank you.”

You’re taking a massive chance even making an attempt to touch him, but you take a deep breath and then hold your breath as you reach out to him. He flinches from your outstretched hand and bares his sharp teeth at you, but there’s no animosity behind it and he makes no move to stop you from placing your hand on the top of his head. His hair is coarse with sea salt, which probably explains its spiky texture, and is still dripping wet. As you ruffle his hair, your fingers curl into the chaotic blond spikes -- though you had originally intended to simply give him a pat on the head, you end up playing with his hair and scratching at his scalp.

You weren’t sure how the creature was going to react to your bold decision to give him head scratches, but he seems to like it -- his eyes go half-lidded and droopy, and he presses his head lightly into your touch. You grin, encouraged by his reaction, and let your hand trail cautiously down to one of his fins. It’s soft to the touch and delicate, with an almost silky smooth slippery texture. It twitches beneath your fingers, and you notice for the first time that the soft orange colour is interspersed with milky streaks of black. 

“Pretty.” you murmur to him, stroking a finger down the length of the fin before returning your hand to his messy mop of hair.

A harsh, rumbling growling sound erupts out of the creature’s chest, and you whip your hand back in shock. The creature’s head jerks up to look at you, equally startled by your sudden movement. It takes you a moment to realise that he wasn’t snarling at you, he was purring.

“Oh!” you breathe, surprised. “You like me playing with your hair?”

The creature obviously doesn’t answer; instead, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, his sharp claws cautiously guiding your hand up to plant right back into his hair. You laugh, startled by his sudden boldness, but obediently start scratching at his scalp again. That snarling, chain-saw like purr starts up again, and you can’t help the breathless giggle that bubbles out of you at the sound of it. 

The minutes tick by as you play with his hair, his grumbling purr echoing throughout the cave. His body has gone mostly lax, with his upper half laid out on the ledge in front of you and his lower half floating in the water. It’s kind of exciting being so close to a creature that could probably kill you with a single swipe of his claws but has instead chosen to let you pet him. Like this, lying relaxed by your legs, you could mistake him for a regular man. So long as you didn’t allow your gaze to drift lower, at least.

Your stomach decides to end the moment by letting out a rumbling growl of its own, which surprises even you since you had eaten before you left your uncle’s house. The creature draws back, squinting suspiciously at your torso.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, embarrassed despite yourself, “I’m not actually hungry, my stomach doesn’t know what it’s talking about.”

The creature blinks one of its creepy sideways blinks at you, and then in one quick movement disappears under the water with a flourish of his tail. You catch a streak of colour darting out of the cave and sigh as the water settles, disappointed that the moment has been brought to such an abrupt end by something as stupid as your tummy rumbling when you weren’t even particularly hungry. You settle back and wonder if you should take that as a sign that it’s time to get out of there.

The cave is beautifully peaceful, silent but for the sound of the waves lapping against rock. You could probably stay there for hours, but it doesn’t feel right to be there without the creature; it feels as though you’re infringing on his private territory, somehow, and it makes you feel a little uneasy. In the end, you don’t get much time to overthink -- the creature re-enters the cave nearly soundlessly, and you barely notice his presence until he emerges out of the water and hauls himself up on the rocky platform next to you.

“Oh!” You blurt, startled by the sudden movement. “You’re back!”

The creature doesn’t react to your words at all, instead dropping something in front of your folded legs. You blink at it, bewildered, as it wriggles on the stone platform.

“It’s… a fish.” You point out redundantly, at a loss for anything else to say. When you look back up you find that the creature is watching you carefully, a hint of impatience on his face. He nudges the fish towards you, and you cringe back as the fish flip-flops helplessly. “Gah!”

The creature’s brow drops into a frown, clearly unhappy with your reaction. He pushes the fish towards you more aggressively this time, but when the fish leaps into the air it’s only instinct for you to smack it away in a panic. The fish bounces once and then makes a bid for freedom, jumping straight into the water. The creature snarls and leaps after it.

The poor fish doesn’t stand a chance; the creature snatches it back up within seconds, and then it’s dumped in front of you again. “Uh. I don’t really… want this?” You stare at it, and then lift your head to look at the creature. He’s still frowning, and when you make no move to take the fish he reaches out to pick it up himself with a grunt of obvious irritation. You relax a little once he takes the fish, wondering what the hell that had been about.

Smack.

You screech as the fish slaps into your face, recoiling so violently that you overbalance and fall flat on your back. “What the FUCK!”

The creature rears back, obviously surprised by your reaction and all the yelling. He spits out a hissing sound as the fish makes another escape attempt, and dives after it. You’re too busy scrubbing at your face in disgust to keep track of what the hell he’s doing now, but when something wet and slimy smacks into your arms you realise that he’s just pelted you with the fish again!

“Why would you do that!” You yell, distressed. You would never be able to forget what a fish to the face feels like, now. “Fucking- That’s fucking gross!”

A low grumbling starts in the creature’s chest, but his brow is furrowed and his head is tilted so he doesn’t seem angry. If anything, he just seems confused. The fish is still wriggling where it’s stuck in his clenched, clawed fist, but its movements are getting progressively weaker. 

“Don’t you dare throw that at me again,” you threaten, glaring his way and injecting as much authority into your voice as you can manage, ���Or we will have a serious problem.”

Your tone must have been pretty clear, because the creature doesn’t try to launch the fish at your face again. Instead, he lifts the fish up to his own mouth and takes an enormous bite, ripping the head right off and chewing it between his razor-sharp fangs.

You gag at the sight of guts and viscera falling to the cavern floor, and then turn to retch as wet chewing sounds reach you. “Oh fuck, that is nasty. Why? Ah, Jesus-” The creature proffers the chewed up fish carcass, scowling when you turn your face away to gag again. “Stop shoving that at me! I will get sick on you!”

The creature grunts, confused and annoyed by your behaviour. When it becomes clear that you will not be taking the remains of the fish to eat yourself, he tosses the carcass to the side. It lands with a sad little ‘thwunk’ and then lays forgotten as the creature turns back to look at you. Your stomach rolls as he starts to pick raw meat out of his teeth with a clawed fingertip.

“On that note, I think it’s time for me to leave.” You climb to your feet, stubbornly refusing to look at the dead fish. “That’s enough weirdness for me to deal with for one day.” As soon as you make a move for the surfboard, the creature starts making sharp barking noises at you. You turn to scowl at him, irritated, and see that he’s dragged himself after you along the ledge. “What do you want?”

The creature looks almost constipated for a long moment, before he huffs a sharp breath of air out his nose. “Stay.”

It feels like the world stops turning. You think your heart might have actually stopped in your chest. You were surely hallucinating this time. “Did you just speak?”

The creature’s tail lashes impatiently as he scowls up at you from the ground, obviously displeased at your sudden difference in height. “Will you fucking sit down?”

You drop back down to the floor, jaw hanging open. “What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself. It feels as though your brain is functioning several steps behind its usual pace, and all you can do is stare dumbly. “You can fucking talk?”

“Are you an idiot?” The creature snaps at you, scowling. A dusting of light pink blooms high on his cheekbones, “I’m talking right now, aren’t I?”

“I’ve been talking to you this whole time!” You yell, horrified. You cast your mind back desperately, struggling to recall whether you said anything embarrassing at any stage. You definitely have, you just know it. “What the fuck! Why did you never answer?!”

The creature clicks his tongue, and an infuriating little smirk settles over his perfect features. His voice is smug when he speaks next, “I’m a good listener.”

That does it. 

“Oh, fuck you.” You jump to your feet again and march to your surfboard, ignoring the scrabbling sounds against the rock as the creature pulls himself after you.

“Hey! Wait! You said you’d stay, asshole!”

“No, you told me to stay! I never agreed to shit!” You snap, embarrassed and annoyed. You fumble with the board, and the creature takes that moment to shove it away from you. You gasp in outrage as you watch it float out into the middle of the pool, then round on him. “What the hell!”

The creature glares at you, his cheeks stained red. It looks as though he’s seriously struggling with something, until he finally says, “Stay… please.” It sounds as though the word has been forced out of him, like it actually grates him to say it.

You should probably leave. But then again, how many chances in a lifetime are you going to get to meet a fantasy creature (and one that can actually speak to you!). Your curiosity gets the better of you (and the embarrassed but hopeful look on the creature’s face doesn’t help), so you reluctantly sit back down once more. You don’t miss the way he seems to relax a little now that you’re not going anywhere. “Only for a while.” you warn him half-heartedly.

The creature scoffs as if he doesn’t care, as if he didn’t literally just plead with you to stay. “Whatever. Why didn’t you like the fish?”

“The-?” You glance over your shoulder. The fish carcass lies abandoned several paces away, stinking and leaking everywhere. “Uh…”

“I thought you were hungry.” he presses, sounding distinctly as though he’s accusing you of lying.

“You were trying to feed me?” You ask, raising your eyebrows so high they nearly vanish into your hairline. That’s what smacking you in the face with the fish was all about?

The creature’s tail twitches again, sending waves rolling across the surface of the pool. He looks embarrassed, though he’s making a pretty valiant effort at pretending to be unaffected. “Yeah, so what? It’s not my fault that your fingers are all blunt and useless. Can you even kill anything with those?”

You squint down at your fingers, then frown at him. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried! Humans don’t eat raw meat, anyway!”

“Yes, they do!” The creature shoots back, “I’ve heard of sushi!”

That effectively renders you silent as you blink at him. Where had he heard of sushi? “Okay, fine!” You concede grumpily, “Some people eat sushi! That is not the same as catching a fish and eating it live!”

The creature makes a face and lies out on his back, stretching leisurely. “Damn, you’re high maintenance.” He complains, though he doesn’t look all that annoyed. If anything, he looks stupidly pleased with himself. “Whatever. Tell me what you like, then.”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, chewing your lip, “Normal food, I guess. Like, from the store.”

The creature frowns at that, obviously displeased but thinking hard. After a moment he grunts, shrugging. “We’ll work something out.” He says vaguely, then moves on before you can respond. “You’re staying with Aizawa now, right?”

You blink in surprise. “You know my Uncle Shouta?”

“Your uncle?” He asks, avoiding your question.

“Well,” you amend with a shrug, “We’re not blood-related. He’s always been a close family friend. How do you know him?”

The creature shrugs, muscled chest rippling in a way that’s frustratingly distracting. “He’s always hanging around in his stupid little boat.” There’s an underlying current to his voice that sounds like begrudging respect. “He’s helped us out a few times, I guess. He’s alright.”

“‘Us’?” You repeat, eyes wide. “Are there more of… you?” You gesture at his tail, unsure of what to actually refer to him as.

The creature must decide that he’s said too much, because he changes the subject. “What am I supposed to call you, anyway? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘dumbass’.”

You scoff, slightly offended at that, but tell him your name anyway. “What do I call you?”

“My name is Katsuki,” he grins at you, displaying his rows of very white and very sharp teeth. “But you can call me whatever you like.”

The low, easy rumble of his voice sounds almost flirtatious, and for a long moment all you can do is blink at him. There’s no way you’re reading the situation correctly, you’re sure of it. “Um. Katsuki is fine.”

Katsuki snorts, but doesn’t push the matter. Instead, he rolls onto his side so that he can watch you more closely. His gaze is searingly intense, so much so that you genuinely have difficulty meeting his stare. His attention is overwhelming, and so you find yourself looking around the cavern in an effort to distract yourself. Your surroundings are more or less unchanged from the last time you were here, with one exception -- though the cave was clean before, now it seems to be immaculate. The absence of the bones littering the floor of the pool makes the water seem deeper and clearer, light reflecting off the surface and dancing in ripples along the rocky ceiling. Any seaweed or lichen that had been growing around the rocks or up the walls is gone now, leaving the stone surfaces looking as though they’d been scrubbed clean.

For lack of anything better to say to fill the silence, you say, “Your, uh, cave looks great. Very… tidy.”

Katsuki appears to puff up at that, proud that you noticed. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” You nod absently. “It’s… um, cozy.”

“Cozy?” Katsuki repeats. He’s edging closer, almost imperceptibly, but the dragging sound his scaly lower half makes on the ground gives him away. His gaze has sharpened, and you feel distinctly hunted.

“Uh,” You laugh, nerves pitching your voice several octaves higher than normal. “Yeah, I guess. That’s some very nice, uh, algae. It really… pulls the room together.”

The algae, in all its phosphorescent glory, is nice, but Katsuki doesn’t turn to look where you’re pointing. The tip of his tail drags in the water, where it thumps softly from side to side. “Want to see the rest of the place?”

Something about his tone of voice has you hesitating; it sounds pointed, as though his words are heavy with significance that you don’t understand. Still, you don’t want to be rude, so you smile nervously and say, “There’s more? Sure, I’d like to see.”

Katsuki inhales sharply through his nose as an anticipatory grin spreads slowly across his face. His features, handsome anyway, are intimidatingly good looking as his cheeks dimple with his smile, and you only have a moment to wonder what exactly you’ve just agreed to before he pushes himself back into the water in one smooth movement. “Come on.” He says, reaching a hand back up to you and waiting impatiently for you to take it. 

You pause for a moment, before throwing any lingering sense of self-preservation to the wind and taking his outstretched hand. He’s mindful of his claws as he helps you into the water, but it’s impossible to miss the way his palms drag over your arms in a way that can’t be mistaken for casual. 

It’s only when you’re floating in the water next to him that you’re able to fully comprehend the sheer size of him. While his torso is mostly human in both shape and proportion, he’s still built like a damn bodybuilder, with solid abs and rolling biceps. Even without the tail he’s pretty big, but with it? You guess it must be about eight feet long, and it curls around you in the water like a thick, dark snake. He smiles at you as he keeps you afloat, and his teeth glint in the low light. It’s border-line terrifying, and for a long moment you wonder if you’ve just made a very serious mistake.

But then his tail undulates and he’s cutting through the water, dragging you with him. You laugh, startled, and cling onto his neck as he swims through the pool and down the mostly concealed passage he had disappeared through the last time.

The passage is completely submerged in water, and narrows before widening into an even larger cavern area. You gasp quietly as you realise that this is definitely his living space.The layout is pretty similar to the previous cavern, with a shelf of rock jutting out of the wall of the cave just above the height of the water, but unlike the previous cavern this rocky shelf is covered in soft dry moss. You wonder if this is where he sleeps.

The luminescent algae is far more plentiful in this part of the cave; it grows all up the walls and along the ceiling, where it glows in the dark like stars. You crane your head all the way back so that you can gaze open-mouthed at it all, awed by the surreal beauty of it. “Wow,” you breathe in delight, “It’s stunning!”

Katsuki grunts out a pleased rumble in response. In the position you’re in, you can feel it vibrate in his chest. When he reaches the platform, he grips you by the hips and boosts you up onto the rock. The sheer strength takes you by surprise, especially considering the way in which his expression hardly changes as he lifts you with ease.

Once you’re comfortably seated on the moss-covered stone, Katsuki heaves himself up to join you. His tail slaps against the water and coils close to your legs, rubbing gently against the skin of your legs. The sensation of wet scales should feel a little gross or uncomfortable against you, but they feel silky soft as they brush your skin. You lay back against the moss, gazing up at the glowing blue algae painted across the ceiling.

“Your home is beautiful.” You murmur, keeping your voice low. It feels as though the moment is fragile, and you don’t want to break the peaceful atmosphere in this little grotto.

Beside you, Katsuki gives a smug little shrug of his shoulders. He’s sitting way too close to you to be entirely casual (his tail is practically draped over you at this stage), but he doesn’t seem to think anything of the closeness so you write it off as a mermaid thing. “Obviously. What, are you fuckin’ surprised?”

You ignore that, sighing happily as you get comfortable. You can feel Katsuki’s gaze settle like a weight over you, but you simply refuse to look over -- lying comfortably on the cushioned cave floor and gazing up at the fantastical luminescence of the walls and ceiling is a kind of peace that you’ve never experienced before. You feel like you could stay like this forever.

However, Katsuki does not like to be ignored. Your attention has only been directed away from him for a few moments before he starts shifting irritably beside you. You can feel the muscles in his tail moving as it rolls, his clawed fingers tapping impatiently against his abdomen. It seems as though he’s waiting for something in particular, but you have absolutely no idea what this could be. 

After another few moments of impatient shuffling, you finally turn your head to frown at him. “Is something wrong?”

Katsuki frowns back at you, and you see a brief hint of uncertainty flash in his eyes before it’s snuffed out. “No. I’m being fucking patient.”

“Patient?” You parrot, confused. “What are you waiting for?”

For the first time, you notice the flush crawling up the back of his neck and spreading over his cheeks. Swearing quietly, he looks off to the side and shuffles a little on the spot. Eventually he speaks again, though he still doesn’t meet your eye. “Am I reading this wrong?”

“Uh-?”

He continues before you can properly answer, his jaw clenched tight. “I tried to show you that I’m a good hunter and a strong opponent, but you didn’t like any of the bones. I wasn’t sure if you were interested or whatever, but then you showed me where you lived.” The emphasis he places on his words makes you realise that there is some special sort of significance that has gone right over your head, “Then you came back to my cave again, so I figured we were on the same page. But then you refused the fish-”

“I-” you start, bewildered, but Katsuki just keeps going as he works himself up into a mini rant.

“-Even though I know you’re hungry! And you said you liked the changes I made to the place after I got rid of the bones, and you kept calling my tail amazing and beautiful and shit-” He ignores the way you choke a little at that, though he seems to run out of steam, “I just-- fucking, tell me if I’m reading this wrong. I don’t know shit about humans. I thought you were accepting my advances.”

Advances? You inhale so sharply that you nearly choke all over again. There’s no way he means what you think he means. There is no damn way. “Are you- are you coming onto me?”

Katsuki stares back at you, before his face crumples into a scowl. “Hah? Are you fucking dumb? I brought you to my living space and gave you bones! I tried to feed you fish! Of fucking course I’m coming onto you!” His voice drops then and takes on an uncertain edge to it, “I thought you were accepting my mating advances.”

Your jaw drops, and you honestly can’t find the strength to close your mouth. Mating advances? “I-” you start, then cut yourself off. It feels like the world has tilted just slightly off to the side, throwing you off-kilter. You have absolutely no idea what to say. “Give me a minute.” You blurt, darting to your feet and turning away from him to pace. 

You quickly encounter a problem, in that there’s nowhere to pace to; the ledge is only so large, so all you can really do is march from the edge to the wall. Overall, it’s only about ten paces long, and the whole time you’re focusing on not slipping on the moss. It doesn’t exactly give you a lot of space to think, but your mind still goes into working overtime.

You sneak a peek at Katsuki -- he’s lounging exactly where you left him, but his eyes are sharp and alert as they follow your movements. Not for the first time, you take notice of how unnaturally handsome he is; his features are perfectly formed, his skin clear and flawless where it stretches and swells over his finely muscled form. He looks like a handsome prince from a storybook, and you hate that you’re feeling sparks of attraction towards someone who’s half fish.

Katsuki clearly notices you looking at him, because he stretches out to display his body in a way that’s distinctly suggestive. You look away quickly, embarrassed at having been caught staring. How would that even work?

You can’t believe you’re even entertaining the idea.

“I’m not gonna fuck a fish.” You breathe, eyes clamped shut. “I’m better than that.”

“Who the fuck are you callin’ a fish?” Katsuki snaps. His tone is heated, but the way the split fins at the end of his tail slap a steady rhythm against the ground reveals his excitement. He must have caught on to the fact that you’re actually considering it, because the fins on the side of his head have begun to wiggle a little in anticipation. “Will you stop overthinking it and come over here?”

You hold onto your pride and dignity for another few seconds before abandoning them altogether and padding back over to him. You fold yourself down into a sitting position in front of him so that you’re facing each other. Katsuki sits up quickly, his lips beginning to turn up in a grin. You ignore the anticipation flashing over his face, and ask, “So, how does this, um, work?”

Katsuki inhales sharply, obviously excited. His fins flap softly against the side of his head. “Let me show you.”

“Right, okay. Yeah.” You say stupidly, eyes widening as Katsuki leans in. Any further rambling is cut short as he presses his lips into yours.

The kiss is a little clumsy at first -- Katsuki is careful with his sharp teeth, but the feeling of them pressing against your mouth sends a little frisson of excited fear down your spine. It’s only when he’s pressed up against you like this that you realise there’s a stark difference in your body temperatures; Katsuki’s skin is cool and soft, which feels amazing pressed against your rapidly heating body.

He pulls away from the kiss, leaving you blinking stupidly after him, and then pushes at your shoulders to guide you down onto your back. The moss underneath you acts like a cushion, so it’s significantly more comfortable than you had been expecting. This ends up being a good thing as Katsuki lowers himself down on you, his weight pinning you to the floor.

“You’re so warm.” He murmurs, nuzzling into your throat before nipping softly at it and snickering when you jerk at the sting. His hands skim over your sides, his clawed fingers dragging harmlessly over your vulnerable skin.

You hate to admit it, but there’s something about the danger of the whole thing that’s really getting you going. You recall the bones that had previously cluttered the whole cave floor, and know that Katsuki not only could rip someone apart if he felt like it, but had done so before.  You squirm beneath him, pressing your thighs together as he kisses at the sensitive junction between your throat and ear.

Apparently unhappy with the position, Katsuki leans back a little so he can pry your legs apart. As soon as you drop your knees open he squirms into the gap and presses himself right along the line of your body, dropping aggressively eager kisses all up your chest and throat. “Take this off.” He rumbles, tugging irritably at the strings to your bikini top.

“Um.” You say, thoughts a little hazy. Every time Katsuki moves the muscles in his tail shift and roll, and his tail is pressed right in between your legs. “Off. Right.”

Katsuki watches as you tug the fabric off, his eyes bright and impatient. No sooner have you tossed your bikini top to the side than he’s on you again, thumbs rolling over your nipples as he pushes his face into your breasts. “What the fuck,” he mutters, squeezing curiously at one breast and licking a stripe over your other one, “You’re so soft.”

 Desperate to touch back, you reach up and run your hands through his salt-coarse hair. When you accidentally brush against one of his head fins, his reaction takes you by surprise – his whole body jolts, pressing into you harshly, and he groans a little into your ear. You do it again, grinning as Katsuki’s hands abandon your tits so he can grab you by the hips.

Maybe your own excitement causes you to forget yourself, but you can’t help but grind your hips up into Katsuki where he’s pressed in between your legs. Katsuki laughs a breathless, snarling laugh before grinding back into you, the base of his tail just under where his human half ends pressed flush against your covered pussy. Katsuki, still gripping you by the hips, grinds repeatedly against you – the scales on his tail create an almost ribbed texture, and every time they drag over the front of your bikini bottoms you can’t help but twitch your hips back against them.

It doesn’t escape your notice that you’re virtually dry-humping a merman on the floor of a cave, but you simply push that aside for now; you can feel yourself getting wet, and you know that most of your critical reasoning skill go out the window when you’re horny.

You’re so distracted by the nipping, stinging kisses and the way Katsuki’s tail grinds and wiggles against you that it takes a very long moment to realise that the feeling of his tail pressing against you has… changed, somehow. You pull back, breathing a little heavy, and look down to try and see what’s different, but Katsuki is pressed so closely to you that you can’t see past his chest. You don’t get a chance to look properly, either, because then Katsuki begins to slide down your body until his head is between your legs.

He tugs at your bikini bottoms, but his inexperience with legs becomes clear as he tries and fails to successfully remove them. “Fucking- take these off!”

You snort at his impatience, but obediently wiggle your way out of them. It’s actually a relief to be out of the wet swimwear, but you don’t have much time to appreciate it before Katsuki’s face is in between your legs and pressed right up to your now exposed pussy. He inhales deeply as you squirm, mortified. “Don’t- stop fucking sniffing me there, oh my god!”

“Hah?” he squints up at you, “Why?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

Katsuki frowns, clearly not understanding what the big deal was. “You smell good.”

You’re pretty sure that you don’t, considering virtually nobody’s genitals smell good (especially not after being trapped in a damp swimsuit for hours), but his tone is so matter-of-fact that you can’t bring yourself to argue. He doesn’t wait for a response anyway, burying his face between your thighs again and huffing as he inhales your scent. You cover your face out of sheer embarrassment, but don’t make any effort to pull away.

When his tongue starts to prod at your clit, your whole body jerks in surprise. His tongue is cool, a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your folds, and it feels startlingly good as it squirms against you. Your hips twitch and chase after his touch, but he keeps you firmly in place with his grip on your hipbones.

“Humans are pretty different down here,” Katsuki says conversationally, his words vibrating against your pussy lips. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Oh yeah?” you say absently. Your thighs flex around his head from the effort of not clamping down hard around his skull.

He hums, then licks at your slit unashamedly. He grins, apparently pleased with the taste. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Can you- there’s, um, a spot. Higher up. Could you-?”

Katsuki doesn’t take direction particularly well, and it takes a couple of moments for him to actually locate your clit. When he does find it though, he licks and sucks at it so eagerly that your back actually bows right off the ground.

“Shit!” You gasp, wriggling against Katsuki’s face. “Oh!”

Encouraged by your noises, Katsuki just doubles his efforts. The wet, slurping noises are obscene, and your moans echo around the cavern in a way that sounds distinctly eerie; you’re so thankful that there’s no one else around for miles to hear.

“You’re so warm,” Katsuki murmurs, sounding slightly breathless, “Are you this hot on the inside, too?”

“Oh god.” You whimper, head swimming. Without even really knowing what you’re asking for, you whisper, “Please.”

Katsuki perks up at that, then drags himself back up so that his face is level with yours once more. This close, you can see how shiny his face is after being buried against your wet pussy for so long. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. It makes you whimper again, pressing into him eagerly. Katsuki is breathing pretty hard too, and when he presses his torso against you, he groans long and low.

This time, with the base of his tail pressed against the bare flesh of your cunt, you know for sure what you’re feeling; there’s an honest to god bump that definitely wasn’t there before, right where you might expect a dick on a human male. Katsuki notices where your attention is straying to, and brings one of his own hands down to massage the bump. It’s only then, as you peer closer to get a better look at what he’s doing, that you see what looks like a vertical slit positioned a few inches down from where his human half ends and his tail begins. His clawed fingers dance around it, rubbing at the swollen flesh around it without touching the slit itself.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you reach out your hand to stroke at the same place Katsuki is. The pads of your fingers run over the textured scales, earning a soft grunt as he presses eagerly into your touch. You repeat the same massaging motions Katsuki was doing, and as you watch, the slit seems to open wider.

It happens slowly, then all at once. As you rub at the sides of the opening, the tip of what appears to be Katsuki’s penis begins to slowly distend. You nearly pull back from surprise, but then Katsuki lets out a quiet, soft little moan, and you can’t bring yourself to pull away from him. You run the tip of your index finger around the inside of the slit, and find that it’s soft and almost rubbery, reminiscent of what you imagine sealskin must feel like. At your touch, his penis extends the rest of the way.

 You blink, then sit back. “Oh.” You say stupidly, gazing at his dick.

Katsuki straightens up and sits back smugly, clearly proud of what he was packing. He seems to miss your growing alarm entirely. “Like what you see?”

You purse your lips and take a moment to collect your thoughts. “It… moves.” You say faintly.

Katsuki doesn’t look very impressed with your analysis of his penis. “Yeah. Obviously. C’mere.” 

His dick is significantly pinker than his own skin tone, thick at the base and then narrowing along the length. It’s big, uncreased and smooth, and when you wrap your palm around it (ignoring Katsuki’s desperate thrust into your fist) you find that it has the same almost rubbery texture as the skin around the slit. It’s just a few shades warmer than the rest of his body, though still significantly cooler than a human; it’s odd, holding a dick that feels almost cool to the touch.

Katsuki’s tail lashes agitatedly at the ground behind him, though he doesn’t do much more than press a little harder into your hand. “Done looking?” he grinds out, clearly beginning to run out of patience.

“No.” You say absently, giving his dick a few pumps and watching him hunch over with a choked moan. His dick is practically prehensile, and wriggles in your hand like it has a mind of its own.

It’s completely unnerving and alien and really, really weird, and you hate yourself because all you can do is wonder how it would feel inside of you.

“Y/N,” Katsuki grunts, his tail slapping agitatedly against the floor behind him, “Can I? Please, can I?” The please sounds as though it’s been pulled unwillingly from him, though it seems no less genuine because of that, and he leans down to nip impatiently at your shoulder.

“Yeah.” You breathe, relinquishing your hold on his dick and watching it slap against his abdomen. You lie back onto the moss, breath hitching as Katsuki eagerly drags himself up the length of you.

 The sensation of his thick heavily muscled tail nestling in between your legs and shifting with every one of Katsuki’s little movements has your head swimming, and your knees fall open even wider. His head drops to your chest and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, humming as your head falls back with a pleased sigh. You can feel the hardness of his cock on the inside of your thigh, can feel the tip of it moving just slightly, tracing the sensitive flesh close to the crease of your hip.

When Katsuki looks up to meet your eyes, you’re not prepared for the level of franticness in his gaze. He looks needy, his proud features twisted in desperation even as his eyes burn. “I’m going to mate you now.”

“Okay.” You say dumbly, clutching weakly at the moss beneath you.

The tip of Katsuki’s dick is unexpectedly soft as it presses into you, and far slicker than you had expected. You peer down at his hips, and notice for the first time that the slit that his penis is protruding from is leaking some sort of membranous fluid. You wonder if maybe you should feel grossed out by that, considering the foreign fluid is being pressed inside of you, but all your brainpower is being diverted to the slow, wet slide of his dick stretching you open.

Katsuki moans, long and low, as he clutches at your hips. “Fuck!” he hisses, baring his rows of sharp teeth. He’s obviously trying very hard to hold himself back and enter you slowly, but he’s practically trembling from the effort.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You chant, breathing heavily. Katsuki’s dick is big, and the pressure of the stretch is just bordering on painful despite the slick slide. You wonder if you’re going to feel the ache of this for days or weeks.

And then he’s all the way in, the rough, textured scales of his tail pressed flush against the backs of your thighs. Both of you have to take a moment, panting. The pain of the stretch begins to fade, and you begin to feel like you’re just on the right side of full.

You want to feel Katsuki move, and so you wrap your thighs around his hips. The scales scratch a little at the delicate skin on the inside of your thighs, but it’s so worth it for the way Katsuki groans, and the way the fins on the side of his head flap minutely. One of his palm’s plants itself firmly in the moss by your head, the other clasped tightly over your hip.

The muscles in his tail ripple and his dark scales flash in the low light as he pulls his hips back only to slide back in, smooth and fast. It’s hard to catch your breath, because the slickness of his cock sliding in and out of you is at once foreign and desperately arousing. Katsuki seems to feel the same way, because his mouth is dropped open and his brow scrunched, eyes half-lidded as he humps into the slippery heat of your pussy.

“You’re so hot,” he groans out with a huff as his hips stutter, “Feels like you’re burnin’ me.”

Dazedly, you sympathise with him; his body is several degrees lower than your own body temperature, and the coolness of his dick inside of you has every one of your nerves hyper-aware and attuned to it. It feels beautifully refreshing against your own heated flesh, the contrast almost overwhelming.

Katsuki pets absently at your hip and thigh as his thrusts begin to come faster and harder; he builds up a steady rhythm, one that seems to seek as deep inside of you as possible and quickly renders you speechless. The only sound filling the cave is the wet slapping sounds from where Katsuki is pounding into you and the grunts and pants and moans that each of you make without shame.

You feel each thrust and slippery slide inside of you so acutely, as if every one of your nerve-endings is straining towards him. The texture of his cock inside you feels so alien, and you could swear you feel it actually aiming for the spot inside of you that makes your limbs turn to jelly. You wonder if your own body feels as strangely foreign to him; you’re guessing it does, judging by the way he pants and humps into you with that wild look in his eyes. Or maybe that’s just how he usually is during sex. It’s not like you have any sort of frame of reference for sex with mermaids.

You reach down to rub at yourself, jolting a little as your warm fingertips come into contact with your heated clit – you’ve become adjusted to the cooler body temperature of Katsuki,  and now your own warmth almost feels like too much. You wonder how the heat of your cunt isn’t completely overwhelming for him, but considering the dark flush overtaking his face and chest and shoulders, and the way that his jaw hangs open and his eyes have gone glassy, you think maybe it is.

He hikes your thighs further up on his waist without pausing his thrusting, the scales scraping oddly along your bare calves. “I’m gonna-” he grunts, pushing his face into your necks as his tail slaps harshly against the ground every time he fucks into you, as if he’s lost control over it.

You rub harder and faster at your clit, gasping as Katsuki bites down on the tender skin of your throat. It’s not hard enough to break the skin, and seems more like he’s trying to keep you in one place, but the threat of his sharp teeth against such a vulnerable part of you sends you hurtling towards the edge.

It only takes a few more strokes, and another twist of his cock against your g-spot, before you come hard and silently, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

“Fuck, yes.” Katsuki groans throatily into your neck, his movements only becoming increasingly intense. It feels as though he’s trying to plow you right through the rock (which is actually an incredible turn-on, though you don’t want to admit it) and you whimper and gasp as you begin to pass into the realm of oversensitivity.

Katsuki’s upper body goes taut as his powerful tail pushes him forward into you one last time, so deep that you swear you feel the tip of his dick moving against your cervix, and then he comes with an honest to god snarl. You sigh as you feel the slick gush of his cum inside of you, thicker than you’d expected, and flop bonelessly once you know he’s done.

“Holy shit,” You breathe, staring wide-eyed at the cave ceiling. The glowing algae twinkles back at you as Katsuki breathes slowly and deeply into your neck, his thick arms winding around your waist and shoulders. As the haze of your orgasm begins to fade and reality starts to set in again, you’re struck with the fact that you’ve just fucked a mythical creature, and his very weird fish dick is still inside of you. “Oh my god.”

Katsuki grunts, clearly not pleased that you’re ruining his afterglow with delayed panic. “Shhh, s’fine.” He mumbles, rubbing at the bitemark on your neck in what he apparently thinks is a reassuring manner, “You’re mine – ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.”

The two of you are clearly on different wavelengths, but you don’t bother to think to much about that particular statement. “I just fucked a fish.” You breathe. It sounds just as ridiculous out loud as it did in your head.

“You liked it, too.” Katsuki says smugly, not denying the fish part this time around.

“Dickhead! Get off me!” You say irritably, embarrassment beginning to sink in.

“No.” Katsuki mumbles childishly, snuggling into your neck and holding you tight so you can’t struggle. His dick shifts inside of you, and he grunts as you automatically clench down around it. “Stay.”

The moss is comfortable, the cave is pretty, and Katsuki’s arms around you feel better than you’d like to admit. You relax, the weight of him laying on you more soothing than you had expected, and close your eyes. “My uncle is gonna kill me.” You say, an afterthought flitting through your mind. He was so worried the last time you disappeared into the sea like that, you can only imagine what he’s going to say once you come home late after doing it again.

Katsuki snorts and kisses the base of your throat, and you feel like you could probably lie in this cave forever, listening to the sound of the ocean ebbing and flowing just outside the rocky walls. “If he’s gonna kill you,” he murmurs, lips dragging over your skin, “I’d hate to see what he’d do to me.”

[exterminate-flatscan-terrorists]

I fv¢king hate the Anti Krakoa crowd. What the fv¢k. Obviously, a bunch of CRACKERS, the majority in their countries, bigotted Racist Bastards that really cant understand the desire of abused Minorities to have a land of their own where their NOT ENSLAVED. "Dance for me, brown monkey. Shut up and entertain me, Negro. Dont talk about freedom, dont talk about rights." Theres plenty of Aryan infested PIGSTY media you can wallow in, go there. Get the fv¢k out of the XMen fandom. Go suck Tony Starks dick, and fv¢k off. Fv¢k ALL you Anti Krakoa FLATSCAN MUGGLE TRASH.

These FLATSCAN MUGGLE TRASH keep acting like the Mutants OWE HUMANITY SOMETHING. nah bitch. They dont owe humanity anything, other than getting REVENGE.

Its the same Mentality I see about those criticizing the Wizards in the Harry Potter franchise (disclaimer, fv¢k jk rowling, shes a TERF, im not defending her, i just like the Wizarding world). Really guys??? Magical people you Muggles BURNED ALIVE, hunted down, treated so horribly that they decided to HIDE FROM YOU for their own SAFETY,,, You ALL still have the fv¢king audacity to ask "Why didnt they stop WW2?", bitch, why the fv¢k would they give a DAMN about you violent MUGGLE TRASH.

"ERMEGERD, the Mutants arent Heroes anymore", Bitch, where are the HUMAN HEROES every time the Mutants gets EXTERMINATED. How fv¢king dare you to even ask. Its because youre a RACIST PRICK who thinks minorities should be your SLAVES. That they should be subservient to you. And if they built anything good for themselves, youll burn it down, because youre a fv¢king MONSTER.

Shit, I wish the Mutants find other planets to live in, preferably in the other side of the Universe, as far away from the BULLSHIT FLATSCAN HUMAN BASTARDS.

The FLATSCAN MUGGLE HUMAN TRASH do NOT deserve Mutants as heroes. Fv¢k them. I am so fv¢king happy Xavier finally saw how BULLSHIT it is, trying to coexist with the FLATSCAN BASTARDS who have done NOTHING but repeatedly try to exterminate Mutants.

“Look what they’ve done… what they always do. Look at how this always ends. With fire. With death. And funerals of our children.”

"Every victory... ash. Every triumph... defeat. They've murdered so many of us, the world has grown used to it. This is just... how things are for... those people. For mutants."

I hope the Mutants abolish the Kill No Man law. The FLATSCAN MUGGLE BASTARDS want a war, give it to em. Mutants should Pull no punches.

If the Humans treated an entire Alien species the same way they treated Mutants, that alien species would have the RIGHT to destroy Humanity.

But thats the thing about Right Wing Red Pilled hyper religious Supremacists. They want the freedom to be racist, they want to commit GENOCIDE, but they want the people they oppress to NOT fight back.

[goldenraeofsun]

Enhanced Extraction Techniques

Also available at AO3

“Cas?”

Cas whirls around. If he was standing on a normal floor, his shoes would have squeaked with the abrupt turn. In the Empty, though, his feet don’t make a sound. “Dean?” he calls back, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Cas? Where are you, man?”

Cas spins in another circle, his eyes straining against the darkness. The oppressive blankness of nothing presses against his eyeballs like an almost tangible film. He tries again, “Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas takes off in the direction of Dean’s voice.

“Are you there?”

 Cas walks faster, anticipation quickening his heels. “I’m coming!”

“I can’t find you!”

“I’m here!” Cas calls back desperately.

“I’m running out of time here, buddy! Spell’s not gonna last forever. Where the hell are you?”

Panicked, Cas breaks out into a run. “I’m coming, Dean!”

“Are you?”

Cas stops dead. If he was back on Earth, he would have fallen flat on his face with the momentum. He turns to his right, where Dean’s voice just came.

“Cas? You there?”

Dean’s voice definitely came from his left that time.

“I need you.”

Cas swallows. Dean’s voice is coming from directly in front of him now. Icy dread creeps up his spine, but he feels hot all over.

“You make it too easy, Castiel.”

Dean never calls him by his full name, not in more than a decade. He is not talking with Dean.

“Nobody is coming for you.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Shamed beyond reason, he just stands there because there is nothing else to do. He can’t hide from the Empty. The Empty is everywhere.

Black ooze, blacker than the surrounding darkness, bubbles up from the floor. The Empty resolves into Cas’s own face, to his surprise. He’d been expecting Dean.

It shrugs, a knowing smirk playing on its lips. “What can I say? If you’re determined to keep me awake, I might as well amuse myself.”

“Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,” Cas says as tonelessly as he can manage.

The Empty crosses its arms over its chest. “My options are limited, aren’t they?” it says snidely. “I can’t put you to sleep, so I can’t sleep. I might as well make this experience as hellish for you as it is for me.”

Cas frowns. “You could always negate our deal. Send me back to Earth.”

The Empty laughs. “That’s not how it works. That was a one-way trip.”

Cas grinds his teeth. “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“An impasse requires two forces of equal power,” the Empty tuts. “And you, my little gnat, have no power in this equation. You are my plaything. What was it that Gabriel said? A thousand channels and nothing’s on. Except you.”

Before Cas can respond, the Empty disappears, dissolving into a tarry splatter and absorbing into whatever passes as the floor in this place. 

 * * *

Cas wanders. He used to sleep while he was bored, but the Empty truly reigns supreme in his dreams. Cas killed Naomi’s Dean facsimile a thousand times, a million times. He watched Dean rake leaves, Crowley whispering poisoned promises into his ear. He walked away as Dean hurts and rages silently behind him in the Bunker.

So Cas stays awake. He’s an angel. It isn’t hard.

Dean’s voice occasionally calls for him.

Cas ignores it.

He wanders for what seems like miles, like hundreds of miles. Nothing ever changes in the Empty. With every step forward, he meets the same bleak blackness. The closest comparison in his long memory is the fraction of a second before the Big Bang - there was emptiness then too, but it was filled with a pregnant sense of promise. In the Empty - nothing.

Until.

Dean is running towards him.

Cas blinks a few times to make sure, even though his vision is perfect.

“Cas,” Dean breaks the silence first, “I found you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes - any louder, and Dean will hear the trembling. “You’re here.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wink. “Now, come on. We’re getting out of here.” He takes off in the direction he came from, glancing behind him to check on Cas.

“We are?” Cas asks, following.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look. “Of course, dude. Sam and Jack are prepping the spell to get us back to the Bunker. We got Chuck by the short and curlies, but we’re one power player short. So we gotta get a move on.”

“So you need me?” Cas asks.

“Your mojo is the ticket,” Dean says with a little grin. “Chuck wiped all the angels off the Earth except Michael. And that dick isn’t answering our prayers, so you’re our next best bet.”

The joy at seeing Dean wavers. “I am?” he asks haltingly.

Dean shrugs. “We gotta work with what we have. And we just remembered you were here, out of Chuck’s reach. Our own spare angel!”

Cas barely holds back his flinch. Hunching in on himself, he mutters, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean assures him, misreading his reaction completely. “We have a plan.”

Cas sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Sam found a spell,” Dean says. “It’ll rip Chuck apart, and, since Amara’s inside him - which, gross - it’ll maintain the balance when the spell takes her apart too.” 

Dean stops walking.

Cas looks around, but nothing sets aside this patch of emptiness from any other. No illuminated rift, no magic symbols, no X marking the spot - nothing.

“The catch is,” Dean says as he turns to Cas, his face regretful, “the spell needs an angel’s grace.”

In a blink of an eye, an angel blade drops into Dean’s palm.

Cas blinks. No beings but angels can manifest that particular weapon.

Dean raises the blade, fingers flexing on the handle. “You know,” he says conversationally, “Now that I think about it, we don’t actually need the angel himself - just the battery.”

Cas stands his ground, his eyes darting over Dean’s face, taking in every nuance and tell.

“I told you once,” Cas says warily, a horrible foreboding coming over him, “I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“Happy to hear that, Cas,” Dean says, his face impassive, “because you’re gonna bleed a lot, not gonna lie.” He shoves the blade in Cas’s chest, right above his heart.

Cas staggers back from the blow, pain and shock radiating out from the bloodless wound.

Dean raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as Cas meets his smug face. “What, were you expecting to go poof? We’re in the Empty,” he throws its hands wide, “everyone’s in stasis here, including you.”

Cas yanks the blade out of his chest, but it - and Dean - turns into black goo before he can stab anything with it.

 * * *

The Empty doesn’t mimic Dean next. Instead it takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s. Every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven.

And there’s no escape. Cas can do his best not to listen, but if he retreats too far into himself, it almost counts as sleeping. With the Empty’s nudging, his thoughts will veer into his worst regrets, sooner or later. 

The Empty is in the middle of lecturing him in the form of Balthazar, when it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

“Come on,” he says roughly. He strides forward to grab Cas’s hand and tug him in the other direction. “That bomb doesn’t last forever.”

“Dean?”

“Who else?” Dean yanks him sharply to the left. “This place didn’t turn your brains to scrambled eggs, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas says shakily. “Dean are you really...”

“What?”

Cas can’t help looking down at their clasped hands. A fleeting thing, barely more than a glance. Still, Dean drops Cas’s hand like it burned him. “You good to run?” he asks shortly.

Cas barely nods before Dean takes off. They hurtle through the Empty, their rapid footsteps impossibly silent. Dean’s breath comes in sharp pants, and Cas’s useless wings ache, not for the first time, to fly them to their destination.

“Dean,” Cas starts, and Dean slows. “Where are we going?”

“Where I left my stuff,” Dean says shortly. “The spell to get us out of here needs a shit-ton of crap, and I couldn’t haul it all over this goddamn place while I was trying to find you.”

“How did you know your way back?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth lift in a faint smile. He points to the floor. “M&Ms.”

Cas squints at the ground, and, sure enough, they are following a trail of tiny candies. “Ingenious,” he murmurs.

“Hey, it worked with a Wendigo,” Dean says, shrugging. He directs them in a few more twists and turns before Cas sees Dean's duffle bag in the distance, topped with a bright yellow bag of M&Ms.

As they get closer, Dean pulls out an angel blade from inside his jacket.

Cas balks. 

Dean shoots him a puzzled look as he hands it to him. “It won’t kill anything here, obviously,” he says, unzipping his bag. He pulls out a copper bowl and bundles of herbs, “But having a weapon’s never a bad idea in unknown dimensions.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas surveils their inky surroundings, already on high alert for any trespassers.

“Watch my back, okay?” Dean glances over his shoulder. Various ingredients get dropped into the bowl with outsized clangs and dribbles that seem to echo in the void around them.

Cas stays vigilant.

“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Dean mutters as the bowl’s contents start to smoke.

“Don’t jinx it,” Cas mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Dean chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t think angels believed in jinxes.”

It’s not like Cas has been especially angelic these past few years. He says shortly, “I’ve found you can never be too careful.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Need your blood for this part,” he says, shuffling over to make room. “Wait,” Dean says before Cas can press the blade againt his skin.

“Yes?”

“This is the last step,” Dean says seriously. “Once your blood goes in, it’s liftoff. So I wanted to get a couple things straight before we’re back in the Bunker.”

Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched in his chest at the closed-off look on Dean’s face. “Of course.” 

“What you said - what you told me,” Dean starts, his voice hard, “before you got sucked to this hellscape.” He drops his gaze to the bowl cradled in his hands, “That’s not me.”

Cas presses his lips together, struggling to keep his face impassive. Once he regains control of himself he says, “I did not expect you to reciprocate when I told you about my feelings for you.”

Dean actively recoils at the mention of feelings. He gives the bowl a little toss, and a few of the contents spill onto the floor. “Just, forget it,” he says brusquely, gathering everything up again.

“Dean-”

He turns to Cas, his eyes blazing. “But - you know what? I can’t forget it.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean is not done.

“How could you offload all that shit on me right before you fucked off to parts unknown?” he demands, voice rising in anger and volume. “Of all the goddamn things you could have said to me - that takes the fucking cake. You were my best friend -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Worst moment of my goddamn life.”

Cas takes a step back, a sickly horror trickling down his spine. “I didn’t think-”

But Dean’s not listening. “I had serious doubts about coming here at all,” he continues, and the last Dean had stabbed him in the chest - how is this so much worse? “But Sam gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and don’t even get me started on Jack-”

“I understand,” Cas interrupts stiffly. He inhales a deep breath he doesn’t need and continues, “Once we return to the Bunker, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters.

Cas cuts his forearm, watching with perverse fascination as the blood wells up and drips into the bowl waiting below.

There’s a violent burst of light and sound.

In the aftermath, Cas can only make out Dean’s mocking laughter. Before Cas can say a word, it turns into Meg’s delighted giggles. And then Gabriel’s howls of mirth.

 * * *

Cas sleeps after getting deceived for the third time. Anything is better than seeing the smug face of the Empty, whether it’s wearing Dean’s face, Gadreel’s, or Ruby’s. 

He breaks the wall in Sam’s head.

He lets Lucifer possess him in a futile plan.

He beats Dean to a bloody mess for the Angel Tablet.

Occasionally, the Empty grants him release, and Cas gets to deliver a bad joke to Uriel in Mesopotamia or Dean calls him a baby in a trenchcoat in a diner.

Time passes. Cas has no idea how long. There’s no sun - no moon - no cycling of the heavens. Only emptiness.

He gets shaken awake.

Cas blinks up at a pair of very familiar green eyes. “Dean,” he says, more or less resigned.

“Jesus,” Dean says as he sits back on his heels, “Way to make a guy feel welcome. I’m here to save your sorry ass, in case you were wondering. A full week of tearing my hair out over how to get you outta here, and this is the thanks I get.”

Cas sits up. “My apologies,” he says tentatively as he studies Dean’s face. There’s no sign it isn’t really Dean.

Then again, none of the others showed signs either.

Cas gets to his feet, asking, “Are you alone?”

Dean glances around them warily. “Yeah, Sam and Jack are keeping the portal open in the Bunker. They wanted to come,” he says, his eyes raking over Cas’s face, drinking him in. “They’ll be over the fucking moon to see you again.”

Cas swallows. “And you?”

“I -” A dull flush comes over Dean’s cheeks. He looks away.

Cas’s face shutters. “Right,” he says as he stands in front of Dean. “Now what?”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to grasp his left shoulder, a mirror of the mark Cas left on him so long ago and so recently. “I missed you too. You have to know that.”

Worst moment of my life.

Cas looks away, Dean’s own raised voice echoing in his head.

“Hey,” Dean says again, gentler this time. His green eyes bore into Cas’s face. “What’s going on in that celestial brain of yours?”

The words catch in Cas’s throat, a lump of embarrassment and fear keeping them there. Embarrassment that the Empty deceived him. Fear that the Empty was right.

“Look, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms,” Dean says awkwardly, “and maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about it, but I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.” He chuckles ruefully. “’S making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Even if it’s only a facsimile of Dean - and there’s no way to tell for certain - seeing his face not contorted in anger or mockery is like a balm on Cas’s soul. If he had one, that was.

“About what you said before you got taken-” Dean starts.

Cas’s heart sinks.

“No,” Dean says, his voice low and gentle, “listen to me. I get that happiness for you might just be in the being, but for me-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “I meant that, truly. You don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, smiling slightly, “You’re not making this easy are you?”

Cas bites his tongue to keep from contradicting Dean again.

“As I was saying,” Dean continues pointedly, his green eyes shining, “For me, happiness isn’t in the being - whatever the hell that means. It’s in the goddamn having.”

Cas bites his tongue harder, the pain hardly registering against the burst of hope fluttering wildly in his chest. “Dean,” he forces out, “You can’t mean…”

“Cas,” Dean starts, and Cas’s heart breaks - or mends. He can’t tell. He has no idea who he is talking to, and it’s, to borrow a phrase from the real Dean, an epic mindfuck.  

“Cas,” the Dean standing in front of him repeats, and Cas’s gaze automatically draws back to his face, “Good things do happen.”

Cas chuckles wetly. He has no choice but to say, “Not in my experience.”

Dean takes a step closer, far into the personal space he’d shown Cas so many years ago. Brows drawing together, he raises a hand to cup Cas’s face. “Someone told me a while ago that having faith was important. Seems you’re a little short there, buddy.”

Cas tries to duck his head, but Dean won’t let him. Eventually, he admits, “My faith has been tested recently.”

“But you didn’t give up, right?” Dean asks, leaning in close enough that Cas can feel the warmth of his breath in the air between them.

Cas shakes his head minutely. “No,” he murmurs, “not entirely.”

“Good,” Dean says, pausing just shy of Cas’s mouth. Waiting.

Cas steels himself and closes distance.

Just before their lips touch, Dean implodes in a burst of inky ooze.

 * * *

Cas breaks several knuckles on the floor of the Empty. There are no walls to punch, no blade to send heads rolling. Cas works with what he has.

The real Dean would probably approve.

Dean shows up again before too long. This Dean goes so far as to tell Cas he loves him.

Cas turns his back on Dean’s heartbroken face. He refuses to engage.

He wanders instead.

* * * 

Cas hears the footsteps before he sees his next Dean.

“Cas!” he pants, “Thank fuck. I thought I was never going to find you.”

Cas merely sighs.

Dean makes a face. “Way to roll out the welcome wagon,” he says, clearly offended. “I would’ve thought you were sick of this place by now.”

Cas purses his lips. “I am.”

“Shocker,” Dean says with a little smile. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, so you gotta follow me.”

Cas doesn’t budge. He’d rather roam this place for eternity than suffer at the hands of another Dean facsimile. And he had thought he saw enough of them under Naomi’s tutelage. He’d been so naive.

Dean stares at him like Cas just stripped naked and danced the macarena. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not real,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean gapes. “Of course I’m real! Chuck’s de-powered, and Jack… well, it’s a long story. Bottom line: nobody’s pulling our strings but us.”

Cas lets out a derisive laugh.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, but he barrels on, “So it’s time to get a move on. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He jerks his head off to the right. 

Cas stays where he is. “No.”

“What the hell?” Dean has the gall to tug on Cas’s sleeve like he’s a wayward toddler. “Come on. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Cas retorts. It’s not his best rejoinder, but he’s been very stressed lately.

Whatever Dean was about to say dies on his tongue as he stares at Cas in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head before Cas can respond, saying, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, you’ve gotta come with me.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. This one is more stubborn than the last, more like the real Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be stuck here?” Dean says, gesturing to the void around them. “You saved the world, Cas.” He swallows. “You saved me. Getting you out is the least we can do.”

“Because you need me to take on Chuck,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you, Chuck’s off the playing board.”

“Because you feel guilty about leaving me here.”

“No - wait, I do, but,” Dean breaks off, irritated, “you know what I mean.”

Cas doesn’t, so he continues in the same vein as before, “Because you love me.”

Dean hesitates. “I’m working on it.”

Cas snorts. At least the last Dean had the balls to say it. Many times. While crying.

“What?” Dean throws up his hands. “You just sprung it on me, dude! I didn’t even know angels could feel things like that, and it took me by surprise, okay? I’m only human, and sometimes we need time to get used to ideas. Like when we found out Snooki was a demon. Yeah, the signs were there, and it makes sense, but still - you sometimes need it spelled out for you.”

Cas pauses. None of the other Deans had referenced pop culture. “How long ago was this for you?”

“Since we summoned Snooki?” 

At Cas’s icy look of disdain, Dean hedges, “A month? Give or take.” He glares. “First we had to deal with Chuck, and it took a while to find a spell to get here. Remember, we didn’t even know this was a place before you died the last time. The Men of Letters weren’t a shit ton of help, for once.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just… hear me out,” Dean says. “There’s a portal to get us home. Sam and Jack can’t stall the Empty forever.”

That was new. “Jack and Sam aren’t in the Bunker?”

“No,” Dean says as he takes off in the opposite direction, all but forcing Cas to follow to find out more. “They’re up in Heaven.”

“Why?”

“Because the Empty can’t get to Earth without a summoning spell, which, as far as we can tell, doesn’t exist?” Dean says, checking over his shoulder to make sure Cas is still within earshot. “But you made that fucking stupid deal in Heaven, so we knew it could at least travel there. Jack zapped Sam to the Pearly Gates, and they’re hopefully making a distraction while I get you out.”

Still not entirely convinced, Cas asks begrudgingly, “And where are we going?”

“A portal,” Dean says confidently. “This place is a little like Purgatory, apparently. If it senses a human here, it’ll create a portal to spit them out again.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “So here I am, 100% genuine human to bail your ass out.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a wink.

Cas scowls. The first Dean had winked at him too.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” Dean mutters as they head further into the Empty.

Cas scans the ground, but there are no small candies lining the way. “How do you know where to go?”

“Turns out, Sam could find a spell for that,” Dean says as he holds up his left hand - clutching his amulet. The Empty must have really hunted around in his memories for that one, even more so than the Wendigo case. He hasn’t seen the real amulet in nearly five years. “It heats up when I’m on the right track towards the exit.”

“So no M&Ms?”

Dean turns to him. “I told you about that?”

Cas stares straight ahead, willing his face to fall into an expressionless mask. The real Dean had told him about the Wendigo over dinner with Sam and Mary while she was still alive, or the Empty wouldn’t be able to use it as inspiration now.

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Man, I haven’t thought about that case in forever.” He glances at Cas, his face sobering. “You really don’t believe this is real?”

“No.”

He can’t. Not again.

Dean sighs as he steers them slightly to the right. “Come on, I’m almost getting third degree burns from this thing. We must be close.”

Sure enough, a blue swirling portal comes into view, a pinprick of light in the distance at first, elongating into an exact replica of the Purgatory exit as they approach. 

“Finally,” Dean mutters, his face impassive. He  turns to Cas. “Just… don’t stay behind,” he grimaces, “again.”

This version has been the most true to Dean - less callous than the first, more caring than the second, more guarded than the third. It will hurt the most when this one falls apart. Maybe it would be better if Cas heads it off at the pass instead of letting the whole painstaking ruse play out all the way through.

If the Empty could get it over with, Cas will go back to sleep. Anything is better than this torture.

Cas takes a step back, away from the portal. “This is pointless-”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “I don’t get it at all. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Cas gapes at him.

Dean continues heatedly, “If an ex-demon with anger management problems and rap sheet a mile long deserved to be saved, I think a legit angel should get the same.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a prime example of an angel anymore.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Have I ever cared about that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Dean cuts him off. “Now, are you going to go through the portal or am I gonna have to drag you? I’ll do it,” he threatens. “Don’t test me.”

Cas wavers. Everything in him says to follow Dean. But this isn’t the real Dean - this is the Empty waiting for the glorious moment when it can yank the illusion away, leaving Cas a little more broken than before.

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You can’t trust me just a little-”

“Trust?” Cas echoes as he strides forward to grab the lapels of Dean’s jacket, his voice rising in a mixture of outrage, desperation, and heartache, “You want me to trust you? After you’ve lied to me, deceived me - after you stabbed me, after you told me I put you through the worst moment of your life the last time you saw me, after you made me think you returned my feelings only to - only to-”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You did,” Cas says fervently, shaking Dean a little - or maybe that’s his trembling hands. “You did - you’ve been putting me through hell since I got here, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” Cas swears. “I’m done pretending.”

Dean his eyes flicking down to Cas’s mouth. “What do you know,” he breathes, “so am I.”

Cas freezes, waiting for Dean to dissolve into a puddle of goo in his hands.

Dean kisses him instead.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips to his, Cas jerks back in surprise and horror.

He falls straight into the portal. 

The Empty vanishes in a blur of too-bright light.

 * * *

Cas comes to in the middle of a field. The sun shines overhead. Noon, Cas registers distantly as he looks around. Dean’s sprawled on the prairie grasses next to him, already waking up judging by the groaning noises.

“Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes, glances at the sky, and closes them again. “Oh great, we made it.”

Cas tentatively picks his way closer to Dean’s side. He stands over him for a moment, shuffling to the side so he doesn’t block the sunlight falling on Dean’s face. “We’re on Earth.”

“Well, it’s sure as shit not Mars,” Dean grumbles, eyes still closed. “Are you watching me right now? I feel like you’re watching me right now.”

Cas stares around the field. “Not anymore,” he says, and a genuine breeze blows against his face. What a marvel.

“‘S okay,” Dean says as he wiggles a little on the grass, getting more comfortable, “’M used to it.”

Cas turns to him. “It’s really you.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean cracks his eyes open, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “You believe me now?”

“This could be the most elaborate ruse yet.”

Dean lifts his head up. “Seriously? You dick, I did not haul ass all the way-”

“I don’t really believe that, however,” Cas says before Dean can work himself up too much.

“Good.” He meaningfully thumps the grass next to him. “Sit. You’re giving me serious Law & Order vibes.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I don’t get that reference. I know about Law & Order-”

“And how does every episode of Law & Order start?” Dean interrupts, “With someone standing over a dead body in a field.”

Cas takes a seat. “Not always a field. Most episodes show corpses in urban areas, or, once, a yacht.”

“Pretty sure it was more than once. I hate procedural cop shows.”

“They are very formulaic,” Cas admits, stretching out his legs, “and lack the drama of soap operas.”

“I’m just saying, if a long lost sibling doesn’t pop out of the woodwork or if the main character isn’t killed off at least six times, is it really worth watching?”

Cas levels him a flat look. “Dean, all those things have happened to you.”

Dean snorts. “At least none of us got amnesia.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Dean turns his head to stare at him, a wide grin spreading across his face as he laughs. “Oh shit, you're right. How the hell did I forget?”

“Because of supreme irony, most likely.”

It takes Dean a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs even louder.

Cas doesn’t have anything to add, so he lets the conversation peter off into silence, listening to Dean’s even breathing and the grass rustling in the gentle wind.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dean says in an undertone.

Cas turns to him. Dean’s eyes are closed again, but everything else about him radiates a quiet tension Cas might’ve missed anywhere else. But here, in this field, nothing prevents Cas from honing on Dean’s whole being with everything he has. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“I dunno,” Dean says, his face scrunching up, “I thought it would be more awkward. But… it doesn’t feel any different.”

Cas blinks. “Why should it?” he asks, and though he’s not definitively sure what Dean means by ‘it’, he has a very strong suspicion.

Dean shoots him a pointed look. “Because you don’t tell someone you love them and expect everything to be OK after.”

Cas lays down next to Dean. Staring up at the wispy clouds overhead, he says, “If it changes anything, I didn’t expect to be around for the after part.” Dean’s head turns to look at him, but Cas can’t bring himself to see whatever expression is on his face. “If you’d like for us to go our separate ways after this, I understand.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean mutters vehemently, “for the last goddamn time, I did not piss off the immortal Blob just to tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”

Cas inhales a slow breath, breathing in the dirt, wildflowers growing nearby, and Dean. “You kissed me,” he says.

“You said you loved me,” Dean shoots back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did you?”

Cas grimaces as he turns his head to face him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallows. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly, “but I’ve never been good at that stuff.”

Cas squints at him. “You are the most emotionally intelligent man I’ve ever met.”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You expertly navigate and manipulate people’s emotions to get them to talk to you, open up to you, have sex with you,” he lists. “It’s extraordinary to witness.”

Dean makes a choking noise. “Dude,” he says, which tells Cas absolutely nothing. A few more clouds pass by before Dean speaks again. “I guess the signs were there - with you. But I didn’t want to put them together.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders scraping almost inaudibly against the soil and grass stems. “Just didn’t.”

“Then that’s why I didn’t tell you. But, Dean-” Cas breaks off. This part of the conversation, despite what Dean said earlier, does not feel the same as others between them. 

Dean’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. “I did,” he says at last.

Cas waits, but Dean doesn’t elaborate. “Was it just a ploy to get me to leave the Empty?”

“No.”

Cas grimaces. Not for the first time, his life would be so much easier if Dean could communicate without speaking in riddles or hiding every third word he wanted to say. “Dean...”

“I told you I’m working on it,” Dean says defensively.

Cas closes his eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice strained.

“It means I’m working on it,” Dean says shortly. But before Cas can press him further, he lets out an explosive sigh. “It means I don’t want to hear any more goodbyes from you. It means - it means that kiss wasn’t too bad, right?”

“I thought you were a fake version of yourself created to torture me for eternity,” Cas says flatly.

Dean props himself up on his elbows. “So all I’m hearing is there’s room for improvement.”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean scoots closer, peering down at him. “I suppose that’s one way you could look at it.”

“Would you wanna... do something like that again?” Dean asks, his expression confident while his voice is anything but.

“Only if you want to,” Cas says seriously.

Dean licks his lips. He nods once, the movement stilted.

“Should I sit up?” Cas asks, frowning, as he half-lifts his head. “Or do you want to lay back down-”

“Cas,” Dean says impatiently, “it’s kissing we’re talking about here, not Twister.”

“I have played that game before.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Dean says, a tentative smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “You ever do it naked?”

Cas frowns. “There was a strict policy against nudity in the psychiatric ward.”

Dean ducks his head, laughing silently. His forehead lands on Cas’s sternum, his breath warming Cas’s chest from the outside in.

“You were trying to say something arousing,” Cas says, a beat too late.

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “Something like that.”

“I would like to play naked Twister with you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to hear it,” he says as he leans over Cas. Cas goes a bit cross-eyed to keep him in view until Dean murmurs, “Relax. ‘S just me.”

In the instant before their lips meet, Cas half-expects the whole world around him to splatter apart in a tidal wave of black, otherworldly goo. But Dean is gloriously solid, gloriously human, as he cradles Cas’s half-raised head, his fingers tangling in his hair. 

The midday sun shines; the grass whispers in the wind; and Cas is saved.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), big dick namjoon serving us tripod realness, dom!joon, and when i say dom i mean both dominant AND domestic : ), impregnation kink, daddy kink, praise, dom!jimin, sub!reader in both of these scenes, lingerie kink (m wearing), copious teasing, very light spanking, french kissing, lapdance, the jimin scene is filthier than the tags give it credit for ngl, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing/eating, aftercare (as always) 

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you everyone in the sfhs server, you bring me so much joy, motivation and good ideas | AND finally thank you to the anon that suggested [redacted] jimin i legit replanned everything just to make that his prompt

DAY TWELVE

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing  two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

--

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.