#the whatever is specific for tentacles

[askfairyromano]

// @ my no. 1 anon: if I get free reign I promise I will annoy y'all with 2peng and engmano lmao so feel free to send in whoever/ whatever!

Also feel free to add small details hehe♡

[oh-no-its-bird]

Hear me out: warring states era Hatake who went on a mission somewhere in the land of waves and fell off the fucking map— where they then witnessed the Unspeakable Timeless Horrors Of The Sea And Spiral, then washed up on shore a solid years later, irreversible changed and tangibly Other.

Their wolf contract no longer works because there is something so deeply Wrong with them that animals (especially contract beats and spirits) can feel it. There is something tangibly, legitimately Other(tm) about them, and while they've been wholeheartedly accepted back into the clan, everyone knows this is not the same person who they lost a year ago

They gazed into the abyss and the abyss gazed back type shit fr

[xxplastic-cubexx]

how would they even incorporate charles into marvel rivals /genq like would they only add krakoa or…???

my brother and i theorized they could give him his hover chair and then give him a gun and the rest is history

[roadkilledretard]

why did no one tell me that cephalopods have larvae. this changes everything.

[gremlingottoosilly]

What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278

The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.

The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey. 

There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters. 

And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places. 

“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies. 

— So. Abandoned by your team, ja? 

Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it. 

Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. 

Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…

He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach. 

When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air? 

Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too. 

Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely. 

You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands. 

— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…

König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass. 

He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute? 

— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you? 

He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating. 

Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right? 

— You’re pretty. 

He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly. 

You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties. 

You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire. 

So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning. 

— Don’t…please, don’t, n…

You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first. 

— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to. 

His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone,  but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle. 

You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours. 

Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too. 

Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…

But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield? 

— Stay still, ja? 

— Too much! Please, n…no more…

— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one. 

He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it. 

He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you. 

— Stop, please…’s too much. 

— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better. 

— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…

— Is this your first time with a monster? 

— Yes. 

— Gut. Would break you in for me. 

He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure. 

König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible. 

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass. 

You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity. 

You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think. 

It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides. 

It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore. 

— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy. 

— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils. 

When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream. 

You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb. 

God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.

 He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you. 

When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips. 

You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted. 

— Will you let me go? 

He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely. 

— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja? 

[sunderwight]

Shen Yuan with a Luo Binghe dakimakura is great but sometimes I stop and think about how a role reversal would have looked (i.e. Binghe as the reader who transmigrates in, Shen Yuan as the fictional character he was obsessing over) and oh my god. Fan Binghe who grew up with chronically online geek culture would have been next level in the absence of an actual, physical Shen Yuan/SQQ. Fan Binghe would have owned everything. He probably would have had to commission it all himself, either because the novel wasn't popular enough for the level of desired merch or because the mainstream commercially produced products were too cheap or flimsy or inaccurate for his specifications or probably both. Perfect hand fan recreations. Replica Xiu Ya (it's an actual sword) hanging on his wall. Fanart both done in a classical style (as in, 'what Shen Qingqiu might actually have hanging on his walls') as well as a variety of character portraits and erotic art zines. Printed and hand-bound copies of his favorite fanfics. Somewhere in China there's an amateur bookbinder who is making BANK off of this obsession, producing the most high level gorgeously bound copies of the filthiest smut and fluffiest hurt-comfort teacher/student fics.

Luo Binghe would be controversial in fandom because he is just as nitpicky and wank-y as Shen Yuan, with an extra dose of turning up in the comments sometimes to act like a jealous/possessive boyfriend accusing writers of being a little TOO lustful towards his unlikely waifu, but on the other hand he is rich and he will pay through goddamn nose for anything and everything that caters to his preferences. So a solid chunk of the fan creators just do things they think he'd like because they want in on the cash cow, while much of the rest of the fandom hates his guts because they feel like he hijacked everything with his own fanon and headcanons and obsessions. Shen Yuan isn't even that popular! Most of the rest of the fandom is kind of down on him as a cliche clueless danmei protagonist, they're all there for the score of blueballed love interests. Beautiful Liu Qingge and darkhorse Shang Qinghua and mysterious, tortured Yue Qingyuan and whatever the hell is going on with his evil doppelganger, Shen Jiu. Luo Binghe doesn't ever commission Shen Yuan with any of them, though! He's always solo, or maybe with a faceless tentacle monster or something!

It gets weird. There are probably Woman Buying Wonder Bread-esque memes about Binghe's highly specific kink commissions. On the other hand, Luo Binghe comes down harder than the actual artists on unsanctioned reposts because he commissioned Shen Yuan in that sexy lingerie fondling a really huge sword and it's not just for anyone to go around putting that up on whatever website they please!

He would own several dakimakura and they would arguably be more normal than a lot of the rest of his collection, is what I'm saying. He'd have them in different poses and seasonal outfits and versions that were acceptable for company and ones that had to get tucked into a drawer under the bed every morning because they were for Binghe's eyes only. And it wouldn't even just be the sexy ones, but also the ones where Shizun looks soft and fond and gentle and affectionate. The man was definitely working his way up to commissioning a lifelike Shen Yuan sex doll when the universe did absolutely everyone a favor and yeeted him into a transmigration scenario.

[whokilledsamara]

hello my lovely!!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

i figured since you sent me a request i'll send you one too if that's okay?! i see a lack of mr hood on ur acc so maybe some headcanons for him if you have any!!? anything cute or anything filthy!!

MR. HOOD N/SFW HCS

a list of Mr. Hood x reader hcs {an: ofc my love, hope you like!! 💋💋}

warnings || smut, tentacles, monster fucking, soft dom, slight violence, black goo

{an || ah hello!! i hope you enjoy these, i dont have much Mr. Hood and i wanted to write for him soon so thank you!}

SFW

Mr. Hood is a difficult lover, as expected. he cant quite grasp the concept of love- or he just doesn't want to. it will take forever to even convince him to admit his feelings.

he is known to bring gifts, or anything he comes across that would seem to interest you. he just really likes seeing you happy!

he is a very monotone guy, rarely any emotion noticeable from him honestly. he prefers to keep things leveled out and little to no affection.

even if you aren't "shrunken", he still likes having you inside of his coat. he says its for safety purposes, but you know its more than that.

when it comes to the others- he doesn't mind letting you hang out with them! he isn't controlling whatsoever and allows you to pretty much do as you please.

usually he is gone somewhere, but don't worry, he is always watching. even if you cant see him per se, he has his "eyes" on you.

he wont admit it, but he enjoys your company. his biggest fear is loosing you. therefore, if you call for him- he will always be there.

cold? he will either stuff you inside of his coat with him or he will just take it off and hand it to you. something about seeing you in it does something for him.

NSFW

he is a very gentle lover. while yes, he has a lot of pent up tension, he wont be rough with you unless explicitly asked. if you do however allow him to be rough, he will still have restraint.

he doesn't have a penis, he has tentacles. they work the same, and act the same, just don't look the same. {feels better too}

he is terrified of harming you, so any negative noise you make will cause him to halt his motions. just tap his arm or something to make him resume.

not a greedy or teasing lover. will give you what you both want, and do it efficiently.

his favorite position is missionary. he gets to use all of your holes at once with his multiple tentacles.

his cum is black and translucent, but has the consistency of human semen. tastes like literally nothing.

noises aren't very frequent with him. you might hear a grunt or two every now and then, but nothing loud or anything.

his hands feel very cool against your body, often groping and grabbing whatever flesh he can. specifically your neck.

very few limits on what he will do. anything you ask, he will do silently and immediately. very obedient.

he is a very soft dom. will please you and will be quiet without degradation or roughness, but always on "top".

hehehe,, might make more...

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Found You First

Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff & humour with a slight side of angst. kind of a slow burn.

Word Count: 17K

Warnings: adult language. alcohol and food mentions galore. Hoshi meddles and creates more problems for everyone involved. reader’s size is not specifically mentioned, but Jihoon and she fit into each other’s clothes. one mention of “daddy” as a joke.

[best friends to lovers!AU] For years you’ve hated Valentine’s day, convinced you’d never find a love worth celebrating. Maybe this year you’ll see that what you needed has been right in front of you all along.

♡ This fic is a part of @camandemstudios Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab! Please check out the other writer's works as well! They're all so good and we've all worked so hard!! ♡

[Still don’t know what to get your loved-one for Valentine’s day? We’ve got you covered!]

You stared at your phone, almost praying it would blow up and disappear along with the message. Unfortunately, you still needed your phone and the universe knew it. You sighed and deleted the message.

Maybe you wouldn’t be so bitter every February if the world was a little kinder to single people. After all, at least half the people in the world must be single – whether by choice or not. And yet it seemed that everything in the world was keen on reminding you of how entirely single you specifically were, your sister included.

She all but wrestled the phone out of your hand. “That’s it. I’m signing you up for dating apps.”

“Please don’t,” you replied with only half your usual annoyance and enthusiasm. Maybe a part of you thought this was exactly the push you needed. 

Already nose-deep in the app store, she didn’t even bother to pretend to hear you. 

“This one has good reviews–” she mumbled to herself as if it was her phone all along.

You only hugged a cushion to your chest and stared at the TV. Whatever romantic film your sister had chosen to watch today was not helping your problem. 

“What’s the point? Maybe Soonyoung’s right.”

“Who?” She finally glanced up.

“Soonyoung.”

She blinked. “Is this Soonyoung cute?”

“Can you please stop trying to set me up with every guy you hear about?” You rolled your eyes. “He said that the key to finding love is to first love yourself.”

“That’s, like, basic philosophy,” she replied easily and turned back to your phone. “I need your email and a password– Oh, wait, I can just make something up.”

You were fairly certain she wasn’t listening to a word you were saying but you were past the point of caring. At least talking to a person who isn’t listening is a (small) step above talking to the lonely snake plant on your windowsill. 

“Maybe I should take some time to just find myself,” you contemplated out loud. “I could try a new hobby. Or a new style. Find new books to read. Maybe then I won’t even care that I’m single.”

Still not looking up from the app she had newly installed on your phone, your sister hummed. “One of my friends did say that fictional boyfriends are better than real ones.”

So maybe she was better at multitasking than you had thought.

You put the cushion away and leaned closer to her. “What are you doing on my phone anyway?”

Proudly, she turned the device for you to see. “Ta-da! Your first ever dating app profile!”

A shiver of fear ran up your spine. “You signed me up for a dating app?”

“And you’re not allowed to delete it until you find a boyfriend,” she declared. “And if you do, I’ll just download it again.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Whatever,” she laughed and handed you back the phone, picking up her own from the coffee table. “Oh, I should get going.”

You couldn’t help but pout. “Already? Why?”

She rolled her eyes and went to pull on her coat. “Because, unlike you, I have a boyfriend who wants to take me out on a date. In fact,” she was practically beaming and you felt the ugly green tentacles of jealousy crawling up your leg already, “he’s taking me on a date every day until Valentine’s day.”

A pause. With a startle, you soon realised she was expecting you to cheer for her. You tried to find words that weren’t as bitter as you were feeling. “Oh, that’s so sweet of him.”

It was the right answer. She actually squealed as she confirmed, “Right? He’s such a romantic.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper as she leaned closer to you over the back of the sofa. “I think he’s going to propose on the big day.”

You almost sighed in despair. “I hope so! You deserve that ring.”

“You are so right,” she agreed and opened her mouth to say something more when the door suddenly opened. 

You tilted your head to see who had intruded. It was Jihoon, black hat covered in white snow and a takeaway bag in his hand. He blinked at the sight of your sister before smiling and waving. “Hi. I didn’t know you had visitors.”

“I do have friends other than you, Hoon,” you informed him. “Also, I do have a working doorbell.”

He gave you a funny look. “And I have your spare key.”

It was clear you had made a mistake when you awarded him the honour. Now you were stuck dealing with him even when you didn't want to.

“I’ll leave you two,” your sister announced and left, not before whispering something in Jihoon’s ear in the passing.

Jihoon’s ears turned red as he cleared his throat and set the takeaway bag on the table. 

“What did she tell you?” you asked him with a groan. You knew your sister better than anyone – there was no way she hadn’t told him something so embarrassing you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes for weeks to come. “Lay it on me.”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” His reply was just a little bit too quick and wavering, but you decided to let it go this once. “I brought you some leftovers.”

You raised a brow. “Leftovers?”

“They ordered too much food to the studio today, so I brought you the extras,” he told you almost timidly, gesturing to the bag like it was no big deal and had required zero thought from him. He was a strange man but maybe that’s why you liked to keep him around. “Can’t let the good food go to waste. Besides,” his eyes seemed sharp all of a sudden, “have you eaten at all today?”

He didn’t need an actual answer – you both knew the truth.

“I’ll be sure to savour it,” you told him with a joking salute. “Want to join me for a movie?”

His nose scrunched up at the mention. “I wish. I promised to help Seungkwan set up for the party tonight.”

Right. The party. Seungkwan’s “Jeonghan’s party”. In three hours. You had forced yourself to forget about it. 

Jihoon pursed his lips in thought, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “But we could always pretend we got kidnapped by a serial killer.”

“Sounds like too much work.”

“We escape to Iceland, become anonymous sheep herders and no one ever hears from us again,” he then suggested, snapping his fingers for emphasis and raising his brows as he waited for your reaction.

But as tempting as that sounded… “Seungkwan would find and skin us in fourteen days flat.”

He groaned and threw his head back. “Then I guess we have no choice. We must commit a crime so vile they give us a life sentence.”

“He’d just bring the party to the jailhouse,” you laughed. “And we wouldn’t even be able to sneak out.”

He took a deep breath and straightened back up. “Well, I’m out of ideas. Just plain suffering it is then.”

You glanced at the clock. “It’s not too late to fake our deaths.”

Jihoon snorted a laugh. “You just said that pretending to get kidnapped would be too much work.”

“Faking deaths is different! Or! We could summon a freak storm that would leave us stranded here,” you suggested. 

“How?”

“I’m sure there’s a good Youtube tutorial somewhere.”

He giggled at the idea. “You really don’t want to go to the party, huh?”

You could only sigh and wish for the plush green fabric of the sofa to swallow you whole. “There’s definitely going to be so many couples there, all dressed in matching outfits and giggling and making out. And I’ll be all lonely and miserable, quietly downing all of Seungkwan’s wine.”

When you looked at Jihoon, he was smiling at you almost fondly. He was silent for a while. Then he spoke again, “I’ll keep you company. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not the same,” you whined like a little brat even as his promise made you feel a tiny bit gooey and soft inside. 

“I’m sorry?” He just laughed again and shook his head, the remnants of snow falling onto the floor. “I’m bringing those muffins you like so much.”

You felt yourself perk up immediately. “Muffins? Why didn’t you just say so?”

He laughed harder but said nothing else as he turned and left. You would’ve been upset if you didn’t know him better. 

Your phone chimed with a new notification. 

[Claim your Valentine’s day coupon now and surprise your partner with a free tour of the museum!]

You groaned but didn’t delete the message.

[HOON: if you want to match with someone, I’m wearing red today]

You groaned harder and shut off your phone.

It wasn’t that you actually disliked these parties. You quite liked them, really. Seungkwan had figured out the perfect balance of socialising, snacks and music. It was a joy to be present, hanging out with your friends as you forgot about the problems of the week. 

The only problem was that ever since Seungcheol and Chan had introduced the idea of an annual friendly “Party King” competition, the number of parties you were gently blackmailed to attend had doubled. And, frankly, your social battery was due for an upgrade that never came.

You suspected the same went for Jihoon.

Clad in his dark red hoodie, he joined you on the sofa the moment his eyes caught yours. Sipping his soda and softly singing along to the music, he completely ignored your personal space and made himself comfortable by your side.

“No wonder you can’t get a boyfriend,” Seungkwan joked when he walked past the two of you, a box of party games in his arms. His smile was blinding as he told you, “Your guard dog’s going to scare all of the guys away.”

You blinked in confusion. He nodded to your side. Following the gesture, you found yourself face to face with Jihoon. A groan left your mouth.

“What?” Jihoon wondered. 

“Seungkwan says you’re the reason I’m single.”

He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the fact. “Well, if they want to date you, they have to impress me first.”

You almost felt a little fond of him, appreciating his protectiveness. But you also knew your Jihoon and you knew he wasn’t finished yet.

Under your warning eyes, he took a sip of his soda before smirking. “God knows you wouldn’t recognise a red flag if it slapped you in the face.”

Glancing down at his clothes, you snorted a laugh. “You’re literally dressed as a red flag yourself. I should be avoiding you of all people.”

“No, I’m just warning other people that you are a red flag,” he replied effortlessly, cutting your laugh short. Sensing he was now in real, actual danger, his eyes widened. “That was a joke. Just a joke. I’m sorry–”

You smacked him upside the head and shook your head. “Did someone mix alcohol into the soda? You’re so mean today.”

He blinked once. Twice. Looked into his soda cup. And then cursed. “I knew it tasted funky! Yoon Jeonghan!”

You could only laugh harder as he jumped up from the sofa and ran into the kitchen with fury that could not be matched. Drunk words are sober thoughts they say. Which is precisely why you hardly drank anything at these gatherings. 

Jihoon returned less than two minutes later, two unopened colas in hand. There was still an attitude to his foot stomps and a glint of annoyance in his eyes, but he opened one of the cans before handing it to you like he always did. 

“Not even Jeonghan can tamper with closed cans,” he reasoned almost bitterly. “Who mixes vodka into soda?”

“Lots of people,” you told him with a chuckle and a gentle pat to his shoulder. “It’s called mixing a cocktail.”

He rolled his eyes. “Rude of them to not consider people who don’t drink alcohol.”

“Kind of like it’s rude of them to not consider the single people here,” you half-joked in camaraderie. “Have you noticed they’ve only been playing love songs tonight?”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed. “Have they?”

You nodded towards the speakers that were blasting Love Me Right. “The last two songs were Lover and Steal the Show.”

He grimaced. “There’s still 12 days left until Valentine’s day. Are they insane?”

“Probably.” You rested your legs onto his lap. “I guess I’ll just be extra bitter and lonely this year then.”

“No shot at romance?”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on your lips. “You literally just said you’re wearing red to warn others how much of a red flag I am. And now you want me to find romance?”

“I have mixed feelings about you dating,” he told you honestly – a little too honestly, if the red tint of his ears was anything to go by. He cleared his throat. “I should start checking the drinks for alcohol before I drink them.”

Pretending not to notice, you took a sip of your cola. “I keep thinking about what Soonyoung said yesterday. About loving myself before I can find someone.”

“Isn’t that just social media nonsense?” Jihoon wondered quietly, resting his free hand on your knee. His thumb rubbed little circles onto your skin, comforting you.

“What if he’s right?” you continued. “What if I love myself so little that I simply cannot be loved?”

Frowning, Jihoon let out a sharp noise of protest. The gentle touch of his thumb turned into a warning pinch between his fingers. “You are loved! Who put this dumb thought into your mind?”

“... Soonyoung?” 

“I’ll beat him up on Monday,” he half-heartedly promised, a heavy look still on his face. Softening his voice, looking straight into your eyes, he spoke, “Don’t you dare think you cannot be loved. You are loved.”

“By whom?”

He looked away and didn’t say. 

“Whatever,” you sighed once the silence became too much. The speakers began playing Die With a Smile. You sighed once more. “Can’t they play something less romantic? I’d kill for a dumb, mindless party song right now. Do you think you could ask Jeonghan to play something else? He scares me–”

But it seemed that Jihoon was still stuck on the last topic. “What are you doing for Valentine’s day this year?”

“... Aside from crying myself to sleep after watching To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before for the 15th time?”

“You don’t think you love yourself enough to be loved by someone else,” he echoed your earlier words, his eyes stuck on something in the distance, “so why not change that? Treat yourself to something good this year. No sad movies and ice cream,” he finally looked at you again, “just do something you’ve always wanted to do.”

You knew he was right – he always was right. “But it’s boring to do that alone.”

“Then I’ll come with,” he decided after a moment of thought. A small smile appeared on his face. His thumb finally resumed its circles on your knee. It was sweet. Until he opened his mouth again, repeating the words playing on the stereo: “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow.”

To the sound of his giggles, you snorted and slapped his hand away. “You’re awful.”

“I’m serious–”

“Aren’t you two just the cutest!” Jeonghan interrupted your banter with a childish pout on his rosy lips as he leaned against the wall across from the table. Soonyoung was smiling brightly at his side. “Are you dating yet?”

You wondered if he was done asking that at every party yet. It’s not like it was ever going to change (no matter how much he, Soonyoung, and your mother hoped it would).

Jihoon sat up, narrowed eyes settling on Jeonghan as if he was the devil himself. “Did you mix vodka into the soda?”

“Maybe,” came the reply with a shrug and a wicked giggle. 

“I could get you a boyfriend for Valentine’s day,” Soonyoung suddenly said, his brown eyes set on you. There was that glint of mischief again. You realised you feared this man more than you feared bears, and not for the usual reasons.

Even so, you laughed. “Soonyoung, if you were any good at being a wingman, Jihoon wouldn’t be single right now. In fact, you’re, like, the number one reason why he’s single.”

Forgetting his own argument with Jeonghan, Jihoon seemed to take offense to your statement. He let out a noise of hurt before pinching your knee once again.

“Au contraire, my friend,” Soonyoung argued and leaned so close that you could smell the raspberry-flavoured liquor in his breath, “I’m going to be the reason he finally gets the girl.”

You raised a brow. “Remember, just last week you told a girl Jihoon’s not into women when she asked if he was single.”

“I was drunk,” he told you, wearing a mask of nonchalance. “I don’t remember much from that night.”

“Or the time I got a girl’s number but you stole it and dropped it in the pool,” Jihoon pointed out with a smile that seemed almost venomous. You had no doubt he’d hold that mishap over Soonyoung’s head for the rest of their lives – you almost hoped he would.

Soonyoung had the decency to look a little deflated at the mention, at least. But even so there was no stopping him. Mumbling under his breath, he repeated himself, “I’m going to be the reason he finally gets the girl.”

You shared a look with Jihoon and mutually decided to forget this exchange.

When you were sixteen, Jihoon’s dad let you in on a little secret. He had peeked out of the kitchen to make sure his son wouldn’t hear and then he’d told you that Jihoon had set his phone up so that he would never miss your calls. He thought it was the most adorable thing, and so did you. 

You hadn’t even realised your phone’s Do Not Disturb setting had an option to do so but suddenly you were giddy, excited to set your phone up in a similar manner. And when you didn’t quite manage to figure it out, you decided to compromise and just make his ringtone the loudest one you could find. It worked just the same for you.

You’ve had many phones since then, but the ringtone never changed. 

Though you were no longer sure if it was the obnoxiousness of the ringtone itself or the muscle memory of answering so many calls from him late at night, it never failed to wake you up when he needed you. 

Once again you woke up to the noise, hand automatically reaching for your phone even though your eyes were still closed and your mind was still halfway lost in dreamland. 

“Jihoon?” you mumbled his name as if his ringtone hadn’t been burnt into your memory.

The other line was silent for a moment. Then you heard a soft sigh. “Sorry. Did I wake you up again?”

“No,” you lied, dragging the vowel out as much as you could to loosen up your vocal cords. “What’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmare, stress or boredom?”

“... All three?”

“You have to pick one.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

He groaned but it was soon followed by a soft laugh. “Do you remember when we were kids and I threw that ball into Mr Yang’s window?”

Weird change of topic, you thought, but Jihoon did love to reminisce. So you humored him. “You mean the time he yelled at you so hard that you cried?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “And then you told me he deserved to have his window broken. And you built a pillow fort in your closet for me to hide so my parents couldn’t find and scold me.”

“It had world-class security,” you joked. “Buddy and I were a trusty team.”

But it was like he hadn’t heard your interjection, too lost in his own memory book. 

“You hid in there with me and hugged me when my mom came to get me,” his voice trailed off. He cleared his throat. “You know, she wasn’t even that mad at me. I only had to do the dishes for a week.”

“You were just a kid and she knew that,” you spoke so softly that you wondered if he even heard you this time. The shared memory of the day ran in front of your eyes. It was a simpler time but even back then you had been ready to do anything for him.

Silence engulfed the two of you, only the gentle static of the phones reminding you of the other still being there. Ten whole minutes went by like this and for a moment you wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

“I should go to sleep,” you spoke low in case he really was asleep. “I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

He hummed. “Why?”

“I’m going to a museum and I want to leave by 10. So I should get up before 9. And it’s already almost 3 am, so you know…”

“Since when is 9 am early?” he half-joked before suggesting, “Just go later.”

“I’m a woman of principles, Lee Jihoon. When I have plans, I see them through.”

He scoffed out a laugh. “Liar. Remember that novel you said you were going to write?”

“No clue what you’re talking about,” you feigned innocence, “and you have no proof.”

His laugh sounded like he was sitting right next to you. You silently thanked the wonders of modern technology. 

As you prepared to say good night, you heard his voice again. “You remember the thing Soonyoung said yesterday? About finding you a boyfriend?”

You scoffed. “You don’t think he was serious about that, right? He was just joking, being Soonyoung.”

“Right. Right…” He sounded distant again, like he was in a daze, as he spoke, “Do you think– Have you ever wondered if—” He groaned and you could practically see him scrunching his eyes shut in frustration. “Nevermind, it’s dumb. Sleep must be sneaking up on me.”

You hadn’t realised you’d been holding your breath. It came out in a not entirely genuine laugh. “Maybe we should both go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh. “You’re right, like always.”

“Always?” you teased.

“... Well, maybe not always.”

“You can’t take it back now,” you whined through laughter. “You almost never compliment me or my choices.”

He took a breath like he was about to say something. But nothing came out. Only a sigh. Then the phone call ended without another word – the way Jihoon liked it.

You rolled over to your side, reaching to put your phone away again when it buzzed. The screen lit up with a message. 

[Hoon: if I complimented you and all of your good choices, it would take forever.]

Crawling out of the comfort of your bed on one of your few days off, you wondered if the art of loving yourself was really worth the effort. 

As usual, half an hour was spent on reading the news and watching videos you weren’t entirely interested in. Another half an hour went by as you stared at the ceiling and contemplated your life decisions until you finally found the willpower to shower, get dressed, and eat a quick breakfast.

By 10, you were starting to feel like a human-being again, so you grabbed your keys and bag, and you walked out of your apartment. 

“You said you wanted to leave by 10,” Jihoon’s voice nearly shocked you into running back to your room. He was the dictionary definition of nonchalance as he stood in front of your door, barely even lifting his head, trying to read something off his phone. “It’s already 10:04, slowpoke. Are you ready to go yet?”

You stared at him for a while. Why was he here? Had you invited him along? No, you were sure you hadn’t. And then your jaw dropped as his words sunk in. “You’re the reason I stayed up until 3!”

“And to make up for it, I already sacrificed my arm by cleaning the snow off your car. You’re welcome. Let’s go.”

He never once looked up from his phone as he headed back down the stairs. You could only laugh in disbelief and lock your door before following after him. 

“Why are you here anyways?” you finally asked when the two of you reached your car which had, indeed, been brushed clean of snow. “I was going to go alone.”

Jihoon shrugged. “I was bored.”

“You were bored and just invited yourself along?” You wished you had that kind of audacity. 

The car seemed to be colder than the weather itself. You involuntarily shivered as you pulled the door closed behind yourself. Jihoon let out a noise of complaint as he settled into his usual spot in the leather passenger seat. Envy filled you as he adjusted himself and burrowed further into his warm fleece jacket. 

In an act of something akin to revenge, you tossed him your phone. “Read the directions. If I miss a turn because of you, I’m making you pay for my coffee.”

“Yes, captain,” he joked and turned the heat up to the maximum. One could only pray that your car’s battery would survive the trip. “Are we making any stops on the way?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You really weren’t. It was just a 70-minute drive to the museum – adding to the duration really wasn’t on your bucket list – but knowing Jihoon, not stopping for snacks was simply not an option. The deepening pout and his wide eyes were enough indication that you were right to assume so – he only ever used his cuter side to win. A deep sigh bubbled in your throat. Through gritted teeth you spoke, “But I suppose we could squeeze in a quick stop.”

He let out the tiniest cheer and happily gave the first instruction: “We need to go right, turn left at the intersection and then–” A noise of curiosity. “A Hyunjin wants to know if you have any pets? I guess?”

You frowned. There wasn’t a single Hyunjin you could think of. “Hyunjin?”

“That’s what it says,” he told you with a shrug. “He also wants to know how you feel about… ferrets.”

You weren’t entirely sure what that was about. “Just ignore it. Where to next?”

“Uh,” he vocalised, “right again.”

“Why did we even turn left then?” 

He chuckled. “I’m just telling you what the app says.”

“Whatever. Next?”

“Just keep going straight. We should reach the highway in, like, fifteen minutes.” 

Fifteen minutes straight through the busiest part of the city? You regretted your museum plans already. Should’ve just stayed at home and watched Youtube the whole day. There was a sneaking suspicion that even if you had watched traffic camera livestreams, you would’ve seen fewer red lights.

While you painstakingly stared at the lights, praying for them to turn green already, you noticed Jihoon happily scrolling through your phone. Your hand rose and somewhat forcefully landed on his thigh in a warning gesture. “Stay out of my private messages, creep.”

“Why would I want to read your private messages?” he half-joked and made a face that made you roll your eyes. “By the way, your mom said to bring tiramisu cake to dinner on Friday.”

Defeated, you sighed. “Tell her I’ve got it covered. What’s the occasion?”

“She wouldn’t tell.”

“You’re chatting with her right now?”

He smiled at you like it was obvious. “She’s my mother too.”

“Stop. That’s gross.”

“Also, who’s Andrew?” he then asked, smile dropping.

Another name you weren’t sure could be associated with yours. “Who?”

“An Andrew Johnson,” he slowly read the screen. “He wants to know what your favourite colour is.” His head whipped up just as you pressed the accelerator. “What’s with all these weird chats? You don’t seem to know these people?”

Desperately, you tried to recall a Hyunjin or an Andrew. You had no recollection of either. And somehow the list only seemed to grow with Jihoon calling out a new name and question at what felt like every minute: “Jongho just sent the cringiest pick-up line I’ve ever read”, “Joshua wants you to know that you have a typo in your profile”, “Minjae asked if you prefer walks on beaches or forest hikes”. 

Each notification made you more confused than the one before and soon you felt your brain would melt.

You finally had enough of the confusion when he said, “Turn right. I want a burrito. Also, Chanyeol says you look hot in your profile picture.”

“What profile picture?” you nearly cried out as you slammed the brakes in front of the gas station. “What is going on?”

Jihoon looked just as disheartened and puzzled as you felt, if not even more so. He unbuckled his seatbelt like it had been trapping him and threw your phone back to you for inspection like it was burning hot. He was already halfway through the door when you caught your bearings again. “You want anything?”

“Just a coffee,” you told him, barely paying half a mind to the conversation as you scrolled through your notifications. 

You barely noticed he left when you tapped on one of the notifications showcasing an unfamiliar name, a message and a photo of a handsome man. The screen opened on an app you had barely any recollection of ever downloading. A familiar ‘swipe left or right’ homescreen made you groan and shut your eyes as you locked the phone and tried your hardest to pretend this wasn’t real. 

Minutes passed in blissful almost-ignorance. You felt at almost-peace. It was almost nice.

Until Jihoon arrived once again, two burritos, a water and a coffee in hand, and a scowl on his face. 

“Did you figure out who those guys are yet?” he asked and for a moment you thought he sounded bitter. 

You didn’t have any sighs left in you, so you just grabbed a burrito and the coffee. “Yep.”

He raised a brow while he silently took the burrito back and handed you the other one instead. “So?”

You frowned at his actions. “Did you just swap the–”

“You wouldn’t like this one,” he said and took a pointed bite out of the burrito. “So, the mystery men?”

There it was: the last sigh you could force out of yourself. It didn’t feel anywhere as freeing as you hoped it would. “My sister got a hold of my phone the other day and downloaded a dating app. I think she might’ve messaged a few guys she thought I’d like.”

“You don’t seem happy about it.” You barely understood his words with his mouth so full of food. 

“I don’t really believe in dating apps working, you know,” you told him honestly and took a bite of your own burrito. Your eyes closed in bliss – you should’ve trusted Jihoon’s judgement from the start. “This is so good.”

“I know,” he replied with a knowing half-smile that disappeared as fast as it appeared. “If you don’t believe in the app, just delete it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Made a promise to not uninstall it.”

Your phone made the executive decision to light up with another notification just then. Jihoon tilted his head to read it and carefully voiced out the message: “Seungho says your eyes look as pretty as the starry night sky– Okay, that’s just cheesy.” 

Brows furrowed and nose scrunched up in disgust, he grabbed the phone, unlocking it with ease (you had only half a memory of ever giving him the password), and scrolled through the apps until he found the culprit. 

“I’m uninstalling it,” he told you when he felt your curious eyes on him. 

Your eyes widened at their own accord. “You can’t. I promised my sister–”

“Lucky for you, she’s not my sister,” Jihoon says as he swiftly uninstalled the app and brought peace into your life once again. His frown turned into a proud smile as he handed the phone back to you. “You’re welcome.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, confused. “Did you really just–?”

“Anything for you.” He said it with the uttermost seriousness. “If she tries that again, tell her she’ll have to deal with me first.”

Shaking off the odd wave of appreciation you felt for this man – your best friend, you reminded yourself –, you settled back down in your seat. You stared out the window for a while, slowly devouring your burrito. 

Head whipping around to stare at him in disbelief, you jolted upright again. “Wait, so my mom is your mom, but my sister is not your sister?!”

He was too busy enjoying his food (and accomplishments) to ever reply.

The banners of the café were mocking you.

Bright reds and pinks snickered as you walked past. Papers cut into perfect little hearts flew past your head, giggling as if they were better than you.

“Happy Valentine’s day!” they all said, side-eyeing you while you resisted the urge to commit your first arson. 

“When was the last time you ate something other than candy?” is all that Jihoon said in reply when you told him such. 

You spared a glare at him. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “You just tend to get a little…” he hummed in thought, glancing up at the sky as if he was expecting a dictionary to drop from a cargo plane any second now, “imaginative when you’ve had too much sugar.”

“I’m always imaginative.”

“It was not a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes in response and opened the door. “You can say what you want but I know for a fact that this whole holiday was invented to make fun of me.”

It didn’t take much to figure out that the pensive scrunch of his nose, the narrowing of his eyes and the tilt of his head meant that he was holding back a question that would probably end with one of you in the ER and the other in a police car. You decided the look alone was enough to warrant slamming the café door closed in front of his face and marched up to the register. His loud laughter taunted you as you did so; not even the thick walls of Soonyoung’s mother’s café could muffle the sound.

You didn’t bother to turn around to look at him as the bell chimed and Jihoon walked right up, taking his usual spot next to you, the remnants of laughter still on his tongue. “I will never get your deal with Valentine’s day, I swear.”

“There’s no deal. Only hatred. Even loathing, if you will.”

“I’ll make sure to ask Soonyoung to make your coffee as dark as your soul then,” he promised with a cheeky grin. The list of crimes you wished to commit on this day was growing by the second – he knew damn well to not come between you and your vanilla mocha latte.

“Anyways,” you sighed theatrically, “can’t Valentine’s day be over already?”

“I sure hope not,” Soonyoung’s bright voice sounded as he practically danced out of the backrooms, “our sales are always the best on Valentine’s day. So, what can I get you two?”

Why did everything have to be Valentine’s themed anyway? And so expensive? The new higher price of the chocolate muffins had you absolutely appalled.

Your bitter thoughts were interrupted by a nudge to your side. “What do you want?”

A new wave of confusion hit. “Since when do you ask that?”

“You’re acting like I order at random,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “They don’t have your usual waffles.”

You were even more appalled. Absolutely horrified, really. “They don’t have waffles?! What kind of a café doesn’t have waffles?!”

“We have waffles!” Soonyoung seemed offended by your best friend’s claim, a pout on his lips as he stood at the counter in his red apron (and was his name tag heart-shaped? (You could’ve sworn it was just a rectangle last week)). 

Who were you supposed to believe? Soonyoung who worked at the café and was too earnest to ever really lie to you? Or Jihoon who sometimes lied to you just to have a laugh? You were leaning towards the former, and Jihoon could read it from your face.

He groaned. “Fine, I’ll get you your pink heart-shaped waffles.”

The use of emphasis was not accidental and his brows rose in challenge, daring you to agree to his absolutely horrifying order.

“Heart-shaped?” You prayed he was joking. 

Turning to face Soonyoung, you found yourself disappointed to realise he wasn’t. With a bright, proud smile on his face, Soonyoung nodded. “We’re switching up the menu for the holiday.”

Single and lonely as you were, you could think of few things less appetizing than pink heart-shaped waffles. Biting back a whine of frustration, you leaned your forehead onto Jihoon’s shoulder and mumbled, “Just get me anything but that.”

You realised your mistake almost as soon as you said those words. Eyes widening, you pushed yourself back upright and tried to stop him as he placed an order for cinnamon rolls and a Nuts About You praline latte with a wicked grin on his face. You both knew exactly what he was doing and he found great amusement in your misery.

“Perfect–,” Soonyoung started, already clicking away to add your order.

You interrupted with a rather loud, “I do not want that!”

Jihoon’s lips quirked. “Why not? Too nutty for you?”

“I just don’t want it,” you declared, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. “Just because.”

He pretended to roll his eyes before turning to Soonyoung again, “She’ll have a Cupid’s Special Never Bean Kissed instead.”

“We’re no longer friends, Lee Jihoon.”

The stupid smile didn’t leave his face. “You don’t want me to pay for lunch?”

Second mistake of the day. You groaned and his laughter filled the store as you did so. 

“Your food should be ready soon. Are you paying together or separately?” Before you could answer, Soonyoung added – and you could’ve sworn his eyes glinted with something not entirely wholesome –, “If you say you’re a couple, I can give you a 20% discount and two slices of cake for free. This goes until February 15th.” 

You and Jihoon stared at him dumbfounded. 

He shrugged. “I’m not allowed to assume.”

“What about this–” Jihoon widely gestured to the both of you, appearing equally baffled, “–says ‘might be a couple’?”

Soonyoung shrugged once more and put on a wide smile. “Are you?”

“No!”

“Worth a shot,” he sighed, his smile never fading. “You two could pull off being a couple though.”

“Why are we friends with you again?”

“Because you love me.” Your scrunched up face must have seemed doubtful enough because he soon added, “And my mom makes me give you employee discounts.”

“Exactly why does he keep offering us the couples’ discount every year?” Jihoon wondered under his breath two minutes later while practically throwing himself onto the chair across from yours. “He knows we’re both single.”

“Maybe he’s trying to play matchmaker,” you joked, grabbing a cinnamon roll off the plate he’d placed on the table. “You know, to set us up or something.”

Jihoon caught your eyes. A moment of silence passed as you contemplated your words. 

Then he shook his head and huffed. “He’s not dumb enough for that.”

“No, you’re right.” You took a bite and almost moaned at the taste – Soonyoung’s mother had a knack for baked goods. “God, this is so good– Besides,” you quickly returned to the topic, “I think he might have been right last time.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“You know, the whole ‘you have to love yourself to be loved by someone else’,” you reminded him with a shrug. “I’ve been trying to do things for myself this week and it’s actually been so nice.”

“Things like what?” he wondered, grabbing a cinnamon roll as well.

“Well, the museum visit, for one. I got a text about it and thought ‘I don’t have anyone to take with me, but I might as well go for myself’, so I went and it was actually really nice,” you pointed out. “Freeing, in a way.”

He blinked. “I was literally with you the entire day.”

“You’re practically attached to me,” you joked with a dismissive wave of your hand. “It doesn’t count.”

“Your coffee’s ready!” Soonyoung appeared at the table with two cups. He placed one in front of you, keeping the other in a flimsy grip in his other hand as he did so. 

Before you could comment on it, the other cup dropped from his hand with a loud gasp and an apology.

“I’m so sorry,” Soonyoung was reaching for tissues before you could even comprehend what had happened. 

Then you felt your suddenly cold button-up shirt press and stick to your skin. Glancing down, you cursed under your breath and reached for a handful of tissues of your own, starting to dab away at the spots of coffee on your white shirt.

“Should’ve known something like this would happen,” you spoke through gritted teeth as Soonyoung’s lips kept spilling apologies after apologies. “This is why I never wear white.”

Jihoon sat frozen on his chair, wide eyes wildly switching between you trying to clean your shirt, and Soonyoung, practically on his knees, wiping the floor. Eventually, he settled on watching you.

Your desperate clean-up attempt soon slowed. It was no use. You didn’t possess the magic necessary to get an iced americano out of the white fabric. 

“Can I do anything…?” Jihoon asked softly.

“Nothing short of finding me a new shirt to wear,” you told him with a laugh that had no joy in it. You still had four hours of work left and you were certain your boss would have a word with you for the accidental dress code violation – wearing clean clothes was, after all, written in bold on the first page of the employee handbook.

He frowned. “I could give you my hoodie to cover-up?”

You perked up at the idea. “Would you?”

He snorted a laugh. “Is that really a question?” 

Without another word, he sat upright and pulled on the hem of his black hoodie, revealing a grey t-shirt under it. It took him a few seconds and some noises of struggling (that you suspected he only made to cheer you up), and then he handed the hoodie to you. 

It was warm to the touch and smelled like your best friend when you pulled it over your head. Your day was better immediately.

“It feels like a hug,” you mumbled without really meaning to.

Jihoon’s breath seemed to get caught in his throat at that exact moment. He coughed twice before humming, “You say the weirdest things.”

Thursdays are movie nights. No matter the situation, no matter your feelings, Jihoon and you would buy copious amounts of snacks and gather at either of your apartments to watch a movie together.

“We’re not watching The Lion King,” he declared while hauling your giant grocery bag up the stairs (he’d insisted it was easier to just stuff everything into a giant bag than to carry several bags; who were you to try and stop him?). “I don’t feel like crying today.”

“You never cry anyway,” you grumbled and supported the bag from underneath. There was just the tiniest tear in its side and you were growing wary. There was only one more flight of stairs to go.

He stopped and turned his head to glare back at you. “Are you suggesting I’m a monster? Who doesn’t cry during The Lion King?”

“You,” you supplied with an innocent smile and pushed at the bottom of the bag to urge him forward. “If you don’t want to watch The Lion King, then pick something better. I dare you.”

“Captain America.”

“I’m locking you outside,” you replied with a scoff. “You can sleep on the doormat, or maybe Ms. Kim will be merciful and give you one of her dog beds.”

“Can you stop acting like you don’t enjoy Marvel movies?” he wondered. “Or would that break your programming?”

As you arrived on your floor, you told yourself it was not worth the fight. You reached into your pocket to pull out the keys, ignoring Jihoon’s groans of exhaustion as you slowly and meticulously pressed the key into the hole. But when you began to turn it, the door handle tilted downwards and the door opened.

You blinked in surprise as Yoon Jeonghan gently ushered you out of the way so he could leave. He wore a pleasant smile as he opened the door wider to let you into your own apartment. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked when you found your voice again.

He shrugged. “Wanted to see if you had any of that good ramyeon.” When you lifted a puzzled brow, he victoriously held up three packets of your favourite ramyeon. “I’ll be taking these. Thank you for being such a good friend!”

While you searched for words to say, he rushed down the stairs. He was still in hearing range when your brain kicked into gear and you called out, “How’d you get inside?!”

“Stole Jihoon’s key!” came a joyous reply from three stories below. 

Beside you, Jihoon let out a loud groan of frustration, brows knitted and nose scrunched. “That son of a bi–.”

“I was looking forward to that ramyeon!” you whined and stomped into your apartment, pulling your best friend after you by the sleeve.

Lost in noodle-grief, you burrowed into the sofa cushions as he placed down the bag and began rummaging through the two drawers you had so kindly surrendered to him and his clothes. You watched as he closed the drawers with a defeated short hum and opened your closet instead. It didn’t alarm you – it hadn’t in years. 

“Why are your shirts so much nicer than mine?” he suddenly asked, pulling off his crispy black button-up shirt to replace it with your favourite white t-shirt.

Momentarily you were brought back to reality just to reply with a short and simple: “Because I actually pay attention to what I buy from the store?”

His head turned just to give you good-natured glare. It soon gave way to a mischievous smirk – one crafted to annoy you. “Why would I do that when I can just borrow your clothes?”

“One day I’m going to take away your closet privileges,” you lazily vowed. 

He stuck his tongue out. You always did bring the more mature side of him out.

As you turned on the TV – one that came with your studio apartment and would have been entirely useless if not for the movie nights –, Jihoon threw himself into the cushions next to you.

Taking advantage of your state of not-quite-being-there, Jihoon stole the remote. When you whined and tried to get it back, he laughed and pushed you away with his free hand. While you fought to get the remote, the TV began playing yet another Marvel movie. 

The opening credits began playing and you only knew it was Iron Man because he’d made you watch this movie a thousand times. You wanted to argue but the movie nights had one unbreakable rule: once a movie starts playing, there’s no changing it. 

“Seriously?” you groaned and threw your head back against the backrest of the sofa. 

Like the TV, the green sofa had also been in the apartment for as long as you knew. You had always thought it to be a rather cosy and perfect lounging spot. Slowly, however, you were realising it had its flaws, the worst one being that with Jihoon’s manspreading habit, there simply wasn’t enough space.

“Move,” you nudged his leg that was leaning too close to yours for comfort. “Hoon, you’re on my side of the sofa.”

He only nudged your leg back with a laugh. “Since when?”

“Since ten minutes ago,” you declared, pushing back harder. “And stop manspreading. That’s rude. You’re taking up all of the space.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you to be nice to guests?” he teased, leaning even closer with his whole body now until his chin rested on your shoulder. 

You found yourself pleasantly surprised by his warmth. It was cold outside, you reasoned with yourself, of course you were enjoying any warmth you could get your hands on. Besides, it wasn’t often that Jihoon burrowed this close to you. You were bound to find joy in his rare act of affection.

Your joy was short-lived though because it was only now that you noted (with slight to moderate annoyance) that he had stolen a coke from your fridge. You scoffed.

“You’re hardly a guest. A parasite is more likely.”

As more and more of his weight pressed onto you, you groaned in pain. He only laughed at your misery. 

“You steal my clothes. You steal my space. You use me as your personal cushion,” you counted. “Does your audacity have no limits?”

He paused, lips pursing as he thought for a moment. Then he smiled brightly. “No.”

It took all your strength to push him off you. He had the gall to giggle the whole way, and you soon found yourself laughing along with him. 

“You’re awful,” you told him with an affectionate grin. Your efforts of moving him were in vain and he happily rested his head on your shoulder, occasionally slurping his (formerly your) coke. You tried really hard not to think of how awfully domestic this position would’ve looked to a stranger.

“You’re not allowed to complain,” he eventually told you. “You’re the one that stole my hoodie yesterday.”

You gasped, appalled by his accusation. “You offered!”

“I was practically blackmailed,” he spoke loudly as if announcing it to a theatre of people. “What choice did I have?”

“Maybe I need to do this self-love journey just so I’ll have someone who actually loves me and isn’t faking it to be a drama queen,” you concluded with a theatrical sigh. 

Jihoon laughed and nudged your side. “No way. You’re stuck with me no matter what.”

And you appreciated that. You really did. But. There was always a but.

“How am I supposed to learn to love myself more anyway?” you wondered, leaning into the cushions as well as his warmth, angling your body to enjoy the benefits of both. “I socialised at Seungkwan’s party. I went to a museum. I feel like I love myself enough. What else can I do?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Something that says I’m unapologetically me,” you said thoughtfully, trying to think of something. You weren’t entirely sure it had anything to do with self-love. Really, it was probably more-so to avoid your loneliness on Valentine’s day. “Something I’ll enjoy but find a little challenging, so when I’m done with it I’ll feel pride.”

“You could order your own coffee for a change.”

Dreams shattered, you let out a scoff. “I would but you never let me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed readily, “you always get the same thing anyway.”

“Well, what if I wanted to try something different?”

“You snooze, you lose. Just be glad I pay for your lunch.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

Silence. Long and awkward (just how you liked it) as you watched his reddening face with a wicked grin. This is what he got for being mean and useless. Finally, he ran a rough hand over his face and declared, “That’s it. You can pay for your own lunch from now on.”

“Oh no, how will I live,” you bemoaned, fully aware that he’d never let you pay for your own meals. “I’m still open to ideas though. I need something to do.”

Jihoon offered a mocking smile. “Well, you didn’t like my idea, so–”

“Please,” you begged, tugging at his shirt with one hand. “Anything. Please. Tell me to read The Odyssey. To start a charity. To paint an overcomplicated mural–”

Clearly uninterested in the topic at hand, he cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “Is it just me or is it cold in here?”

Now that he mentioned it, your hands were feeling a little freezing. Just a bit. And your toes felt like they’d been on an ice block this whole time.  You frowned. 

“No, you’re right,” you realised and jumped up to check the thermostat. It proudly showcased the number 10. You hurriedly set it to a higher heat. 10 degrees was not enough to keep you alive, you feared. 

“Someone’s messed with my thermostat,” you told him as you returned to the sofa. “This old building gets cold so fast.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed in thought. “You don’t think…”

“What?” you wondered, pressing closer to him in an effort to get warm again. The world off the sofa was far worse than you had anticipated and now you were forced to shiver as you waited for Jihoon’s natural warmth to reach you as well. You felt your eyes widen as the pieces clicked into place. “Jeonghan?”

“He was acting suspicious,” he confirmed as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you closer. 

Though you found yourself wanting to purr in bliss, you told yourself he only did so because he felt sorry for you – you never were built for the cold climate. Making a mental note to fight Jeonghan the next time you saw him was the best distraction you had.

Minutes passed in silence, par the movie playing in the background. You weren’t sure either of you were focused on it. But the rule stood and neither of you dared to be the first one to break it. So you remained right there, in his arms, unable to think about anything other than your vengeance plan and Jihoon’s embrace.

It was warmer now. Whether it was the doing of your apartment’s heating or Jihoon holding you like you were his lifeline, you were too comfortable to contemplate. The soft chimes of dreamland were calling you now.

“You know,” Jihoon spoke, voice low and gravelly, “they say cuddling helps to preserve heat.”

You knew it was just a dumb excuse. You knew you should’ve poked his side and made a joke about him using you for his personal gain. But as you pressed your cheek against his chest and wrapped your arms around his frame just a little tighter, you forgot all about it. 

By the time you remembered to argue, you felt your eyes getting heavy and his heartbeat slowing down under your ear. 

You hadn’t disliked Seungkwan’s parties all that much last week or the week before that. But this was getting excessive – even Seungcheol had said so, but Seungkwan listened to no one. Seungkwan, you see, had a goal and no one could dissuade him from reaching it.

“I think at this point they have no choice but to crown him the party king,” Jihoon mused, once again sitting by your side on the sofa as the two of you watched the party host gloat about his impeccable party streak. “It’s quantity over quality.”

Taking a sip from your soda, you hummed in agreement. “If nothing else, they should crown him for all the effort alone. Have any of the others even planned any parties yet?”

“I think Seungcheol’s planning the Valentine’s day Party with Soonyoung.”

You nodded. “I’m definitely going to be sick for that one.”

“You’re going to have to pick a different excuse,” Jihoon pointed out with a chuckle. “You’ve pulled the flu excuse four times already this year. They’re getting suspicious.”

“Join me in becoming sheep farmers in Iceland?”

“If Seungkwan would find us in 14 days, Seungcheol would find us in half that,” he told you and you weren’t entirely sure he was joking. 

You sighed. “Do you have to ruin all of my dreams?”

He laughed and nudged your shoulder. It was only recently that you’d noticed how often he did that. You hadn’t seen him do it to his other friends, now that you thought about it. It was always him and you. Perhaps, you thought, you had finally discovered his love language.

You noted with glee that he did it again, this time so slightly you almost didn’t feel it. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” you wondered, unable to think of anything you had done to warrant those words.

The room seemed to get brighter, lit up by a radiant magical glow, as his face broke out into a wide smile. “For staying sober with me. I think I’d go insane here if you didn’t.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic. You’d live,” you told him and took a sip of your cola as you surveyed the room, taking note of your friends’ antics. “I’m not entirely sure about the others, but you would live.”

He burst out laughing at your words as if it was the funniest joke in the world (it really wasn’t; you had elicited far colder responses to far funnier jokes but you appreciated the enthusiasm). “You’re probably right. But still,” he took a calming breath, a bright grin still on his face, “I’m glad to have you with me. I can’t imagine you have much fun sitting here with a sober me when you could be doing drunk karaoke with Joshua and Jihyo.” 

You were about to tell him there was no place you’d rather be when Vernon appeared from what you could only assume was the shadows and gave the two of you that blank helpless wide-eyed look of his. 

You and Jihoon sighed in unison.

“What is it this time?” he wondered, already adjusting his sleeves and flexing his fingers in preparation for whatever herculean task awaited him.

The reply was short and laconic. “The fridge is being weird.”

Jihoon offered you a look that told you he couldn’t have cared less about the decade-old fridge Jeonghan had wrestled out from some old lady’s hands at the second-hand store. It wasn’t his property. It had, in fact, absolutely nothing to do with him because he didn’t live here. 

“Just go,” you laughed and waved him away, earning a look of betrayal. “The child won’t leave you alone if you don’t help him.”

“I’m not a repair guy,” he told you with a mild glare before groaning once more and finally getting up. From his new higher vantage point, he could look right into your empty cup and roll his eyes as if he didn’t want to say the words he’d utter next: “I’ll get you a new drink while I’m gone.”

You sent him off with a grateful smile and a plan to conquer the space he’d left behind. Your feet would thank you for the gentle stretch of being rested on the sofa and you could already practically hear the odes they’d sing to you. But then, as fast as the spot beside you became empty, it immediately was filled again. 

“I’m sorry if this upsets you,” a girl you vaguely knew by the name of Yeonmi spoke as she slumped into the free space Jihoon had left, slurring her words, “but I’m going to marry him.”

You quirked a brow. “Who? Vernon?”

“No!” She pointed at your best friend. “Him! Jihoon!”

You suddenly wondered if you were hallucinating this entire interaction. You blinked once, and then once more, before turning your head to look. Certainly Yeonmi was drunk off her ass and had mistaken him for someone else! Or maybe you yourself were drunk – who’s to say Jeonghan hadn’t mixed vodka into the soda once again? He’d done it before, more than twice.

But then you saw: Jihoon stood at the kitchen aisle. Laughing at what appeared to be the funniest joke in the world, he passed bottles of water around for his drunk friends. One by one, they accepted their bottles with grateful glee and promises to never drink again. 

Then, whining something about how he’s not that drunk yet, Seungcheol tried to push the bottle away and your best friend’s grin morphed into a short-lived frown as he smacked him across the back of his head with the very same bottle and forced it into his hand. Just like that Jihoon’s smile returned as Seungcheol’s pout only pursed out more.

As you began to laugh at the scene, you suddenly remembered why you’d looked over in the first place. Brows furrowing, your head snapped to glare at Yeonmi once again. “You want to marry him?!”

You weren’t entirely sure why the idea irritated you as much as it did. Maybe Jeonghan actually had mixed something into the soda. You certainly had no other reason to be so irate by the concept of Jihoon marrying someone. 

“Absolutely,” Yeonmi mumbled, gaze stuck as if Jihoon was a beautiful mirage that would disappear if she took her eyes off of him. She took a sip of her cocktail, unaware of the scathing look of disapproval she was on the receiving end of. “Isn’t he just perfect?”

Fighting to keep your irrational temper in check, you took a deep breath. “Since when do you like him like that?”

“Today.”

“What?”

Yeonmi must have taken the growing volume of your voice for a sign of excitement because she quickly added, “I think we’ll get married tomorrow.”

“You can’t marry him,” you told her without as much as a scoff. It wasn’t a joke. It was not a threat. It was a clear-cut fact of life. To you it was anyway.

Finally, Yeonmi tore her attention away from him and stared at you, blinking her saddened puppy-dog eyes. “Why not?”

You didn’t have a reason. Not a very good one anyway. “You just can’t.”

“But I want to!” She continued pouting. You noted with glee that it was the alcohol talking. Sober Yeonmi would never do this to you. But sober Yeonmi was far gone – six beers deep gone. “Why can’t I marry him?”

Unfortunately, drunk Yeonmi was far less reasonable than you knew sober Yeonmi to be. You had to think long and hard about your words if you wanted to put this conversation to rest soon. “Because he–”

“Who’s marrying who?” Seokmin stumbled into the conversation and onto the sofa, settling right between the two of you like a rather ill-fitting puzzle piece. A drink in his hand, a backwards cap askew on his head, and a comically large tiger plushie under his arm (one you could practically hear Soonyoung already frantically searching for), he stared at you two in child-like excited wonder. 

You almost had a spark of hope – could this be your saving grace? your ticket out of this conversation that was irritating you for reasons outside of your comprehension? – until you realised that Seokmin was almost certainly just as drunk – if not more – as Yeonmi. You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned.

“I’m marrying Jihoon,” Yeonmi declared all too proudly, her pout turning into a bright smile that could rival the sun. For a moment you found yourself almost bitterly thinking she was exactly the pretty kind of girl your best friend deserved. Then she just had to open her mouth again: “Tomorrow. I’m marrying him tomorrow, for sure.”

Her words were met with a dramatic gasp and a matching bright smile. “You are?”

“I am!”

“She’s really not,” you mumbled from where you’d been pushed against the armrest by their celebration.

Then Seokmin froze mid-squeal-of-joy. He slapped a hand over his mouth. He loudly whispered, “But you can’t!”

Yeonmi’s smile once again dropped. “Why not?”

“Because Jihoon’s (Y/n)’s boyfriend!” He told her with such conviction that you began to wonder if you had missed a major life event of your own damned life. 

You frowned. “We’re not–”

“Oh.” Yeonmi nodded solemnly. “You are right. I can’t believe I forgot that.” She paused before loudly whispering, “You know, I heard they’re actually married. Eloped in Vegas during spring break back in college.”

“I heard that one too!” Seokmin pointed out with inexplicable uncontained glee. “I heard he wrote a song and sang it to her at the proposal.”

“That’s so romantic,” Yeonmi swooned, smiling like it was the cutest news she’d heard all day. Her dreams of marrying Jihoon had disappeared just like that. 

But you felt like you were living in a nightmare.

“What are you guys talking about?” you cried out, watching them in astonishment and horror. “There’s nothing going on between us!”

“I mean,” Soonyoung joined in, leaning against the armrest like he’d been there all along, “you’re practically married, even if the elopement thing isn’t true.”

Yeonmi gasped. “It’s not?”

You ignored her.

“It’s okay if the spark goes out a little bit, you know what I mean,” Soonyoung attempted to explain? comfort you? Whatever he was doing, you wished he’d stop. “Relationships take work, you know.”

You felt your left eye twitch. “We’re not dating.”

This was news to your friends – if their wide eyes and dropped jaws were anything to go by, anyways. 

“But–” Seokmin started, slumping in his seat as if his whole world had shattered into pieces. “But you’re Jihoon and (Y/n). You’re practically always glued together.” 

“So? We’re friends. Best friends. You know this.”

“If what you guys have isn’t love, then what is?” he wondered, asking no one in particular it seemed. His gaze had frozen on the fairy lights taped to the ceiling. He looked close to tears and you decided you’d had enough of this and got up off the sofa. 

It had been a while since you’d been out on the balcony anyway. It was nice and quiet and away from your nosy friends who clearly could not wrap their minds around the possibility of two friends not dating. The fresh air bit at your nose but you decided it was better than facing them again. 

Looking out at the nightlife of the city below, your thoughts kept drifting back to what they said. Why had you felt so irritated at the idea of Jihoon being with someone else? He wasn’t yours to keep, as much as you liked to joke about it. He wasn’t your husband, he wasn’t your boyfriend, not even a friend with benefits. He was just Jihoon.

You were just you and Jihoon. That’s what it had always been. 

So why did the idea of being ‘just (Y/n) and Jihoon’ suddenly sent a rush of rage and insult up your spine? 

“(Y/n)?” a voice called out and you felt the subtle warmth of the apartment creep out through the opened balcony door. You turned to find Seungkwan standing right there, his kind eyes looking at you as if you were insane. “Aren’t you cold?”

“It was stuffy in there,” you excused yourself and turned back to stare over the railing.

He hummed in understanding but couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Could’ve just opened a window instead of standing out here without your jacket.”

You let out a short laugh. “I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Warmth surrounded you, the feel of a soft knitted cardigan following soon after. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m a little surprised Jihoon hasn’t given you his sweater yet,” he noted under his breath as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted you to hear it or not. He cleared his throat and added louder, “Sorry, I’m sure you’ve heard enough of Jihoon today. Seokmin and Yeonmi are a lot, I know.”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “You heard them?”

“I’m sure half the party heard them,” he told you as if it was obvious before his expression melted into something more compassionate. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was hard to choose. So you stayed silent instead. Seungkwan seemed to decide that was a yes.

“You know, I think Jihoon holds you closer to his heart than he sometimes lets on,” he told you. “Most of us see through his facade by now, but sometimes I wonder if you’re still one of the few who can’t.”

Great. Exactly what you needed: a double dose of ‘I’m an awful friend’.

“You know that keychain you have? That little cat he whittled out of wood back in high school?” He chuckled to himself. “He spent a whole week making it, constantly texting the group chat if it was perfect yet. Perfect for what, we’d ask and he’d always say it was for you like it was the most obvious thing.”

He leaned against the railing with you. Just as soon as he did so, he cursed. Seungkwan stepped away almost immediately. His voice was suddenly much louder than before: “It’s so cold! Can you even feel your arms?”

A little dazed by the information you’d learnt, you shrugged. “I guess.”

“That’s it,” he decided and grabbed a hold of your arm before dragging you back inside against your will (not that you were complaining; you suddenly realised it was indeed very cold outside). “If you want to be cold, I can give you ice cream, but please stop trying to contact frostbite.”

You barely made it through the kitchen door before running into Jihoon. It was starting to feel like Seungkwan needed to find a bigger venue for his parties because you were clearly not able to find even a minute of peace here. 

“There you are,” he practically cheered at the sight of you, a wide grin breaking out on his face as if he hadn’t seen you in days rather than mere 20 minutes.

You were painfully aware of Seungkwan’s knowing smile as Jihoon handed you a cup of soda. You took a small cautious sip – it didn’t taste anything like alcohol. There went your accidentally tipsy theory. You let out a soft groan at the thought.

“You good?” he wondered, hand reaching out to pat your shoulder. “Soonyoung said you looked kind of upset.”

“I’m fine,” you said. It was a lie – at least it felt like a lie. You always did hate to lie to Jihoon. But what else were you supposed to say? “It’s just been a long day.”

If he caught onto your false narrative, he didn’t mention it.

It was 2 am and you couldn’t sleep. Your friends’ words kept echoing in your head and no amount of “we’re just friends” could keep them at bay. 

For a short moment, you almost reached out to him. Your fingers knew the path to Jihoon’s contact in your phone without you even thinking about it. It was only when your thumb hovered above the green call button that you realised what you were doing. 

You found yourself scoffing. Exactly was your plan? To text him? To call him and tell him…? Tell him what?

“Hey, Jihoon, I just wanted to let you know that Seokmin and Youngmi and probably half our friend group think we’re married or at least dating and, honestly, not even gonna lie, I think it suddenly made me realise I might be and have been for a while sort of, kind of, maybe just a little bit or maybe even very much in love with you. Thoughts?”

You didn’t exactly pride yourself in your ability to put together words (and you were certain Jihoon wouldn’t have cared much for it if you did), but even you knew you couldn’t tell him that. Certainly not at 2 am and definitely not after being his friend for so many years.

So you muted your phone, put on a ridiculously long historical movie you weren’t planning on paying any attention to, and found a tub of ice cream from the deepest crevices of your freezer. It was you against your demons now. You weren’t going to leave your apartment until you’d figured out how to look him in the eyes again.

Because Jihoon’s (Y/n)’s boyfriend. You’re practically married.

The voices kept echoing in your head like annoying little mosquitoes, sucking on your lifeforce. It was nothing short of irritating; not because you thought they were wrong, but precisely the opposite.

You sat on the sofa, head heavy with foreign thoughts. Foreign thoughts that weren’t all that unfamiliar at all – they’d been peeking their heads out every once in a while ever since high school. But you had always acted like they weren’t there: you brushed them aside, painted over them with other thoughts, and told yourself what you felt for Jihoon was just friendship.

Good old plain and very platonic friendship. Nothing else at all. 

Your heart fluttering every time he laughed at your jokes? Friendship.

Your breath getting caught in your throat every time you saw him without a shirt? Definitely friendship.

The ugly jealous feeling in your chest – the very one that took over your entire being when Yeonmi said she’d marry Jihoon? Friends get jealous all the time, don’t they? 

“They don’t,” the character on the TV said at that very moment, like a sign from the universe.

But you’re Jihoon and (Y/n). If what you guys have isn’t love, then what is? 

The voices kept on echoing. You squeezed your eyes shut and drowned your sorrowful realisations in stracciatella ice cream. 

Spoonful after spoonful, your brain numbed and froze. But the knowledge had sunk deep into the crevices of your very being and you knew that no matter what happened, one thing was true: nothing about your feelings for Lee Jihoon was platonic in the slightest.

Jihoon’s studio was a cosy and comfortable place. Dimly lit and full of his soft humming along to the songs he rarely let you listen to, it had become your safe space the day he showed it to you. 

Never once had you felt out of place in it. But when he invited you to come keep him company this evening, you found yourself hesitating at the door for the first time. 

It was as if you had forgotten how to act. 

Did the you who felt only platonic feelings for Jihoon ever knock? Did you simply burst through the door and throw your keychain at his head when he was too focused on his work to notice? Or did you just sit outside the door until he suddenly remembered he’d invited you over and come searching for you?

Had your heart always sped up, doubling its pace when you stood in the hallway? Had you always worried your hair was a mess? Surely you hadn’t. Suddenly you felt like a fool for putting on a lip stain.

You forced a deep breath of air into your lungs and knocked on the door. It immediately felt wrong.

The door opened seconds later. Jihoon greeted you with furrowed brows and an amused smile. “Since when are you so polite?”

You feigned a laugh. “Had to make sure you weren’t rotting away in your chair.”

He rolled his eyes. His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist before swiftly pulling you inside. “Come on, you’re probably freezing. How long have you been standing there?”

Silence filled the room as he led you to the sofa. 

You realised under his confused gaze that the old you – the definitely-not-in-love-with-my-best-friend you – would’ve argued. You would’ve told him something silly to distract him from your tells of embarrassment. You would’ve shoved him and  he would’ve laughed. He had expected you to.

Making your lips curl into another smile that wasn’t quite sincere, you nudged him with your foot. “Did you miss me? Be honest.”

Another silence. You thought of how he should’ve snorted a laugh and told you “you wish” before turning to his computer and telling you about his woes as a music producer. Instead, he frowned.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Your mouth felt dry. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just,” he started, scratching the back of his head all the while watching you cautiously. You felt like a cornered stray cat as  you sat on his sofa, still clad in your coat and hat. “You’ve been acting a little weird today.”

You wanted to laugh. You hadn’t even interacted with him enough for him to come to that conclusion. In fact, there had been a conscious effort to avoid him until you could trust yourself to look him in the eyes and not burst into ballads about how wonderful he was. 

“I guess I’m just a little under the weather.” You still despised lying to him, but you told yourself it wasn’t a complete lie. If nothing else, you were at least a little bit love sick and you weren’t entirely sure yet whether seeing him was the cause or the cure. 

His eyes blinked wide. “You’re sick?”

Jihoon waited a minute, watching you patiently (though you could see a line between his brows that only appeared when he was particularly frustrated). Then he walked forward. You blinked up at him standing over your seated form, his brows knitted with concern as he held the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Do you have a fever?” he wondered and leaned his face closer on instinct, pressing his lips to your forehead like a mother would to her child. He pulled back before long, seemingly finally realising his error, and grumbled, “Definitely a fever.”

Right. A fever. You were hot to the touch. Definitely a normal reaction to seeing your best friend for the first time all day. Nothing abnormal about that. 

“It’s nothing,” you told him, still forcing a smile, and patted his hand. “What are you working on today?”

At the mention of his work, he seemed to perk up a little. His lips quirked in that way they always did when he was about to tell you a lie. “Nothing interesting.”

“I’ve known you for nearly two decades,” you told him with a scowl. “You can’t keep things from me.”

He scoffed and turned on his heel, returning to his usual seat at the desk. His eyes narrowed when he glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’ll keep all the secrets I want from you.”

“No chance,” you teased, resting your head on your palm as you leaned forward against your knee. “You're practically transparent.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he told you with a chuckle and turned to the screen. Before long, his headphones were on his head and his head was deep in the music again. 

You’d never felt like you didn’t belong in this room and you didn’t feel like it now either, even as your chest threatened to burst open with all of your doubts and feelings. Your coat slid off your shoulders and you settled down on the sofa.

The you from before would’ve unlocked your phone and watched something on it at an obnoxious volume just to annoy him (but had that ever really been the goal and not just a ploy to get his unwavering attention at any cost?), but you found yourself lost in your thoughts, overthinking every memory you had of him.

You thought back to how he always seemed to be pressed to your side on movie nights – giggling in your ear, repeating and mimicking the actors just to make you laugh, nuzzling his cheek against your collarbone like a cat showing his affection. 

You thought back to the late night calls and how they made you so giddy despite the fact that you desperately wanted to sleep; to the protective glares he gave any man that looked at you and how a shiver went up your spine every time he crossed his arms over his chest while doing so; to the shirts and sweaters of his that you had unapologetically stolen to keep warm at night and breathe in his scent.

As you watched him – his head bopping along to the beat you couldn’t hear, his lips pursed in an effort to not spoil the lyrics, his dark eyes flitting your way every so often –, you realised there was no room for doubts. There was nothing uncertain about your feelings for Lee Jihoon. 

All this time, you had loved him for his laughter and his jokes. You had loved him for his yelling and his tears. You had loved him for his melodic voice and his silly 3 am ideas. You had loved him for the warmth of his hands when he taught you to play the guitar and the fond disappointment in his eyes when you failed your driving test for the first time.

There was nothing you didn’t love about him.

Even now you noted with certain fondness that one side of his headphones was off his ear just enough so he could hear you and it made you love him all the more so. 

The only thing you didn’t entirely adore about this man was that he wasn’t yours.

His eyes found you again and he quirked a brow. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I think I just realised why I don’t like Valentine’s day,” you told him without thinking. It was silly. Of all the millions of things you could’ve told him, of all the possible insults and puns and jokes, you told him the vulnerable truth you had only barely just graped yourself.

Jihoon swiveled his chair to face you, suddenly intrigued. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His raised both his brows this time, staring at you with interest. You didn’t shy away from eye contact – not now when you’d finally learnt to appreciate the shades of brown. You only smiled and watched him as he sighed in defeat and turned back to the computer.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” he mumbled under his breath.

You weren’t sure you had another option.

While you had always hated Valentine’s day, Seungcheol and Soonyoung loved it with their whole hearts. Who would’ve guessed that the two men who could strike fear in anyone’s heart with just a look were hopeless romantics?

After spending hours contemplating if you wanted to be present at this event at all, you arrived fashionably late. Why they had decided to hold the celebration the night before Valentine’s day was beyond you, even if it was the reason that finally convinced you to go.

Welcoming you into their house brimming with roses and heart-themed decorations, Seungcheol handed you a red paper rose at the front door and sent you on your way with a wink. 

“Jihoon’s in the kitchen,” he told you with a smirk that said he could see right through you. You hoped you weren’t as obvious to the others.

Taking your time to look around was just an excuse and it felt like everybody knew it. They gave you smiles and winks and claps on your shoulder as you passed them by with soft greetings. You couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Looking for distractions, you craned your neck to look at the decorations. Heart-shaped balloons of red and pink and white floated against the ceiling. They were surrounded by pink and white party banners hung between the walls, cut into triangles with little hearts drawn in the centre, little fairy lights wrapped around the strings keeping them together. The floor was covered in rose petals. If Seungcheol and Soonyoung knew anything, it was how to go all out (and the amazed yet annoyed look on Seungkwan’s face told you he realised it could cost him the competition).

As you walked through the crowd, you realised that for once the pinks and reds hadn’t filled you with frustration and anger and resentment. Instead, a strange feeling of bitter sadness filled your chest. The spot on your side felt empty even with tens of people pushing past you. Even when you were avoiding him, you missed him.

You decided there was no point in torturing yourself further. After all, you thought, wasn’t being by his side but never being able to call him yours torture enough?

True to Seungcheol’s word, you found Jihoon in the kitchen. And you quickly realised why people had been greeting you the way they did. A laugh threatened to bubble out of you at the sight.

Jihoon stood on the kitchen island, surrounded by countless bottles of beverages, singing into a wood spoon. Eyes heavy-lidded in a way you hadn’t seen them be since that one night he got drunk in an act of teenage rebellion in 11th grade, he swayed in his spot and sang love songs at the top of his lungs. 

You dreaded to think what Seungcheol and Soonyoung might think of his actions. But when you looked around you found that rather than trying to get him down, Soonyoung sat on the kitchen counter across from the island, a whisk in hand, harmonising. People came and went, getting their drinks, and loudly cheered the duo on but didn’t pay them much mind beyond that. Perhaps they didn’t realise how unusual this sight really was.

Their rendition of a Bruno Mars song came to an end to the sound of a drunken applause and a few shouts for an encore. Jihoon waved away the compliments, nearly knocking himself off balance in doing so. As he lifted the spoon to his lips to start another song, his eyes met yours. The spoon clattered to the floor and his body followed not much more gracefully. 

He called your name with such joy that you couldn’t help but smile and open your arms as he practically tackled you in a hug. His face pressed against your shoulder so tightly that you worried if he could even breathe. “You came!”

You didn’t have any words to tell him, still too baffled by the situation at hand. Your eyes found Soonyoung’s and you raised your brows in question. He only smirked and shrugged innocently before practically dancing out of the room.

Drunk words are sober thoughts they say. That is the only reason why you hardly drank at gatherings; not at all because Jihoon once smiled at you all pretty and told you he was glad he had at least one sober friend to keep him company. But it seemed that tonight he was too drunk to appreciate the sentiment.

“I think I’m drunk,” Jihoon mumbled after a while and pushed himself upright. You kept one hand on his shoulder to keep him from tilting further left than he already was. “But it doesn’t feel so bad.”

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow,” you told him softly and led him to sit down. 

Like an obedient puppy, he followed your command and sat on a chair, leaning his forearms on the back of it and his chin on the very top. His eyes watched you curiously as you found a glass and filled it with water. You held the glass out for him to take but he just stared at you with starry eyes.

“You look pretty tonight,” he finally uttered when you raised your brows in question. 

You frowned and pushed the glass closer to him, hoping he’d take the hint. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he told you, a smile appearing on his face but there wasn’t any humour in it. It was hard to tell what emotions he was trying to convey: happiness? fondness? adoration? Whatever it was, it was making you just a little flustered. And then he delivered the final plow: “You always look pretty.”

Your heart was positively working at three times– no, ten times its usual pace. You sucked in a shallow breath and nudged him with the glass again. This time he took it. 

“Since when do you drink anyway?” you asked to change the topic.

For once he answered the question and shrugged. “Soonyoung thought that maybe I should give it a try again. You know, with all the rejection and everything.” His gaze fell to the tiled floor as he mumbled, “It’s actually been kind of nice.”

“What rejection? Who would reject you?”

He laughed but it sounded bitter. “Who indeed?”

“Did you ask someone to be your Valentine?” you realised and it felt like someone was trying to carve out a piece of your heart. “And they said no?”

Jihoon scoffed and placed down the water. His hand reached for a different cup, full of liquor you could practically smell from all the distance away. As he lifted the cup to his lips, he spoke, “What’s the point of asking if they’re going to say no anyways?”

The room felt hotter than usual. You could hardly breathe. You hadn’t even known Jihoon liked someone. Of course you had to find out merely days after coming to terms with your own feelings for him. Your love life was cursed and so was everything related to Valentine’s day.

You stayed silent to mourn the reality.

“You know what’s the worst part?” he then spoke again. It was hard to tell how drunk he was because he was hardly slurring his words. “I see her every day. Well,” he frowned, “almost every day. Whatever.” He shook his head and took a long sip of the drink. “Every day I see her and every day I think today is going to be the day I finally tell her. And then I don’t. Because I’m just her friend. She’s spent all those years telling everyone we’re just friends and I don’t want to be just her friend. I want so much more. But every time I try to tell her so, I chicken out.”

You could hardly listen to his proclamations. Your eyes were burning, ready to shed silent tears. You wondered if he’d even notice if you did cry. The Jihoon in front of you was a side you hadn’t seen before and you loved him just the same, even if this side was reserved for another woman.

Finally lifting his head, his eyes found yours. They widened. “Are you okay?”

Turning away to discreetly rub the tears out of your eyes, you nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Must be allergic to something in the air. Maybe it’s all the pollen.”

When you turned back to him, he looked almost deflated. He looked down again and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe you’re just allergic to me.”

The tears seemed to vanish at the absurdity of his words. “... What?”

He shrugged. “Every time I say something nice to you, you start acting all weird. Avoiding me. Sometimes I think that if I confessed to you, you’d die on the spot.”

Whatever Soonyoung had been making him drink had to be incredibly strong. Every sentence he uttered seemed more absurd than the one before.

“I should get you home,” you decided with a sigh, resisting the urge to tug your hair out. Just because he was drunk didn’t mean he could play with your feelings like this – knowingly or not.

He whined. “I don’t want to–”

“You’re drunk, Jihoon,” you told him firmly. “If you drink any more tomorrow, you’ll murder me in the morning for letting you get this hungover.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes and glared at you before pouting and looking away. “As if I’d ever hurt you.”

“You’re drunk and you’re not making any sense and I’m taking you home to sleep,” you repeated yourself and reached for his arm. You expected him to resist your strength as you pulled him up but instead his hold on your fingers tightened. He stood up and leaned forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he told you after a moment of resting. “Can we just nap somewhere?”

You didn’t have the willpower to fight. The little you had, he had shattered without meaning to. You went to hook your arm around his elbow – he didn’t let you, only tightening his hold on your fingers. 

Without much of a choice, you squeezed his hand and slowly led him to a guest room. Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s house had two of these, one on the first and one on the second floor. For a moment you headed towards the one on the first floor. Then your heart ached just a little and you decided you needed to get away from the people to let your heart break in peace.

The second floor guest room had floor to ceiling windows covered with white curtains. The streetlights shone through at an angle that you knew would annoy you if you tried to fall asleep. You suspected that’s why they had designated it for guests rather than sleeping here themselves.

You practically shoved Jihoon onto the mattress to avoid any further complications. Instead of grumbling like you expected him to, he fell down with a series of giggles. You couldn’t help but smile.

There was a single fleece-lined blanket folded on the foot of the bed. You placed it over him with care. When you went to turn around and find a place to sit – or maybe even go back downstairs to drown your sorrows in wine –, his hand shot up and grabbed a hold of yours.

“Stay,” he spoke so softly you almost thought you hadn’t heard him right. “Stay with me. Don’t leave. Please.”

“I was just going to sit down,” you told him gently, trying to pull your hand free. 

He let out a whine. “See? This is what I mean. You’re allergic to me.”

Exhaustion was making your head ache. Or maybe it was all the tears that were waiting to be shed. You didn’t have the energy to fight, so you sank down next to him, crawling to fit under the blanket with him. “Just go to sleep.”

His hand never left yours as he curled it to rest against his chest and placed his heavy head on your chest. Silence filled the room. You didn’t dare breathe – who knew when you could have him this close again without feeling guilty or angry at the fates?

Minutes passed. You thought he’d fallen asleep when he whispered, “When other guys flirt with you or smile at you or tell you you’re pretty, you smile and thank them. When I do that, you avoid me.”

You wondered when the topic had shifted from his mystery crush to you. 

“Because we’re friends.”

“There it is again,” he mumbled, glaring at the ceiling as if willing it to crumble and rain down on him. “Friends.” The word sounded like venom. “I pour my heart out to you, I write songs to you, I dream of you every time I fall asleep, but that’s all I ever am. A friend.”

“It’s never bothered you before.” You frowned. Despite his harsh tone, you found yourself playing with his hair, and him leaning into your touch. 

He let out a deep breath. “Because I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.” His head nuzzled closer to you, his breath tickling your skin. You thought you felt his warm lips press down before he whispered, “The other guys will have to go through me if they want you for themselves. I found you first.”

Silence filled the room again, soon accompanied by his soft snores and mumbles of promises he wasn’t conscious enough to actually make. You weren’t sure you could sleep now or ever again, too busy putting the puzzle pieces together.

His words had mangled your heart in every way possible. And yet there was a glimmer of hope as you wondered what he’d meant by his words. 

Drunk words are sober thoughts they say and now you found yourself wondering how much truth there was to his words. 

He whispered your name in his sleep and you found yourself giving in to the wistful dreams of that being his truth. As you pulled him closer, you prayed you wouldn’t have to wake up to another heartbreak.

If you had thought the streetlights at night were a curse last night, then now you found yourself thinking that any and all kinds of outside light had been invented just to make whoever inhabited this room as miserable as possible.

The morning sun shone right into your eyes even through the curtains at 6 am. Even if you hadn’t spent the entire night in a restless limbo between sleep and trying to solve the mystery of Jihoon’s words, you would've been upset to awaken to the horrid rays of bright sunshine.

The more you woke up, the more your world seemed to be upside down. Sometime at night, Jihoon’s arms had wrapped around you, tight and secure as they held you close to his chest. His lips were pressed to your temple. You almost wished he’d never wake up so you could enjoy this embrace for an eternity.

But another part of you didn’t want to face the disappointment of him jerking away from you as he’d wake up, embarrassed to have ever cuddled you in his sleep.

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to detangle yourself from his limbs. Finger by finger, you pulled yourself free. You were just about to roll off his left arm when it suddenly curled and effortlessly pulled you back into his chest.

When you looked at him, Jihoon wore a frown and a pout. “You were supposed to stay.”

“I did,” you whispered, unsure if he was really awake yet or not. 

“Stay longer,” he demanded almost childishly, wrapping his newly free arm around you once again. “It’s still early.”

Your brain was trying hard to convince you that he thought you were someone else. Then he mumbled your name again and you saw his eyes slowly flutter open. Instead of pulling away and apologising like you expected him to, he offered you a smile. 

“What?” He chuckled, voice gravelly from sleep. 

You hesitated. But you knew that if you didn’t get answers, you’d drive yourself insane. “Do you…” You swallowed. “Do you remember what you said last night?”

His brows furrowed just a little but his lips remained in a pleasant smile. “About what?”

“About the girl who you’ve wanted to ask out for years but never did,” you supplied softly. “And about us being friends?”

The joy melted from his face. His eyes wavered. His lips quivered. He gave them a nervous lick before practically gasping for air. He remembered.

You tried to choose your words carefully, you really did. But they still came out all clumsy like they always did. “Is the girl me?”

He looked like he’d been caught in a crime. But his arms remained around you – you wondered if he was filled with the same selfishness you’d felt the night before: the urge to enjoy this feeling of closeness before it could get ripped away forever.

“How’d you know?” he whispered. 

“You said something last night,” you told him carefully. “Something that made me realise that maybe you feel … the same way as I do.”

He avoided your eyes, looking around the room. Then his gaze snapped back to you, suddenly full of clarity. “The same way?”

This was it, you realised. It was now or never. It was true love or losing your best friend. Except you weren’t sure you could still be friends even if you didn’t pour your heart out – could you look him in the eyes again and not think about the words he said last night? 

“Jihoon, I think–” The words were on the tip of your tongue, clinging to it like it was their last lifeline. It was hard to say what you wanted to.

His face, so devoid of joy just moments before, had lit up with hope. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love with you. I thought I could keep it a secret and not ruin our friendship,” you told him through nervous laughter, turning to look at the ceiling, “but now I’m not so sure I could have.”

“What made you change your mind?” he wondered as he looked at you with nothing short of awe. 

“When you were talking about that girl last night,” you were still struggling to breathe, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “I was so heartbroken. I was going to cry all through the night. Then you said something that made me think… It made me think, or maybe foolishly hope, that you meant me. Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you mean me–?”

“I love you,” he replied before you could even finish your sentence. A smile appeared and you were filled with relief as he leaned his head closer to press against yours. “I’ve been in love with you since 7th grade. I thought I’d never get to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded to know.

His breath sounded more like a hopeless laugh. “I didn’t want to lose you. I thought there was no way you’d love me back.”

“Clearly you were wrong.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled and surged forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips as if he couldn’t contain himself any longer. You savoured the feeling, pressing closer to him, tugging him closer with a hand on the back of his head. He pulled back and laughed again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Good thing you can do it again as many times as you please,” you told him with a smile. “You know, I’ve always hated Valentine’s day, but you have a real shot at changing that right now.”

The door burst open just as he matched your grin and began to lean closer. Startled, the two of you looked up. Clad in a tiger-striped onesie, Soonyoung stood at the door, eyes wide. Moments of awkward silence passed. Then his face broke out into a wide grin and he slammed the door shut. You heard the lock click just a second later, followed by an almost villainous laughter.

You exchanged startled looks with Jihoon. Then he shrugged and leaned forward to kiss you again.

“All the more time to make up for the lost years,” he told you as he pulled you closer. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

Author's Note: I both loved and hated writing this fic. If at any point, you found yourself thinking "huh, i wish the writer did more with this random crumb in this story that looks like it should've been a part of something bigger", i can almost guarantee you i had plans to do something with it and then forgot or abandoned the idea mid-way through.

Either way, I hope you enjoyed this fic at least moderately and if you did, please feel free to reblog with comments or leave an emoji-filled reply or maybe even send me an ask to let me know what you thought!

[takes1]

ur blog is so pretty...

if you are okay with it, do you have any headcanons bout what type or p0rn the Karasuno boys would watch? 🌹

what type of p*rn would the karasuno team watch?

warnings. heavy nsfw under the cut. minors DNI

characters. suga. daichi. asahi. tsukki. kageyama. hinata. nishinoya. tanaka. yamaguchi. details. lots of kink discussion - just about anything you can think of

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

suga९᠀ - likes a good storyline video. loves a bad one. shitty acting gets him laughing, and he needs every chance he can get to feel as though he isn't sinning. won't say no to an amateur flick, but he likes the structure of 4k videos, and is a suuuucker for the 'oiled up' aesthetic.

asahi९᠀ - buddy has a rampant size kink that doesn't get much of an outlet. downside: most videos that cater to this are not what he wants, because of the unavoidable infantilization in most of them. so he opts for amateur vids with bigger guys turning out their smaller girlfriends, wives; extra props if there's some real, organic dirty talk, or if it happens to be super low-quality.

daichi९᠀ - has no shame about his oral fixation. face fucking. deepthroat. he's got any video with some lucky dude getting good head memorized by the title and the preview. his favorites are either: when the guy stays hands-off and silent, or when she takes a load down her throat. not much in between.

tsukishima ९᠀ - is a filthy animal with a porn addiction. will watch/has watched just about everything under the sun. he had a bukkake faze, a gangbang faze, but is now proudly serving his bdsm faze with specific interest in femdoms. shiny, black heels get him hard in an instant. has done the tried-and-true bdsm questionnaire in his spare time and does heaps of research on the community, usually as a pregame to jerking off.

kageyama ९᠀ - no particular preferences. but if he's got a crush on somebody, he will strictly watch lookalikes. it wasn't a conscious habit at first, but after the third time it happened, he couldn't articulate any other reason to look up seven descriptors in the search bar and get 0 results. how well/quickly he gets off is based on how well the actor or subject looks his crush. it's a long endeavor, too. he edges for as long as he can, and almost always does it twice.

hinata ९᠀ - can't watch porn long enough to build any strong preferences. has sensitivity/premature ejaculation issues, so he tends to just listen to whatever video he landed on. this has opened more of a pipeline to nsfw audios, instead. loves the sound of two bodies coming together, especially all the little pants and huffs in a video that aren't faked. has gotten insanely good at being able to tell if it's fake, too.

nishinoya ९᠀ - doesn't watch videos; similar problem to hinata. instead, yuu buys physical hentai novels. big fan of monster-fucking. tentacle stuff is a staple in his readable porn. he guards his collection with his life and would sooner lose a limb than have anybody go near the shelf that he keeps them hidden behind. once, asahi stood too close during a sleepover and -naturally- yuu bit him as a distraction, just to get him away from the area.

tanaka ९᠀ - wlw videos. solo-girl vids. he can't stand to watch something with a guy in it. it's huge turn-off, especially when the dude is too loud, or in the way, too soft, or straight-up ugly. learned to love the slow, women-catered stuff that's 40 minutes long and has plot to follow. also picked up a lot of tongue tricks from these vids, too. (congrats, kiyoko!)

yamaguchi ९᠀ - mmf threesomes. i think ya'll know what i'm getting at, here. either he 1: is poly and doesn't know it, 2: is gay and doesn't know it, 3: is genuinely very enticed by the idea of overstimulating a gorgeous girl, OR 4: can't see himself as enough for a potential partner, and this might be a subconscious way of evading that insecurity.

notes. i'm very sorry to any who were looking for ennoshita, kinoshita, or narita. i tried, but genuinely couldn't get anything going for any of them. they all seem like nice guys, but there's no material that i can properly make nasty.

taglist. @integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

links. my masterlist. requests open.

[crsssie]

kinktober prompt 5: monsterfucking ft. Leon Kennedy

word count: 6.1k || Post re4 Plagas Lord Leon

warnings: dead dove: do not eat. monsterfucking, fingering, cunnilingus, plaga leon kennedy, tentacles, scorpion tail

summary: your mission is simple enough. bring Agent Kennedy back.

Your mission is simple.

Well, simple enough.

You're sent off back to the outskirts of Spain, off to find Agent Leon Kennedy, told that you are to retrieve him at all costs — even if all that was left of him was his jacket. You find that the branch needs him, considering that the president's daughter herself had been crying for them to save him. You're not one to say no when they're offering you more money than you could see in your life. What are you in the face of money when it comes to capitalism?

You're dropped off in a... village, and while the majority of the villagers have seemed to have grown a lot more welcoming compared to the intel that Hunnigan had provided, you're still on your toes, tilting your head, waving no to the strange delicacies they provide for you. You ask them if they happen to know an American, and they tell you no, pointing that maybe you should as their Lord about it. Whatever weird cult that was once set up has been disassembled, though everyone still looks very much... scary. At least you aren't being attacked by what Leon was getting attacked by.

You're handed a pack of gum by one of the guys with a chainsaw.

...okay.

Another man with a... cow head leads you past the mansion and into the route that leads to the castle, handing you off to a moving knight suit, your footsteps light behind him as he takes you around the outside and eventually to the welcome room. It? He? The knight nods at you, leaving you alone in the room as you glance up, hooded figure greeting you, your hand on your gun as you hold your breath.

"What brings you here?"

"You guys seen... an American?"

You watch as the man pulls off his hood, and your breath catches in your throat.

"...Agent Kennedy."

You try and do the math of just how Leon could end up like this, only remaining human features the blue eyes and faux blonde hair that you had been given a photo of. Purple streaks through his body and face, and though you can't see what's under his robe, you're sure that whatever the hell he's been infected with isn't just... the purple on his body. He's also, like, incredibly hot, whatever that means. You would curse yourself for such a thought, but to be fair, Hunnigan said it first.

"Agent." He nods. "Am I being retreived?"

"That is my order, yes. The first daughter misses you."

"It is a shame. I can not leave." He hums. "The villagers are tied to me."

"What? Are you going to try and sell me this immortality thing? They don't really expect me to go back, anyway." You tap your chin. "How's life here?"

"We make do."

"Please tell me you're actually eating edible things and not... whatever it is the villagers offered me earlier. Everything seems infected."

"You won't be able to eat anything here. I suggest you return."

"Truly?" You raise a brow. "Does money exist as a concept here?"

"Not quite. Unless you want a gun from the merchant."

"Can I eat anything?"

"The water is infected with the virus, and such is everything else. Though, there is a sanctuary in the castle with fish safe to eat."

"Raw?"

"You can try cooking it, though, it will not do you much better."

"What's my selection of food?" You raise a brow.

"Eggs, chicken, and fish. Specifically, bass."

You tap your chin. "Nothing else?"

"If you go fishing out on the coast, perhaps you will find something." He hums. 

"Are there... herbs?"

"You get three colors."

"What the hell?"

"I will show you. Let me descend—"

You hear some of the servants yell for him to stay up top, but he ignores them, opening the doors on the bottom as he nods for you to follow him, and you trail after, catching glance of a... tail that reminds you an eerie much of a scorpion, but you don't speak up on it. You follow him through some sort of a room, glancing at the servants as they turn the wheel, and you catch a glance of the back of Leon's head... bumps visible. You're not too sure if you want to think too much about it. To be fair, you're not a monsterfucker, but come on.. for Leon? Christ, what are you thinking?

You follow him out to a garden, glancing at the herbs grown, head tilting as he explains how it works and how there's a lack of the feeling of hunger, grinding it and holding it out to you, brow raised.

"What do I drink? What water can I drink?"

"The fountain." He points at the fountain, letting you step up to it and drink from it, pleasantly surprised when you find that it's not disgusting. You wonder if there's some sort of weird magic in this little plot in the middle of the castle. Yet, you continue drinking, filling your pouch as you follow Leon, letting him give you a tour of the place. It's in a lot better shape than what Ashley had described to you, and you follow Leon to the back area to the throne room. It's a little... lacking in functionality, having a knight room, a ballroom the size of a football field, a nice library but somehow no bedroom. Do they not sleep?

"You're still human, so you'll be sleeping, and I'll have the servants arrange for a bed for you."

"Do you not sleep?"

"No."

"Is the skin... from the plaga?"

"Yes."

You purse your lips. The skin of a killer, Leon. You have the skin of a kille— You slap a hand over your mouth when a laugh escapes you.

He raises a brow.

"Sorry." You mumble. "I'm supposed to take this seriously, I know."

"You won't be able to stay here for long."

"No, they barely care, I think." You hum. "What do you do in your day to day?"

"Not much."

"Nothing at all?"

"I read in the library."

"Wow, they sure didn't tell me you're a reader in the report." You mumble.

"There isn't much else to do." He mumbles. 

"Baking?"

"With what in the middle of Spain?"

"True, huh?" You huff. "A phone."

"It's 2006."

"Chess?"

"I keep winning."

"Wow, okay, wow." You huff. "Nothing else to do?"

"Shooting range."

"That's oddly... in the left field."

"Gets boring after you master the weapons."

"Um. Um. Um?????" You furrow your brows. "I'm out of ideas."

"Mhm. You sure you still want to stay?"

"Mm..." You pause to think. "Well, I mean... yeah, I'm out of ideas."

You're not telling Leon you want to jump his bones despite the weird bumps in the back of his head.

"So how does being a plaga work? Is it like... dogs? Wrong. Scorpions? Not that I would know."

"Would you like to visit the lab?"

"Depends. Does it include those freaks with insane jiggle physics?" You pause. "Ashley warned me about them."

"Regenerators." He nods. "They won't do anything with me there."

"You don't need servants?" You tilt your head. "Or does the infection give you an insane buff?"

"I am the lord of the island now. No one can go against my word." He holds a hand out to help you onto the lift, and you take it, surprised at how cold he is.

"You're so cold."

"It is the plaga."

You follow him to the other part of the island, passing just about everything humanly possible, down to the lab where the plaga had been created, reading through the files that "Luis" had left behind, details of how the amber had been procured and everything else. Leon sits on the bed behind you, watching you tilt your head and mumble to yourself, flipping through the entirety of the journal.

"This doesn't explain behavior." You huff. "Do impulses change?"

"Luis didn't have much time to study that." He watches as you turn around, tilting your head as you stare at Leon. "What?"

"Somehow, the plaga didn't change your face like it usually does." You hum. "What changes behavior wise?"

"I do not hunger anymore. Well, occasionally for flesh, but not as much since I hold the dominant species."

"That's awfully... I'm not gonna say it."

"Yes, it does have BDSM undertones." Leon shakes his head. "Since I am the dominant species, I also have a mating season."

You jump in your skin at the casual confession.

"Typically, I kick all the servants out and tear down a room in the castle." He raises a brow at you. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

You raise a brow, licking your lips as you shrug. "Just curious. Our entire unit always thought you were quite the looker, you know?"

"They weren't quiet with it. Does the body horror not phase you?"

"Not quite as much as you'd expect it to." You go back to Luis' journal. "Ah, you transform when you mate."

"Slightly. The robe comes off and the tail stays out, not to mention the tentacles on my back."

You raise a brow as you try and imagine that.

"Tentacles?"

"They grow out of my back. Think of it like fairy wings, only instead of wings, it's tentacles."

"Ah, so like the guy you defeated before sending the president's daughter back." You pause to think. "How interesting. Was it on purpose?"

"The plaga just happened to develop that way."

"Can I... see?" You raise a brow, surprised when Leon ditches the robe nearly immediately, causing you to throw the book in front of your eyes. You open an eye to look at his back, glad to see that he's at least somewhat clothed underneath, only lacking a shirt. You glance at the tentacles, letting him turn back to face you as he moves them. You reach for one carefully, slimy and strange against your hand, watching as it curls around your arm, free hand reaching to touch it and grab its end, observing the ends, blinking at it when you realize it's truly just an octopus' tentacle without the suction. 

Though, Leon watches you, eyes dark and smile on his face, a strangely threatening vibe coming from him as you play with the tentacle, letting it squeeze your arm gently, tip tapping your finger as you tilt your head, shaking it to have it let go. He complies, reaching for the robe, wondering if he has sated your curiosity. Yet, when he finds that you're still staring at him, he wonders just what you're curious about. It seems the government hadn't told you that the last agent sent had been eaten alive by him during mating season. Quite the opposite from how nature would have it, but still perhaps a warning.

They must really want him home.

"What?"

"Do you have fangs?"

"My canines are sharper, but not fangs." He bares his teeth for you, making not move to push you off as you step up to stare at him.

He could swallow you whole.

"Can I touch?"

"Be careful. They're still sharp."

Your hand reaches for the corner of his mouth, pushing his upper lip upward and bottom lip downward, opening your own mouth out of instinct to stare at his. He can feel your breath on his, watching as you crane your neck further to stare at his teeth, swapping your thumb with your index as your thumb brushes at it. He worries that he'll cut you on accident, but you don't seem to care, licking your upper teeth as he copies you instinctually, tongue sticking out and surprising you.

"Lizard tongue."

"Correct." He hums. "Scary?"

"Surprising." You let go, taking two steps back as you pick the journal back up. "Well, obviously it'd be rude of me to ask you how genitals work or have changed, and looking from Luis' journal, nothing much has changed."

"Does the government know you aren't going back?"

"There isn't any signal in the castle. Shouldn't you know?" You tilt your head. 

He smiles. "It's been a while. I left Ashley with the communicator."

"I figured." You flip to the final two pages of the journal, blinking up at Leon as you step behind him, observing the bumps on his head. "You can control the villagers?"

"That's how the dominant plaga works." He nods. 

"Do you control libido?"

"Is that any question to be asking someone you just met?"

"Apologies." You hold both hands up, flipping to the final page. "How fun. Mating season's close."

"What month is it?"

You smile. "Happy September."

Despite it all, you find that Leon's pleasing to be around, English not forgotten, snap of his fingers holding more power than anything else, showing you around the maze and the dogs, hand held in front of you calmly as he scolds the dog, and you watch in awe as it imitates a whimper, tail tucked between its legs as Leon lowers himself to ruffle its fur. You're not allowed to touch it in case the plaga infects you, but you have a fun time watching as Leon shows you how the door unlocks itself. Though, he tells you it remains unlocked now that you have the need of hopping from one side to the other in order to access your food.

The fish isn't all that bad either. 

You get used to it surprisingly fast, no food poisoning in sight when Leon shows you how to prepare it raw, brow raised amusedly when it happens. 

You also find ways to entertain the two of you, hiding behind pillars to play hide and seek in the ballroom, running around the halls to play tag, most of which has you questioning if life has really gotten to this point, but not enough that you would stop. You also play chopsticks with Leon, occasionally helping out the servants in bathing him. Leon checks for scrapes and unhealed wounds before you do, fingers gentle on your skin as he lets you sit with him in the bath, your fingers gentle and the soap on your hands as you play with the tentacles.

He wonders if you don't seem to mind that he's nude.

You've brought more entertainment since arriving anyway, letting his tentacles play with you as the servants tend to his skin.

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten disgusted yet."

"It's just some tentacles." You scoop the water in the bucket to rinse his back. "Not super scary once you get used to it. Luis' journal definitely helped too."

"Mm." He hums. "You ever learned ballroom dancing?"

"No." You pause. "Well, if you count that one lesson I got as an Agent for that one undercover mission, then yes, but other than that, no."

"You got that too?"

"Yeah. It was one of my first missions." You let go of the tentacles as Leon retracts them, waving at them as Leon dismisses the rest of the servants.

"Would you dance in the ballroom?"

"Well, we could do that, but with what music?"

"Silence."

"My dead phone?"

"We can charge it."

"My half-broken mp3, a CD, and a dream."

"I can send someone to buy one."

"When they look like that?"

"You'd be surprised at how little some of the neighboring cities care."

"Well, there wouldn't be speakers either. It's alright. We can dance in silence."

"Nothing else?"

"Not that we really need anything else." You tap your chin, making the motion to step out of the tub to dry yourself off. 

If you notice the way Leon stares at you when you do, you don't make mention of it.

"So? Dancing tomorrow?"

"Why not tonight?"

"Oh, under the stars? I didn't peg you to be such a romantic, Leon." You raise a brow. "I'm not in clothes suitable for dancing, you know?"

"You don't need a skirt for that."

"Didn't say a skirt." You step out of the room to let the servants dress him, staring out the window as you stare at Leon's room. Lack of bedrooms, yet somehow still a room with a bed. Two rooms, considering that yours is just across. Though, this is more of a formality. He has a nest, for all you seem to understand. The bed is for when he needs some rest... and for when you complain about your back hurting in that other bed. You don't know.

You settle yourself on his duvet to stare into nothing as you wait for him to get dressed. 

You need to touch grass — real grass. Not whatever was by the fountain where you would fetch your own food. Leon seems adamant about keeping you human despite your lack of resistance to the idea of getting infected. You're starting to think the villagers' stew might actually taste somewhat good, but you're not risking anything. Maybe all you'll think about when you're infected is how to serve Leon. Would you be a regular handmaiden then? You're not too sure. He seems to enjoy having a human in the house. Maybe he was a freak like that.

You thank the servant when she drapes a blanket over you.

"Let's go." Leon offers a hand, and you tilt your head. 

"Oh, you were serious."

"If you're cold, we can move back here to dance too."

"Very well." You tuck the blanket around you like a shawl, taking his hand as he squeezes it. You wonder just what dancing has to do with whatever has happened, impromptu question leading you to be back in the garden with Leon, his hand on your waist as you sway with him under the moon. You wonder if there's a reason behind this. Is there? Is he just bored to the point that he would resort to recreating one of your first classes in the command for nostalgia?

"Is this mating related—"

"I'm surprised you caught on so fast." Leon spins you gently, humming. "Yes."

"For the plaga or for scorpions?"

"Typically scorpions, but occasionally plaga. The submissive species doesn't need to do a courtship dance to please the bug."

"And you do?" You sneeze after, sniffling. "Can we go in? May we? Please, Lord Leon?"

He shakes his head, pressing your hand to his lips.

"Gotta kiss you so the bug's pleased."

"Are tentacles going to come out of your mouth."

"No." He shakes his head. "Are you into that?"

"Can't say. Never tried." You press your palm to his cheek, giving him a quick kiss. "Will that suffice?"

"We will see."

Leon grows increasingly more protective of you as the month progresses. You consult Luis' research to find out what it is, unsurprised that it's mating-related, but worried that it would mean that Leon had the chance of consuming you. You wonder if he cums sperm pouches like actual scorpions. That would be quite a situation to be in. Though, you wouldn't be surprised if just decided to lock himself in the clock tower during mating season for his people's sake. The villagers seem to like him a lot.

You bite on the end of the herb, mocking a bow with an imaginary cowboy hat, tilting your head when one of the castle workers point out at the gate.

"Mating season?" You tilt your head.

He tilts his head.

"...animales." You pause. Maybe you shouldn't have spaced out in high school Spanish.

He nods, gesturing at the gate, reaching for your wrist as you catch a flash, the man yelling in agony.

You look to the side... raising a brow.

Ah. Leon. 

This is not... only shirtless. He seems to have evolved as well.

You wave the servant off, staying still as Leon stares you down, undressing you with his eyes, smiling with way too many teeth for comfort. You glance at the way that he's got more than one scorpion tail, only humanoid part of him his face and somewhat... human-looking legs. You wonder when he had decided you were to be his mate, watching as the tentacles are much more visible, skin bare and clothes practically ripped. He seems to have sized up as well. Your neck almost hurts from looking at him.

"What's going in? Is this your mating form?" You don't move as the tentacle finds your waist, loosening your arms from its grip as it picks you up. You lift your legs out of instinct, bracing yourself as he bounces off from the ground, crawling through the opened clock tower and down to the place he had called his nest, the small area right before the opening to head to the labs. You're placed down gently as Leon sizes down back to what you're used to, collapsing on you as you glance at him.

"Apologies in advance."

"Huh—" You yell as he bites into your shoulder, drawing blood as you wince, struggling against his grasp as he pants. 

"There you go."

Your nails dig into his shoulders for support, letting Leon settle you into the mattress that he's placed in the middle of his nest so kindly, pulling your own clothes off out of a fear that he would ruin it. There was little to wear in the castle that would fit you and wouldn't feel dirty on your skin, so you valued whatever you had come wearing. You toss everything to the side, breeze uncomfortable on your bare skin as Leon presses his lips to your jaw, quiet humming rumbling on your skin. 

"You alright?"

"Are you always this gentle during mating?"

"No." He huffs. "I'm going to stop talking in a bit. The... bug is quite strong."

"Well, luckily for you, I'll do just about anything you ask me to." You hum, pressing your lips to his jaw, purring against him as he stares. "As long as you don't kill me."

"I'll stop the bug before it gets to do that." He purrs against you, prying your legs open as you stare down at him, relaxing your body as he opens his mouth, tongue rolling out as he moves his tentacles to slide around your legs, lips pressed to your clit as he sucks, earning a whimper from you. You reach for something to grab onto, nails digging into the mattress as Leon closes his mouth over your pussy, tongue darting between your folds slithering its way in your walls, your breath choking past your lips as you wince, yelping as you feel his tongue brush against your cervix gently, Leon retracting it a little for the sake of your body. 

It wasn't as if mating season was one day. It was a while, even if he was able to control his urges for the most part, he wouldn't want to hurt you or wear you out first day. So, he settles with swirling his tongue in you, which you squirm over, unused to such a feeling, but quickly replaced with muffled moans as he finds a proper pace, hands now clawed as he holds you down by the waist, tentacles holding your legs in place as you squirm. You whimper at the feeling of his claws on top of his tongue, hands flying to your face as your back arches, seeing white as you gush on his tongue, quiet cries from your lips as he sucks, tilting your hips up to lick at the rest of your cum dripping, tongue licking his face as he blinks up at you.

"Still good?"

"Mmm." You pause. "Will you fit?"

"We're going to need more than just one if you want me inside, sweetheart."

You try your best at a pout, sighing as you relax yourself back into the mattress, biting your cheek as he slides a finger inside with ease, texture catching you off guard, Leon's name flying past your lips as he leans over to kiss your cheek, cooing into your ear as he lets you grow adjusted to the feeling of his finger inside. You let Leon know to loosen his grip on your legs, letting you set them down as he presses his chest to yours, nipping on your ear as he finally moves his finger.

You curl yourself against him, voice breathy and patchy as he does, his breath in your ear as he hums quietly. Vibrations to soothe you, you suppose, but it won't do much if your head is already clouded. You let him take his time, finger textured in you, free hand resting on your lower abdomen, sitting up as you whimper, head thrown back as he curls his finger in you. It feels foreign, and though you shouldn't be surprised, you find yourself with your head thrown back and nails in the mattress, whimper spilling past your lips as his thumb finds your clit, gentle circles drawn with your bundle of nerves as you tremble.

At one point, he's tilting your head to kiss him, glass-stained eyes and half-lidded eyes earning a groan from Leon's lips, pretty head lost in something long forgotten. You wonder what it'd feel like while infected, but you're sure Leon would rather die to your hand than find out. Besides, the post-sex clarity would hit eventually, though not that it would matter to you at any point. His lips are bitter against yours, and your judgment has long been clouded, whining into his mouth at the feeling of a second finger, stretching you out. Your mouth opens almost instinctively, whining as he nips at your jaw.

"Feel good?"

"Mm." You mumble, eyes closing as he hums.

"Good girl."

Your head spins deliciously from his voice, fingers mean against your cunt as you whine, other hand finding your back, chest flush against yours as he laps at the bite from earlier, cooing into your ear when you tighten around him, your hands flying to find anything to hold onto, nails digging into his shoulders as he draws another one out of you, cheeks warm with your tears as he licks at it. Despite everything, he's still cooing in your ear, sliding his fingers out of you with a squelch ashe presses them to your lips.

"Come on, pretty baby."

You part your lips apprehensively, tongue stuck out as he rests his fingers on it, watching you as you swirl your tongue around it, arousal pooling further in your legs as your eyes roll back. You feel dirty, whimpering around his fingers as he shifts his hips to press his errection against your clit, fabric of his pants rough against your nub as you squirm. He rolls it against you a second time until he finds that the bug in his chest is far too impatient to wait, licking his fingers to stretch you out one last time, laying you back onto the plush to free his cock from the confines of his pants. The bug's ringing gets louder as it would, Leon furrowing his brows as you tilt your head at him.

"Plaga."

"Does it want me dead?"

"No." He whispers, lining his hips with yours, sighing. "If it hurts, there's a knife to the side."

You glance at where he points, and you nod. "Will it hurt?"

"Doesn't matter. It'll wake me."

You nod slowly.

You tilt your hips as Leon slides in slowly, size dizzying for your head, breath stuck in your throat as you shift against him to get used to the sizing. The tentacles hold you in place and wrap around your waist, his hand finding yours to ground you as you gasp for air, lightheaded and ditzy as his thumb brushes the side of your navel. You wonder if he's waiting for some sort of affirmation to move, as you reach up for his neck, ignoring the way his skin brushes against your arms.

Leon doesn't speak anymore, opting to just fuck you instead, snap of his hips into yours rough as you gape for air, arms around his neck as his hips buck into yours relentlessly, giving you no space for air as you cling onto him instead, body tense and chest pressed to his as you close your eyes. The lack of words makes the sound of his skin against yours alarming, but you hear his breath in your ear, enough to ground you to a certain extent. His size is hard to get used to, your head ringing each time he thrusts up into you, tentacles sliding down your waist alongside his hands. It feels weird. 

Yet, your back arches as he lifts himself off of you slightly, hand moving down to press down on where he would be inside of you, lightning jolting up your spine as you whimper, pressure making your head spin, texture sending your head into a spiral. He lets out a grunt in approval as you tighten around him from the gesture, your breath stuck in your throat still. Any longer and you would be gone, you fear. Yet, the asphyxiation is sickeningly delicious to your head, too blissed out to care if this is how you'll go out. You wonder if this is how all of the girls feel when it's mating season and Leon has to fuck something.

There's a lack of skin and a texture of his hand now, starting to feel colder, and when you peer open an eye to look, Leon's fingers are mostly gone, replaced with darker claws. You wonder if this is an effect of the plaga, too heaven-struck to care, moving your head back to look at him, red eyes catching you off guard as he angles himself to brush your g-spot, eyes rolling back with a whine from your lips. 

You'd make a joke about how it's giving 2013 Harry Styles Wattpad fanfiction, but in the state that you're in, you can hardly get the thought to form. His claws dig into your waist and draw blood, wounds fresh on your waist as you hiss, whimpering as Leon opens his mouth to bite your jaw, your head spinning. Too much. It's too much. You cum without warning, mouth open and eyes wide as you struggle under him, walls raw and sensitive from the taste of ecstasy, white stuck in your vision as you cry. Your legs squirm as Leon forces his chest further into you, hands flying for anything you can grab, one hand nailing into his back as the other finds a tail. Namely, the scorpion tail, and you tug on it, earning Leon's gasp and an immediate orgasm. The tentacles tighten around you as warmth sticks to your walls and he gasps, eyes blue nearly immediately, collapsing on top of you as you blink, wide-eyed at the revelation.

Fuck the fact that you just saw white and had the best orgasm of your life, did Leon just cum from his tail being pulled on?

You heave as Leon pulls himself off and out of you, head thrown back as he sits up, blinking slowly as you blink up at him.

"What happened?"

You give him a sly little grin, climbing on top of him as you shimmy to get the tentacles off of you, Leon complying as you take the knife, pressed to his throat as he tilts his head back, raising a brow as you reach for his tail, giggle on your lips as you stroke it. Leon squirms under your hand, and you hum.

"That's what happened."

His hands find your waist, running them up and down as he blinks at you.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine." You nod. "You?"

"You should get water." He rasps.

"Your throat doesn't sound any better." 

"It's fine." He whispers. "I can live without it."

You reach over him for your pouch, unscrewing it as you press the water to your lips, swallowing it as you wipe at your mouth, free hand finding his jaw as you force it open.

"Swallow."

Leon sticks his tongue out for the water, swallowing as you command, licking his lips as you reach over to put the water back. He takes the chance to rest his hands on your back, tongue finding your chest as he sucks, free hand pinching at the other one as you whimper, lashes fluttering. You hold yourself still, fingers finding his hair as he swirls his tongue. You try and get off of him, fingers tightening around his hair as he holds you still, biting down on your nipple gently, teeth grazing the buds as you shiver.

"Leon."

He hums against your skin, raising a brow as you look down at him, pulling yourself back up as he lets go of you.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you still?"

"It's a continual process." He whispers. "Until I am satiated."

"Will it be soon?"

"Just one more for me." He hums. "I'll let you rest after it."

You agree begrudgingly, letting him press his fingers into you again, looking much more human than before, tail still evident and tentacles still looming over you, but his body looks far more human than you have ever seen. He looks like his picture again, you think. You find it a little strange to see a lack of purple in his veins, taking the chance to press your thumb to them as he breathes quietly. 

"You're human."

"Not often." He whispers. "Can I have you again?"

"I agreed when I danced with you, Leon." You whisper. "Have me all you want. Kill me if you want to."

"I won't."

"I know you won't." You whisper.

Leon kisses at your jaw again, whispers gentle in your ear as he holds you, careful to not cut you with his claws as he holds your head.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." You whisper back. "Your claws hurt, but <i>you</i> didn't hurt me."

"You ought to stab me next time." He brushes the wound on your hips. 

"Quite a domestic turn, huh?" You laugh as Leon slides his pointer down to curl inside of you, claws uncharacteristically sharp yet gentle inside of you. You shift your hips, curious as to what Leon could possibly need to check with his finger when you've got his cum dripping out your pussy, his finger squelching with each movement he makes.

"Yes." He mumbles. "Can't have you dying on me."

"Is the plaga sated?"

"More than sated." He slides his finger out, lips pressed to your shoulder gently as he hums. "So just me this time, alright?"

"Of course." You let him shift until you're lined up, letting you lower yourself onto him as you adjust to the size. Too big, still. You wrap your arms around his neck and flutter around him, earning a groan from Leon. 

The tip of his cock sits snug against your cervix, your body trembling as you become aware of it. You hadn't felt it earlier from how hard your head was spinning, but you try not to think about it, lashes fluttering as you hold him to your chest his face smushed between your tits as he glances down at where the two of you connect. You <i>swear</i> you feel him twitch inside of you.

"You alright?"

He muffles back an affirmative, rolling his hips against yours gently. His arms wrap around your waist as he thrusts up into you, staring up from your chest as he drinks in the way your brows furrow. He's careful not to scratch you more, fingers curled into fists against your back instead of out, angling his hips to brush all your sensitive spots, the drag of his cock inside of you drunkening. You babble his name and roll it off your tongue like a devotion, vision spotty as he holds your arms on your back, you name stumbling past his own lips like a broken prayer. 

There's a wondering if you should be devoting yourself to Leon, taking him as your lord, taking him as your savior. You wouldn't be against it, eyes closing and brows furrowing as you feel him twitch inside of you, speeding up to chase his own high as one of his fingers finds your clit. He sends you tumbling down first, body shaking in his grasp as the coil in your back snaps, gushing and trembling around Leon as he chases his own high, pretty praises easy on his lips for you. Your head spins as he spills into you once more, arms tightening around you as he does. 

His forehead rests on your chest, and your vision clears as you stare up at the ceiling.

 "You back?" 

The feeling of circles on your lower back brings you back to reality. 

"Mm." You hum. "Spinny."

"Do you want your bed?"

"Is the castle empty?"

"Always is this season. I only brought one here because it's where I spend mating season."

"I thought you tore rooms down."

"Stopped doing that after a while." He hums. "Do you want to go back?"

"'m too sleepy." You let him set you back down on the bed, your fingers gentle against his face as you look at him. "Night, Leon."

"Sleep well, sweetheart."

When Leon's sure you've knocked out, he sends a tentacle over to grab your device, stepping away from you and setting you down from his arms, stepping outside of the ballroom to the dock, radio pressed to his ear as he glances at the boat. The night breeze rustles his hair, and he feels more human than he has in the past years. Hunnigan did him right for once.

"Hey."

"She alright?"

"In one piece." He exhales. "Send some liquor in the next shipment."

"If she's not dead, then we won't need to send anything else."

He glances at the boat. "He's turned docile."

"You can get rid of him."

"I'd need her to be awake for that."

"Is she out?"

"Just sleeping."

"Wake her."

"Can't. Drew too much out of her."

"First time you've actually used a recruit, huh? Glad I can just mark her as MIA and not dead for once. Will you back once it's out?"

"Mm, most likely not. I'm getting used to life here. They think I'm dead, don't they?"

"They don't know."

"Keep it that way. Mark her as dead too."

The voice goes silent on the line.

"Get us some new passports and identities, and we'll go back."

"We?"

"A dead man can't marry, Hunnigan."

"That's awfully quick of you."

"Not taking my chances. No one just falls in love unconditionally like that."

"Well, aren't you lucky."

A chuckle.

"So?"

"I'll see what I can do."

[signanothername]

Never seen this before but do you think NM could grow or make shift wings out of his tendrils or goop? If he ever needed to go airborne for whatever reason.

I question both the feasibility and practicality of wings made from only goop/ tentacles, as not only do wings need a large surface area, but somthing to support the weight of the body attached to it during flight (bones, specific structures, or exoskeleton) which both goop and tentacles don’t provide as they are liquids

So even if Nightmare could make wings (which he obviously can cause he can shapeshift) I don’t think those wings will be much of use as the rules of nature are without mercy dvdhhdhdh

So I don’t think Nightmare would truly be able to fly, tho I think Nightmare’s insane speed and strength as well as tentacles that can reach great lengths are already enough to make up for it anyway, so it isn’t a disadvantage

Still, it’s fun to explore such possibilities and I think exploring how Nightmare’s wings would look is really interesting

[sugurus-fave-monkey]

Soul Snared

I do not know exactly what possessed me to write this. It was supposed to be a little Drabble but I got carried away. This is my first time writing anything of the sort soooo. Pairing is Mahito x Reader, and I guess this could be monster fucking (I think)

TW/CW: 18+MDNI, Mahito is his own warning, Geto mentioned and appears briefly. jealousy, Non con / dubious consent, spit, tentacles, choking, slapping, restraints, orgasm denial, orgasm, fingering, the tentacles cum, breeding, belly bulge, degradation, predator/prey, oral, vaginal sex, anal sex, deep throating, lots of tongue, shape shifting, dead dove do not eat, fr though this is a lot,not proofread, made on mobile, if there’s more I should mention please let me know.

Word count >2500

NSFW under the cut

Mahito had been the one to find you. He knew not a thing about you, but Geto had said you could be beneficial to them, so he had sought you out. Geto had instructed him to tail you for a while, but Mahito lacked the patience for that, so when he cornered you in an alleyway and you paralyzed his puppets without breaking a sweat, he knew why Geto had targeted you.

Rather than him having to subdue you, you had came along willingly, babbling about how the other sorcerers pissed you off, and you were tired of them having their heads up their asses. Mahito paid attention, always trying to improve his knowledge of humans.

He had observed, how upon entering Dagon’s domain your eyes had widened at the sight of Geto, rushing over to him, practically foaming at the mouth. Geto reassuring you that he was, very much, alive. The overjoyed expression on your face when you found out that your best friend, your mentor, was still alive. And Mahito felt something stir inside him, something new. Was it anger?

For weeks, Mahito watched as the two of you left together to do recon, unsure of how to process what he was feeling. He would lounge on the beach chair, trying to focus on whatever book he was reading. He had thought that if he had captured you, he would be the one to accompany you, after all, he needed to learn more about humans. Why should Geto always be the one with you, when he was human as well? He would try to ignore the rage he felt inside of him, when you and Geto would come back, your hair a mess, Geto’s robes undone, and you giggling, while Geto’s hand rested on your shoulder seemingly guiding you.

Finally Mahito was told the two of you would be working together, with your base of operations being the sewers. That was Mahito’s element, underground, rather than the sun beating down on him heavily. He had left ahead of you, having been told that Geto needed to tell you more specifics.

You had made your way down to the sewers, squinting your eyes to adjust to the gloom, Geto had given you some sort of drink to help block the smell, and you were thankful. Your footsteps echoed off the walls as you made your way closer to where Mahito would be. You finally reached him, he was lying on a concrete slab, his arms folded under his head.

He watched as you pulled out your phone, waiting for whoever you were calling to answer.

“Yup. I found him.” A small smile curled on your lips. “Yeah yeah, I know, Geto.” You giggled, and Mahito felt the rage course through his body again. “Okay got it. See you soon.” You ended the call and went to greet Mahito, but you were unable to speak.

Mahito had launched his hand at you, fingers curling around your neck, easily pushing you against the wall. “Ghaack Mah-“ was all you could muster before his fingers squeezed tighter around your throat. Tears brimmed in your eyes, as you clawed at his hand, feeling yourself get light headed.

Mahito took his time walking toward you, with a grin plastered on his face. He allowed his grip on your neck to slacken ever so slightly, allowing you to suck air into your lungs before tightening it again. His face was mere inches away from yours, you could feel the heat from his breath on your face. His eyes were filled with malice, rage, and something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. He was a curse, he wasn’t supposed to feel emotions, at least that’s what Geto had explained, while he assured you that you would be safe with Mahito. You cursed Geto in your head, and cursed yourself for listening to his honeyed words, and meeting his every order.

Your tears had finally spilled out, wetting your cheeks as you continued to struggle against the curse. However you froze up when Mahito stuck his tongue out, licking your tears away, the appendage hot on your cold skin. You shuddered as your brain practically screamed at you to subdue him, and run. You placed your hands together, ready to use your technique, but Mahito was too fast.

Two more hands sprung from Mahito, grabbing your wrists, and pinning you against the wall.

“Nice try, but you’re too slow.” Mahito taunted you. Now that he had you pinned, he released the hold on your throat, leaving you sputtering, coughing, and gasping for air.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Mahito?” You shouted. “Aren’t we on the same side?”

At that, Mahito cackled, he fucking cackled. “What do you think I’m going to kill you?” He sneered.

“If you hurt me, Geto will crush you!” You cried out.

“Geto this, Geto that!” Mahito spat. “I’m the one who found you! I’m the one that should own you!”

Realization hit you at that moment. Mahito was jealous, but that couldn’t be right. His nature was feral, more animalistic than human. You felt your stomach drop, and suddenly recognized that other emotion, it was lust. Mahito saw you as prey, and from what Geto had told you, he enjoyed toying with his prey.

You spat in his face, it was all you could do from your position, which earned you a backhand from Mahito, who smirked at you. Your ears rang, and your face felt hot where he slapped you.

“Finally caught on huh?” Mahito’s voice was icy, full of malice. “Geto’s not here to save you, so I’d suggest you do as I say. And if not, I’ll just turn you into a puppet to do with as I please. You’ll still be aware of everything, but you won’t be able to fight. Wouldn’t want that, now would you?” He giggled and stuck his tongue out.

You shook your head, too afraid to speak, nobody had ever treated you this way before.

“Ok then! Let’s get started.” Mahito said in a sickly sweet tone, before pressing his lips against yours. You gasped, and when you opened your mouth he took advantage of that, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He took his time, exploring slowly, rubbing against your canines, daring you to bite down, but he knew you wouldn’t. He had you exactly where he wanted you, and he felt the bulge in his pants beginning to grow. He pulled away for a moment giving you a second to breathe, before he was on you again, his tongue pushing its way to your throat. His tongue was long, too long, as it filled your mouth up, poking at your uvula before slowly making its way inch by inch down your throat.

You moaned around his lips, clenching your thighs together, your body betraying you. You knew Mahito had the ability to change his shape at will, but you never expected this. You gagged around his tongue, as it pulled in and out of your throat, your wrists straining against the hands that kept you bound. Mahito pulled away,his tongue slowly pulling out of your throat, only to wedge his knee between your legs. You hissed at the sensation, the friction revealing how wet you were.

“See that’s not so bad huh?” Mahito smiled at you as he let you free from your restraints. You rubbed your wrists, trying to coax some sensation back into your hands. “Why don’t you get undressed and lie down for me?”

It wasn’t a question. You slowly undressed, your shaky hands fumbling as you unclasped your bra, and slid off your panties, and you lied down upon the concrete slab, the coldness making you hyper aware of your body. You shuddered as Mahito sprang out some vine like appendages from his back. They wrapped themselves around your wrists and ankles, spreading your legs, and pulling your arms upwards.

Mahito licked his lips before walking towards you, and taking a seat, you could feel his breath on your cunt. Mahito swiped at your entrance with his index finger, before roughly shoving it inside you, causing you to yelp and buck your hips. Mahito was anything but gentle, pumping his finger in and out of you, exploring inside of you. You moaned, putting aside any anger you had. Mahito added a second finger and began to scissor his fingers inside of you.

“F-fuck feels good.” You moan out. You feel more of those things on your body, two of them circling on your tits, before they latched onto your nipples, one was seemingly biting, the other was sucking, another one made its way to your mouth, sliding in with ease, seemingly growing bigger as it slid down your throat.

Mahito groaned, as the appendage fucked in and out of your throat, he could feel everything that was connected to him, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to impale you on his cock, and fill you up fully. He replaced his fingers with his tongue, exploring your walls, hitting spots that were normally untouched. He sent a vine to your clit, making it suck on it, and rub circles.

It was too much, there were too many sensations, you gagged around the vine in your throat, and it slowly pulled out. “S’too much!” You cried.

Mahito withdrew his tongue from you, and the vines stood still. You could have cried, all of this, and the curse wouldn’t let you cum? You were about to protest, when you saw him unbuttoning his pants, and you widened your eyes. His cock was huge, thick, veiny, and had a row of stitches on it. There was no way that thing was fitting in you. Mahito pumped himself with his hand a couple times, before pressing against your folds, and you were right. The tip couldn’t fit inside. Mahito looked disappointed, and then shrugged, and right before your eyes, the girth of his dick shrank, allowing him to spear you on his length.

You cried out, as it stretched you, adjusting its size, growing inside of you. The vines resumed the roaming of your body, as Mahito thrusted into you slowly, feeling how your muscles clenched around him. He pressed down on your lower stomach, feeling himself. Your muffled moans grew louder, and he increased his speed, fucking into you roughly.

“Such a good girl, taking it all.” Mahito sneered. He felt your body tense up at his words. “Aw are you gonna cum for me? Huh? What a pathetic human, letting a curse fuck her. Go on then. Cum.”

Mahito’s degradation forced you to come undone, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, as your muscles tensed, your hips bucking wildly as you climaxed, squirting on the curse’s abdomen. Mahito pulled the vine out of your throat, allowing you to breathe fully.

“Fuck, you’re so filthy, squirting all over me. ‘M gonna fill you up, stuff you full.” Mahito groaned as his own release came closer. His balls clenched, as his cum sprayed inside you, ropes and ropes being churned from inside of him.

You allowed yourself to relax a moment, thinking it was over, that he had his fun with you, until you felt something wet against your asshole.

“N-no not there!” You squeaked out.

Mahito tsked at you, before flipping you over, onto your hands and knees, his vines locking you into position. His thrust his cock into your cunt again, and used his tentacle to slowly pry open your ass, your muscles clenching, trying to stop the intrusion. Mahito brought his hand down swiftly upon your ass, causing you to jump. “Just relax. It won’t hurt.”

What little resistance, defiance you had once possessed no longer existed. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts any more. You relaxed, and Mahito was right, the vine was warm, and coated in something slick, a moan coming from your lips, as every single part of you was stuffed full. Mahito wrapped vines around your waist, and used them to stabilize you, allowing you to collapse and be held in the air as Mahito bullied his cock and vines into you. When he would thrust in the vine would pull out. And he could expand, contract and lengthen them at will. Tears were spilling from your eyes, and drool was dripping from your mouth, forming a puddle on the slab under you.

“I told you it wouldn’t hurt. You like it huh? Being stuffed full, your body being mine to treat as I please.” Mahito taunted as he watched all your holes swallowing him up, his dick fucking his cum into you, hopefully pushing it into your womb. He quickened the pace of the vine in your mouth, pushing it deeper and deeper into your throat, before it finally released in you. As it pulled out you coughed up some of the cum it expelled into your throat.

The vine attached to your clit was pulled off, being replaced with Mahito’s thumb, roughly circling, applying just the right amount of pressure. “M-Mahito d-don’t stop.” You moaned weakly.

“Again? Alright, you can cum, but only if you tell me who you belong to.” Mahito smirked.

“Y-you! I belong to you Mahito, you own me!” You cried out, as your second release snapped, causing you to shudder, and twitch, your body relaxing completely. And as you came so did the vine fucking into your ass, filling your tight hole with cum, leaving its mark inside of you.

“Th-that’s right. Nngh f-fuck. M’ gonna breed you, give you all my cum., fill you up. You want that?” Mahito’s voice trembled, pleasure coursing through his body.

“Y-yes fuck, fill me up, please. Please breed me Mahito.” You were no longer thinking, words were just coming out of your mouth at this point.

“That’s it fuck, take it all, let me fill your womb up.” Mahito hissed as he planted his seed inside of you for a second time, and you could have sworn you felt a bulge in your belly as he fucked his cum further inside of you. You were exhausted, absolutely spent. Mahito slowly lowered you down, retracting the vines back into his body, before pulling out of you. And you slowly drifted into a deep slumber.

You awoke to the sound of hushed voices and kept your eyes closed. Your body had been covered in a blanket, and you were thankful for that.

“So you’ve found another finger?” You heard Mahito ask.

“Yes. I trust that you can carry out the plan?” That was Geto’s voice. You assumed he came to make sure you were okay.

The small talk continued, growing louder, footsteps approaching, until the two of them were standing above you.

“What’s this?” Geto asks. “Have you already started our little experiment?” Your eyes flutter open.

“Experiment?!” You move to sit up, however, vines bind you to where you’re laying.

Geto simply chuckles before he brushes his fingers over your face. “Of course. Seeing if a sorcerer can have a viable pregnancy with a curse.” He turns to Mahito. “Let me know if anything changes.”

And that’s when you notice for the first time, the stitches in his head, and you realize, whatever that is, is not Suguru Geto.

[toxycodone]

Cupid’s Breath (Kabru of Utaya x Beastkin/Monster!Reader)

header cred.

rating. nsfw

content. reader has monster genitalia (vagina + clitdick), sex pollen, hate (kinda) sex (kabru is very conflicted), penetration (both on reader and kabru), no foreplay--just crazy monster sex. Ending is angsty, so...proceed w/caution.

word count. 6k+

summary. You are a beastkin hired to guide Kabru’s party through the dungeon. Despite all the time you’ve spent with the party, its leader, Kabru, continues to elude you. He’s consistently nice and polite, yet you can tell it’s not genuine, causing you more and more discomfort. Why doesn’t he seem to like you? While exploring the end of the fourth floor, you and Kabru are separated from the other party members. Given this time alone, you’re finally able to have a heart to heart with your party leader. However, things get a bit heated—in more ways than one.

There’s a sharp swishing sound in the air as a blade slashes through the undergrowth. The brunette sighs, then wipes sweat off his brow.

“I’ve heard rumors of this place, but I’d never seen it for myself.” Kabru mutters, positioning his sword to swipe at another tangle of vines. He looks angry, but only for a second, before flashing you his usual pretty boy smile. “Thanks to your help, we’ve managed to almost get past the fourth floor.”

The other party members smile too. Theirs are much more legitimate. Rin’s the sole member that keeps her usual scowl, but it softens to a neutral glance for a few seconds. You’ve learned that's her way of smiling.

“No problem. It’s what you hired me for.” You smile softly at the others. When your gaze trails to Kabru–-it instinctually falters. Your keen senses have yet to fail you. There’s something off about him. He smiles, laughs, speaks words of praise…but there's a lack of genuineness behind it. You hold back a shudder. “And don’t just slash at those tentacles like that. You never know how a species will react. You could get poisoned–or worse.”

Kabru’s eyes widen. He looks to the plants, then visibly recoils. Mickbell seems more interested now. You catch him mumbling about how their extract may work on his darts. Thankfully, Holm heeds your warning and guides the curious half-foot away from the plant.

“Thanks. Perhaps I got too hasty.” Kabru chuckles, then rubs the back of his head. You want to grimace when you see the action. It’s akin to an actor you’d witness at the opera. You wonder how many times he’s practiced the motion in his head.

“Let’s continue.” You turn back to the dungeon floor. It’s teaming with more and more vegetation. It seems to be growing at a rapid pace. The dungeon must be getting more unstable. It won’t be long before you’ll have to discontinue these tours for your own safety. But that brings on another pressing matter….

Where will you live?

Someone of your makeup, stature, species–whatever one may call it, is not particularly welcome on the Island. Or anywhere on the surface for that matter. You’re thankful to the orcs that treated you with such hospitality since you first began making a living here. You help adventurers who wish to delve deeper into the dungeon, purposefully showing them longer, more tedious routes that  allow for the orcs to travel and maintain their territory unbothered. With the money you make, you’re able to buy things for yourself from the first floor and bring back useful items for the orcs. In return, they let you stay in their many settlements, allowing you to live peacefully–unbothered by monsters and adventurers alike.

A discussion has been continuing with you and Zon, however. Dungeon crawlers are getting more aggressive and greedy. Despite you preaching the safety and quickness of your routes, they’ve begun cutting through orc territory, now intent on hunting the demihumans specifically. Along with that, the Dungeon Lord appears to be going through something themself, as well. You’ve recently heard confirmation of the Red Dragon appearing on the fifth floor. Something you found hard to believe until shown the carcasses of burnt wargs. You’d have to be careful to avoid that route when you guys pass this floor, maybe–

“Something on your mind?”

A familiar voice cuts through your thoughts. Kabru, curious as ever, is looking at you. His deep blue eyes and friendly smile would charm just about anyone aside from yourself. Your sense of smell keeps you hesitant. He’s not asking purely out of concern for you. It’s most likely to satisfy his own curiosity. You look away.

“No, I just…”

You look back to him. Those same blue eyes, brow quirked in curiosity. Ugh. You regret making eye contact. “You seemed lost in thought. You know, you’re welcome to voice any concerns. I’ll happily listen.”

You catch Holm smiling from the corner of your eye, as if he’s admiring his party leader. Of course, Kabru is playing the good guy again. Seeming as if he’s  wanting to get to know you better, but in reality, there’s something underneath the surface. Kabru’s demeanor gives off the vibe he’s analyzing everything you say, probing each word and implication for a valid reason to assess you as a threat. You’re sure he’d flip if he learned about your alliance with the orcs.

You know better. A smile of your own crosses your face.

“It’s alright. Just planning our route in my head. We’ll be set to descend by the evening.”

Disappointment flashes across the man’s features, but he’s quick not to let it linger.

“Sounds good. Thank you again for your expertise.”

Before much else can happen, Mickbell suddenly halts. Everyone’s quick to follow suit. Your first reaction is the thought that he might have touched a tentacle and gotten paralyzed, but he speaks.

“Do you guys hear that?” Of course the others can’t. Your hearing, however, is the closest to his. You still and pay attention. The sound of rocks scratching against each other in the distance fills your ears, it’s faint, but moving closer. You’ve only ever heard this when the dungeon starts to change.

Oh no.

“A tremor!” You shout. Each fur on your body prickles. “Everyone, stay clo–!”

Before you can finish your sentence, the dungeon floor begins to shift underneath you. You hear frantic footsteps, the clattering of equipment on the ground, before…

You’re falling. It’s a seemingly short distance, but it hurts nonetheless when you hit the ground. You hear something fall closeby–likely your own equipment. A dull ache forms at the base of your skull. Fuck–that hurt.

You lie there for a few seconds, before scrambling to your feet. The walls of the dungeon have appeared to swallow you, separating you from other members of the team. A string of curses leave your mouth. Just your fucking luck. This is gonna add extra time to your venture. And knowing Kabru’s party’s history, you’ll be lucky to find them again alive.

The sound of armor clanging and steps in your direction snap you out of your thoughts.

 “Are you alright?”

That voice. You turn around. Those eyes. That crop of curly black hair. Fuck. It’s him. Of fucking course you had to be stuck with him.

“I’m okay. Just bumped my head a little” You answer, attempting to be polite. “And you?”

“Same here. But otherwise, I’m okay too.” Kabru flashes an awkward smile. You start to smell something odd on him. Fear pheromones. Is he scared to be stuck alone with you? 

“Are you sure?” You’re not sure if it's the head injury or what, but you’re feeling a bit bold. “Because you clearly seem bothered by something.”

Kabru looks confused.

“No, the fall wasn’t that bad. I mean, I think we need to find the others, but–”

“I don’t mean that. You’re nervous.” You state, stepping a bit closer to him. “Are you feeling weird about being stuck alone here with me?”

He looks put on the spot. The usual calm, collected persona he portrays cracks a tad.

“What? No, no…” He’s not a particularly good liar. “It’s the circumstances. We’re on a new floor, just got separated from the rest of the party, it’s just–” 

“I can smell it on you, Kabru. Every time you speak to me, it’s like you’re sizing me up. Trying to see if I’m a threat.” There’s a hint of a growl in your voice. You’re careful not to flash your fangs, he doesn’t need any more evidence to back up his prejudices. “Just be honest. I know you don’t like me.”

Silence fills the air. The way Kabru’s face falls is cinematic. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“I thought I was doing a decent job.” He mutters, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “But it seems I’m not as good as I thought. Of course you’d pick up on it.” 

You figure he’s talking more to himself than you. His cobalt eyes lock onto yours.

“I don’t like monsters.” He says in earnest. “They decimated my village when I was younger. I  seek to understand this dungeons secrets, but I’m not keen on the inhabitants.”

“ I’m a monster.” You retort, tilting your head. “And yet you chose to hire me?”

“My party needs your services. We haven’t been able to make it far without a guide, especially one who specializes in monster information. After encountering another adventurer with this information…I realized how important it was. I wasn’t particularly ecstatic to hire you, but it was a necessity.” 

You scoff. Is he serious? You’ve guided his party through three floors already, even risking your life to ensure their safety. And yet this is still what he thinks of you?

“You realize I’m not some feral beast, right? I have consciousness. Sentience. Morals. I wouldn’t just kill you in cold blood.”

“But you’re still a monster. You’re unpredictable.”

When Kabru says this, he’s honestly not even sure how much he believes it. Despite his history with monsters, you have proven to be quite the ally to his party. Even with all his probing, Kabru’s yet to find any useful evidence you may be a threat to his party. Or his mission. But he has to keep his guard up. He must. He won’t let himself be caught off guard again.

On the other hand, his words make your blood boil. You knew it. All this time, he despised you. Stupid human.

“Fuck this,” You growl, turning in the opposite direction. “I quit. Find your own way out.”

You’re careful to avoid the path full of dungeon vegetation. A usual beginner's mistake. You hope Kabru steps on a tentacle and gets paralyzed. Heh. That would make you feel a little better.

Kabru’s unsure of what to say. For one, you are very useful. You have guided his party further  than they’ve managed on their own. However…he’s felt odd from the start. As someone who trusts his intuition, he wonders if letting you go might be the best option. Gods help him if you decide to turn your back on them at the last minute. He should know better than to trust a monster. 

But you’re not like other monsters. Or are you? The concept still frustrates him. He doesn’t understand you. He honestly wishes he could.

As Kabru walks away, he unsheathes his sword to clear a path. You’re about to walk around the corner, before you notice where he’s heading. The plant in front of him lines the dungeon wall and unfurls into large pink blooms. Wait a minute–that’s not just any dungeon vine. It’s a Cupid’s Breath. You’d seen them around before, but rarely ever in bloom. When threatened, they release a cloud of hallucinogenic pollen to deter predators (but also turn them into potential pollinators themselves). If he disturbs that plant…you’ll both be in trouble!

“Kabru, wai–”

As his sword makes contact with the flower, a pink mist comes rushing out, coating the air in a pink haze. Kabru immediately starts coughing, falling back onto his behind. You curse and rush forward, attempting to drag him out of the mist.

“What did I tell you about swinging your sword at things? You have to be careful!” You curse again. No wonder his party’s never gotten far. They don’t know a thing about monsters. “That thing could’ve got you killed!” You hiss, your ears falling back as you scowl.

Kabru’s still overcome by fits of coughing. After a few seconds, you start to feel it too. Of course you’d been hit by the blast. Thankfully, you’re certain it’s just residual fire. You may be a little out of it later, but you’re sure you’ll be fine. Well, you hope.

“Sorry…” Kabru sputters, wiping his mouth on his arm. “I wasn’t thinking…”

“I know.” You growl, still agitated by your earlier interaction. “You don’t seem to do that much when it comes to encountering monsters.” Kabru’s about to respond, but his voice catches in this throat. He’s still for a few seconds, and you notice his dark skin seems to deepen more with color. Your brow quirks.

“...I feel…strange.” Kabru states. 

You sigh.

“Yeah, you got hit directly by a Cupid’s Breath. You’ll likely be tripping for a bit.”

“No…I–” Kabru’s demeanor seems to change. He’s embarrassed. “It’s a different feeling.”

You want to ask more. But you start to feel it too…what he’s describing is unmistakable. There’s a familiar warmth beginning to fill your core. Arousal. So that’s the effect of the plant, not just mere hallucinogens. You mentally curse. 

“Oh.” Your own cheeks heat up now. This…is awkward. Kabru shifts in place.  you had no idea that these plants had this effect on anyone from what you understood they were purely hallucinogenic

Now you're stuck in a tight place with the leader of your party both steadily growing hornier and hornier. Just your fucking luck.

“Lets be rational.” You say, trying to maintain your composure. “ This is just the effect of the plant. if we try to stay calm and collected we could just let this pass over us. Then we'll go search for the others.”

Kabru  nods but he seems almost lost as if his mind is elsewhere.  It's clear the pollen is starting to have a major effect on him. Before you know it, you start to feel it too. It’s…instinctual. As if something primal is taking over. 

Has Kabru always looked this handsome?

No, no. You have to fight it. You try to stay normal, feel normal, think normal thoughts. Until. 

You’re warm–no, hot. When did it get so hot in here? You have to take off something, anything, everything. Your claws move to undo your armor, letting it fall to the floor. It takes what’s left of your willpower not to tear off your other clothing too. You’re shocked you manage to remove it without tearing it to shreds.

Kabru’s in a similar state. He struggles to take off his upper armor, then his hands seem to be unable to understand the mechanisms of his pants.  You drop to his side, perception starting to become altered. The rage you felt before dissipates as you crouch by Kabru. It seems his disdain has followed suit when your lips meet for a kiss.

You’d expect something like this to be awkward, revolting, entirely out of the realm of possibility—yet it feels perfectly normal, enticing, even. There’s only a split second the two of you remain parted before you go in for another. Kabru’s lips are soft, remarkably so. If you keep your eyes closed, you could easily imagine a girl in his place. However, your body remains focused on him. His presence, his warmth—slowly but surely, your mind becomes consumed by Kabru.

A sharp claw links under his shirt. There’s no time to bother with taking it off, you drag it down the linen of his undershirt. It tears without much resistance, the sound causing your ears to perk in anticipation.

The sight of his upper body is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. He’s skinnier than you imagined. Wait, not that you imagined him unclothed. Because you never did that. But if you imagined it before, the sight before you now wouldn’t exactly match. It seems the cost of revival has done a toll on his body, causing him to lack much body fat. However, he’s attractive all the same. His dark skin is dotted with the occasional scar, evidence of prior years of training. His muscles are also easily visible under his skin. Each time his chest rises and falls, you can see the hint of them start to show. Kabru is ultimately average body wise. And for some reason, that makes the heat between your thighs grow.

His shirt now fully discarded, you feel the need to touch him. You’re not sure whether to do it with your hands or your mouth, mind fuzzy with arousal, so you just let your body move as it pleases. Your lips connect with the skin of his neck, eager to taste whatever lingers on the surface. Kabru gasps, then sings the sweetest moan into the silence. It rouses your interest, sending warm tingles down your groin. Paired with the saltiness of his skin, your senses are beginning to become overwhelmed by him.

As you adjust your body over his, your knee lies square between his legs, poking his groin. Kabru’s body eagerly responds to the touch. He moves to grind himself against your leg. You can feel how hard he is already, the heat radiating from his groin makes you want to tear it off and release him—letting him feel just as good as you. The air between you two is stuffy.

You continue to lick Kabru’s skin, nipping him not so gently as you move down his chest. At his collarbone, one of your fangs accidentally pricks his skin. The man jumps, but doesn’t yelp—instead letting out a wanton groan of pleasure. His eyes are widened in what you think might be fear, but you’re proven wrong when he lets out a needy whimper. In this state, even pain must feel good…The delirium starts to take over you both.

Your tongue dives out to lap at his skin. The coppery taste of blood fills your mouth as you do so. It’s intoxicating. As if you’re tasting the sweetest nectar nature has to offer. Kabru’s panting underneath you now, desperate moans and whimpers now filling the air . His fists grasp at the fur on your back, anchoring himself in place as he continues to grind on your knee. He’s enjoying this just as much as you do—the stiffness of his length is more than proof of that.

Seeing him come undone underneath you is engrossing. With each passing moment, you feel you’re finally seeing something real, aside from the act he puts up. His scent even matches with the moment—proving to you that despite what he’s said, he wants this just as much as you. Perhaps more.

 Your own legs link around his now, allowing you to drag yourself along his clothed thigh. The friction is absolutely delicious. It elicits a deep growl from your throat as you start to pleasure yourself. Juices leak onto his pant leg and your clit starts to harden. Just how visibly you’re turned on now would be mortifying if it weren’t for the situation at hand. It must be the effects of the pollen, because you’re leaking slick all over Kabru’s pants after only a few motions. The linen starts to stick to the skin of his thigh, which only makes the feeling even more gratification as you grind against him.

Kabru starts to take more initiative now. He grits his teeth, brows furrowing as his hips grind into you with fervor. You continue to hump his leg as well—the two of you desperate to keep this pleasant feeling going. Grunts and growls fill the silence, only aided by the noises of fabric shifting and your claws scraping against the dungeon floor. Kabru slows without warning and shudders. His fists hold onto you with a vice grip, keeping him as tethered to reality as possible while an orgasm rips through him. There’s a graceful moan as he reaches his peak and a visible wet spot forms in the crotch of his pants. If you weren’t in an equally pathetic state, you’d have loved to make fun of him for that.

Despite cumming, Kabru still remains hard as a rock. His tent is much more visible now due to his wet pants. You start to drool from your mouth and from your hole. You need that inside of you. Now.

Your hands perch on Kabru’s shoulders, holding him firm against the ground as you move your crotch above his. Grinding against his cock is much, much more relieving than simply doing it on his thigh. The indent of his length glides nice and smooth down your wet slit. You frot your clit against him too, relishing in the shocks of pleasure it sends down your thighs. This is absolutely heavenly. 

The pollen from the Cupid’s Breath sends your mind in a haze. There’s nothing left besides chasing that sweet, sweet feeling of release. You’re humping the outline of Kabru’s cock with fervor, his hands move to rest against your hips and guide you up and down his length. Just like that. You bite your lip in anticipation. Your orgasm is right on the brink. Just one, two more movements…and you’re cumming. Your body seizes, thighs twitching and your ears fall back. You let out a high-pitched moan before it evolves into a frustrated hiss. 

There’s no relief. That wasn’t enough. Your body is just as on fire as it was before. The wetness between your legs continues to leak out, coating Kabru’s length which lies his pants. It’s soaking wet now, leaving nothing to the imagination.

And you need it. Bad. 

It seems Kabru has the same idea. Before you can tear into his pants, his hands grasp your wrists. He wants to be in charge now. You scowl at him and growl, flashing your fangs in a feral attempt to make him bend to your wishes, but he doesn’t budge. There’s a bit of fighting and scratching, but eventually, he wrestles you to the ground, pinning your wrists above your head. After a few deep pants, his eyes trail down…before he grimaces.

“What is that?”

It must be the total shock of the moment which snaps him out of the misty haze of the sex pollen. Kabru gestures to your inner thighs. It’s hard to tell whether you should be offended or not. He looks grossed out, but the crotch of his pants looks like it’s about to tear at the seams.

“Does it matter? Because you’re gonna stick your dick in it no matter what.” You sneer at him, panting in between your words. Kabru doesn’t seem impressed, but his fingernails start to dig into you now.

One of your clawed feet lunges out to scratch at his pants. Kabru gets the message and releases you to tear the garment, along with his underwear, off. The hastiness only makes him able to get it under his ass before he’s lining his cock up with your hole.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Kabru mutters. Maybe the prior orgasm didn’t provide enough relief to feel normal just yet, but it makes the two of you at least cognizant enough to speak. “But if I don’t fuck you, I think I’m gonna go crazy.”

“Same here. Y’know, I have standards too.”

Kabru grits his teeth. He’s angry. And totally conflicted. But he can’t not do this. The head of his cock lines up with your hole, and it barely takes a thrust from him before you’re greedily sucking him into you.

The two of you moan in sync, yours sounding more like a growl. Your hands anchor themselves on his shoulders, claws pricking his skin deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your hole swallows him like it’s starving. There’s zero resistance due to how wet you are, each time he thrusts in and out there’s a sloppy sound. The pheromones that hang in the air make your mind hazy. You feel utterly perverted doing this, letting this man you barely know–who’s you’re sure hates you, fuck you senseless.

One of your hands reaches down to stroke your clit. Underneath the pressure, it grows harder and harder at your touch. You feel your orgasm start to build once more. Kabru’s hands dig into the dust on the dungeon floor as he slams into you. His previous apprehension may still reside in his mind, but his body shows no resistance. His balls slap loudly against your ass, echoing against the rocky walls as your carnal sounds fill the silence.

Your genitals aren’t like those of humans. They’re designed to promote sexual intercourse and milk males for everything they’re worth, ensuring proper insemination. It’s something one like you could handle, but it’s an incredibly new sensation for Kabru. The fact that he’s been able to last over ten thrusts so far has you impressed. His stamina is something to be praised. 

His face is twisted in bliss as he continues to pound into you. He’s close, you can tell, but doing his best to last as long as possible. You’re unsure if it’s due to the fact he wants to indulge himself in this or if he’s actually thinking of your pleasure too…your thoughts are confined when he sits up and hikes your calves over his shoulders, now pushing your thighs against your belly in a mating press. He presses one palm against your upper groin, allowing him to more effectively hit your g-spot.

The new position has your toes curling. Of course he’d know how to heighten your ecstacy—all that time spent learning anatomy and he did end up with something useful. Not only is Kabru abusing your rapacious hole, but this position even has him grinding his pubic bone against your enlarged clit as he splits you open. You cry out at his pounds into your g-spot, grunting and groaning in a bestial sense enough to rival your own. The length of his cock drags against your greedy walls as you tighten around him. The brutal onslaught on your hole has you crying and cursing, burying your nails into him and slicing his skin. 

When he spills into you, you eagerly soak up every last drop. Nothing goes to waste like this— you’re bred effectively and purposefully no matter the circumstances. Kabru slides out of you with a sickeningly wet plop, then falls to the floor. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath.

Meanwhile, you still have some steam left. Being affected by the pollen secondly must mean it’s still lingering. You remain under the influence.

You stalk over to Kabru now. He looks like prey, weak and vulnerable. His chest continues to rise and fall heavily as he quirks his brow at you.

“What…are you—“

You pounce onto him like a cat would a mouse. His seems to understand the reality of the situation, noticing that carnal hunger in your eyes. Kabru swallows—a mix of trepidation along with anticipation.

“I’m not done yet. I wanna fuck you now.”

You speak, frotting your clit against his cock. Kabru shudders and moans. He’s not exactly in his right mind. But all things considered, are you? After what the two of you have done already, there’s really not much left to be held sacred.

He opens his legs, almost shyly, as he allows you to center yourself between them more comfortably.

“Don’t…don’t go too crazy…” He whimpers when your wet clit rocks against him again. “I’ve never really—“

He’s embarrassed now. This type of sex is totally unorthodox. Especially with someone like you. In the back of his mind, he’s a bit concerned you may rip him in two with that monster strength.

“No worries. I’ll stay calm.” You lick a stripe up his neck. “As calm as I can be, that is. You’re the one that got us hit by the Cupid’s Breath. So you can’t run from the consequences now.”

Before he can reply, you let your fangs sink into the skin of his collarbone again. You wanna taste his blood again. You want everything his body can offer you.

Kabru yelps, and while he’s distracted, you sink your clit in between his cheeks, thrusting into his ass. The sex from earlier left more than enough lubrication between them, and the effects from the pollen and orgasms have his body much more relaxed than usual. Therefore, it’s easy to push yourself inside him.

The taste of his skin is still so delicious. You savor the taste as you lap up his blood, before moving down to suck on his hard nipples. Kabru grips at the dungeon floor, before ultimately deciding he needs to hold onto your arms. His teeth grit as a sharp exhale leaves his nose. Despite the tight squeeze, no, it doesn’t hurt—it actually feels really good. When you pinch his bud in between your teeth, the whine he lets out is carnal and desperate.

Meanwhile, you’re preoccupied with just how tight he is. Holy shit, he wasn’t lying, there’s no way anyone has ever fucked him like this before. You rut against him, slapping your thighs against his with each powerful thrust. Your pelvic fur is damp with slick. There’s an audible plap each time your hips meet, and when you pull out, you can feel the stickiness still connecting you and Kabru together.

Fucking his ass is greater than you could’ve imagined. Which admittedly you have quite a few times before. You always thought it’d be the perfect way to shut this guy up and get him out of his head. With your skills, you could get that stupid facade of his to crumble into pieces and make him a dumb cumslut. And your imagination proved correct. Kabru’s become reduced to nothing beneath you. He just lies there and whines, his breathing ragged and eyes squeezed shut as you thrust into him.

You’re curious. As good as this feels and as much as you want to cum already, you want to try something. You reach over and start to stroke his limp length in one hand. Kabru gasps, eyes shooting wide open to look at you. You chuckle as he leaks precum all over your palm.

“Gods, no-“ He sputters. “It’s too much. I can’t, not again.”

Kabru struggles under you, wanting to remove your hand from his crotch, but you just thrust into him harder, causing his body to seize.

“Don’t be like that. Just one more. I don’t ever get to see your real reactions to things.” You pant. “Let me have this.”

Kabru whimpers. Another thrust has him falling limp under you. You pick up the pace, now fucking his ass throughly as you pump his cock. Drool leaks from the side of Kabru’s mouth as he moans and whines with fervor. You take the opportunity to lick it up, then gently kiss his lips—which he reciprocates.

That action was oddly intimate. You pull back. You’re not sure why you did that. Whatever.

Your thrusts begin to get faster, lazier, and then you’re cumming for a third time, spreading warmth and slick all down your thighs again. Kabru manages to cum too. He bucks his hips, letting out a harsh cry as watery cum pours from his head. As the two of you lie in the afterglow, both trying to catch your breath, residual shocks of pleasure cause you and Kabru to involuntarily twitch and writhe.

Your own lips move to gently kiss his skin now, trying to soothe where you bit along with just coaxing Kabru through the aftermath of all this. Your mind is just starting to come down from the haze along with his. And you know that last orgasm must have hit him hard. Warm lips press against his throat, his cheek, his temple—until you finally meet his lips again. Kabru doesn’t resist. Almost reacting on instinct, they press back against yours.

You pull back. Your mind seems a lot clearer now. You can actually think rationally. And the regret slowly begins to sink in. 

Did this really just happen? What if the others heard? You’re praying they got trapped somewhere nice and far away. Ideally fully soundproof as well.

Kabru starts to sit up. You take this as a sign to hop off of him, now awkwardly seated beside him.

“We need to get cleaned up.” He states, running a hand through his hair. He looks a mix between upset and exhausted. You’re not sure what to make of it. But for now, you’re happy to just move on from the situation at hand.

“Right.”

Thankfully, the fourth floor hosts plenty of opportunities to bathe. You can tell there’s running water nearby, too. In the direction you were going before this incident, you could hear it.

You grab your clothes, chuck your bag over your shoulder, then beckon Kabru to follow. He does without question.

The walk to the bathing pool is silent. Neither of you really want to address what happened, at least not now. Thankfully though, when you reach the pool, there’s no awkwardness with getting undressed…considering the two of you have been exposed for quite a while.

The water is cool, but refreshing. As you sink into it, you let out a relaxed sigh. The feverish feeling from earlier starts to finally melt away. Kabru stands about ten feet away, his back turned towards you. You take a moment to appreciate his frame. He’s pretty. You can admit that now without feeling the need to berate yourself for thinking that.

However, his back’s coated in angry, red scratches. A few still dribble blood. He does deserve it for what he said to you earlier. Still, oddly enough…you feel bad. It was hot in the heat of the moment. Now he’s probably left with the residual soreness other pain for a while. There’s no way he’s going to ask Holm to heal that for him.

“Hey,” You tread water towards him. “Let me wash your back for you.”

Again, you know you don’t have to offer him this relief. But you want to. Kabru doesn’t react much. He shrugs. You take it as a yes, then move to take the washcloth from him.

Now, Kabru’s far cry from his usual self. There’s no remnants of the charming, charismatic leader from hours before. He’s exposed in a physical and emotional sense. Seeing him so vulnerable in front of you like this is akin to watching a newborn fawn. You feel like the predator in this situation now. None of this was your fault, if anything Kabru is to blame for disturbing the flower, but you’re still guilty. Kabru’s feelings about monsters don’t stem from usual assumptions about them. From the way he’s acting, you can tell something happened. Something terrible. You wonder if it really is best for you to be interacting with him right now. 

“I’m sorry.” You mutter to him, gently washing his wounds. “For this. Whatever happened to you.” 

He’s silent. You can hear his mouth open, and there’s a sound as if he’s trying to say something, but he doesn’t. Kabru sinks into the water.

“I’d like to be left alone.” He says. His voice is shaky, back still turned to you. Gods, you feel shitty. You place the washcloth on his shoulder.

“Okay. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

You don’t spend much time at the freshwater pool. Your bodies and clothes are clean from pollen, along with other contaminants now. The only reminder of what happened is the damage to the clothing, but that can be explained to the party with a quick story of a monster, which they’d easily believe. Rin and Holm could patch them up quickly. And due to Kabru’s acting skills, they’d do it without asking unnecessary questions. (Mainly why the tears seem to be so uniform and focused on intimate areas.)

“Ready to go?”

There it is. That voice. The overly perky tone he uses as if he’s forcing himself to be polite again. You want to pull your fur out. His mask is back on.

“Yeah, let's.” The heavy weight of your travel pack is nothing compared to the burden weighing on your mind. 

Your own curiosity about the man grows. You wonder if he’s ever going to address this. Give you a chance to get closer to him. You’d be willing to open up to him as well. 

Kabru smiles. You pretend its legitimate. His footsteps and musings on where the others might be linger in the dungeon halls.

Probably not, you figure. Questions for him bubble in your throat, but you swallow them down. You don’t need to get close. 

This is just another job. 

[sunderwight]

Much as I love the idea of PIDW being rife with terrible porn tropes and interesting (if contrived) erotic writing conventions, all actual evidence in canon would seem to indicate that apart from some sex pollen and "uh oh, the protagonist has gone into a fugue state, whatever shall calm him down?" type stuff, it was fairly vanilla.

Like, that's part of both Shen Yuan and Airplane's frustration with it, I think. It's full of sex and it's not even sex either of them enjoy the concept of. Airplane was fully just trying to pander to an audience he felt he knew and could manipulate, but not one either he nor his ultra mega hate reader were actually part of.

Not that they understood that themselves at the time.

I mean I know fandom likes to make Airplane less closeted than Shen Yuan (for a lot of reasons), which I support, but I feel like in canon at least... he didn't cotton on to Luo Binghe's change in interests at first either. It wasn't until he was watching his protagonist obsess over resurrecting Shen Qingqiu at any cost that the light started to dawn. For Shang Qinghua, also, many more years have passed since he was back in their original world. He's had more time to reconcile himself to certain ideas.

What glimpses we get of the person he was before he died, was reborn, and lived a whole other life well into adulthood, would seem to indicate that he probably wasn't much better than Shen Yuan back when he was writing.

I mean he probably was still BETTER (the bar is on the floor), like I bet he could have a fantasy featuring Mobei Jun without having an existential crisis or pretending it didn't happen, but he would have probably been like "wow I guess I've been writing so much m/f porn that I can't even enjoy it anymore and my brain had to come up with something else, anyway Mobei would make a hot chick tho, I'm gonna write one of his cousins as Binghe's next wife" and gotten on with things.

Basically I guess what I'm driving at is that it would be funny if SQQ and SQH figured they had a solid handle on the kinds of sex pollen-y porn tropes to expect from the world (mostly just the occasional fuck-or-die that missionary can cure), only for the rug to get ripped out from under them because the system incorporated a bunch of stuff from Airplane's subconscious to fill out the gaps. Not even his notes. His daydreams and fantasies.

SQQ: what the hell?! PIDW didn't even have werewolves or tentacle porn monsters!

SQH, suddenly reminded of some very specific fap sessions: right?! this is definitely weird and in no way my fault! it must be because of the genre switch!

SQQ: *suspicious*

SQH: which is your fault! you made the protagonist gay! in fact it's probably your fault that I'm gay too now!

SQQ: bullshit. what did you do. was this in a draft?!

SQH: *sweating* I can say with absolute confidence that it was not! I never wrote anything like this!

SQQ: *having a crisis now because maybe he DID accidentally cause the monsterfucker stuff and he desperately doesn't want anyone to realize that he's actually into it*

SQH: *continuing to sweat because the world is consistently manifesting content from his personal spank bank and if cucumber ever figures that out he's a dead man*

[chaoticnezz]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~You're favorite part about working with animals was when you got to see the sea creatures. You worked at a place that was like a zoo but for sea creatures (aquarium). Most of the time you spent giving the children a tour of the place, or just playing with them as the parents got a break.

"And this kids is the petting area, where you can pet all of the sea creatures. But before you touch them let me show you how to handle them, so that you don't hurt them."

The children surrounded you as you crouched down to be level with the water table. The table was quite deep filled with water and aquatic life. You gently touched a black octopus that leaned into you touch with each pet.

Softly you pulled your hand out of the water, "and that's how you should handle all the sea animals so please be gentle, you are free to touch them." Soon all the children scattered around the water table, all but one.

"E-excuse me miss but I'm scared to touch one what if they hurt me." You crouched down to the boys level and you patted his head with your non- wet hand. "It's alright they won't hurt you I promise, do you want me to help you pet one?"

"Y-yes please" "alright what's your name I'm y/n." "I'm Tim" you gently grabbed Tim's hand and slowly led him over to the water table. Looking into the water table you grabbed the friendliest sea animal you knew.

The black octopus it was about the size of your palm so it was small enough not to terrify any of the kid. You and Tim both crouched down at the water table. "Alright Tim I want you to meet, Minato if that's to hard for you to say you can just call him taro."

"Taro?" "Yeah, Why don't you touch him with one finger, to start off." "But won't he bite me?" "Of course he won't let me show you." You took one of your fingers and began to gently rub it across the top of the octopus, causing Minato to rub his head into you finger.

"See now you try" Tim reluctantly pet the octopus, only to calm down after seeing that Minato didn't bite. "There you go, see he doesn't bite." Tim smiled "woah, you're right he feels so cool."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You but the final starfish back into the giant tank. It was closing time and today you were assigned with the task of bringing all the sea creatures from the petting zoo into the ocean tank.

The ocean tank is basically a part of the ocean near the zoo meant specifically for the sea creatures that you kept their. The last group of sea creatures you had to move for the night was the octopuses.

And there was only one of those in the petting zoo area. Gently you grabbed the small black octopus and put it lightly into the bucket that was half filled with water. You walked so carefully as if you were walking on glass.

Picking up the octopus you bent over and placed him into the ocean tank. Standing up you turned to walk away only to get pulled into the salty water. You gasped for air as you made your way back to surface, only to get pulled into someone's chest.

"Love <3!" You could practically hear the love in their voice, the fact that their was someone in the ocean pool wasn't what scared you. What scared you was whatever was gripping onto your waist and legs.

You hesitantly looked down only to see black tentacles. You felt a muffled cry escape your throat. "Love? Ways wrong, do you want to go back to the shore?"

The strange creature gently put you back onto the shore. You turned around now being able to fully see him.

He had short black hair with blue tips, on his neck was a black choker with gold spikes followed by a gold spikey necklace, his ears were accompanied by dangleing golden shell earrings. His arms had long fishnet like gloves on, along with a black bracelet on each wrist.

His nipples were covered by a gold swirl thing on each side, both side were attached at the front by two lose chains. Where his v line would have been their was a heart shaped tattoo. Instead if legs he had the bottom of an octopus. The color of his tentacles were black while the underside was blue with teal suction cups. His waist was adorned with gold swirls and shapes.

Your mouth was hung open in shock of what you were seeing. You finally got the courage to look at the male in the eyes only to meet with a pair of concerned bright green eyes.

"Oh my it seems your dehydrated here let me take you back to the water." Before you even have time to object you were grabbed and plunged into the depths of the ocean. You struggle in his arms you captor not noticing until you body went limp.

You were on the verge of passing out when you were suddenly brought back onto shore. You began to gasp trying to intake as much air as you possibly could. "Love I'm sorry I don't actually know much about humans!"

"Love I'm truly sorry! so, please... Please don't leave me."

[transformerskinkfest]

Transformers Kinkfest Prompt List 2024

The prompt list is HERE! Thank you all for your suggestions!

Each day has one Transformers kink and one alternative, more general kink (in italics at the end) - use one, use both, combine them any way you like! (Each kink also has a little blurb, but this is just to give you a bit more context on the more unusual ones. Don't feel bound by the explanation - if you want to take a prompt in a totally different direction, go for it!!)

Please remember to tag #transformerskinkfest or #tf kinkfest when you post your work. You can also post to the AO3 collection here!

PROMPTS:

17 October: Alt mode interfacing. What it says on the tin - sex in alternate mode! (Alt prompt: Collar)

18 October: Faction play. Could be two (or more) characters of different factions, or characters pretending to be different factions than they are. Not limited to Autobots and Decepticons - if you want someone pretending to be in the Primal Vanguard or the DJD, go for it! (Alt prompt: Roleplay)

19 October: Xeno. Human (or humanformer)/Transformer pairings, or Transformers with any other sentient alien species. (Alt prompt: Threesome or moresome)

20 October: Fuel siphoning. Siphoning or pumping fuel out of or into your parter(s), and all the sensations/emotions that could go with it. (Alt prompt: Feeding)

21 October: Compatibility modes OR cultural differences. Playing with cultural differences - between citystates, colonies, factions, or Cybertronians and other species - in the berth. This is the compatibility mode concept, from the person who suggested it: "The concept is that bots for whatever reason (forged, constructed, modded, upgraded?) have "compatibility modes" that allow them to more easily interface with beings on other planets. i e Eurythman mode is more sonic focused, or Lithonian mode includes piezoelectric features standard Cybertronian mode doesn't have, or Quintesson mode has more tentacles, etc. And the bot(s) with this kink want to run compatibility mode even when interfacing with another Cybertronian for whatever reason. Like, "let's do it like they do in Menonia, or Odessyx, or Nexus Zero."... How is that mode different, how did they learn of it, what's fun about it for them now with current partner(s)?" (Alt prompt: Public)

22 October: Sentient vehicles. Driving, flying, or just being completely enveloped within your partner (or having them completely inside you) in alt mode. (Alt prompt: Overstimulation)

23 October: Tentacles. Lots of beings - and a fair number of bots - have them... maybe more than we think! (Alt prompt: Bondage)

24 October: Remote transfer. Getting thoughts/information/sensations beamed into your brain by your partner - even at a distance. (Alt prompt: Sensory deprivation)

25 October: Plug 'n' play. Sex via physically plugging into your partner. (Alt prompt: Pet play)

26 October: Obsolete or unusual equipment/abilities. Some bots may have systems that don't initially seem compatible with (or are just a surprise to) their partners - maybe because they're older models, maybe they were created for a specific purpose or person, etc. Doesn't have to be limited to interface equipment - could include other body parts (hi there, Tailgate's suction cup mouth!) or even unusual/Outlier powers. (Alt prompt: Double penetration)

27 October: Sentient weapons. Alt mode sex meets weapons play! From the person who suggested this prompt: "Either A. a bot wants a sentient weapon (gun-former, targetmaster, Mini-Cons that combine into a sword, etc) to be involved in their interfacing with another bot, while in their weapon form; or B. The character(s) who is/are the sentient weapon initiate the request to be involved with a bot or bots interfacing while remaining in their weapon form." (Alt prompt: Biting)

28 October: Tactile interfacing. Basically, sex outside of the sticky or plug 'n' play models: sex that consists of touching your partner's frame, toying with their wires, playing with their EM field - your imagination is the limit. (Alt prompt: Orgasm denial)

29 October: Body control/system takeover. Controlling or hacking your partner's body, either via plugging in or remotely. (Alt prompt: Domination)

30 October: Wing kink/kibble kink. Wings, doors, wheels, antennae - it's all good! (Alt prompt: Size difference)

31 October: Free choice!