#he refuses to let himself even consider it which is why he puts that onto will and refuses to face the world around him. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rakurairagnarok · 11 months

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Corporate Diversity

This is a commission for @bremenmask . I hope you enjoy it buddy. It has been a blast working with you.

Thomas was fuming. He had just gotten out of a call with HR, in which they talked about the position of CEO that had just opened up. They had to regretfully inform him the position would be filled by a transfer from the Turkish branch. They had made clear he would be moving up however. The new CEO had made clear he wanted Thomas to be his personal assistant and right hand man. Thomas didn't refuse this, the paycheck would be almost double his current one, but he was in no way happy about being bossed around by one of those filthy Arab brutes. He had worked his ass off for 35 years for God sakes! The new boss would be arriving tomorrow, and HR had asked Thomas to pick the man up from the airport and give him a warm welcome into the office.

"I have to work under that monkey from now on." Thomas exclaimed to his colleagues. "I can't believe I haven't been given the position."

His colleagues just nodded and let him rant. It wasn't anything new. Old man Thomas, the racist, the white supremacist. Most of them had already heard the new CEO was being considered to be a transfer from Türkiye. HR had sent them some feedback reports on what they would think of this.While most were very optimistic about this change, seeing as the department was in dire need of some diversity, they had also, anonymously ofcourse, let HR know that Thomas would be very much against this, seeing his racist demeanor. HR had taken this into consideration and told Mr. Hamad Abdul in advance. Knowing this he was still adamant to take the job and even wanted to make sure Thomas would become his closest employee, his personal assistant.

Why? HR didn't know, neither did the employees, and neither did Thomas, who was now angrily driving towards the airport. It was a hot summer day, so he was blasting the AC. He arrived at the airport, and almost immediately spotted his new boss. The man was a towering giant of a man. His tailor-made suit was almost painted onto his strong physique. A well trimmed beard adorned his strong square jaw. Thomas gulped. He stopped the car in front of the man, and rolled down the window.

"Hey Hamad, get in." Thomas almost snarled, but he managed to keep himself calm.

Mr Abdul raised an eyebrow as he leaned down. "I sincerely hope this is not the way you treat your boss Thomas?" His voice was rough, and almost completely without an accent. Thomas started to sweat.

"Sir, or Mr. Abdul, that is how you will address me, Thomas." He put an obvious emphasis of displeasure on Thomas' name.

"Y-yes sir" Thomas stammered. He didn't know why, but he had lost all fighting spirit once the man outside the car spoke to him.

"Now, you will open this door for me, and put my luggage in the trunk." Mr Abdul demanded.

"Yes sir." Thomas replied. He quickly got out of the car and opened the door for his boss. After the man got in he quickly closed the door and carried the two large trunks to the back and loaded them into his car. He swiftly got back into his seat and started to drive off.

Thomas didn't dare speak. For some unknown reason, he felt beneath the large Turkish man. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, so he turned the AC up a notch. However after doing so Mr. Abdul spoke.

"Turn that off Thomas. It is far too chilly in this country. "

"Y-yes sir…" Thomas reluctantly turned off the AC, and within minutes the car turned into a blistering sauna.

"Ah, that is better." Mr Abdul sighed in relief. Thomas looked in his rearview mirror and saw his boss unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt. His large, hairy chest was already glistening with sweat.

At the same time a warm funk started to spread throughout the car. Thomas grimaced. He wasn't an idiot so he knew what the source of the smell was, but he also knew he couldn't ask Mr. Abdul to please let him open a window.

"Anything wrong Thomas?" Thomas turned his eyes back to the road. "N-no sir."

"Good, I was almost afraid you were against my smell." Thomas looked back into his mirror and saw Mr. Abdul stare right at him.

"N-no sir… it's a sign of a real man … right?" Thomas stammered.

"What is?" Mr Abdul asked with a sly smirk on his lips.

"The… the smell sir… and the sweating."

"I suppose you are right Thomas. A real man can't help but smell."

Thomas nodded as he turned his eyes back to the road.

Slowly, Thomas' own Body odor started to fade away, the overwhelming smell of Mr. Abdul filling the confines of the car.

They arrived at the office and Thomas quickly got out, opening the door for Mr. Abdul.

"Good boy." Mr. Abdul said. A shudder went through Thomas's body.

"Thank you sir!" Thomas gleefully replied. He turned red after he had said it. He swiftly turned around and led his boss into the building. After a quick tour, Mr. Abdul nodded and said, "Alright boy, let's get to work."

"Y-yes sir" Thomas hated how he turned into a blubbering mess talking to this brick wall of a guy.

Thomas took place at his desk just outside the office and got to work. Mr. Abdul frowned as he walked into his new office and closed the door behind him.

Thomas groaned as soon as the door closed.

"Motherfucker thinks he owns the place, well, I'll let him know."

_________________________________________

The next day Thomas arrived at work, 15 minutes early as he always did. He walked into the office, only to notice his desk was missing, only an out of place emptiness remaining.

"What the fuck! Where the hell is my desk?" He looked around for his stuff, but only saw his colleagues shrug and shake their heads.

The door to Mr. Abduls office opened and the new boss was standing in the doorway.

"Looking for something? Tommy ?" He said with a playful undertone.

"Where the fuck is my desk?!"

"What was that?" Mr Abdul raised an eyebrow and stared deep into Thomas's eyes.

"M-my desk… where… I…" Thomas stammered.

Mr. Abduls eyebrow went higher.

Thomas took a deep breath. "Might you know where my desk is, sir?"

Mr. Abdul smiled.

"Of course, it's right here." He stepped aside and showed Thomas's desk, neatly fitted into the office.

"I want my assistant to be able to quickly deal with any and all requests. Having a door in between us would just hinder that right?" A devilish grin spread over his squared face.

Thomas' heart sank. He would be under constant supervision, not to mention near this asshole, the entirety of his work day.

"Come, let's get to work" Mr. Abdul motionedThomas to get into his office.

Thomas slowly made his way over, briefly looking over his shoulder, only to see his co-workers snicker at his flushed visage.

Mr. Abdul closed the door behind them and got behind his desk.

"You will answer the phone quickly, and deal with it quietly.I don't want any drawn out calls. Anything I ask of you, you will do to the best of your abilities, which I hope are up to standard."

Thomas nodded and booted up his computer.

"I'll let you know if I need anything." Mr Abdul started to type away.

Thomas opened his email and began replying. He had already gotten a massive amount of emails of executives and companies asking to meet with the new CEO. He painstakingly got to work.

After about half an hour he noticed he had started to sweat. He looked over at Mr. Abdul and was about to ask if he could maybe turn the AC on, but before he could utter a single word, Mr. Abdul said, "If I need you I will call on you, otherwise I like to work in silence."

Thomas nodded, his shirt slowly getting drenched as the minutes ticked away.

After a while he picked up a familiar scent. It was Mr. Abduls musk. Thomas deeply inhaled, and quickly got back to work.

At the other side of the room, Mr. Abdul smirked.

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Thomas had been working in the musk ridden office for a few days now. The musk slowly seeming to lose its oppressive effect. He still couldn't help but be Mr. Abduls little bitch, and obeyed his every whim, but he did slip out a few harsh words to his coworkers.

On the flip side, he hadn't felt as spry and energetic as he did in ages. He got up early, he even ran a bit before going to work.

Thomas sat down next to his coworkers in the lunch room and sighed.

"That ass really keeps me running around. Can't he do anything himself?"

His colleagues just murmured a bit, knowing full well he would have made his assistant do the exact same if he had become CEO.

"I mean, I get it. If I were a sweaty pig like him I would be lazy as well right, but fucking hell get your ass up man."

The room fell dead silent.

Thomas looked at his coworkers with confusion.

"So that's what you think of me Tommy"

Mr. Abdul was standing right behind Thomas. His face was calm, but the tone of his voice was grim and serious.

"Stop fucking calling me Tommy. It's Thomas…" he turned as he said it, making eye contact and immediately the blood drained from his face. The room was so quiet that you could hear the traffic, even through the triple layered windows.

"Office, now" Mr. Abdul commanded and Thomas shot up, almost running out the lunch room.

When inside, Mr. Abdul slammed the door shut, and locked it with a key on his keychain.

Thomas was frozen in the middle of the room. Mr Abdul sat down in his chair and sighed.

"What is your problem with me Tommy?"

"I… I don't have a problem sir." Tommy stammered. He stared at the floor while Mr. Abdul was speaking.

"You have been rude and, quite frankly, downright racist since I got here. You may not show it to me, but I have heard complaints from your colleagues, and from HR from before I even got here."

Thomas had a hard time focusing on what Mr. Abdul was saying. It's not that he didn't want to, but the room was filled with this amazing and arousing smell.

"THOMAS"

Mr. Abdul shouted and Thomas looked up.

"I'm sorry sir. I'm listening, I just…" Thomas fell silent. Sitting in his chair, Mr. Abdul had unbuttoned his shirt, and his broad, bulky and hairy torso was in full view.

Thomas's mouth hung agape, a small droplet of drool seeping from the corner.

"I said, come here"

Thomas wanted to object but his legs began moving towards the desk before he could stop them. He walked around the desk, stopping just in front of his boss. The strong smell filled his nostrils, his mind going blank.

"Come sit on my lap." Mr. Abduls voice had turned calm, almost seductive even, and Thomas couldn't help but follow his command.

Mr. Abdul put his arm around him and smiled. He put one hand behind his head, the erotic scent only becoming stronger.

"Sir… I…" Thomas wanted to stand up, leave, from this disgusting scene. Instead, he found himself leaning closer and closer to the exposed pit of his boss.

A few inches before he made contact and stopped, his eyes drifting upward, looking Mr. Abdul in the eyes. He only nodded.

This sent Thomas over the edge. He buried his face into Mr. Abduls pit sniffing up the fresh musk, lapping up any drops of sweat he could find. Inside his head he was screaming. How humiliating, how degrading, how…

"You're such a good boy aren't you" Thomas's mind cleared. The turmoil and rage fell silent. Instead his head filled with a feeling of fulfillment and bliss.

"I think you're finally ready. I haven't been satisfied with your performance, but perhaps that will change." Mr. Abdul smiled as he pressed Thomas's head back into his pit.

"Now, take a deep breath boy. And keep it in there for a while." Tommy did just that. He inhaled deeply and held his breath.

The musk immediately started to have an effect on his body. Slowly, his skin started to even out. Any blemish or wrinkle got ironed out, making him appear years younger.

"Now keep it up oglan, deep breaths"

Tommy took another deep breath. He began to squirm a little, his buttoned shirt getting quite tight all of a sudden. His slouched shoulders straightened up, getting broader each second. Before long his shirt was almost skin-tight on his body. Mr Abdul grinned and Tommy took another breath. His shirt exploded. His broad shoulders rounded out with pounds of muscle. His arms quickly followed. His biceps and triceps pulsed, and grew. They were almost as big as his head!

After taking another deep breath his flabby stomach began to tighten. Layers of fat started to melt and move around his body. His arms got even bigger with a small added layer of fat, while his stomach became home to rows of tight, abs. Mr Abdul's hand slid down Tommy's back, down to his glutes, which were in the process of expanding themselves. The previously unimpressive, fat filled office worker ass, became a beautifully sculpted bubble but. Mr Abdul sank his hands in them, and Tommy let out a soft moan.

"That's it oglan. How do you like my pit."

"It… it's so good... sir…"

"You don't have to call me sir when we're alone, oglan."

"Y-yes… Daddy"

Mr. Abdul smirked.

"Now let's give you something new." Tommy pulled his head out of the pit and looked at Mr. Abdul, his face had lost a few years, and his eyes were vacant, no thought behind them.

Mr Abdul took off his shoes, and slowly pushed Tommy down. The smell emanating from his big feet was intense. His pits had been ripe, but now completely paled in comparison. Tommy eagerly went along and took a whiff of his bosses feet. After taking a few deep breaths, a strong itch spread across his smooth chest. While absentmindedly scratching it he felt thick hairs brushing up against his fingers. Mr. Abul grinned as he watched the forest of hair spread. He took his other foot and rubbed it against the soft carpet of hair, leaving behind a permanent mark of musk. Tommy took the sock of one of Mr. Abdul's feet and began licking and sucking on his toes. With each lick, his pecs began to swell. His fat old man moobs quickly started to look and feel like strong masculine pecs, every aggressive lick made them sway and jiggle. A quick pinch of his nipples send him into a moaning fit, revealing their sensitivity.

Tommy grabbed the other foot, and deeply inhaled. His legs quickly expanded, blasting the dress pants to bits. Quads that could crush a watermelon rested on top of thick calves. His feet burst out of the expensive shoes he was wearing, a domineering size 12.

"That's already so much better boy, come here." Mr. Abdul motioned Tommy to move back up, and as his boy did, he took him by the chin and pulled him up to his face, and locked lips with him. Mr. Abduls strong tongue forced his way into Tommy's mouth, beginning the final stages of the transformation.

Tommy moaned and groaned as his facial features began to change and shift. His round and putty looking face began to sharpen. His rounded jawline became strong and squared, his nose grew a bit bigger, and his lips became more plump. His eyebrows grew bushy and stern, while his eyes softened a bit. A heavy itch ran across his new jawline and a thick beard quickly grew in. Mr. Abdul ran a hand over his balding scalp and thick, black locks of hair sprouted from the once middle aged man's head.

At the same time a wave of color washed over the white man's skin. A tan fitting of an Arabian hunk, his skin glistening with sweat, shone in the sunlight coming from the large windows of the office.

With his free hand, Mr Abdul grabbed Tommy's undersized bulge, and began to massage it. Waves of pleasure ran through the hunks body, his undersized rod quickly growing in size. At the same time However it didn't quite seem to get hard. That was at least until it reached a massive 10 inches. Seems he was a shower not a grower. While his dick was growing, his balls had filled with a massive amount of cum. They had grown to the size of tangerines, and his dick was leaking into his tighty whities.

"You only cum when I tell you to, boy."

Tommy nodded.

"Are you ready to leave your old life behind, and become an Arab boy for your daddy?"

"Y-yes… yes sir please."

Mr. Abdul continued to grope Tommy´s ever growing bulge, his balls churning, growing and sagging, every aspect of his life condensing into the thick, salty solution.

“P-please… Baba… I need to cum”

Mr. Abdul grinned.

“Cum for Baba, boy.”

Tommy threw his head back as his massive rod began spewing out rope after rope of seed into his underwear. His deep moans echoing against the walls off the office. The small wet spot that had appeared due to his leaky cock quickly started to spread. Before long his whole underwear was drenched, and he was still shooting. All his memories drained from his balls into his soaking underwear, dripping alongside his leg. Mr. Abdul ran a finger across his boy's leg and swiped up a big swab of seed. He slowly took his finger in his mouth and savored the taste of his new plaything.

“You taste amazing Ayaz” He ran his hands across the sculpted back of his boy, and smiled.

Ayaz looked up, his dim eyes filling with light and energy. “Thank you Baba!” he said with a big grin.

“Now go get yourself cleaned up. I want you back here in an hour.”

“Yes sir!” Ayaz got serious again. Mr. Abdul liked that about his boys. They knew when to switch back into work mode and were very good at what they did. Mr. Abdul threw Ayaz a new suit, no underwear of course, which Ayaz quickly put on. His obscenely large bulge didn't leave much to the imagination, but then again, his whole body was basically for show in the tight suit.

________________________________________

The department was happy with the new figures the CEO was producing over the past weeks. He had been able to almost triple their profits in only a few weeks time. Mr. Abdul told HR it was due to his lovely assistant Ayaz, who had kept track of all the work and kept the clients very, very happy.

Ayaz was also very happy. He was able to live a luxurious life due to both his massive paycheck and his boss being his Daddy. He was of course a hard worker, but having almost two full incomes also definitely helps. He spends most of his time outside of work going to the gym to keep his daddy happy or participating in some… lets call it lucrative occupational activities. Again Mr. Abduls assistant keeps the clients very, very happy.

#transformation #male muscle growth #gay tf #male transformation #musk #feet #rakurai #white to arab #race change #commission

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cinnamostar · 5 months

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01: self-fulfilling prophecy

part two.

pairing : jisung x gn!reader

summary : han jisung, the man who is incapable of maintaining a relationship for more than a few months. han jisung, the man who is in complete denial that maybe he is the problem. han jisung, the man who has convinced himself he isn’t meant for love.

wc : 8.5k

cw : not proof read, nonidol!au, alcohol/drinking, sadness, angst, arguing, cursing, some cute stuff. plz let me know if i missed anything.

a/n : likes, reblogs, and feedback is much appreciated!! not too confident on this one because idk, i feel like the dialogue isn’t well executed, but let me know what you think. please enjoy!

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Jisung didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to romance. He never did anything exceedingly horrendous, he always remained faithful in each relationship he had, but they never lasted long. He simply didn’t know how to be a good partner, always too focused on his own needs to the point that his selfishness turned into emotional neglect for the other.

It’s not that he didn’t like the people he dated. He genuinely adored them for who they were, yet he always found himself heartbroken and confused at the end of each relationship when they would all voice the same exact reasonings on why they were ending it.

“I just don’t feel like you care about my feelings.”

“It feels like you don’t even like me enough to put in the effort to make this work.”

“I don’t feel like a priority in your life.”

“I swear you forget we’re even in a relationship.”

“You’re too focused on yourself and everything else to even make time for me.”

Like clockwork, a few months would pass by and his partner would sit him down for the break up talk. It was exhausting. He was clueless, not having any idea what he was doing so wrong even though he would always receive a list of reasons each time. In his eyes, he was doing the best he could, but perhaps his best was not enough.

Of course he cared for their feelings! Of course he liked them, he could’ve sworn he was doing his damnedest. Not a priority? That was ridiculous, he always made time to spend with his partner during the week despite his busy schedule. Forget? Nonsense! Too focused on himself? Well, of course he was focused on pursuing his music career which required long hours at the studio, why would he want to be with someone who didn’t support his endeavors? They knew what they were getting into when they met him!

It made zero sense to Jisung. At some point, he had given up on love altogether. Maybe he just wasn’t meant for it, maybe relationships were just not his thing. Clearly, he was doing something wrong and he decided that maybe hook up culture was just where he belonged.

What Jisung failed to realize was that he was forcing his own ideals of a relationship onto his partners. The idea that people had different needs and perceptions on how relationships should function never dawned on him. He never thought to consider what the other person wanted and had simply assumed they would be content with whatever he had to offer.

He forgot that some people needed more reassurance. He forgot some people wanted to go on actual dates, not everyone considered a night in a date, especially if every date was a night in. He forgot that some people didn’t just want to sit in a room with him while he was on his phone or working on his next project. Sometimes people wanted his undivided attention. Sometimes people wanted to be able to hold a conversation with him. Sometimes people needed more communication because quite frankly, three texts a day didn’t quite cut it for most people.

Yet, Jisung was too absorbed in his own world and his passions to even begin to understand that concept. He absolutely refused to believe he was doing something wrong and that he was just dating the wrong people this whole time. He just hadn’t found the one, right?

Despite that foolish belief he stubbornly held onto, it didn’t mean each instance didn’t take a hit on his ego. After the many failed relationships he had been through, the fear of inadequacy and insecurity began to creep into his mind. Was he not worthy of love? Was he incapable of forming a healthy relationship? Was something wrong with him?

He felt that he had so much love to offer in his heart, but he had no idea what it took to be a good partner. He was too tunnel visioned on producing and music to realize that sometimes, love and relationships required a bit of sacrifice, and that was something he refused to do.

Yet, Jisung wanted to fall in love. Like any other human on earth, he craved to love and be loved, to be understood wordlessly by someone else, but it seemed like love didn’t welcome him with open arms. He desperately wanted to feel like he was needed and wanted, to feel the bubbling shyness and giddiness that only love could give him, but somehow, it seemed that he was the victim of a paradox. Love hated him.

However, Jisung had resigned and accepted defeat. He wasn’t cut out for it. Besides, it’s not like anyone would even bother to give him a chance anymore. After a few failed relationships, people were quick to label him as ‘trash’ and a terrible boyfriend, only good for fun, but definitely nothing more. It was almost as if he had a permanent warning label above his head that scared off anyone who had any remote interest in him.

People talked. And if anyone so much expressed any interest in him, someone would leap in to rescue them from a foreseeable heartbreak, telling them he was no good and a waste of time. Oh, but if you wanted a few nights of fun and to just fool around, he was perfect for that, but never, and absolutely under no circumstances, was he someone to settle down with.

He was the only one to blame for his infamy in the dating scene, but Jisung was suffering from a case of extreme delusion and oblivion. Maybe one day he would lose that self-centered immaturity and have a much needed epiphany, but that day seemed far off in the future.

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For the past week, Jisung had holed himself in his studio, insistent on perfecting his latest track by some arbitrary deadline he had set for himself. This was a regular occurrence that his friends had gotten used to. They would be more surprised if this didn’t happen, but this also meant that they had to pay a visit to his studio every few days and force him to take a break for the sake of his mental and physical health.

Today was one of those days in which Minho came knocking at his door after unlocking the door with the passcode Jisung had given him long ago, reminding him to come by his place later that night for a small party to celebrate his dance troop’s recent competition win. While Jisung was proud of this achievement, part of him felt a tad bit annoyed that he had to interrupt his work schedule for someone else, but Minho was one of his best friends, he at the very least should show up for a bit. He could stay for an hour or two, and hopefully by then everyone would be a little too drunk to notice he had escaped back to his studio.

Jisung sighed as he begrudgingly made his way to Minho’s apartment, dreading the amount of people he would have to socialize with tonight. He was relieved to know that a few familiar faces would be there, such as Hyunjin and Felix, who were also part of the troop, but the team had also gone through auditions recently, meaning there would be people he would have to meet for the first time.

He wasn’t one for befriending strangers, as oftentimes, many of them had a negative impression of him due to his dating history. He hated how every time he introduced himself, as soon as the words “Han Jisung” left his mouth, people’s faces would drop into an unreadable expression, almost as if they were disappointed to finally meet the man who was rumored to be complete and utter trash. It was anxiety-inducing and turned him off from seeking out new friendships because everyone would always say “Oh! Did you used to date my friend?” And at that moment, he knew it was over. They hated him before they even got to know him. As a result, Jisung always felt apprehensive when it came to meeting new people and he much preferred sticking with his small circle of friends.

As Jisung arrived at the front steps of Minho’s apartment, he felt his shoulders tense up with trepidation as he subconsciously bit the inside of his cheek. The party had already started with the music blaring throughout the building, the lights dimmed with colorful LEDs visible from the window. A chorus of joyful cheers followed by the clinking of shot glasses and laughter could be heard from outside, signaling that the party was already in full swing. Jisung let out an uneasy groan, unprepared for what the night would bring, but reassured himself knowing that he only needed to stay for at least an hour before he could retreat back to the safe haven known as his studio.

After a sharp inhale, Jisung put on a fake smile as he opened the door, instantly greeted by a drunken Changbin who was double fisting two beers, wearing a toothy smile.

“Jisung! You made it!”

The last thing Jisung wanted tonight was to be put in the spotlight, which Changbin just unknowingly thrust him into with no warning. Others nearby turned their attention to the front door, some choosing to ignore Jisung’s presence to continue their conversations while others politely waved or called out a quick hello.

Minho shortly appeared in Jisung’s vision, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled him into a one-armed hug, “Glad you showed up, I was worried you forgot!” An airy chuckle escaped Minho as Jisung gasped, feigning a look of betrayal while playfully shoving Minho’s shoulder, “How dare you think I’d forget my best friend’s party? I would never!”

Minho rolled his eyes at Jisung’s gesture before dragging him by his wrist. “Whatever you say, but c’mon! I want you to meet our new members. Plus, you look a little too stiff for my liking,so let's get some drinks in ya first.”

Suddenly, shot glasses filled with tequila were shoved into Jisung’s hand as people egged him on to down them, chasing the two shots with lime and salt to cut through the harshness of the alcohol. A familiar buzz took over his senses, his head feeling lighter than usual as a lopsided smile appeared on his face while the nervousness he felt earlier quickly dissipated.

The bit of liquid courage energized Jisung enough to forget all the now seemingly silly concerns he had earlier as he jumped through the bunches of people, excitedly yapping away as he caught up with friends and introduced himself to new people. Each time he noticed someone cringing at the sound of his name or giving him a dirty look, he would promptly take another shot to rid himself of the anxiety he was feeling, hoping the alcohol would make him just unaware enough of any other glares he would receive from people that night.

Eventually, Jisung made his way to the loft upstairs to take a break from the hectic party below, already feeling a headache coming on. He stumbled his way to the couch, not paying much mind to his surroundings as he plopped himself onto the couch, immediately throwing his head back while shutting his eyes.

“Oh, he definitely overdid it again,” laughed Felix from the left of him, “How many shots did you take?”

Jisung waved his hand as if he was shooing Felix away while mumbling, “Don’t even ask.”

He heard an unfamiliar giggle erupt from the right side of him, causing him to sit straight up with his eyes wide, hastily snapping his head to see who the laugh belonged to, not expecting anyone other than his friends here.

He found himself staring into your eyes that were crinkled from laughing, a lax smile adorning your face as you brought up a hand to hide behind. Your laugh was rich and decadent, almost as sweet as chocolate, and your smile was so refreshing that it instantly roused him from his drunken state the moment his eyes landed on you.

Oh, shit, they’re cute.

Jisung’s inebriated state had caused him to lose all self-awareness because all he could do was gawk at you with enamored eyes, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to find the words to introduce himself. He felt his face flush from embarrassment when you returned his gaze while wearing an expectant expression, patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“I- Oh, uhm, I…”

You had instantly captured his heart with the most saccharine smile he has ever seen and within a few seconds, Jisung was undeniably smitten, but he was also completely making a fool of himself within those same few seconds.

“Jesus christ, Jisung, how drunk are you?” howled Hyunjin, who had gotten up to lightly poke Jisung’s cheek, “Helloooo, earth to Jisung? Anyone home?”

“Dude… Close your mouth before you start drooling over there. I don’t think that’s an image you want Y/N to have during your first meeting,” Seungmin, who was sitting on the floor, mischievously sneered, quickly recognizing Jisung’s speechless state was caused by something more than just alcohol. Jisung shook his head side to side to wake himself from his lovestruck daze, clearing his throat in an attempt to cover up Seungmin’s comment.

“Mm, sorry! I just-,”

Oh, this is bad, he really is making this so much worse for himself. He was now regretting all the shots from earlier as he tripped over his words, his nerves not being of any help. He desperately was trying to say something sensible, but instead, all he could blurt out was,

“Jisung! I’m Jisung… yeah!”

Now it is a lot worse as Jisung cringed at how loud and annoying his voice was, everyone else also seemingly cowering from second hand embarrassment as they watched the scene unfold, but no one was able to peel their eyes away.

Like an angel sent from heaven, Felix decided to have mercy on the brown haired boy, peeking out from behind Jisung to meet your eyes at the other side of the couch. “Y/N, this is our friend Jisung! He makes music with Changbin and Chan. Jisung, this is Y/N. They’re one of our newest members on the team.” God, Jisung could kiss Felix right now from how relieved he was to have alleviated the awkward tension he had just created moments earlier.

You nodded, smiling at Jisung as your eyes lit up in realization, “Oh, Jisung? I’ve heard about you before.”

Ah, there it is. Of course! Of course you have and how stupid of him to think he’d be able to have an untarnished first impression with you and-

“Minho says so many good things about you! He even showed me some of your songs. You’re really talented at what you do, I definitely added a few to my playlist.”

Someone pinch Jisung right now because he must be dreaming, there’s absolutely no way. Is luck finally on his side? Has God finally decided to be oh-so-merciful today? He was on cloud nine as he relished in your compliments, savoring this moment because this may never happen again.

Jisung clicked his teeth as he waved both his hands in front of him with a flustered smile, “Oh, no, no, no, I am not that good! But thank you!” The alcohol was really doing a number on him as he slurred over each syllable, but thankfully he was coherent enough for everyone to understand what he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at his antics while standing from your seat, “Well, it's nice to finally put a face to the name, but I do have to go now, I have to be up early.”

Jisung deflated as everyone wished you good night, feeling disappointed how quickly your first meeting with him ended. Hyunjin stood up, offering to walk you out and once you were out of earshot, Jisung whipped his head to Felix.

“Felix… Who was that? How long have you been hiding them from me?”

Seungmin struggled to contain his laugh, earning a confused look from Jisung, “What are you laughing at?”

“Dude, you. You looked so stupid trying to talk to them.”

Jisung threw himself back into the couch, sinking into the cushions with an embarrassed groan, “Shut up, I know.”

Felix laughed, shooting Jisung a pitiful smile, “You’ve done worse, it’s fine. And no one was hiding them from you, you just never show up when we invite you anywhere. That is your own fault, not ours!” Jisung pouted, cursing himself mentally for rejecting all those plans.

“They’re cool, they’ve been on our team for a few months. Crazy good at dancing too, we are super lucky to have them.”

“Are they dating anyone?”

The room grew quiet at Jisung’s question as Seungmin and Felix looked at each other with uneasiness, unsure how to respond. Hyunjin had come back up the stairs after walking you to your car, just in time to hear Jisung. He let out a heavy sigh, alerting everyone of his presence.

“I… I think it's best if you just leave them alone, Jisung. They’re a really sweet person and you, well…”

“Me what? What do you mean?” Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at Hyunjin as the taller boy struggled to finish his thought.

“Just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Seriously, Jisung? I know you’re wasted right now, but don’t make me say it. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

And he did, he knew that Hyunjin was referring to his dating history, but Jisung felt himself growing angry hearing his friend allude to him being a bad partner, suggesting he would hurt you.

“No, I want to hear you say it,” Jisung spat out, a scowl painted all over his face as he stared down Hyunjin with his arms crossed, who was still standing by the stairs. He felt himself become warm in frustration as all the insecurities he held close to his heart started to bubble up. Did his own friend’s think so poorly of him too?

Felix reached out to put a reassuring hand on Jisung’s shoulder, hoping to defuse the situation, “Let’s not do this right now. You’re still drunk, Jisung.” Jisung shook Felix’s hand off his shoulders, standing up while still glaring at Hyunjin with clenched fists.

“Say it.”

“Jisung-” warned Felix, but he was cut off by Seungmin.

“You’re a shit boyfriend, Jisung. We don’t need you hurting someone we’re friends with again.”

The room was silent as everyone now stared at Seungmin with wide eyes, startled at how blunt he was being. Jisung didn’t know what he was feeling as a flash of rage took over his body, but at the same time, he felt his heart drop hearing those words come out of his own friend’s mouth. It was now Hyunjin’s turn to butt in,

“Seungmin, stop-”

“No, he needs to hear it straight up. He fucking sucks and you all know I’m right. I’m tired of him acting like he isn’t the problem. Leave Y/N alone. They’re better off without you.”

Jisung felt hot tears well up in his eyes as he took in every one of Seungmin’s words, each casting daggers into his heart. His worst nightmares were coming true as he realized that it wasn’t just strangers and ex-lovers who viewed in such a negative light, but the people he trusted so much, his own friends, also thought the same of him. The fury laced in Seungmin’s voice cut Jisung deep as every syllable pushed him over the edge til Jisungfound himself falling into a pit of sadness and hurt, his stomach flipping onto itself on his way down.

Was he really that bad? Wait, no! How dare Seungmin say such a thing to him? What does Seungmin even know about Jisung’s past relationship? He was stepping out of line! The sadness instantly subsided, soon being replaced with a familiar feeling of denial and anger as Jisung stomped towards Seungmin, crouching down to meet him on the floor. Jisung sloppily grabbed Seungmin by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to his face.

“What the fuck did you just say? Take it back right fucking now,” growled Jisung, venom dropping down from each word.

Seungmin rolled his eyes, pushing the drunken boy off him who stumbled backwards, “See, this right here is your problem. You can’t even begin to accept that you’re in the wrong.” Seungmin stood up, now looking down at Jisung who still hadn’t regained his balance. He took in an exasperated inhale, a subdued smile replacing the vexed look he just had as he softened his tone, “Look, Jisung. I love and care for you, but I cannot turn a blind eye and let you hurt someone else. I mean it. Leave them alone.” With that, Seungmin made his way to the stairs, wanting nothing more than to get away from Jisung at that moment before he said something he’d later regret.

Jisung remained seated on the floor as he was processing the words and emotions that were rushing in all at once, his drunken brain unsure how to handle all the information he was just fed. He laid his head into his hands as his brain echoed Seungmin’s words again and again.

Jisung felt his breath get caught in his throat as he hiccuped a quiet sob, his body starting to tremble as the tears he was holding back for so long finally fell. His body collapsed onto itself as his heart stuttered in his chest, his lungs burning from the lack of air as he continued to inconsolably weep, struggling to breathe between his cries.

Maybe he is as bad as everyone said he was.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

A few weeks had gone by since Jisung and Seungmin’s argument at the party, but the tension between the two boys didn’t last long as Seungmin showed up to Jisung’s apartment the very next day with a bowl of soup for his hangover and an apology, which Jisung graciously accepted, neither wanting to be upset at each other any longer.

Despite that, the words Seungmin had said never left Jisung, leaving a permanent scar on his brain as he constantly recalled the moment. The words painfully rang through his ears as a ball of shame and misery formed in his stomach while he reminisced about his past relationships, trying to figure out what he did so wrong.

Jisung felt horrible as he carried this weight of guilt on his shoulders as he wondered how his actions had hurt others and how he had remained oblivious for so long. All the insecurities and fears he had about himself were true at the end. Everyone around him was in agreement that he was the issue and he was the one behaving so selfishly in every relationship. He could understand that and he knew if his friend’s felt that way, it had to be the truth, but he was still struggling to identify what exactly about him and his behavior was so bad.

Sure, he could reach out and ask his friends to help see what he was missing, but he was too afraid to face the reality of the situation, not ready to take another brutal beating of words. He was terrified to hear the truth, but he knew the same conclusion he came to long ago remained true. Love was just not for him, it didn’t want him the same way he did.

Everyone had taken note of Jisung’s downtrodden mood and thought he had just needed a few days to collect himself, but once everyone realized more time had passed and that he didn’t even have the will to attend a recording session with Chan and Changbin, everyone went into crisis mode. So, over the last few weeks, someone would show up to Jisung’s house to check in on him and either spend a few hours with him at home, or forcefully drag him out the house to spend time with the group, insisting it would help him feel better.

Each time someone had forced him out, he would be huffing and sulking like a grumpy toddler throwing a tantrum, but as soon as he got there, he would be as cheery as ever and would end the day feeling a lot better. He hated how right his friends were, but he was always thankful for every time they dragged him out despite his whiny and bratty attitude.

However, there was another mental battle Jisung was fighting that everyone was unaware of, or so he thought, and he was definitely not coming out of it as a winner. Unfortunately for Jisung, since the time you joined Minho’s dance team, you had hit it off so well with the rest of the group that you were there almost every time Jisung joined you guys on an outing. And each day he spent with you, he found himself falling more and more for you.

He was really trying to stop himself, as he took Seungmin’s words to heart and imagined that sentiment was shared with everyone else, but this task was becoming an impossible one for Jisung to tackle!

It was weird. Every time he’d get invited out, Jisung would dread seeing you because he knew he was doomed to a hopeless, unrequited love with you, but if you weren’t there, he would be so disappointed and would find himself wanting to go home sooner. He wanted to stay as far away from you as possible, but something about you drew him in and he couldn’t resist and now here he is, finding himself in a friendship with you that he could not escape.

It’s not that he didn't want to be friends with you, if anything he loved the friendship you two had grown in such a short time and how quickly he became fond of you. You were incredibly sweet to Jisung, constantly showing your consideration for him everyday in new ways. If he ever felt anxious or out of place, you were the first to take notice and offer to get him out of whatever stuffy social situation he was in and stay with him til he was ready to join the others again. If he had decided to stay in that day, you’d send him a message letting know he was missed and hoped to see him the next time. There was even a time where he was too sick to leave the house, and much to his surprise, he found you and Minho at his front door steps with food and medicine.

Somehow, unlike everyone else before you, you had shown him a special kind of unwavering kindness and didn’t judge him for his past. For the first time in years, he finally felt safe and unconditionally loved in a friendship that wasn’t one of the boys. That was enough for Jisung to know that you were someone he wanted to keep in his life for as long as possible, even if it meant he had to confront eventual heartbreak and only stay by your side as nothing more than a friend.

But, that was okay. That was more than enough for him because as long as you were there, he would give you his all and support you endlessly. He would do anything to see you smile, anything to ensure your happiness, and if that meant he couldn’t be your lover, then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Besides, no one has ever been happy with him in a relationship. This was how it had to be, this is how he could protect you from himself.

Regardless of how Jisung felt towards you, he had seriously doubted you had any interest in him in the first place. How could someone as angelic as you want to be with, well, trash? There was no way you hadn’t heard about his disastrous dating history, and if you were as smart as he thought you were, that alone would turn you off from him. Not only that, he was pretty sure you had heard about the fight he had with Seungmin and if that fight said anything about him, it showed that he was a mess of insecurities and arrogance. Why on Earth would you ever like someone like that? And if you heard about the fight, he was positive that Seungmin and everyone else had warned you about him and dissuaded you from even considering anything romantic with him.

It was doomed!

And although Jisung had earnestly vowed to himself he would not engage in anything romantic with you, he was failing miserably. His affection towards you was something everyone picked up on. He always, no matter what, had his undivided attention on you as you ranted to him about whatever bothered you that day or how you were struggling to nail a part of your dance routine. It was obvious. He loved hearing you talk and could listen to you for hours as if you were his own personal podcast, always mirroring your emotion and blindly agreeing with you during your rants, always asking you questions whenever you rambled on about your own hobbies and interests.

If someone ever talked over you, he’d make sure to ask you what you were going to say. If you were upset that day, he’d always offer to buy you ice cream and insist to the group that they all needed to stop by the local ice cream shop. If you ever showed him a video of your latest dance routine, he’d shower you with a ridiculous amount of compliments until you were a flustered mess asking him to stop. And every time he noticed you were wearing a new outfit, changed your hair, or wore different jewelry, he would be quick to notice and let you know how wonderful you looked. He was shamelessly flirting with you, and he hadn’t even realized how far he had let it go.

On the other side of the pond, you were well aware of every horrible thing that was said about Jisung, even long before you had become a member of Minho’s team, and to be quite frank, you thought he was a complete asshole from what you’ve heard. But once you realized that he was one of Minho’s lifelong best friends, you knew you had to push your personal feelings aside, especially when you realized some of the music Minho had you perform with was Jisung’s original work. You hated to admit it, but he was an absolute genius when it came to music production and you were slowly becoming a fan of his work.

All you could tell yourself was that he couldn’t have been that bad if everyone was still his friend and reminded yourself people change, it’s not like you were going to end up liking the guy anyway.

Oh, but you were so wrong.

The first time you saw him at Minho’s party, you thought he was so irresistibly adorable during his drunken babbling, and you were honestly taken aback that the cute man who sat in front of you was none other than Han Jisung. Although, it did help soften your initial thoughts of him, making you think maybe he wasn’t that bad, especially after seeing him become a blushing mess at the mere sight of you, but those thoughts were quickly pushed away while Hyunjin walked you to your car after you left.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Jisung from other people, right?”

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty, but he doesn’t seem so bad though.”

“Well, he isn’t if you’re just friends with him, but… He definitely seemed into you when he saw you and as your friend, I feel like it is my responsibility to let you know that he isn’t someone you should pursue. I love him, but you deserve someone better than that… I would hate to see him hurt another one of my friends.”

“Ah, no worries, Hyunjin. I’ve made dumb dating choices in the past, but I’m not that stupid.”

Except, you were that stupid. So, so, so incredibly stupid and you were terrified that anyone would uncover your growing crush on the boy. You could already imagine both Hyunjin and Seungmin’s disappointed looks, and you promised yourself you were taking this little secret to the grave. You had every reason in the world to not be attracted to Jisung, especially after hearing how he put his hands on Seungmin during their argument! Drunk or not, there’s no excuse for that and his denial of his actions said so much about him.

Yet, here you are, sitting next to Jisung on the couch in the living room of Minho’s place, excitedly talking to him about the latest episode of the drama you were currently watching, gossiping to him as if the actors were real people you knew in your personal life. He sat on the couch with his legs crossed, facing you while nodding along to every word you said, his eyes trained on you and you alone.

“And-, oh my god, I almost forgot, but the lead then told her to shut up! Can you believe that?!”

Jisung would then gasp, theatrically putting his hand on his chest, “No fucking way… What is his problem?”

“Right! And then-,” you paused for a moment, suddenly feeling insecure that you were forcing Jisung to listen about something he probably didn’t care for. You sighed and gave him an apologetic smile as you anxiously twiddled your fingers, “I’m sorry, I got carried away, you probably don’t wanna listen to me talk about some stupid drama.”

This time, Jisung did look genuinely surprised as his eyebrows furrowed upward with panicked eyes, “What? No, I love hearing you talk about this, you’re always so excited that it’s adorable.” He hated how fast your mood changed and started to worry if he had done something to make you feel that way. Did he look uninterested? Was he not responsive enough?

“Did I do something to make you think I didn’t want to listen?”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at Jisung calling you adorable, and then felt your heart start beating loudly in your chest when he asked you that question with all the concern and worry in the world filling his eyes. You shot straight up in your seat, returning his gaze with astonishment, not expecting him to be so considerate. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong… I just…” You paused for a moment, trying to find the words without revealing too much on how you were feeling, “I just got nervous for a moment, I don’t know.”

Jisung nodded as you spoke, taking your hands in his as he gave you a reassuring smile, “Y/N, I promise there’s nothing more I’d love than to hear you talk. You could be explaining the most boring thing ever, and I would still listen to you happily.”

In the kitchen stood Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Minho who were watching the scene unfold before them as they prepared food for everyone, while the others were upstairs playing whatever video game upstairs. Seungmin narrowed his eyes as he watched Jisung reach for your hands, taking note of the flustered look on your face.

“I think Y/N likes him.”

Hyunjin and Minho turned to Seungmin for a moment, then looked back at you and Jisung, unsure what exactly Seungmin saw other than Jisung’s flirtations.

Hyunjin let out an annoyed exhale as he continued to fry the eggs on the pan, then muttering, “There’s no way that’s possible. Y/N knows better.”

“I don’t know. Just look at them, they act like there’s no one else in the room when they’re together,” whispered Seungmin.

“I guess,” murmured Hyunjin, clearly upset about Seungmin’s hunch, “This is going to end terribly, isn’t it?”

Minho silently stood as he separated the ramen noodles that were boiling in the pot, humming along as he listened to the two younger boys angrily whisper. “I think it will be okay. I think our Jisungie has learned his lessons.”

The other two looked at him with disbelief, neither believing Jisung was capable of ever growing from the immature mindset he had for as long as they’ve known him. Hyunjin scoffed, “No, you don’t really think that, do you?”

Minho kept his eyes on the stove as the other two stared down at the back of his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Well, I could be wrong, I can’t exactly predict the future, but…” He then glanced back at the couch, smiling as Jisung made you laugh, “He treats them differently. I don’t know why, but he does. Don’t you two think so?”

Seungmin and Hyunjin stayed silent, not being able to deny Minho’s statement because they fully knew he wasn’t wrong. Everyone knew something in Jisung had changed when he had met you, and everyone saw how gently he treated you, almost as if he was scared he could scare you away with one little misstep.

“Whatever, I still don’t trust him,” Hyunjin grumbled, putting the last of the eggs on a plate.

Minho chuckled at both of the boy’s protectiveness, “That’s okay, no one is forcing you to, but remember, they’re both adults. They can do what they want, no matter how stupid we all think it is.”

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Months had gone by and there was no denying the small romance that had flourished between you and Jisung. You both were hopelessly head-over-heels for the other, to the point that everyone around you two had grown sick of it and was praying for the day where one of you would finally confess your feelings to the other.

You had long given up on hiding your feelings for the boy from your friends, especially after one day Seungmin had confronted you and told you it was the most obvious thing in the world. Part of you had prepared yourself for Seungmin to berate you for your poor taste in men, especially after the plethora of warnings you had been given about Jisung, but instead, he was very supportive and wanted you to feel comfortable enough to talk to him about it, even if he thought you could do better.

Jisung had become a part of your daily life, spending nearly everyday with each other or at the very least, you both had become accustomed to texting one another throughout the day. You’d start your day either sending or receiving a ‘good morning’ text from him and you’d end your day the same way, except it was a ‘good night’ text.

You’d often pay him a visit at his studio on days he had lost track of time, always letting yourself in after he had given you the passcode to the door, which he had only given to you, Minho, Chan, and Changbin. It came to you as a surprise when he gave you the code to his studio, insisting that you needed it so you could drop in whenever you wanted, telling you that you were always a welcomed guest at his studio. In reality, Jisung just wanted an excuse to see you more, and you had taken the bait as you would often show up with an iced americano in hand and whatever takeout food you were in the mood for that day.

If you ever had a long day of dance practice, Jisung would make sure to stop by to drop off a snack and drink as well, often receiving complaints from Minho over his blatant favoritism, accusing him of neglecting his best friend, which would cause Jisung to grow red from embarrassment. Despite his relentless teasing, Minho was more than proud to see how much Jisung had grown and how naturally caring for you had come to him. It was a side of Jisung no one had ever seen, and it was a very much welcomed change.

Today, you were sitting on the couch at Jisung’s apartment as he washed the dishes from the dinner you both had attempted to make, humming along as he put them in the drying rack. For some reason, you and Jisung had thought it would be a great idea to recreate a steak dish you both saw online and while it did not go terribly, the steaks ended up being a little too burnt for either of your liking. You were a bit disappointed, part of you feeling embarrassed you couldn’t even cook a proper meal in front of your crush, but he had lifted your spirits up by telling you it was an ‘excellent culinary choice’ to serve the steaks charred, shushing you each time you said the word burnt.

Soon after, he took a seat next to you on the couch, flicking through the TV as he tried to find something to watch, but soon gave up as he turned to you, “Is there anything you wanna watch?”

You scrunch up your face as you take a few seconds to think, clapping your hands excitedly once the idea hits you, “Have you ever watched Love is Blind? It’s kinda a dumb reality show, but I still haven’t seen the new season and it’s always a fun watch!”

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows quizzically, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy, “Love is Blind? I’ve never heard of it, what's it about?”

“Never heard of it!? No way!” You gasped, a hand clasping over your mouth dramatically as he smiled adoringly at your antics, “It’s such a crazy show! Basically, a bunch of singles are trying to find the love of their lives, but they’re meeting people without ever seeing what they look like!”

“Oh, so they only get to talk to each other?”

“Yeah! And then they have to get engaged, and once that happens, they can finally meet face to face. They’re supposed to get married at the end of the series, but there’s always juicy drama going on before then!”

Jisung hummed, taking interest in the show's concept, “That’s cool, so they’re trying to see if love is truly blind?”

“Exactly!” You chirped, nodding with enthusiasm as you beamed at Jisung, waiting for his response.

“Sure, let’s watch it!” How could he ever say no to you when you’re smiling at him that way? He swore he felt his heart flutter the moment you smiled at him, the jubilation in your eyes making him become putty in your hands. “Do you really believe in that though? Like, unconditional love?”

You turned to him as you grabbed the remote from his hands, a bit taken aback from his question, “Well, I’ve already seen the other seasons and some couples have definitely proven that love can be blind, but love differs for everyone. I think that’s the beauty of this show though, loving someone despite their flaws and loving them for who they truly are.”

He leaned back on the couch, returning your gaze as he lost himself deep in thought, “Right, but do you think you could love someone unconditionally? Even if they’ve made mistakes in the past?”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to understand where Jisung was coming from, a gentle smile gracing your features as you reached a comforting hand over his wrist, ��Well, as long as those past mistakes aren’t murder or something, I don’t see why not. I’d like to think people are able to grow from their past.”

Jisung smiled as he sighed in relief, his other hand resting on top of yours, “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

It was a quiet and cold night as you curled up into Jisung’s side, your head resting on his chest with a leg thrown over his as his arms swaddled you into a tight embrace. It was peaceful and serene, the only sounds filling the room was the light pitter patter of rain against his bedroom window and the comforting beat of his heart. You tilted your head upwards and caught Jisung’s gaze, a relaxed smile on his face as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, but you could’ve sworn you saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

To be quite honest, you weren’t entirely sure what you and Jisung were, as neither of you had ever officially discussed labels, but you both were very aware of each other’s feelings for one another. There was no doubt that you both were more than just friends, but the label of partners or dating was something Jisung nervously tiptoed around.

After a few weeks of these shared tender moments, you figured Jisung would soon ask you to be his, but the question never came and it filled you with nervousness. You didn’t want to pressure him, as you could sympathize with his concerns since he was very transparent with you about his hesitance from the very start.

Jisung was irrevocably in love with you and wanted nothing more than to make you his partner, but he would be lying to you if he wasn’t also terrified of the weight of that label. For so long, Jisung had convinced himself he was incapable of loving someone the way they deserved to be and never thought anyone would have ever fallen for him, especially someone as perfect as you. Perhaps it was your sheer kindness and undying belief in him, but he felt like a complete fraud, as if you had imagined him to be this amazing man that he could never be and has never been. He wasn’t ready to fall short of your expectations, he wasn’t ready to face the disappointed and heartbroken look on your face once you realized the rumors about him were complete truth.

He felt as if he was truly undeserving of someone as pure as you, someone so selfless and caring who approached their own feelings with so much confidence, while he was just a shamefully selfish man who didn’t know how to trust himself, who didn’t believe in his own ability to make his own partner happy, a man who was painfully insecure and unsure of who he was.

He wanted you with every fiber of his being and desperately wanted to be the very reason behind your smiles, laughter, and happiness. He so greedily desired to see his own reflection in your eyes for the rest of his life, a sight that he wanted to treasure for the rest of life and the thought of you looking at someone else that way physically pained him.

Yet, his fear of hurting you and disappointing everyone else around him held him back from chasing those feelings and Seungmin’s words from months ago ruminated in his mind as a constant reminder of his past failures. He would not be able to shoulder the burden of hurting you, the guilt would completely eat him up because at the end of the day, it would be his fault for fooling you into the idea that he was capable of giving you that movie perfect love story. For crying out loud, he’s Han Jisung, the guy everyone hated and criticized for his ineptitude of romantic relations. He knew what you wanted, he knew you were growing impatient and scared over his inaction, but his anxieties held him captive in a standstill, and he was not strong enough to challenge it.

All he could tell you was that he needed more time, that he was afraid and needed the chance to grow that confidence in himself once more, but he knew time was finite and he was running out of it.

As he kissed your forehead, he felt his heart flinch as a pang of sadness flooded his body, forcefully fighting the overwhelming adoration and affection he had for you. He was petrified at the way his body slowly began to reject the feelings of love he had for you, fear and insecurities consuming it as if everything you had to offer nothing. All rational thinking had left him in that moment as panic took over his thoughts, angrily yelling at him for being such an idiot to think anything would ever change. How stupid he was to lead on another innocent person and how he was only going to hurt them, just like all the others before him. How idiotic he was for thinking he was ever deserving of love, as love does not wish to know him.

He just couldn’t be your love.

God, if he wasn’t such a selfish asshole, maybe then he could’ve saved you from his own carelessness. If he had only heeded the warnings of his friends, but once again, he has fallen into the trap of self-centered needs outweighing the feelings of others. If he had only stayed your friend and nothing more, if he had only not-

“Y/N, I don’t think this is going to work.”

Did he really say that out loud? He held his breath as he cursed himself for acting so quickly out of fear, his heart stopped as he watched you stiffen in his own arm. You silently sat yourself up, his arms falling to the mattress as you turned to him with tears filling your eyes, your lips trembling as you tried to contain a sob.

Oh, how Jisung just wished the world would swallow him whole in that moment, his heart completely shattering at the sight of your crestfallen face. He looked into your watery eyes to only realize that this time, the reflection of your eyes showed the source of your sorrow, an expression he had wished he never had the misfortune to witness.

“I… I’m sorry, I just-”

You shook your head, raising a hand to signal him to stop talking, refusing to take an explanation from him, “It’s okay. I was afraid this would happen.”

You forced a tightlipped smile, taking a deep breath through your nose as you tried to keep yourself together, faintly whispering a broken “Please don’t text or call me.”

Jisung shot up as he watched you get up from his bed, trying to scramble after you as you made your way to his front door, grabbing your belongings on the way. He didn’t realize how much he was already crying until he tried to speak to you, but it all came out in a blubbering sob. “Y/N, please, listen to me…” He begged you to listen to him, pleaded for you to try to understand where this was all coming from and to understand that he still loved you so much despite how selfish his actions are, yet you never gave him a chance.

“Jisung, please. I don’t care why, I don’t want to know,” you croaked between sobs, doing your best to maintain your composure as you faced the front door, refusing to look at him. “I just feel like an idiot. I should’ve listened to what people said about you.”

There you went, leaving his apartment and shutting the door in his face with force, leaving Jisung to confront nothing, but his own cowardice.

Once again, Jisung fell into the trap of his own self-centered thinking, getting lost in his own immaturity as he became the victim of the circumstances he created. If he had only realized that he wasn't alone in this battle of his own conscience, if he had only realized you would've fought each insecurity and fear with him.

Oh, woe is me, Han Jisung. Only a fool would be afraid of love.

#skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz angst #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids angst #han jisung #skz jisung #skz jisung x reader #han x reader #skz han #skz han x reader #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #cinnamostar writes

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subastian-swallows · 1 year

Text

HOGWARTS LEGACY CHARACTERS

Argument Aftercare (ó﹏ò｡)

Sebastian:

Arguments with Sebastian are usually filled with a lot of emotions and depending on the situation, there are multiple ways it usually ends. For example, if it had something to do with the Dark Arts, in which you’ve always been on the fence about — your arguments are usually a lot more intense, perhaps due to how worthless he stills feels about not helping his sister. These arguments usually consist of raised voices, scoffing, belittling and usually ends with him storming away. However, it doesn’t take long for him to hate himself for treating you, the one person that had stuck beside him through everything, this way and when he finds you crying behind the Herbology classroom, he drags you into a strong embrace. Eventually, despite your attempt to push him away, his apology worms it’s way into your heart and you realise he’s just struggling and he just needs you. You make it known, that this doesn’t make it right and Sebastian agrees but he just needs you, needs to hold you and eventually — your love for him perhaps clouds your vision. HOWEVER, if your arguments are due to noticing you unintentionally flirting with another guy or what he assumes is that, Sebastian’s more dominant side comes out and he usually makes it known you are his. This usually ends up with both of you pressed up against a wall barely hidden from view and he proves that you belong to him. This has always been something you enjoyed and perhaps, at time you purposely make him mad, just for this result.

Ominis:

Ominis’ arguments, are usually around Sebastian or your blatant disregard of the harm you put yourself in and at times…it’s about how you tease him, especially in front of others. The arguments about Sebastian are usually about your differing opinions in whether what he was doing was wrong or not — or perhaps, it was simply about the idea that you would go against him on something so deeply traumatising to him. But, eventually, when he’s so overwhelmed and disappointed at not only you but Sebastian, you slowly pull him into a warm embrace and refuse to let go — promising that it’s not that you agree, but you just don’t want to leave Sebastian alone. This usually wins Ominis over eventually, but he can’t help but feel upset by it — though his mood quickly lightens, when you distract him. When the arguments are based on, finding you, once again in the infirmary, he practically grumbles and stomps around the room — questioning what you were thinking. This usually ends with him grumbling for days, even after supporting you to the common room, to the bathroom and helps you clean your wounds, he eventually swallows his anger and kisses you softly — wishing for you to trust him more. The teasing arguments, are more so he hates listening to you compliment others — usually Garreth in Potions and those eventually are high intense arguments more so, that he feels hot and bothered — these end steamy and you constantly assuring him, it’s always been him and will only be him.

Garreth:

Garreth arguments are not common, considering how easy-going he usually is, as well as being super supportive of his incredibly talented and badass partner. Now, this doesn’t mean you don’t argue, no you see it might take a lot but when it does happen — Garreth usually finds it incredibly difficult to explain why he’s upset and so he hides. Not usually very hard, he’s usually in the Potion Classroom and as he grumbles and works on his next concoction — he eventually lays everything that’s upset him out. Usually, it’s due to your friendship with Sebastian and Ominis, perhaps out of jealously or worry — but deep down, he just doesn’t feel good enough for you. When he expresses this to you, you can’t help but laugh, which only angers him — and yet, when you quickly move to push yourself onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, acknowledging his worries, you can’t help but to mock him. You eventually express your feelings towards him and make it known that, you want him and only him and this usually is enough to make him happy again. This always results in both of you making out in the classroom and getting caught by Professor Sharp. Like Ominis, arguments also happen when you put yourself in danger and like Ominis, he usually spends the whole day grumbling and helping you around — wishing he was stronger to support you, despite your attempts at telling him you’re alright.

#ominis x you #sebastian sallow #sebastian x reader #ominis x reader #hogwarts #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy garreth #garreth x you #garreth weasley #garreth x reader #garreth weasley fluff #sebastian sallow x you #headcanon

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cobwebbedcat · 26 days

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Nothing That a Little Gatorade and Expired Aspirin Can't Fix

MINORS DNI

warnings: soft dom top amab gender neutral reader, sub bottom trans male sick! Vincent Sinclair, emetophilia, piss, dirty talking, Vincent is mute, just a hint of odontophilia

Terms used for vincent: cunt, pussy, clit, dick, t-dick

There are not many things that will get you out of your bed and home past midnight, but two texts coming from Bo have you wiping sleep from your eyes and pulling on whatever clothes are closest to you.

After reading Vincent threw up. Then: Asking for you. Bring meds, you text back a quick omw! Before rushing to the 24/7 CVS and making the drive to the Sinclair’s house, which is of course, obnoxiously far away from Ambrose, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

When you enter the Sinclair house, forgoing knocking or announcing yourself considering they’re expecting you, you find Bo in the kitchen halfway through a cigarette and staring at a bottle of Aspirin.

“Expired two years ago,” he grumbles, still staring at the bottle, refusing to look at you.

“That’s fine, brought some stuff,” Bo finally looks up when you raise the two bags full of things for Vincent for him to see. It doesn’t show much on his face, but even in the dim light you can see the tension release from his shoulders.

“Good. Better go see him then,” he huffs, tossing the bottle of expired Aspirin in the trash. You take that as your cue to leave, and hustle down to Vincent’s room.

He’s curled up in a fetal position on his bed, trying to make himself as small as possible. You gently place your bags at his bedside, and sit on the edge of the bed, running your fingers through his long hair to let him know you’re here.

Vincent lets out a soft whine and reaches out to hold onto you, looking up at you from behind his mask.

“Bo said you threw up,” you say softly. Vincent cringes, then nods. “Think you could sit up for me? I brought some stuff for you,” he uncurls himself, and with your help, he props himself up against a mountain of pillows.

“Should probably take off your mask,” you hum, wondering how and why he’s even wearing it right now. Vincent huffs, but when you give him a stern look, he crumbles, and takes it off.

With his face revealed to you, you can see how flushed he is. Gently, you place the back of your hand against his forehead. He nearly flinches away from you, but once your skin touches his he leans into you, starved for your touch. He’s not worryingly hot, but definitely has a fever.

“Poor thing,” you coo, reaching into your bags and getting him medicated. You brought Gatorade as well, and make him drink as much as he can manage (which isn’t a lot before he gags).

“Alright, well the meds are going to take a bit before they start making you feel much better. Is there something I could do to help?”

Vincent stares at you for so long you wonder if he heard you. Just when you’re about to repeat yourself, he looks away from you and signs

“Lay down with me?” And oh, isn’t that sweet. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“Of course, darling,” you lift the blankets and slide into bed next to him. Vincent slowly inches towards you until he’s nestled against your body, humming softly and inhaling your scent. You brush your fingers through his hair until his breathing evens out and he falls asleep.

You’re brought out of slumber for a second time during the night to the sound of Vincent getting sick in the bathroom.

Dragging yourself out of the comfort of his bed you make your way to him. He’s crouched over the toilet, catching his breath from the work his body is putting him through. He whimpers softly when you sit yourself next to him, and tenderly move his hair from his face and gather it into a ponytail.

You kiss the back of his neck which is now exposed, and Vincent groans as he lazily lifts a hand up to fingerspell,

“Leave.”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart,” you muse softly, bringing the hand that’s not holding his hair back to rub comforting circles into his stomach, “couldn’t possibly go when you're in such a state,” you decide not to add how you think he looks cute like this, all helpless. Vincent is either too tired or too sick to protest more. Even if he wanted to, another wave of nausea hits him, and he’s puking again.

You can feel the way his stomach clenches and pulses under your touch. He’s sick for a while, working up a sweat as he empties his stomach over and over again. Softly you whisper praise and apologies, sorry for the discomfort and pain he’s going through, even if it does make you a bit flustered.

As soon as he’s done, you’re kissing him all over, gentle pecks which remind him that you’re here and you’ve got him. Vincent slumps into your hold, his hands coming up to cover his face. You know he appreciates you being there, even if he’s somewhat embarrassed.

You hold him close, kissing him, and gently rubbing at his stomach until Vincent rises on shaky legs. You follow his lead, and once you’re on your feet he leans his body weight on you in front of the sink, letting you get his toothbrush ready for him.

When it comes to brushing his teeth, ridding his mouth of any leftover bile, Vincent doesn’t take the brush from you, rather he closes his eyes and opens his mouth.

Cooing you take his face into one of your hands and brush his teeth for him. You’re especially gentle with him, taking care not to activate his gag reflex. He moans as the soft bristles brush their way across each tooth and along his tongue. He’d normally never let you baby him so much. You’re eating up how easily he submits to your coddling.

“Sorry, I was gross,” Vincent signs as soon as he lifts his head from spitting into the sink. You hold back a laugh; it’s funny that he’s more embarrassed by puking in front of you than admitting the heinous and cruel murders he’s committed.

“You were never gross,” you assure him, cupping his scarred face and bringing him into a sweet kiss now that his mouth is clean. You wrap an arm around his waist, “back to bed?” he lets out an affirmative hum and lets himself be led by you.

“Think you could eat a little something before you fall back asleep?” he doesn’t seem all that tired anyways, and despite the grimace he makes at the prospect of eating, Vincent nods all the same.

From the bags you’d brought with you, you pull some inoffensive snacks, and more Gatorade. Vincent does the best he can before grimacing and pushing the food away. Pleased that he was able to stomach anything at all, you make him take another dose of medication before laying down again.

“I am hot,” he complains as he snuggles up under the covers with you. You bring the back of your hand to his forehead and Vincent’s eyelashes flutter shut.

“You are hot,” you hum, “I think your fever’s back. The meds should kick in again soon,” you state, attempting to be reassuring. Vincent sighs and goes so still and so quiet that you think he’s maybe fallen asleep.

“Hot here,” he finally signs clumsily, avoiding eye contact as he takes your hand and brings it to his clothed crotch.

“Oh?” You can’t tell if the flush on Vincent’s cheeks is from fever or fluster, but it makes him look adorable all the same. “I can help out with that,” you purr, feeling desire stir in you as he lets out the softest moan and nods.

“You’ve been so cute tonight,” you hum, pulling the blankets back and stationing a leg over either side of him, caging him in, as you rub your thumb on his clit through his sleep pants.

Vincent whines, turning the scarred half of his face to hide it in the pillow. “I mean it, letting me take care of you, and being so helpless makes you really cute,” you hum. His thighs clench around your hand, and he jerks his hips, wanting more.

You’ll give him more when he asks for it, but for the moment you lean in and kiss him as you tease him through his pants.

Vincent loves your kisses, moaning softly when he feels your tongue lick against his lips. He opens his mouth easily for you, desperate to deepen the kiss. You lick deep into his mouth, forgetting how sensitive he is right now.

He pushes you away quick, turning to dry heave and gag. He swallows, and the two of you wait a moment, adrenaline coursing through you as you wait to see if he’ll be sick or not. The nausea seems to pass because he wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you into another kiss, grinding his cunt into your hand.

You deepen the kiss once again, this time being careful of just how deep you tongue fuck his mouth, instead sucking on his lip, and letting his tongue into your mouth.

Vincent continues to weakly hump your hand, sighing and moaning at the feeling of your finger circling his clit. It’s not long before you can feel a hot, damp wetness on the outside of his pants. Your cock aches imagining how wet he is.

Finally, Vincent pushes you back to sign “please,” looking up at you with pleading eyes.

Pulling away, you’re quick to help him out of his pants, revealing his glistening wet pussy to your hungry eyes.

“Let me eat you out?” you ask, using two fingers to spread his lips apart and look at his hole.

Vincent makes a strangled noise and nods his head quickly. He regrets that immediately, bringing a hand to his head at the ache that comes from the action. You laugh softly, rubbing gentle circles into his thighs,

“Careful with yourself baby, you’re not feeling well,” you remind him as you make yourself comfortable between his legs. You kiss his hip bone, then kiss along his skin until your lips reach his erect clit. Vincent sighs and melts into the bed, weakly wrapping his legs around your head, and pushing you further against his pussy.

You both moan as you take Vincent into your mouth, circling around his t-dick with your tongue, then sucking gently. Bringing your fingers to his wet hole, you gently press two fingers inside of him. He’s hot and practically gushing self-lubricant, opening easily for you. You suck his dick for a minute longer, then move onto the main event.

Sliding your fingers out of Vincent, you quickly replace them with your tongue, and groan at the taste of him. He makes sweet little sounds as you curl your tongue, pressing it as deep as possible into his hole. His thighs tremble and clench around your head, his hands holding weakly onto your head, pushing you further into his cunt.

You pull back to return to his clit, sucking hard then swirling your tongue around it. Vincent gasps, his thighs shaking and twitching. You look up at him, and one of his hands has left your head to try and finger-spell something to you. Whatever he’s saying is incomprehensible to you, because the letters get scrambled and lost as his head gets more and more muddled with lust.

While still looking up at him, you pull of his clit and return to burying your tongue inside of him. Vincent’s hole clenches around you, and then he's shaking his head and mouthing something to you. You figure he must be close to cumming, and double down on your efforts. His breathing hitches and quickens, and then a hot liquid spurts from his cunt and into your mouth.

Vincent’s not a squirter, and the two of you know that. You open your mouth further as you realize that Vincent is pissing into your mouth. You can hear him whining and squeaking noises of objection, yet his legs tighten around you, keeping you closer.

You’ll apologize to him later for making him drink all that Gatorade, but for now you moan and slurp hungrily at his cunt as you drink down his piss. Your cock throbs in your pants, and if you weren’t leaking pre before, you are now.

Even after his stream dies down you lick and lave your tongue along his cunt, making sure he’s all clean, and that you haven’t missed a drop.

“Sorry,” Vincent signs.

“Don’t start with that,” you groan, pulling away from his pussy (despite wanting to back in for another bite, so to speak), your voice rough and deep with want, “that was so fucking hot.” He covers his face with his hands, but you can still see him grinning underneath them.

“Can I fuck you, darling?” you ask, bordering on pleading. Vincent nods, still hiding behind his hands.

With his permission, you fumble for the lube on his bedside table, nearly vibrating with excitement and arousal. “God, can’t wait to fuck your dirty pussy,” you mutter to yourself, slicking your cock up with lube. “Letting me stick my cock in your piss and spit slicked cunt, christ,” Vincent whines softly at that, tugging on his own hair to find something to occupy his hands.

“You good on your back?” you ask, knowing that he loves getting fucked on his hands and knees more than anything. Vincent nods, likely far too tired to hold himself up. Even if he prefers doggystyle, you like having him like this, being able to see and hear every reaction he has to your cock stirring up his insides.

“Perfect,” you purr, holding onto his hips as you press your cockhead against his hole. Vincent hiccups, reaching up to wrap his arms around your neck. Shyly he pulls your head towards his, leaning up and trying to capture your lips in a kiss.

“Sure you wanna kiss me, baby?” you tease, pressing yourself into him. He whines and you continue, “gonna taste your own piss—hah— on my mouth.” Vincent squeezes around your cock at your words, his mouth dropping open.

“Please,” he brings a hand down to sign. Always being one to spoil your lover rotten, you lean down and kiss him deeply. Vincent moans, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you pressing yourself further into him, or because he can taste himself in your mouth.

He’s nice and relaxed around you, opening up so sweetly for your cock. You wonder if he’d been tighter if you’d fucked him before eating him out, if he would have squeezed tighter around you as he tried to stop himself from pissing all over your cock.

“Fuck,” you sigh, bottoming out inside of him. He’s as hot and flushed inside as his skin is, burning up around your length. You know you shouldn't be happy that he's got a fever, but it feels so fucking good.

Vincent lets out an appreciative sigh, his lashes fluttering shut. “Feelin’ good?” in your haze of lust you’d nearly forgotten how sick he is right now. Vincent nods lazily, but he’s sweating, his long hair sticking to his body. You hum, feeling his forehead again.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re overheating,” you muse, hoping he’s really feeling alright. Vincent whines,

“Good, good, more,” he signs in a rush, pulling you back in for another kiss.

Despite him telling you he’s alright, you fuck him nice and slow, being so tender and fragile with him. You rub circles into his hips as you drag your hips back and forth. Your kisses match the pace, as filthy as ever, but slow and drawn out. You’re in no rush, and you will savor him.

Vincent accepts the sweet treatment for longer than you’d anticipated, if you’re honest. It doesn’t surprise you when he finally pushes you back to frown at you, cutely demanding "more," his hands sharp and determined as they sign.

“Just let me know if it’s too much,” you remind him, picking up the pace ever so slightly. The slightest shift has him slightly arching his back off the bed, gasping softly as your cock hits drags along his insides, going deeper and fucking him faster than before. Refusing to get carried away, you keep the pace consistent, even if all you want to do is pound him into the mattress.

“Once you’re all better I’m gonna ruin you,” you promise. Vincent moans at that, nodding and twitching around you. You bring a hand down to circle your thumb around his clit. He clenches like a vice, letting out a spurt of piss, and wetting your cock.

“Fuck baby,” you moan, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching.

“More, say more,” Vincent signs. It takes you a second to remember what you were talking about.

“Oh, sweetheart, once you’re all better I’ll make your pussy a mess. Fuck, want that? I'll fill your fucking tummy with my cum, make you eat any that drips out of your pussy. Want me cumming in you, dropping load after load into you?" you don’t wait for a response, the words tumbling uncontrollably out of your mouth now that he’s got you started.

“Want you to piss all over my cock, let me do the same to you, hah, I’ll cover you in my piss, from here,” you bring a hand from his hips to touch his collarbone, peaking out from under his shirt, “down to here,” you quickly move that same hand down to circle his clit. Vincent spasms around you, “shit, I’ll fill you up with it, let it mix with my cum. Hah I know you want that, want to be covered in my piss, to be messy with me, don’t you darling?”

This time you wait for a response, slowing the movement of your hips, rubbing agonizingly slow circles on his sensitive clit until Vincent nods his head, moving his hips back clumsily against yours. You reward him, speeding up your pace once again.

“Good boy,” you groan, “gonna cum soon, y’close baby?”

Vincent doesn’t answer verbally or with his hands, he just lets out a broken keen, and tugs you close as he cums around your cock. You fuck him through it, jackhammering your hips into him, working him over the edge and through the waves of pleasure that coarse through his body.

You’re so close, but you hold off until he whimpers softly, letting you know he needs you out of him. You pull out, and your hand flies to your cock, jerking yourself off roughly.

“Fuck, fuck baby, gonna cum all over your cunt, make it mine,” you groan, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling your way through his long black locks until your teeth graze against Vincent’s neck. When your balls finally tighten and your orgasm crescendos, you paint his pussy white, and suck a hickey into his neck.

Vincent hums, looking down at the mess you’ve made with indifference. You know he prefers it when you cum inside, but it would have been much more messy and time consuming if you had. You may have really wanted to go in and eat him out again, and Vincent is well past his limit.

“Lets get you cleaned up, huh?” you hum once your limbs stop feeling like jello.

He's much too tired now to be anything but dead weight. There’s no shame nor shyness found as you carry Vincent into the bathroom and lay him down in the bathtub. He lazily signs your name again and again, meditatively going through the motions as the water rises and submerges his body.

“Thank you,” he signs as you join him in the bath.

“Love you,” is your response, largely muffled as you sleepily lean your head on his shoulder.

He hums softly, and your eyes have drifted shut, so you don’t see him tell you that he loves you back, but you already know he does.

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

#hey remember when i said i needed to write some freaky stuff for my health <3 here we go #cw piss #cw emetophilia #emeto tw #spice #sub slasher #sub vincent sinclair #first fic on the new account lets gooo

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maddymoreau · 1 year

Text

Mephistopheles Discussion/Analysis

Like Levi said in Nightbringer Lesson 13-A Mephistopheles is a jerk but MAN is his self imagine, backstory and desperation to be useful/full-fill his “life’s purpose” just . . . Sad.

On the Official Obey Me Nightbringer website Mephistopheles is described as:

A proud demon born to nobles. Raised from a young age to be a playmate for Diavolo, but he is worried that Diavolo will lose interest in him because of the appearance of the brothers.

However there’s so much more to it then that.

Mephistopheles was born with the sole purpose from his family to be Diavolo’s right-hand man.

A position he’s already begun to lose which terrifies him. Something so clear Mammon catches onto it when he tries picking a fight with the brothers.

Mammon: “Like, I think I know what the deal is with you. You’re scared that Lucifer’s gonna replace ya as Lord Diavolo’s right-hand man, aren’t ya?”

There’s a reason Mephisto mentions this to MC:

Which makes Mephistopheles’ reaction to Diavolo saying, “I consider you a dear friend.” sadder.

You still think of me that way.

Also it’s not a coincidence that Mephistopheles’ visits completely stopped a little after Diavolo took the brothers in.

Along with his father having him begin attending the House of Lord sessions more frequently.

It’s Devildom’s complicated politics and the House of Lords AKA Devildom nobility using Mephisto.

Despite him being the one to deliver the House of Lord’s letter to Diavolo they didn’t even explain the full extent of their plans to Mephistopheles.

The House of Lords is using the situation with Beel to put Diavolo at a disadvantage to increase the possibility of Diavolo failing the Kingsblood Crucible.

Which isn’t what Mephistopheles wants.

He tells the brothers, “As long as we refuse to accept you, your opinions don’t matter. You won’t be running things here in the Devildom.” Which is funny when that’s what the House of Lords is trying to do.

Adding onto this I find these lines when Mephisto is expressing his concern to Diavolo so interesting:

Mephisto understands Diavolo’s reason for allowing the brothers into Devildom. He just can’t understand why Diavolo is so invested on a personal level.

While Mephistopheles tries to be Diavolo’s right-hand man he is blind to Diavolo’s actual needs. Diavolo craves friendship, to be perceived outside his Royal status which Mephisto will not do.

Mephistopheles ALWAYS addresses Diavolo as Lord Diavolo even when he’s not around.

Mephisto also considers himself far more trustworthy then the brothers but has yet to realize his nobility and family make him someone Diavolo cannot fully put his trust into.

While with the brothers there’s the situation regarding Lucifer’s oath.

Some may consider Mephisto expecting us to escort him out to be snobbish but that’s curtsey among Devildom nobility.

Which is almost all Mephisto knows.

In the present day during Obey Me Shall We Date in the Memory Card Let’s Take Pictures we learn he’s never been to an arcade. In Hard Mode Lesson 70-6 we learn he’s never eaten a fast food burger, he gets driven around in a expensive car and has a butler. He lives a very sheltered life.

While Diavolo and Mephisto are on friendly terms in the present they definitely aren’t as close. It’s almost like there’s an even larger barrier or wall between them. Which is due to their inability to open up and understand each other.

Being something useful to Diavolo is still something Mephistopheles craves.

OG Lesson 68-7 when transported to the flower garden inside the Demon Lord’s Castle. Certain characters get taken in by a flower’s illusion. One of them being Mephistopheles and what he imagines is silly yet so depressing.

Mephisto just wants to be valued and seen as someone worthy. Especially to Diavolo.

Mephisto’s fight with the brothers in Nightbringer is the perfect example of how he will use his ego, be condescending and rude as a defense mechanism.

In the present day he will often praise/gloat about himself and against the brothers use the fact he was born a demon while they were once angels. To help him stop from feeling inferior. Second best. Not good enough.

However despite it all he still lives earnestly.

WHICH IS THE THING I LOVE MOST ABOUT HIM!!!

He doesn’t use his position in the Newspaper Club to spread lies. Instead only reporting the truth.

Lesson 68-17 : When Mephistopheles risks getting severely injured to save Luke. As everyone is praising him he responds to Luke saying, “It’s not like you need to thank me or anything. It wasn’t a big deal.”

Lesson 70-16 Hard: When fan letters for Asmo got delivered to the newspaper club he took the time try and bring them to Asmo. Luke told him he was really considerate.

Mephistopheles simply responded, “W . . .Well, it’s just a box of letters. It wasn’t that big of a deal for me to bring it here. And someone bothered to write and send each one of these letters. When I considered that, I couldn’t just leave them undelivered, could I?”

Lesson 72-17 : When MC bumps into him he catches us so we dont fall and hurt ourself. When you thank him he says, “I only did what anyone would do. There’s no need to thank me.”

Mephistopheles doesn’t perceive his kind acts as anything noteworthy because he simply believes that’s what everyone would do. WHICH ISN’T TRUE!

Even Luke comments how his behavior isn’t like most demons. Mephistopheles is the final key to helping Luke realize he was wrong about demons.

Lesson 77-A: The way Luke brings sweet treats to share with Mephisto, hangs out with him and when Luke falls asleep Mephistopheles lets him sleep there IS ADORABLE HOW CAN YALL HATE THIS MAN!!!!

Despite his rudeness Mephistopheles is such an interesting complex character and massive lovable dork who sucks at tongue twisters! I hope overtime he gets more fans!!!

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year

Note

>:]

Think about Belo jacking off and moaning your name, only to get walked in on by his deity, before they ever even did something sexual.

Fluff boy must be panicked, not to worry tho, you are far more benevelont than his former masters. Why, you might even help your loyal servant.

[Doing something really short because I think it's cute. Fem reader.]

TW: Unhealthy glorification, cultish mindsets.

Belo is weird.

You know that. You've known it since you met the guy. But he's also the only angel you've ever met in your life, so maybe this is just how most of them are, for all you know. Point is, you personally consider him to be very odd.

Even odder still is the way he's latched onto you like a baby koala.

He just... He presented himself to you as if you were a goddess. He called you that even after you tried to specify, oh so many times, that you're just a human! If you doubted it before, then his consistent refusal of your arguments against your own supposed "godhood" make it very clear that his unshakable faith is truly the mark of an angel.

It's bizarre. Everything has been really bizarre so far... But it could be worse. Belo is a very organized, polite and gentle monster. He usually doesn't overstep boundaries and hardly complains about anything. You tell yourself you're not taking advantage of Belo's kindness when you let him handle the house chores or run errands outside, that you're not abusing your influence over him when you seek his guaranteed validation. But sometimes, it feels like you're enabling his erroneous, idealized perception of yourself.

It's hard not to. Worship is almost addicting, lulling, guilt very quickly plays second-fiddle to immense gratification. You know this isn't really healthy, Belo needs help, not enabling-

But at least it's mutual.

It's not just you enjoying the ego-stroking perks of having an angel at your feet, no no. Belo needs you, legitimately. He needs someone to lean onto, the separation anxiety on this monster is scary. It genuinely seems to put the angel at ease when you're around and he can "serve you", and besides, out of all people out there he could swear subservience to, you'd like to think you're not the worst. That maybe he's a bit lucky to have someone moderately normal.

That doesn't mean there aren't some bumps in the road. Oh, there have been a couple alright... One such was finally getting to leave the house by yourself. The amount of mental gymnastics you had to pull to convince Belo that no, no one will try to viciously attack you without him by your side, was monumental. Truly, you're proud of yourself. Teaching him how to figure out a phone probably helped, he knows you'll call him if you need anything.

Nonetheless, it was very liberating to spend an evening away from his stifling attitude. Granted, you spent that evening running more complex errands Belo's out of the loop on, but it was still a breath of fresh air. You like that he's starting to trust you on these matters a bit more, it's better that way. You were ready to come home and shower the angel in praise for not freaking out or calling you every five minutes, though your plans were cut short the moment you arrived.

Usually, you don't even need to call out, Belo will either be stationed by the front door (exactly where he was when you left), or nearby enough to quickly greet you with a bow. This time, the angel is seemingly nowhere to be found. Huh. It's almost weird not to have him here, ready to take the bags off your hands or remove your coat. Shrugging, you drop your belongings by the hall and remove unnecessary layers of clothing. Maybe he's asleep, you've seen him resting every now and then, not too often.

By the time you're ready to call out, a noise startles you. You know that sound, a heavy rush of air caused by none other than the flutter of mighty wings. So he's home, at least that.

Smiling, you stroll down the hall and head straight for the angel's room, which he hardly uses, preferring to nap on your bedroom's armchair at night. "For safety", he argues. The pleasant expression you wear cracks into a wobbly, wide-eyed gawk at what you see past his open door.

It's always been no secret to you that Belo keeps what you can only call an altar in his room. Entirely dedicated to "the light of his life", his goddess and lady, you. You found it to be a tad creepy, and it still irks you a bit, but Belo assures he only intends to be respectful and prove his admiration with it. It's harmles really, a spare desk furnished with various pictures of you, candles, personal trinkets you've long since stopped caring about, one or two folded articles of clothing and a lock of hair you're not sure if he cut off you at some point. It's... Well, at least it's clean? Yeah, glass half full.

That's not the point here.

Belo kneels directly in front of this altar, barren of any and all coverings, his fluffy white fur in full display as massive wings spread and twitch sporadically, flirting with the flames of lit candles not too far away. His back arches and his chest expands with quickened breaths. You don't need to be a scientist to put two and two together, those parted legs, bucking hips and quiet gasps tell you everything you need to know about what Belo's doing. When he moans, this melodious, gorgeously filthy noise, you have no choice but to shiver and heat up.

That's... You've never heard the angel make a vaguely erotic sound, this is all very new.

It's not as if Belo isn't a sexual being, you've seen him get flustered on a myriad of occasions, and you don't miss the stares he sometimes spares you, even if he's extremely apologetic and ashamed whenever he's caught, you know that can only be lust. And, in a way, you understand the poor guy. He doesn't seem like the type who uh, "gets around", in spite of his rather handsome features. You don't mind that he finds you attractive or looks at you longingly, not at all- You've even considered trying to start something intimate with the angel, but he's so... Prone to dramatic outbursts about anything that's "unclean" or "blasphemous" that you fear it might just rupture what the two of you have going on. That's the last thing you want.

So this... This makes you really happy.

If you lean your head just the slightest amount, you can see the frenzied motions of his hand, spot the pale pink appendage between that blur of white, he grips something else with his other one. The more noises Belo makes, the more your own breathing hastens, watching luridly. The little part of you that screams about how disrespectful what you're doing is quiets down as soon as broken words escape the angel. He's clearly saying something, whispering? You edge closer, laying low.

" I love you I love you I love you I love you- A-Ahn- "

Chanting. That's chanting. Too rhythmic and practiced to be a mere murmur. Each stroke accompanied by a mewl of a declaration. The same three words droning on and on like a broken cassette player in complete mania.

" I love you I love you I- I- My goddess- "

Something tells you he's about to finish, and while some pervy side of you would rather sit and enjoy the show, the desire to claim that end for yourself wins. Cheeks burning, stance wobbly, you carefully inch your way behind the distracted monster, gently smoothing your hands around his tense shoulders.

The reaction is instantaneous.

There's an embarrassing squawk, followed by helpless wing flapping, Belo jolts like a feline and accidentally ends up knocking some items off the altar entirely with his right wing. Oof. At least the candles didn't fall... Not that he looks wounded, just scared. Very scared, if shrunk pupils floating in a sea of lavender have anything to say. Those three eyes contain all the panic the world could ever hold, his body shakes slightly and only after a couple seconds does he have the wherewithal to cover his shame.

Too late, you already got an eyeful of that pretty pink cock, slick and heavy between furred legs.

Something clatters to the ground. A pendant. Your pendant. Probably one of the first things you gave Belo when you caught him touching your jewelry. It's quite simple, just an elegant golden feather. That's what he was grabbing? You'd expect something like a pair of used panties. It's almost heartwarming, in an unexpected way.

He can't seem to spit out a word, or maybe he's genuinely panicking, one thing's for sure, you won't let him enter a babbling fit.

" Belo. I'm not mad, it's okay. "

It doesn't look like he buys it, blinking erratically. " B- M-My lady? "

You think about the type of language he uses when referring to you, what makes him comfortable. A soft smile sits on your face when you start reaching for the buttons of your shirt.

" You know, there's a lot of ways you can worship me, Belo... "

His shuddering is delightful.

#Belo oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #terato #monsterfucker #minors dni #monster boyfriend

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n0vad · 1 year

Text

11:56 pm

Rindou has his hands locked on my hips, holding onto me with a vice grip. I’m straddled on top of him, dabbing at a cut on his face with an alcohol wipe. He groans when I move onto another cut, and my eyes dart up and meet with his; we hold eye contact for a brief second before I look back down.

"I know I said I’d save the lecture for later, but you really need to stop getting into fights, Rin," I say exasperatedly. Honestly, I’m a little annoyed at the many late nights of patching up the cuts, scrapes, and bruises from his numerous fights.

He looks at me for a moment and then smirks before leaning down and whispering into my ear, "But if I stop getting into fights, how am I supposed to get you on top of me?"

I blush, and he chuckles at my flustered state.

"Why so shy, baby? We both know that you like to look at my body when you patch me up," he whispers once more. My eyes widen, and I bury my head in the crook of his neck, refusing to look him in the eye.

He chuckles again, and then he manoeuvres his head so his lips brush against my neck. I breathe shakily, placing my hands on his chest, grasping desperately at his shirt. His hands travel under the loose fabric of my shirt, rubbing mindless circles on the small of my back. I move my head from the crook of his neck and look him in the eyes. His eyes dart between my lips and my eyes, silently asking for permission to close the gap between the two of us.

I press my lips against his, holding his face in my hands. Years of pent-up affection spill out in one kiss, and yet it’s short and sweet. Rindou’s hands return to my waist, holding my hips tightly. He pulls back slightly and mumbles against my lips, "You wouldn’t have to patch me up if stupid guys would just stop talking about you."

I push back and look at him curiously. I have a million questions, none of which I want to ask first. I place my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and I see that he’s frowning. He notices my curious expression and sighs.

"I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you, but there I go running my fucking mouth again," he pauses for a second, looks me in the eyes, and then starts again, "There were some guys saying some shit about you. I had to put those assholes in their place. No one is allowed to disrespect what’s mine."

"What’s yours? That's a bold claim, considering we just kissed for the first time," I tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"Well, you’re my best friend, and I’d be a pretty shit friend if I stood around and let some guys talk shit about you," he defends himself, a lilt of concern in his tone. The way he calls me his best friend makes me pout; is that all we are? Even after this kiss? I frown, and he notices. He always notices.

"What?" He asks, but I don’t want to respond, opting to look away instead. He moves his hands to gently hold my face and says quietly, "Speak to me, baby."

"You say we’re best friends, but then you call me things like baby. I don’t get what you want." I pout and avert my eyes, fiddling with the fingers on his left hand.

He moves his right hand down and lightly runs his thumb over my hip in a circular motion, then he captures my gaze, saying, "I want to be able to hold you and kiss you every day. I want to spend every one of my waking moments thinking about you. I want everyone to know you’re mine."

There’s a brief second of silence between the two of us, and then I lean in to kiss him again. He reciprocates, his hands roaming over the bare skin of my waist and back. This kiss is hungrier and more passionate than the last, one that feels like it could last forever. We pull apart, chests heaving. Rindou looks at me with a stupid grin on his face before he pulls me back in again.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou x reader #rindou fluff #rindou haitani

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theflagscene · 3 months

Text

Let’s talk about Mr. Keng

There’s something I found really odd about the interactions between Non and Keng, besides the whole fucking each other thing. I’m not downplaying the misuse of power and the inherent wrongness of the teacher/student relationship here, but I am used to seeing it over the years in queer media so I wasn’t shocked by it tbh. I don’t know why but there are a lot of queer media over the many years I’ve been watching it that seem to pair an exceptional student with a teacher, or even adults with barely legal teenagers. It’s some weird taboo in queer media and I honestly think it’s because of how common age gap relationships are in the queer community, but we’re not here to dissect that.

So going back to Mr. Keng’s interaction with Non, in episode five, six and seven. It’s clear that he zeros in on Non’s exceptionality, the only student to actually understand his question and Non was barely paying attention. Mr. Keng’s interest was piqued right then and there, and my first thought was that they were going to make him a total creep. Which they seemed to be leaning toward when he put special interest in Non, then in episode six we get Non breaking down and finally admitting to him what was going on and why he needed the money. Mr. Keng offering the money so readily also made it seem again that he was a creep, it was a clear grooming tactic. Making Non feel like he owed him something without Keng even having to say; you owe me.

You could say that Non was a willing participant in their first sexual encounter as he was the one who went in for the more passionate kiss, but again that is what grooming does. And while yes Non is sexually active, he’s 16/17 at the most, sleeping with Phee is completely different. Phee is older by less than a year considering he finished off 12th grade with the other boys after Non ‘disappeared’. Being able to consent to sex with an equal is completely different than ‘consenting’ to having sex with someone who should know that what they’re doing is not right!

Moving onto episode seven, there’s a new level to Keng, he’s working to bring down the illegal gambling ring with an undercover reporter. So he’s just using Non, right? He found out what Non was into and saw it as an opportunity to get names and information, so he’s a groomer and a manipulative liar. Great, send this fucker straight to hell!

What I found interesting though was that by the end of episode seven, we find him comforting Non about the video, Non sobbing in his arms and Keng reassures him that things will be okay. That… doesn’t seem like the reaction of a man who’s just found out that his entire career might be over, that he could very well face jail time. There was no blame, no anger directed at Non, just concern. And then Phee showed up, he attacked Keng, rather violently if the bruises on JJ’s back are anything to go by. Phee kept telling Keng to leave, to fuck off, to just go! He kept shoving him into chairs and walls, but Keng never once left. He stayed there, quietly, not trusting Phee to be alone with Non.

And after Phee broke up with Non, telling him to go die, Non has a full blown breakdown. He’s screaming, sobbing hysterically, hitting himself. What does Keng do? He gets down onto the floor and he grabs Non, stops him from hurting himself, shushes him, holds him, comforts him, rocks the sobbing teen in his arms. None of these things seem to be the action of a person who doesn’t care. Am I saying Mr. Keng is in the right? No! Absolutely not! The dude is a creep, he did terrible things and never should’ve done the things he did. But what I was hit with was that it seemed like Mr. Keng—in his own weird way—actually did genuinely care about Non and his wellbeing.

It was very odd to see, because for the previous two episodes there was a very clear set up of how you’re supposed to see him, how you’re supposed to view his interactions with Non. Then by the end of episode seven, he’s caring and concerned and refuses to leave Non in his moment of need even as Phee demands that he does. I think Keng genuinely liked Non, in his own weird highly illegal way. So it’ll be interesting to see who exactly kills him (my money is on Phee or Jin) and if he repents whatsoever or doubles down on his claim that he actually did like Non, as both a student but a lover.

#dff the series #dead friend forever #dff theory

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rosetta-j-stone · 11 days

Text

Buckle up guys, gals and non-binary pals, it's BoJere Tour Bus Renuion time <3

"...Bojan was tentatively asking me if I would join him on the tour bus" - Kris arches an eyebrow as he reads this part of the latest interview with Jere on his phone screen.

Tentatively? Seriously? Since when has Bojan done ANYTHING tentatively? Bojan is about as tentative as a- as a puppy. Which is why Kris has to watch him and "Nine Lives" Jure like a hawk.

Not for the first time, Kris is glad he doesn't have pets.

Turtles might be OK, he supposes.

Nace seems to think so.

Anyway, he's clearly going to have to talk to Bojan about this.

****

"Hey, Bojan, remind me: what are the rules of this tour?"

Bojan rolls his eyes. Like Kris doesn't know. Like Kris didn't write them. Like Kris didn't give him two copies (just in case). He shrugs.

"Let's see...what happens on the tour bus stays on the tour bus?"

Kris chucks a pillow at him. He ducks.

"That is the exact opposite of Rule 5 and you know it"

Ugh, he's in one of those moods. Bojan briefly considers throwing the pillow back, but decides against it.

"Rule 5? What were the other 4?" He grins. "Wait, don't tell me. They're all the same rule, just with different names."

Kris refuses to take this bait, unfortunately.

"Rule 5 is - as you very well know - No Sex On The Tour Bus"

How is he capitalising every letter of that stupid rule just saying it, Bojan wonders.

"Right, and why are you bringing up that rule with me? Shouldn't you be reminding...ooh, I don't know...your fellow guitarists of that one?"

Kris folds his arms and Bojan knows he shouldn't push it but he can't help himself.

"Or does it not apply if both parties are band members? Kinda discriminatory Krisko. Does this mean I have to start sleeping with Jure again?" He grins, gives Kris a suggestive look. "Or-"

Kris gives him a don't-even-think-about-it look in response - spoilsport - and thrusts his phone at him.

Ooh, it's an interview with Jere...

Ah.

OK, Jere has obviously said something.

Yep. Kris has highlighted it. Of course he has.

He reads the offending sentence, rereads it, laughs, looks up.

"Oh come on Kris, this is just Jerč-Jere messing around. He probably said it because he knew it would get attention. Although" he feels obliged to point out, because joke or no joke this slander will not stand: "it was actually HIM asking ME if he could-"

Kris sighs the deep sigh of the terminally exasperated.

"Look, I don't care who asked who, your boyfriend-"

"-NOT my boyfriend actually but do carry on"

Kris doesn't even bat an eyelid.

"Whatever he is, he's NOT coming on the bus. In EITHER sense. There's barely enough room for the five of us as it is"

He gestures to the admittedly cramped living quarters they've somehow got used to sharing. Bojan can see his point, even if he is making it in the most insufferable way possible. He sighs.

"FINE. No Sex On The Tour Bus"

Kris looks at him.

"Promise?"

He's such a Boy Scout sometimes. Bojan can't resist saluting as he replies.

"Yes, Mr-If-I-Can't-Get-Laid-Neither-Can-Anyone-Else, I promise"

And he runs off before Kris can find anything else to throw at him.

****

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: Hey

BikBik: Hey

BikBik: What happen?

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: Kris read your interview. I had to promise him I wouldn't smuggle you onto the tour bus.

BikBik: : (

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: I know, it sucks. No reenacting this for us

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: <video file: UKTourChaChaCha">

BikBik: <gif: "SadDavidTennant">

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: <gif: "SadDavidTennant">

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: ...

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: Anyway, I think we're both off Krisko's Christmas card list this year.

BikBik: ...

BikBik: OK but still on Christmas present list, yesyes?

BikBik: Still on track for visit from...Grandfather Walrus?

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: ...Grandfather Walrus?

BikBik: Is not correct? I put "Dedek Mrož" into Google Translate and-

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: OH

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: OMB

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: X D

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: DEDEK MRAZ

CarpeEveryDiemSlideIntoEveryDM: BRB DYING OF LAUGHTER

BikBik: ...

BikBik: F**k you Bojan X D

****

Jere is laughing as he puts his phone down, he can't help laughing whenever he interacts with Bojan, but he's soon serious again.

Yes, he ABSOLUTELY said that to that reporter because he knew they'd eat it up.

But...

He was hoping that he and Bojan would-

Well.

You know.

But Bojan has made a promise, and his Bojan doesn't break promises.

So Jere is going to have to...get creative.

He grins.

He's always enjoyed a challenge.

#bojere week 2024 #käärijä #kaarija #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin #fanfic #bojere

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ticklishfiend · 7 months

Text

Limitless Bond (Good Omens)

(Switch!Crowley/Switch!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale and Crowley have a tickle fight during their cute little movie night.

a/n : i’ve been aziracrow pilled there’s a worm in my brain screaming abt them at all times edit: reading this back i’ve realized i’ve never seen a single james bond film so take it with a grain of salt lmao

Word Count : 2892

hope u enjoy :D

. . .

Let’s do some math for a second.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth together for 6000 years. They’ve been in each other's lives as hundreds, thousands of human generations around them lived and died. And yet, only in the 4 years after the apocalypse did they dare truly bask in one another’s touch. In 0.00066667% of the time they’ve known each other, Aziraphale and Crowley taught themselves to be truly comfortable in one another’s presence, learning about each other in ways they never thought possible.

Try not to think too hard on the numbers. It’s quite difficult sometimes for humans to grasp an occult being’s concept of time. Time for angels and demons is so wildly different from anything a human could ever experience, and that is exactly what makes Aziraphale and Crowley’s love for each other so special and unique. Their time is limitless, so their love is limitless.

What a human can comprehend, however, is how infuriatingly frustrating their relationship must be considering the fact they refuse to actually talk about it. Non-humans are funny like that.

Why put it into words when they both know it’s there? Intrinsically, they feel it, they know it without a shadow of a doubt, and yet somehow they are both still too scared to talk. If they do, it’ll make it real. Their love could literally break down celestial systems incomprehensible to the human mind. Or it could just result in some nasty paperwork. Either way, both sound horrific, and are things the angel and demon are silently working together to avoid.

Whether they ever choose to talk about it or not, those 4 years were magic on Earth.

During that time, Crowley learned that Aziraphale’s hair might even be softer than his wings. Aziraphale learned scratching Crowley’s back when he’s sleepy makes the demon smile without knowing he’s moving a muscle. A demon taught an angel to love roughhousing, and an angel taught a demon the joys of a good cuddle.

But possibly their new favorite physical affection to take advantage of was one they learned together on a casual, cozy movie night.

Aziraphale grinned as Crowley strolled into the bedroom, “I’ve never seen that shirt before.”

Crowley pulled the shirt down to show it off, giving a little wiggle.“What, you don’t like Bond?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Aziraphale, “But I’ve never actually watched the titular James Bond films, so I can’t really say anything,” he said with a teasing tilt in his voice. He knew he’d get a reaction out of such a ghastly confession.

Crowley gaped, stuttering over incomplete words in shock, “Wha—you, you never—I mean—angel, that’s gotta be illegal. Seriously, if I phoned the FEDs right now they’d probably swarm in here guns-a blazing for your crimes,” Crowley shook his head, throwing himself onto the bed next to Aziraphale. “We’re watching it now, I don’t care. You’re lucky I got you this TV set up last month.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly, but didn’t argue. “You can’t be mad at me if it’s not my cup of tea. You know the kind of films I prefer, and I don’t think these fit the list.”

“No no you’ll love it. Got all that romantic filler your heavenly heart desires,” Crowley said, the TV turning on with a flick of his wrist as he settled comfortably against his angel.

They watched together in an easy silence, Aziraphale trying to really gather everything he could from a movie he knows Crowley loves so dearly. He’s not even sure which Bond movie they’re watching at the moment, but he assumes it’s Crowley’s favorite.

But during an intense shootout scene, Aziraphale does get a little bored. He’s always preferred scenes of great dialogue, heartfelt moments passing between characters. Right now he’s just seeing mediocre special effects and lots of screaming. He gets the appeal, sort of, but it’s just not his thing.

Crowley on the other hand was as tuned in as ever. Aziraphale smiled as he watched his friend’s intense expression, seeing Crowley suppress his excitement over a movie he knows he’s had to have seen dozens of times now.

His gaze wanders back down to Crowley’s torso, “Where did you get that shirt? Really, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it.”

Crowley blinked like snapping out of a trance, trying to look nonchalant as insecurity trickled over him. “Oh, this thing? M’not sure I recall,” he snuggled deeper into Aziraphale’s chest, “It’s my night shirt. Don’t wear it often.”

Aziraphale squinted. “You’re ‘not sure you recall’?”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, yellow eyes bearing into blue, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Aziraphale looked puzzled, shaking Crowley’s shoulder playfully and smiling at the hiss it produced, “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, stop pestering me,” Crowley growled, but it was entirely unconvincing with that playful grin on his face. He faced the TV again as if his mind wasn’t completely on the angel holding him tight.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Aziraphale giggled, “It can’t be that bad, darling, it’s just a t-shirt.”

Crowley groaned, hiding his face in Aziraphale’s chest, “Nooooo nonononono, I’m not talking,” he said, words muffled in Aziraphale’s silk pajamas.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows playfully, rubbing up and down Crowley’s back through the shirt in question. “You know, humans have this fun little game they play to make someone reveal funny secrets. I only wonder if it will actually work on a demon.”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale with a suspicious glare, “The hell are you talking about?”

Aziraphale said nothing, giving a nonchalant hum. Instead, he moved his hand down Crowley’s back towards his ribs, giving it a quick pinch.

Crowley squawked, arching away but getting caught in Aziraphale’s hold. He snapped a look Aziraphale’s way, “Do not.”

Aziraphale giggled in glee, wanting to clap his hands together but needing to hold Crowley close. “I wasn’t sure it would work!”

“Angel-“ Crowley growled.

“A ticklish demon. How silly~” Aziraphale sang, tickling into Crowley’s ribs without wasting any more time.

Crowley bit off a yelp, twisting in Aziraphale’s grip as if he was trying to get away (he wasn’t, but he’s allowed to play along). But Aziraphale kept pinching and prodding and finally Crowley just couldn’t hold back anymore, letting out a peal of giggles and laughs that had Aziraphale cooing.

“Nonononohohoho!” Crowley shook his head into Aziraphale’s chest, hiding his smile. His arm was a little stuck under Aziraphale’s back, so there wasn’t much else he could do.

“Saying no is what started this, dear,” Aziraphale smiled, bringing his other hand around to tickle into Crowley’s neck, relishing in how high-pitched those giggles became. “Goodness, how ticklish are you?”

“I don’t knohohow! Not tryna fihihind out-!” Crowley squeaked out the last word, finding out his ears are especially sensitive to perfectly manicured fingernails.

Crowley squirmed like a worm on a hook, pushing against Aziraphale without even meaning to, his head shaking back and forth like a protest to his giggles.

Aziraphale gasped, “Is this your first time being tickled, Crowley?”

“Stohohop!” Crowley guffawed, hardly taking in the angel’s words.

“I asked you a question,” he said simply, pinching at Crowley’s belly and watching Crowley’s feet kick the sheets.

“Fuhuhucker!” was all Crowley could get out.

“Oh alright,” Aziraphale reluctantly halted his attack, carding fingers through Crowley’s hair. “I said, was that your first time being tickled?”

Crowley huffed, pouting against Aziraphale’s chest and keeping his gaze on the TV. “You’re not even watching the movie.”

The angel chuckled lightly, giving Crowley’s head a tender kiss. “It’s a lovely movie, darling, but it’s hardly as interesting as this little discovery.”

Crowley grumbled, mumbling a response into the silk pajamas.

“What was that dear?”

Crowley lifted his head with a devious look on his face, “I said you’re a prick,” Crowley dug into Aziraphale’s sides, grinning wickedly at how wide his angel’s eyes became.

“AH! Cr-Crohohowley!” Aziraphale fell gracefully into his giggle fit, expelling his excess energy by gripping onto Crowley’s wrists.

“So I take it you’ve never been tickled either?” said Crowley as he wiggled into the angel’s ribs, biting his own cheek when Aziraphale threw his head back in laughter.

“Yehehes! I mean-! Nohoho, I-! Crohohowley plehehease!” Aziraphale never realized how difficult speaking could be when getting tickled. He truly learned something new every day with his dear demon. His mind was mush and all he could think about was how dreadfully ticklish he apparently was.

“Oh poor angel, thought he could get away with teasing a demon,” Crowley teased, poking sporadically across Aziraphale’s tummy and making the angel’s laughter grow. “Naaaah, now that I know your weakness I’m never lettin’ you live it down.”

Crowley crawled on top of Aziraphale, shoving his thumbs into his underarms. “NO! Nohoho Crohohowley! Bad snahahake!” Aziraphale teased even through his laughter, unabashedly having a great time.

“You having fun down there or somethin’?” Crowley chuckled.

“Yehehes!” Aziraphale squeaked, face turning pink from mirth.

Crowley shook his head fondly, not surprised in the slightest. But he could tell Aziraphale would probably appreciate some air soon, whether he actually needed it or not, and eased up. Not before giving his belly once last poke, of course, just to hear him yip.

Aziraphale giggled through his breath, hands resting on Crowley’s thighs. The demon couldn’t help blushing, but didn’t move.

“I never realized it felt like that,” Aziraphale said, a smile etched between his rosy cheeks. “I knew tickling was used as torture way back when, but my goodness.”

“Human vessels are a funny thing,” Crowley said, unsure of where to put his hands now that they weren’t being used as weapons. As if Aziraphale could tell, the angel gently took them in his own, laying their hands down on Crowley’s thighs.

They sat staring into each other's eyes for a while. It was such a comforting silence, one Crowley felt warm in. Why did Aziraphale always have to open his damn mouth-

“You’re quite ticklish on those ribs of yours,” Aziraphale shot a cheeky grin, eyebrows up like he’s being clever. Crowley groaned, looking up to the ceiling.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You never did tell me where you got that shirt from…?” Aziraphale said, slowly loosening his grip on Crowley’s hands before the demon squeezed back-

“I’ll end you.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m serious, angel. Death, discorporation, sooo much paperwork-“

“Was the shirt a former lover’s? Are you embarrassed, Crowley?” Aziraphale teased as he starting fighting Crowley’s grip, their hands now playing for dominance.

Crowley grunted, not shocked that Aziraphale was winning their little fight, “Grk, no! It’s…just…a secRET-!” He was cut off by a squeak as one perfectly manicured hand tore from his grasp and gripped onto his ribs, squeezing and pinching and tickling. Crowley collapsed forward in his squirmy laughter, hand still holding tight to one of Aziraphale’s.

“Oooh a secret, you say? Do tell me more,” Aziraphale finally fought his other hand free, now tickling up and down Crowley’s torso as the demon wiggled and laughed freely on top of him. His head was pressed firmly to Aziraphale’s chest, and my that just wouldn’t do anymore, now would it?

“You keep hiding your smile from me! It’s rather unfair, my face was on full display when you tickled me,” Aziraphale said before pushing Crowley to the other side of the mattress, tickling him the whole way down. He hovered over Crowley with a big grin.

“Ahahangel! This is stupihihid!” Crowley cackled, head turning this way and that like trying to hide his face in the sheets surrounding him.

“Was it stupid when you tickled me?” Aziraphale accused, pinching Crowley’s hips and smiling when he bucked and kicked.

“GAHAHAhaha-!” Crowley guffawed, finding words very hard at the moment. “Nohoho-! Was— fuhuhunny!”

“Oh Lord, now you’re just asking for it,” Aziraphale shot his hands up into Crowley’s armpits. It tickled like hell (Heaven? no, definitely hell) on himself, so maybe it’ll be the same for Crowley.

Crowley. Screamed.

Maybe scream is the wrong word. The sound that left Crowley was like a screech, a hurtle of pure loud noise that fell into cackles, squeals, and Aziraphale’s favorite, the snort. Oh what a sound it was. The angel would never forget it (and unfortunately, neither would the demon).

“Oh wow…” Aziraphale giggled at Crowley’s expense.

“Ahahangel-! I—shihihit-! I’ll tahahalk!” Crowley managed to get the words out through his laughter, a feat he wished he could be proud of. Aziraphale conceded even though he honestly really didn’t want to. Crowley looked so cute when he laughed, it was hard to quit.

Aziraphale drew his hands away, and Crowley took a moment to catch his breath. When the moment faded, he threw a pillow over his face and screamed into it quite dramatically. Aziraphale pulled it off and held it gently in his lap.

“You were telling me about the shirt?” Aziraphale said, scribbling a finger onto Crowley’s clothed tummy. Crowley batted it away with a hiss.

“Do you even actually care about the shirt or did you just want an excuse to torture me?” Crowley tried yanking the pillow back but found it held in an iron grip. He settled for crossing his arms instead.

Aziraphale took his hand. “If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I just thought a game would be fun,” Aziraphale handed him the pillow.

Crowley took it, raising an eyebrow, “So you were bored of the movie?”

Aziraphale winced. “…Meh?”

Crowley’s face pinched in frustration, “But it’s James ffffucking Bond! No one in the history of EVER has been bored by a James Bond movie, angel, you are literally setting records here!”

“I just prefer the softer films! You know, your…Pride And Prejudice types.”

“That’s one of your favorite books, that hardly counts.”

“It’s still a good film!”

“Okay okay, point stands though, that you only did all that to get out of watching my movie. You don’t actually care about the origins of my shirt at all, do you?” Even though his arms were already crossed, he made a little harumph motion with them, hand still holding Aziraphale’s gently. He turned his head away from Aziraphale, feigning anger. Crowley did love a petty argument every now and then.

“Oh come ooooonn,” Aziraphale shook Crowley by the shoulder with his free hand. Crowley said nothing. “Don’t be like this, you know how much I hate the silent treatment.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a pointed look that said ‘duh, why else do you think i’m pulling the silent treatment?’ before turning back around.

Aziraphale sighed playfully, “Whatever am I going to do without you to talk to…” He couldn’t hold back a cheeky grin as he pinched Crowley’s side, the demon flinching but still saying nothing. “Who will I complain to when my favorite books get turned into terrible films?”A few pokes to the belly, and Crowley’s knees shot up. “Who will teach me about the different plant life in London?” Three pinches to the ribs and he heard a stifled giggle as Crowley’s back arched away from his fingers.

Aziraphale let the moment hang in the air. He wanted Crowley to feel anticipation crawling up his spine. Aziraphale saw him squirm slightly into the sheets.

He quickly pinched up and down Crowley’s side, from his hip to his rib, the demon flinching hard with a keening giggle. He rolled over quickly, ticklish laughter spilling from him as he slapped at Aziraphale’s hands, feet digging into the mattress. “Okay okahahay! I gihive, you dihihick!”

Aziraphale pulled away for the final time, meaning it this time (well maybe, who knows with how playful they’ve both felt this evening). He laid on his back next to a sprawled out Crowley, putting his hand in his…friend’s.

They basked in each other’s presence for a little while, rubbing their thumbs over the skin of their hands, playing with each other’s fingers, once Crowley dared to tickle Aziraphale’s palm. But then the credits started to roll on the film and Crowley felt the need to confess.

“It was a convention.”

“Hm?”

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder,“It was a, er…ngk,” he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, letting go of weird insecurities. “…a James Bond convention. They held one in London when those newer films came out. I’m a pretty big fan, you know that, so I popped by, made myself…known.” His confession was awkward but very real, and Aziraphale could tell that even as silly as it was, it did take something for Crowley to admit that. “Got a t-shirt while I was there, thought hell, why not, I’m here, the shirts here, probably made to be. So yeah. My new nightshirt.”

Aziraphale smiled so wholeheartedly at Crowley the demon was half-worried he’d pop something. “That’s so sweet, Crowley. I always knew you loved James Bond, but worthy enough to have the Anthony J. Crowley show up to his convention-?”

“Ohhhh bite me a new one, angel,” Crowley shook their intertwined fingers, getting even comfier against him. Aziraphale did the same, leaning into Crowley and wrapping an arm around his waist.

They didn’t talk about this when they woke from their nap. They didn’t need to. At least, they thought they didn’t need to. Their time has always been limitless. They thought their love always would be too.

. . .

a/n : ok im going to sleep goobyeee

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