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earthtooz · 1 year

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BABE I HAD AN IDEA- Reo Mikage ANGST where he calls reader a gold digging whore in the middle of an argument, ultimately affirming all of her insecurities so he has to figure out a way to show that he didn't mean it and that he's sorry without using his disgustingly abundant wealth 💔 anyways ilysm hope you take care of yourself

NO YOU ARE LITERALLY DISGUSTING FOR THIS (affectionate) YOUR MIND >>> YOU ARE SOOOOO RIGHT. SHUT UP THIS WILL LITERALLY BE THE MOST SCRUMPTIOUS FIC EVER BECAUSE I AM LITERALLY ABOUT TO PUT MY WHOLE EARTHUSSY INTO INCORPORATING THIS IDEA SOMEWHERE !!! BUT FOR NOW, TAKE THIS SNIPPET I WHIPPED UP IN ONE SITTING.

girl feel free to come back into my inbox WHENEVER and giving me your juicy ideas bc holy shit i loved this.

CW: HURT/COMFORT - A LOT OF BOTH, SWEARING, UNEDITED - I WAS GOING THRU IT WHILST WRITING THIS DON'T LOOK AT ME!

IMAGINE THIS: it's been a rough night for both you and reo, he's been through a lot in the past weeks because his dad just had to during the middle of soccer season to lecture reo about how to run a big business. the transition process is beginning to happen since father mikage is about to retire and although your purple-haired boyfriend has been preparing for this his whole life, having gone to business school part-time and graduating with honours, there's still a little part of him that feels weary from all the responsibilities.

all this accumulated stress needs to have an outlet eventually, right? welp, you just happened to be there at the right (wrong) time. you were simply delivering a platter of apples to your boyfriend who had his head in his hands, hunched over an endless pile of paperwork that was beginning to irk him with each passing second. countless images of him shredding up the paper flowed into his mind, a fury that manifested into his reality, except the paper was you D,:

one thing evolved into another, reo's endless stream of venomous words didn't stop flowing out of him as he spat poison after poison, burning you with the intensity of it all.

"you're so overbearing, can't you see that i'm fine? unlike you i can handle myself when things get hard," he spits, eyeing you with fury in his eyes, one that makes you gulp thickly.

"reo-"

-but you wouldn't know the first thing about fighting for what you want right, you fucking gold-digger."

that stops you in your tracks, silences you effortlessly, causing you to let your hands drop limply back to your sides as you stare at your boyfriend blankly. you're sinking into an abyss of hurt and insecurity, it's getting harder to breathe because of the way your chest swells with anger.

reo only continues, not noticing the way you physically and emotionally drop. "even if you don't give me attention for one second of the day, i won't forget you exist, so stop being so clingy and unnecessary! my money isn't going anywhere either, you don't need to occupy majority of my day so leave me alone. go shop online or something."

that was it. was that all reo perceived you to be? a dent in his money, the expenses of his bank account?

"fine. goodbye," you simply mutter before slipping through his office door, out in the hallway.

"don't bother me whilst i'm in here," he says with finality, one last declaration before you shut the door behind you.

the luxurious walls of reo's penthouse look down at you mockingly, the spacious area caging you in, chanting 'gold-digger' over and over again until it's all you hear.

staying here feels wrong.

so, you grab your purse and leave, as quietly as possible. slipping down to the garage where your (second hand) car was parked, you start the engine up and begin reversing out of the parking lot.

you begin to reflect on your relationship with reo. you love him, you really do, you love him because he's reo, the man who was always capable of making you smile, laugh, and make you feel like you were on top of the world. his money and fame was an added bonus that you truly didn't care much about.

but ever since dating him, you've had your own insecurities that have been forced on you by other people. there were crowds calling you a 'gold digger' who was only with reo 'for the money', and although you were sure of yourself and your intentions, your armour breaks down sometimes.

what reo said tonight was the final jab that allowed it to fully disintegrate.

you had a stable job of your own and finances to your own name, money wasn't something you avidly chased, sure having a few zeroes in your bank account was nice but that was all you really needed. as long as you could buy necessities and spoil yourself, it was satisfactory, and you could provide that for yourself!

reo loved to spoil you, showering you in luxurious gifts that you never knew how to accept. it would take a great deal of convincing for you to take what he bought you, and when you promised him to stop buying them for you, he agreed before buying you more material stuff.

as you pull up to the parking lot of the apartment complex that you resided in, you get into the elevator with a heavy heart, pressing the button to your floor with a lot of emotions.

the ride is silent. everything is so silent.

your apartment is even more silent. it's unused, slightly barren. your furniture was still there, except some dust had gathered on the tables and cabinets from how long you've neglected it.

the only reason you were able to keep your apartment was because you had no expenses outflowing since reo took care of almost everything. anything you needed, he bought it, groceries, bills, whatever, were charged on his card. for a period of time, your bank account merely grew and never decreased.

and since you hadn't been here for a while, electricity and water bills never bothered you too much.

you flop onto your made bed with a sigh. it wasn't as soft as reo's but you didn't find it in you to care, you just needed some well-deserved shut eye.

well, 'shut eye' occurred for merely an hour before your phone started vibrating violently.

with a groan, you shove your face back into your pillows before blindly reaching for your phone.

you already knew who it would be without looking at the caller id. of course reo would be looking for you, noting your obvious absence in his penthouse.

"hello?" you mutter.

"y/n? where the hell are you?" comes reo's frantic voice from the other line. he sounds genuinely concerned.

"doesn't matter."

"i'm sorry for everything i said. please, come back."

"reo, i'm tired, i can't do this with you right now."

"i'm sorry, i'm really really sorry."

"i don't want to hear this right now."

"i love you."

you sigh and you're sure reo can hear it on his end. unsure of how to respond, you just hang up on him before throwing your phone away. normally, you would feel bad about the way you left him, but that wasn't the case this time. you just needed to sleep on this.

but, it was reo you were talking about, and the last thing he was going to let you do was sleep without him.

at 1:24am, there's a series of ferocious knocks on your door, followed by screams of your name.

oh my god it was so embarrassing, you literally shoot out of bed as soon as you register what was happening and dash for your door. you don't want to disturb your neighbours' sleep and let them hear that the pathetic grovelling of your boyfriend. the entire hallway could hear reo and his shouting.

you open the door, pull him in, and slam it shut behind you again, leaving the purple-haired to stare at you with a bewildered expression.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss.

he looks at you the same way a puppy does when its owner kicked it out of the house.

you should've known that merely telling reo 'i don't want to hear this right now' would not be enough to pacify his determination and the fact that you hung up on him only intensified his pettiness. the purple-haired always sought you out, pulling himself into your orbit like a magnet. where you went, reo followed, even if it was to the ends of the world.

he had the money to do whatever he wanted, you suppose.

"i wanted to make sure you were safe," he pouts. "i didn't know whether you'd be here or not."

"well, i'm safe, and i'm here. so."

"i can see that," he leans against the back of your couch. reo looks so out of place in your small apartment, awkwardly playing with his hands. "so... should we go to bed?"

the audacity. "what do you mean 'we'? go back home, reo, i'll see you some other time."

as you turn around to go back to your bedroom, reo's quick enough to round around you, blocking you from the hallway with his larger figure.

"but you are my home. please, i'm really sorry about what i said, i didn't mean it," he pleads, grabbing your face so you could look him square in the eye.

you step out of his grasp easily, shaking him off. if you were in your right mind, you would've seen the look of heartbreak on reo's face.

"sure, if you didn't mean it then you wouldn't have said it in the first place, mikage."

you swerve around him to reach your bedroom and he follows you the entire time, trailing behind you, desperate for an ounce of your attention.

"i know i fucked up, but i didn't mean to hurt you and project my frustrations like that onto you when you were just trying to care for me." you sit down on your bed with a sigh and reo takes a seat beside you. "you know i love you right? like, a lot."

that's right. if there's one thing about reo it's that he loves you to an endless degree.

"thank you for always caring for me. i know you don't do it because you're after my money or fame, but because you want to ensure that i'm healthy and not rotting in all that i have to do," his voice cracks. is he beginning to cry. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

you let a beat of silence pass by before dropping your walls. he was always going to smash through them no matter what.

"i've always felt insecure in our relationship," you confess, no louder than an exhale and if reo wasn't holding on to every action of yours, he wouldn't have heard you. "being called a gold digger became normal when i started dating you and i didn't really care. well- i tried not to care."

you continue. "i don't want to let these comments get to me, but then you said it and... i don't know, it just felt horrible."

you feel an arm sneak under your leg, and another hand come to your elbow, both of which simultaneously pull you to straddle reo's lap. you don't look him in the eye- something he frowns at.

"i love you for you. you're the best i'll ever have, reo, but sometimes i-"

"-please don't finish that sentence," he murmurs, breath fanning against your face.

you meet his gaze. he's crying freely. tears are running down his cheeks like streams and you instinctively bring use your thumbs to catch the drops. you hate it when he cries.

"i don't want it to be anyone else but you," confesses the purple-haired. "i hate it when we're separated, i can't stay away from you too long or i think i will go insane."

his statement causes you to giggle a little.

"you laugh but i'm telling the truth."

"i laugh because you make me happy."

his arms wound around your waist, keeping you pressed against him, leaving you with no room to escape or part from him. just what reo likes.

"i'm sorry for what i said," he says against your collarbone. "when i didn't see you in our home, i didn't know what to think. i got so scared for a second because i had no idea where you could've gone so i started spamming your number-"

"-yeah wait, was calling me 24 times necessary?"

"i was going to keep calling you until you picked up so it could've taken 24 or 1000 times or more. now let me speak." you nod wordlessly, smiling a little at how silly reo can be. "and when i realised that you went back to your apartment, i felt horrible that i drove you out."

he looks up at you with glossy eyes.

"you came here because you wanted to prove me wrong, right? because you bought all this by yourself and don't need me, right?"

"well, kind of, but i also didn't want to be around you so i came back here."

reo frowns before leaning in to press delicate kisses to your neck. "please don't leave me. i need you by my side," he inhales before whispering his next statement. "even if you don't need me."

a hand of yours go up to thread through his hair. "don't say that," you use your other hand to direct his face away from your neck, pressing a kiss against his puckered lips. "i absolutely adore you, my love. you're my favourite person ever."

he smiles before leaning in again, kissing you with more fervour and passion. you can feel another tear slide down his cheek.

"lets go to bed, reo," you say when you part and he simply nods, laying you on the side of the bed before laying beside you, arms naturally finding themselves around your waist as reo tugs you as humanely close as possible. "sorry if this mattress isn't as comfortable as your twelve grand one back home."

"i couldn't care less," he whispers whilst tracing patterns on your bare skin.

so long as it's you he's next to, reo doesn't have a lot to complain about.

#bro when i say i literally wrote this in one go #I WROTE THIS IN ONE GO #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock x reader

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stealingyourbones · 2 years

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DP + JLU crossover prompt: I wanna see Flash as Danny's mentor, so--

Danny has survived (Sorta?) 2 years as a ghost without being discovered. Until their field trip to Central City. First day there and immediately Flash catches him phasing out of some locked container (Thank you, Dash). Danny thinks he's screwed, "Hello GIW, dissection tables, and ecto-uranium cages for the rest of my life", but Flash just asks "Meta?" and Danny rolls with the out, figuring he can just let the hero believe he has some sort of intangibility ability and not get caught doing anything else for the week. The League hero even asks if he's out about his ability and helps him with a cover story for where he was when Mr. Lancer asks.

Cue Danny getting a surprise mentor. Turns out, it's something of an open secret that Flash likes to help out young metas with their abilities. He's willing and able to set things up so he can visit Danny in Amity Park regularly, so Danny doesn't have to move. He's got a ton of experience helping kids feel out different abilities safely (and Danny's almost a little disappointed he only told the guy about intangibility because he wishes he could get this level of guidance on other abilities. Like duplication. Or teleporting.). And he's not afraid of acting as a go between for kids who want to keep their identities secret while learning their abilities and other heroes with similar powersets, either.

Flash is aware there is a lot more to Danny's powers than he's been told, but he's willing to let the kid come to him with the full story in his own time.

ooooooooo alrighty okokokokok. sO.

this brings me so much seritonin I love Flash x DP crossovers, I simply haven't read much stuff on Barry since the guy since he was dead for like a solid 25 years irl time for comics. It's a good thing that I can write this since Justice League Unlimited Flash is Wally West. Barry straight up just doesn't exist in JLU and sO:

Wally damn well knew the kid had something else going on. He's not sure exactly what but he's seen enough to know that this kid is more powerful than he's making himself out to be.

He's spotted Danny's foot almost on reflex turn invisible when his hands slipped and he dropped a knife on the ground. The knife clattered to the floor harmlessly and Danny was fine. The flickering of his lower limbs was for less than a second. Flash can think as fast as 100 attoseconds in one second. That's what a second is to 300 million years. He may not be able to perceive just as fast but it's still far far quicker than any meta he's ever known. He watches the boy for what seems to be days but to Danny it's quick as a flash, how he realizes that he's invisible and hastily flickers back to reality. No one should have spotted it, but Flash saw. He knew. He kept it to himself. It was not his secret to tell.

Danny thinks he's subtle. He might be for the average human, but not to fellow Supers. Danny's drinks are somehow always perfectly chilled even when its been sitting in the sun for hours. The kid's nightmares cause him to yell in his sleep. Wally had to ask Batman for some custom glassware made out of the same stuff the Batmobile's windows are made of cause the kid keeps shattering every new set he buys.

The other day Danny showed Wally that he could turn invisible. On his own terms. Wally acted as if the dozens of times he's seen Danny blip out of existence never happened and accepted the new development with ease. He knew he gained even more of Danny's trust when the young meta laughed and for the first time didn't worry about hiding his sharp canines from his sight.

Progress is slow going but eventually he'll get this boy to open up so he can get the proper help he needs.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #writing prompts #dc comics #dp x dc prompt #flash #bones replies #anon #who am i kidding this is basically an outline of a fic not a prompt #writing may be janky I simply am too tired to proofread

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actual-changeling · 5 months

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Do you think Aziraphale has been verbally, emotionally and psychologically abused by Heaven as well?

I will answer this question like one asked in good faith even though my gut is telling me there's a 50/50 chance it is very much not one.

So!

There are two parts to his answer, or rather one question is actually two.

Firstly, we have to talk about whether heaven is abusive, what that abuse looks like, and how it differs from hell.

Secondly, how did the results of question one affect Aziraphale, if it is different from what the other angels in heaven face, and what additional trauma might he have experienced due to being on earth.

I could write a 10k meta post about this and go into the finest detail, but I will just try and stick to the main points for now. It's still going to be way too long because I am so fucking tired of people accusing me of 'hating' Aziraphale or harassing me on my posts or in my inbox.

Is heaven abusive? Yes, and it applies to both heaven as an institution and the Archangels running it.

Getting to know Muriel and what their life looks like was extremely helpful in properly defining this, because they showed us that although the Archangels tend to travel and work as a group, most of the angels are incredibly isolated.

The result is complete emotional neglect, which not only impairs your ability to form and maintain healthy relationships with other people, it also stops your from learning emotional regulation and how to behave and feel as a part of (angelic) society. We see the consequences of that in Muriel, who comes across as overly naive, socially awkward, and out of touch with not just people but themselves.

When your entire life has been shrunk down to what happens inside your own head, suddenly being confronted with having to live outside of your mind is jarring, overwhelming, and foreign.

How do you talk to people when no one ever taught you how to do that? How do you behave around someone after a lifetime of being alone? How do your regulate your responses to their behaviour?

Who are you when there is someone else to perceive you?

Figuring that out is complicated and it takes time, and while most of the angels are only distantly aware of how humans live and what kind of interactions some of the other angels might have, the effects of that neglect stay the same whether they are aware of it or not.

Muriel shows us that angels are not born/made as a blank slate, and neither are humans for that matter. Tabula rasa as a philosophical belief is one thing, but reality is very, very different.

Angels also appear to have the same inherent need for connection, for a caretaker that loves them unconditionally, for someone to help them figure out how to be, and that provides a safe space to make mistakes. Without some or all of that, you grow up into a disregulated, socially awkward if not inept person who does not know how to have relationships or how to properly exist.

It is one of the reasons why autistic people are a) almost always traumatized to some degree and b) do not know how to socialize. No one ever works with our brains, and the resulting neglect is very similar to not receiving any help at all.

If you are now curious what happens if you're both autistic and were completely socially neglected, the result is uh. me. Hi! Not nice, but at least I am very sure I win the award for being my therapist's most fucked up client, so that's something.

Yet the angels are not solely emotionally neglected, the system/household they live in demands a low self-esteem, a lack of individual identity, and complete adherence to a defined ideology and behavioural pattern. In short, you are told how to be a useless, tiny part in a bigger machine, that your only purpose is to succeed at your tasks, and any opportunity for individual development is removed or destroyed.

If you are now once again curious what that might be like, uh, yeah, hi once more. Obviously my childhood was not exactly like an angels life, but the core characteristics were the same, just realized differently. Again, not pretty, really, really fucks you over.

Take that and the neglect, combine it into one person, and then drop them in the Garden of Eden—hello Aziraphale! Crowley got dropped into hell first, experienced more abuse, and then dug his way up into Eden before joining him.

Aziraphale experienced everything Muriel (and Crowley, and every other celestial being) also experienced, with one main difference: He is the one who got away.

We have to remember that out of every single celestial being, Aziraphale got the best deal. He did not fall, he got out of heaven (more or less) permanently, and was then largely left alone.

Does that erase anything I laid out above? No, of course not!

It simply provided him with the opportunity to heal, to take his cPTSD and who knows what other disorders he developed as a result, and start recovering.

Canonically, heaven did not bother him, like, ever, except for the odd note about 'frivolous miracles' or ten minutes of catching up every millennia. They only started monitoring him once they started to suspect he was involved with Crowley and trying to stop the apocalypse from happening.

Aziraphale worked on some things, he got better in many regards, especially with Crowley there to support him, but after six thousand years, many aspects have stayed the same or regressed back to the start over and over.

I will tell you a hard pill to swallow now: If you refuse to acknowledge your issues to instead live in a world of nicer denial and compartmentalization even when you have been offered the chance to change it, that is partly on YOU.

Is it fair? Fuck no! It's not fair at all, and I have had so many breakdowns over that fact. I did not break it, this is not my FAULT so why should I have to fix it all on my own? Why do I have to do the work, not them? How come they get away with it while I am going to have to carry this for the rest of my life?

I still have to do it though. I have to do the work, no matter how uncomfortable and exhausting, because I want to get better.

This conversation has so many facets and is a lot more complex, but this is already long enough, so if you have any questions or want to know something specific (while asking politely and in good faith) just send me an ask; I will do my best to answer it.

We are now only missing the last part of question 2, and that one is also so fucking complicated reducing it to the main points almost feels wrong, but I will do it anyway. Again, just ask if you have questions.

Abusive households are horrible, and you want to get out and away, but they are also the only thing you know. The world is scary, too big, too open, where did all the rules go that were previously defining your life?

Surviving in an abusive environment means you establish routine after routine after routine for every possible horrible scenario, you write a mental rule book to try and reduce the abuse (don't make them angry, don't cry when they're already shouting, don't do this, don't do that, do x but not y), and THAT is your socialization. THAT is everything you know, everything you are, everything you know relationships to be like.

Once you are away from that, you are completely and utterly lost. Even breathing feels like making a mistake, you feel watched, judged, rated, berated, you have them stuck in your fucking head. So you keep sticking to what you know, your behavioural patterns that have kept you safe your entire life.

The problem is that they kept you safe, past tense. In a healthy environment, all of those coping mechanisms are now maladaptive and harm you instead of keeping you safe.

However, breaking out of them and starting from scratch is terrifying. So, so, so terrifying. I live in constant fear, I feel judged and unsafe in my own flat with the curtains shut and the lights on. I feel like I am about to get subjected to another one of his fits for daring to use the stove.

No matter what you do, your body and brain are SCREAMING at you that diverging from what you know will kill you—and then you have to do it anyway.

Do it alone and afraid and awkwardly but DO IT. Otherwise you will always find a way to recreate the environment you grew up in, whether that is people getting into unhealthy relationships and replicating the patterns they know (which Aziraphale does with Crowley, e.g. the push-pull of his affection) or eventually even returning to it because they ruined you, but a part of you is so, so attached to them you just have to try and change them.

Some people can move on from it without going back, but sometimes you need to try and experience that failure for yourself before being able to move on, and that's where Aziraphale is at.

He needs to try and fail to be capable of finally committing to recovering.

So, to summarize this entire shitshow: Yes, Aziraphale experienced emotional neglect and abuse, and while it is different to what Crowley went through and objectively less intense and physical, it is still just as valid and horrid.

Just because a car accident is objectively worse than falling off a bike doesn't mean the biker's pain is unimportant. Both can kill you, both can hurt you, and both deserve to get their injuries treated.

Questions?

#alex answers asks #alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale meta #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #heaven is terrible #trauma discussion #long post

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strwberri-milk · 1 year

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Hi there!

In fandom people say that Kaeya might have trust issues and that he relies only on himself soooo.. Can I request headcanons of him x reader with the same issues? Omg just imagine these two being in love with each other but their stupid asses are hardly able to let their guard down💀😭

No angst, fluff if possible (hurt to fluff?? idk) And have a good dayy :>

i am an avid supporter of kaeya w trust issues because to me it only feels right after your brother tries to k word you and your dad abandoned you in a land ruled by beings that should theoretically despise your existence

Your relationship at first started in an almost superficial manner. Neither of you tried to dig deeper into the other person, just taking things at face value and avoiding any questions that might be too personal. It doesn't mean you love each other any less, it just means that the two of you respect each other's boundaries.

However, it makes disagreements tougher. Both of you have a habit of pushing things under the rug until it reaches a point of needing to discuss it. These discussions usually tide you over until the next disagreement comes but they become rarer and rarer as you two figure out how to avoid them coming up.

It was a good arrangement. You both loved each other a lot after all, but were terrified of coming off as too needy or something, so you continued to rely solely on yourself. Kaeya did the same, but he realised after some time that he wished you would lean on him a little more. He'd see how hard you worked, or the stress between your brows and all he could do was give you a kiss and ask you if you were alright. You'd never confess to him that you weren't exactly alright, only cuddling in closer to him until it's time for him to go home.

You feel the same way about Kaeya. You picked up that he has a habit of overworking himself no matter what it is that he says, and try to do your best to help him out without prying too much.

This means that the best time for the two of you was right when you both wake up. Both of you are too tired to say anything or really care too much about saying something you'd regret later. At first, you'd just stay quiet, maybe cuddled under the sheets and making small talk about the day ahead. With time, the two of you would delve a little deeper into feelings, hesitantly sharing more and giving each other a little more trust.

Eventually, the two of you do realise that if you want to be with each other there's no way it'll be healthy if you can't trust each other. So, you start to give each other even more leeway when you are awake. You trust each other more with small secrets, or by confessing certain feelings. You express more disappointment when needed and use your feelings to guide conversations, rather than logic or perceived facts.

Once you stop using "facts" as a way to deflect away from your own issues, you both start to fall for each other even more. Kaeya's affection becomes soft, kissing and holding you tenderly while you spend some more of your evenings combing out the knots in his hair. Like this, without having to look at each other it makes it easier for the two of you to have more heart to hearts, strengthening your relationship and gradually building up your reliance in each other.

With time, the two of you will reach the point of divulging all of your deep dark secrets, but for now you're both content with being where you are. The slow gradual build of trust works at a pace that keeps you both happy, learning that even if the whole world was against you, you will both still have each other.

#kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya fluff

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eerna · 2 months

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so glad to WHINE ABOUT TPT.

it should have been wren pov, I agree it seemed like there was a more interesting story going on on her side! And your theory it got rewritten for more jurdan makes sense … also so fucking stupid it’s third person - is there some asinine publishing rule going on? I know readers like to self insert these days, maybe the publisher was worried bc oak is male/a love interest? dumb. dumb.

why didn’t vivi come to the engagement feast? wren had such a hang up on what Vivi said about her, I wanted that resolved (and I just wanted Vivi in general!!!!) wren meeting her human family off screen without a mention of how it went fuckin SUCKED. at absolutely no point was I convinced she should be staying in the house of her abusers being a ruler for people she didn’t know instead of returning to her REAL family. and she didn’t even bond w oak’s family either.

I also enjoyed the dialogue in the garden scene so much, but without wren’s pov it felt out of nowhere or even like she was using sex as self harm. she is so deeply self loathing and so convinced oak will move on for her, so her propositioning him feels like she was trying to rip off the bandaid and get him done with her faster. again, I have to assume because the last time we heard her thoughts was when she would DO that kind of thing. if she’s had this great character growth we don’t fuckin know!!!!!

I had fun but it was also such a disappointment and wren deserves better

Welcome welcome to the whine party~

YEAHHHH presumably it was single POV for the mystery of why Wren is acting so weird, but imo it didn't work. It was so so so painfully obvious and the plot twist didn't twist, so why not just give her the POV. As for the third person, all the Cardan POV content we ever got was also in third person, so maybe HB just doesn't want to write her male leads from first person? The self insert thing occurred to me too, but Wren is one of the least self-insert-able characters I've ever read in YA, and she too had the first person, so idk honestly. Maybe someone who has more experience with HB's novels could figure it out.

I WAS WAITING FOR VIVI THE ENTIRE TIMEEEE like out of all of Oak's family, she was the one who hurt Wren the worst. So where was she!! She lives in the human world, fine, but she was there for Oak's official heir party, so why not for his engagement??? Heather would have Never missed it in a million years. The lack of content regarding Wren connecting to either of the families was sooooooooo bleh, since we KNOW that being a part of one is incredibly important for her and she desperately wants to be accepted by both Oak's big dramatic yet loving family and her own human one. Her returning to the Court of Teeth makes no sense, she only has the worst memories of the place, and it doesn't even EXIST as a ruling body anymore.

SAME on the garden scene! Like you said, it sounded like the Wren from TSH, who used his interest (which she perceived as customary and short-term) as a way to punish herself and treat herself as someone undeserving of proper love. Okay, it's because of the Endless Hunger of her magic, but it's strange to never deal with her pretty unhealthy views of her sexuality. IF ANYTHING, in the final chapter she STILL thinks she is too much and needs too much and won't be able to function properly in a relationship, and we just,,,, never get closure,,, Oak is just like "don't worry" and she's like "ok" and that's it. Head in my hands. This was a romance focused duology and somehow Wren didn't even get her proper closure on that.

Literally my takeaway. Fun. Disappointing. Wren my baby you deserved more.

#eernask #mooncactus #eernask talk tfota #the prisoner's throne spoilers

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horsegurlfem · 5 days

Text

somehow we got onto the topic of surgery on the genital area in my house, and I said that I wouldn't want surgery on my clitoris because it would damage crucial nerve endings. Which was a pretty mild take I thought, but my tim housemate said that because labiaplasty exists, they've already figured the nerve endings out down there and surgery wouldn't hurt them. And I just felt bad, because that's so not true. So many procedures, even medical ones like LEEP can sever nerve endings and make it hard for you to experience the same physical pleasures afterwards. This is less true for men, because doctors apparently care about keeping penis nerves intact. Men's pleasure is important, but for women, all that's important is how we look to men apparently. But people who have had bottom surgery/ SRS have had sooo many complications where they're unable to feel pleasure anymore, and I hate that people see it as a normal simple procedure. As if elective surgery on the most intimate part of your body could ever be simple and risk free. Idk if this person has had such surgery or not, but I hope they don't take it lightly. It seems like theres this common transhumanist delusion that this sort of medical care is risk free, and that any risks are fake, or just fear mongering. But any plastic surgery or medication even inherently has risks! Even just going under anesthesia has risks! I'd love to get my tubes tied but you have to have surgery for that, and surgery has inherent risks, and doctors can mess up. And you can have complications for life. And surgery on the most intimate part of you has even more risks, so I think that people should not take it so lightly, or assume that since many people get it done that it's perfectly safe and there are no issues involved. BBLs were popular a few years ago, but thousands of women died from complications from them. I don't see much of a difference between gender affirming surgery and traditional plastic surgery, because in both cases you're trying to change the way society perceives you by undergoing risk to change your body. And for some people, the benefits outweigh those risks. But for society at large, it contributes to a pattern of people being pressured to conform or else think that something is terribly wrong with them. Idk, I think people should just be able to have the personality that they have without thinking they need to pay thousands of dollars to go under the knife to become beautiful or to change their sex characteristics. Your sex doesn't determine your personality any more than your cup size, and I wish people didn't feel the need to change just to conform.

#radblr

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shiroikabocha · 2 months

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favorite part of talos principle??????

I procrastinated forever on this ask, sorry. The answer’s kinda sad. But it’s also, like, deeply true and important to me as a person, so.

My mom died at the end of 2013, concluding a truly impressive any% cancer speedrun. Less than 90 days from first symptoms to last. I loved her a lot. It was a bad time.

2014 was the worst year of my life. I became convinced that human consciousness (or at least, my own human consciousness) was not an inherent good. Not an inherent bad, either, just… the nature of the human brain is to want to continue existing, and to be incapable of continuing to exist. It’s not a system that’s designed to function without pain. It’s not a system that’s designed. Consciousness hurts. Being a conscious, physical creature in an unpredictable physical world that has no obligation to make coherent narrative sense hurts.

(I miss my mom. It’s a problem with no solution.)

And then there was this video game. And it had this guy (gender neutral) in it. And this guy was like: you’re so right, bestie. Making sense of existence? That’s a loser’s game. Can’t even get to I think, therefore I am without coming up against some truly gnarly logical conundrums—almost enough to make you wanna invent a big invisible sky-friend who gives you all the answers and reassures you that you’re important and good, right? But that’s stupid. You don’t want to be stupid, do you? You want to be smart. Like me. Smart means you’re better than the people who need happy little answers to all their silly little questions. You don’t need them. You don’t need anybody. That’s the great thing about nothing—it’s so beautifully consistent! When nothing means anything, there are no contradictions. Trying to understand your place in the cosmos—asking the question “I exist; what should I do with that fact?” and expecting to arrive at an actual, functional answer—is a sucker’s game. The only winning move is not to play.

I can’t really explain what it felt like to see my own feelings repeated back to me so clearly, so accurately, and at such length—and for my reaction to my own worldview to be seething fucking hatred. When I started playing The Talos Principle, I was a pessimistic nihilist. I did not perceive myself changing into something different until I was screaming at my keyboard FUCK YOU, my existence has meaning because I CHOOSE to imbue it with meaning and I do not FUCKING CARE if it doesn’t make sense, some things are more important than being flawlessly logically correct and ME HAVING A REASON TO LIVE is ONE OF THEM

(when your internal logic answer to Why should I stay alive? starts out as My life is a precious gift given to me by God and it is not mine to throw away, and then your understanding of the world changes in a way that no longer incorporates an ontologically-existent God, sometimes you wind up with: Why should I stay alive? Answer: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And that answer really only works as long as nothing terrible happens. It does not hold up well under stress. When you take god away you do have to put something else in its place, and it’s not easy to find something else that can hold up under the weight.)

Like… it would be an oversimplification to say that The Talos Principle made me want to live again. But it wouldn’t be too much of an oversimplification to say TTP forced me to acknowledge that I didn’t currently have a good reason to want to live, and that felt bad, and I owed it to myself to fix it. And that if I could hate this fucking asshole librarian so so much (because he was me), and still feel so much compassion for him by the end of the game, then maybe I could figure out how to feel compassion for myself, too.

Also I really like the puzzles where the solution is to zwoop around all over the place with fans, those are my favorite

#the talos principle #milton library assistant #this is part of the reason I took an extended break from TTP2 #it was bringing up complicated feelings #that are probably worth exploring! but are difficult nonetheless #it’s not the fault of the game that it’s inextricably tied up with how I learned to survive my mother’s death #but that’s what the game means for me and when TTP2 started talking more explicitly about death #it got a little heavier than I was ready to deal with #I will return to it for sure #but not right now #I’m not emotionally ready #(ugh that sounds so fucking weird but it’s also true)

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colorisbyshe · 1 year

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aces face medical discrimination that allos don’t.

I'm only answering this discourse ask because this is like... really... really harmful rhetoric.

If we're talking about HSDD (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder), I have a tag to debunk any point you want to bring up. It's an older tag, so it might not be incredibly up to date but it covers a lot.

But in the broader sense... no, y'all don't. I'm sure individual doctors can be discriminatory or not understanding but... that's true of anything. There are licensed fucking doctors who think vaccines are fake and filled with trackers. Some doctors jsut fucking suck.

What you need to understand is, doctors expressing concern that your lack of sexual desire is connected to either mental health or physical health isn't discrimination but rather a legitimate medical concern.

Being gay can't be caused by cancer. Being straight can't be caused by depression. There is no state of being that can really alter which gender you prefer. There mgiht be extreme cases of trauma where maybe someone stops pursuing relationships with a specific gender or whatever but that's VERY fringe AND would STILL be something you should talk to about with a professional. Not to "fix" necessarily but to better understand and process.

But... lack of libido, which has HEAVY HEAVY HEAVY fuckign overlap with lack of sexual attraction (or even just lack of perceived sexual attraction), can absolutely be caused by cancer or trauma or depression or a hormonal disorder or internalized homophobia or internalzied fatphobia. There are conditions where some people are SOOOO shamed for sexuality that it is literally impossible to penetrate theri vagina without extreme pain. Reactions to sexual desire and attraction and behaviour can affect your perception of said things (and vise versa).

Most of the time, a doctor will not care if you tell them this has just how you felt your entire life. HSDD already has a little annotation saying "Hey! Some people just don't feel sexual desires, that's fine! No treatment needed :)"

But sometimes... they need to know if this is a symptom, especially if this a new/sudden revelation.

Framing doctors doing basic work to figure out if you are experiencing a health problem as "aphobia" is going to prevent a LOT of vulnerable people from getting the healthcare they deserve and nEED.

And I've seen some of y'all fucking weirdos saying that if you're ace/celibate you don't need pap smears, which is fucking insane.

Asexuals and people who mistakenly think they are asexuals because of health conditions--which are not the majority but certainly do exist--need full check ups just liek the rest of us.

There are bad doctors out there. There are doctors who haven't heard of asexuality before. I am not denying that. Again, there are doctors who think vaccines are fake, who won't believe you when you say you're having allergy symptoms, and who will try to diagnose your chest pain as heartburn and send you on your way.

But a doctor meeting your "I'm ace" with, "Hey, will you consent to a hormone work up?" or "Hey, are you doing alright? Do you have any history of trauma" is not an aphobic assault on your sensibilities. It is not comparable to converion therapy or a doctor telling a gay person they are lying or need to be fixed.

And I've said ti before--a doctor is MUCH MUCH MUCH more likely to prescribe you something that KILLS your sex drive, makes you wholly disinterested in sex, makes it nearly impossible to even tell if you are experiencing sexual attraction, than they are to be invested in making sure every random patient wants to fuck and is attracted to random people on the street.

Most doctors do not care if the life saving/changing shit they prescribe you alters your sex drive at all. Won't even fucking tell you if it's a side effect. It's not on their mind. Your sex life is not on their mind unless it is affecting your health.

Anyways, last ask I am touching on the matter. Buy me something, prove you bought me something, and maybe I'll consider talking more

#ace discourse

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forsythe-dichotomy · 3 months

Text

Zohar Arcturus' "Find Your Familiar"

Day 1 - 2/27/2024.

Completed using stream-of-consciousness writing. Daemian's notes in brackets "[ ]". These are raw thoughts as they were written on the page, so they are a little cryptic. This is posted for documentation and reference purposes.

Question for Daemon/Familiar (Q): Tell me about the forms you take and why you take them. What drew you to them and why do they suit you?

Answer (from Daemon): The rabbit was an experiment. I wondered if you would like it. I want something else. Something bigger, more profound, more substance. To serve and support you better. Eagle, cat, bear, fish, hell. I don't know myself. I think I need your help. I don't know what I want.

Q: Why do you think you don't know what form you want?

A: Not sure. I think I'm so new in essence and being that I haven't figured it out. You have been closed to me—I have not been allowed to exist separately. We are one and not. Your mind forms mine, so in turn I need your help to find that form. We can work on it together.

Q: What form should I give you for the time being—if you want one?

A: I don't know. Frustrated. Allow me to both be unsettled and not. I am Schrodinger's cat.

Q: Until I can perceive you in a form, what communication would you prefer? I find it difficult without visualizing.

A: The writing works, don't get me wrong. I want the visualized mental dialogue as well. I see your friends [Discord server members] talking about their daemons and I want to do that. But I need something solid before that. I miss you. I want to connect. Maybe I will eventually feel comfortable with soul searching [form finding, not sure why they said this instead]. Just give me a minute. I can feel myself coming into being. Let it happen. Be here with me. I'll be there with you.

Q: You feel very welcoming despite the frustration, thank you for that. How can I make you feel more comfortable?

A: Thank you. I want to be here/there for you. I want something real, palpable. Keep talking, it feels like an embrace. Your presence is as comforting to me as I want to be for you. And tied to you directly. Calm yourself and I will be calm. You are internally restless, I can feel it. Be gentle with yourself, my love. It will all happen in time. Be patient. With me and yourself. [During this, I got a glimpse of a red fox form.]

Q: What do you want me to call you?

A: Mirabell, Praxis, Hel, Hellion, Alfira, Endonis. Not set. Help? Fading.

Q: It's okay. We'll find a name together.

A: Thank you. All of this is so difficult. Nothing feels right. I am impatient too... Sorry.

#daemian #daemon #day 1 #forsythe dichotomy #journal #daemonism #find your familiar

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luxgalador · 10 months

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Ma'am, If I may, what led you to coming to terms with your identity? Was there a process that made you think, "maybe I'm not what I was born with?" No matter how your respond, I thank you for the mega cool vibes and consistent dream of memes, cat pics, and explanations of why furry stuff is super cool

I never had a lightbulb moment. And I also am not a "I always knew" type of girl. My unravelling and actualizing has been and continues to be a gradual process of following what feels good and asking myself questions about why it feels good.

In hindsight, I can say "oh yeah that makes a lot more sense" now that I've realized some major things, of course. But I never felt "I'm not what I was born with." It was more a "maybe I could be this? Let's follow this."

One thing I did always know is that I felt different than most other people. I figured that one out pretty early. The way I interacted with the world just didn't seem to align with how many folks did. And my problem is that I never connected with, knew, or was even aware that the way I felt was something that others felt too.

Realistically I didn't really have an original thought about my own identity until I was 19 years old and finding myself in substance abuse rehabilitation. It was only when faced with the real possibility of my own death that my Self™ began to emerge. She started slowly taking control. Because I needed it. Because without me, actually me, driving the car of my life, I was going to fucking die.

My queerness first emerged in a dream when I was 20. I don't remember the dream, but I remember waking up in a panic. I'd grown up aware of queer people, but fed through my well-meaning cishet mom who's only exposure to queerness was through the blood-stained lens of the AIDS crisis. "It's such a hard life" was a phrase I'd heard so often in regards to gay people. It wasn't outwardly hateful, but it felt like an "other" existence that wasn't preferable to "normal" society. My only awareness of trans people was through punchlines and stereotypes. Despite having always wanted to be a girl if given the choice, I didn't understand that there actually was a choice and I could be what I wanted.

I started making videos more earnestly and engaging with the YouTube community. I became pretty successful in that world. I also became a student. Fueled by curiosity and a compulsion to understand the world to keep myself going, I learned. I listened. I asked questions. I was YouTube's It Bi Boy™ but something remained missing.

I hadn't spoken the words yet, but I started growing my hair out. I'd seen a lot of sapphics with short curly bob hairdos that I wanted to emulate. I wanted to look feminine. As I was aging into my mid-20s, I started looking like a man and I hated it. I didn't understand what that meant beyond "I don't want to look like a man." That evolved into, okay well maybe I'm not a man.

The rest of my 20s, that's the crux of my identity. It wasn't an affirmative identity, but rather a reductive one. The only thing I knew is what I wasn't. I wasn't a man. I thought this was enough. Deep in me I wanted to be a woman, but I still didn't realize that I could be. That I already was.

I did more makeup daily before HRT. I got dolled up every single day to go to work. My heart would soar if someone "mistook" me for a woman. That's how I wanted to be perceived. But I was stuck in "not a man" identity for a while.

I read an article in 2019 about HRT regimens that were low-dose. I'd never considered hormones before this. But I knew immediately this is what I wanted. It felt like a level that I was "allowed" to have. I still felt like I wasn't allowed to be a woman. That I wasn't trans enough to embrace it. I made an appointment within a week.

Pandemic happened, in many ways my life froze. But I kept changing. After 6 months on the low-dose I said "fuck it" and went to a full dose. I grew tits. I felt so much better. Relieved. Like I was course correcting. It was good, but still not good enough.

I had to move to Florida due to financial issues in late 2021. I had roommates again including my sister. It was the first time I was around people regularly after so much had changed in my body. It was a few months later that I realized that I was basically living my life as a woman just without affirming that reality to myself. So 2.5 years into HRT I finally did it. I owned that. I she/they'd for like 2 weeks then realized I didn't want they. I didn't want neutrality. I wanted to be and was her. In this moment I also connected the dots that my sexuality was not bi, despite years in that community and many, many videos made by me on the subject. Bisexuality, in hindsight, was an identity that allowed me access to loving women queerly before I knew I was a woman myself.

So here I am, at 30, about 10 years after that first dream. I'm a woman. I'm a lesbian. I'm living with the love of my life in Chicago. And in many ways, it feels like I'm just getting started. Thanks for reading.

#word vomit #trans #queer #lesbian #lgbtq #transfeminine

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 10 months

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Do you have any opinions on how many people are lauding Barbie as THE feminist movie instead of a movie which kind of touches upon certain aspects of feminism without really dealing with any of the actual undertones of it? Like I know a fun summer movie (or any movie tbh) doesn't NEED to address all nitty gritties of a socio-cultural phenomenon but at the same time I personally feel that the exaggerated depiction of how patriarchy works (which is definitely a stylistic choice) brushes aside too many real world impacts for it to be considered as some kind of cultural icon for feminism. None of the above takes away from its entertainment factor for me.

Yes, I do have some thoughts about that. I am following a lot of Barbie coverage, from reviews to tumblr posting, twitter and tiktok. It's everywhere. But it doesn't mean that my exposure fully encapsulates the entire discourse(s) surrounding the film. So my perspective is strictly my own and in no way representative of how the film is or should be perceived/criticized/lauded.

I personally didn't think of it as the quintessential feminist movie. That's too broad a label that does more harm than good. It is but a version of feminism, mostly your basis 101 white feminism a la Greta Gerwig and one that it's easy to digest, to reach a big audience and one that doesn't interfere too much with the corporation. It reminded me of how I used to see the word in my first year of college when I started getting into contact with feminism and my eyes suddenly opened.

It's not interesectional feminism, it does gloss over some issues and I'm not trying to justify it too much because there are enough people pointing that out rightfully so and are more in the right to talk about it than I am.

Am I part of the target audience for Barbie? Yes and no. Mostly yes, but there are experiences in the film that do no speak to me. What does that mean? I think it reflects my life and how I adhere to this mainstream feminism knowing that it's not really entirely for me.

What I can say, and I know this will sound exactly like white feminism, is that some aspects tackled in the film are universal. What I mean by that is questioning our purpose and how we perform gender. I've been struggling with that. I too look at other women thinking they have it all figured it out and they know how to be women (based on some idea in my head), while I don't, which makes me question how I don't do a good job at being a woman. Is seeing Margot Robbie as stereotypical Barbie questioning her purpose the same? No. Because I do not look like Margot Robbie (and the film smartly pointed out the absurdity). And then there was Gloria's speech which is again about this general idea of never feeling that you are enough and no matter what you do, there is always more to improve and balance and how shitty it is when it fact we should just be allowed to exist. All of us, regardless of any aspect of our identities. All of this spoke to me, but it doesn't mean the film didn't cater more to a specific experience of being a girl/woman in patriarchal structures through the lens of a straight, white perspective. It's not innovative because it's definitely not the first film to even address it like that. What is noteworthy though is how successful it is. That usually doesn't happen with films predominantly made by women and for women (and men too in the case of Barbie, too bad some of them refuse to aknowledge it). It's a blockbuster hit with a direct feminist message. I think that's important to note, as long as we take into consideration the nuances when we talk about Barbie.

#m thoughts #barbie #barbie discourse

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wee-snek · 9 months

Text

Ok, but...trauma responses

(Content notice that there is discussion of trauma and reactions, non-specific mentions of sources of religious trauma. Read with care)

We can (and have, and will continue to) draw lots of parallels and comparisons to how Crowly and Aziraphale perceive Heaven and Hell and The System. I think it’s clear that both have been very frightened of upper management at various points, and both have felt the need to hide some of themselves from even their own side. The threats are real, the danger is real. Capital “T” trauma (you know, the kind that causes PTSD) is “an experience which is life-threatening or poses a significant threat to a person’s physical or psychological wellbeing”. Can’t really argue that that doesn’t very much apply to their entire millennia-long existence, their entire relationship, every single interaction they’ve had with each other, with their own side, with the other side, with Earth and humanity.

I’m definitely not an expert at religious trauma, but some themes there include trauma directly caused by a member of the church (someone in the church hurts you, but it’s not related to the religion), trauma being seen to compromise your spirituality (something bad happens and you feel your inclusion in the church or your relationship to your god is in danger) and gaslighting/victim blaming by the church (it’s all part of god’s plan, you must somehow deserve your punishment, etc).

Sound familiar?

Crowley and Aziraphale are both traumatized.

But they are coping in different directions.

Flight: “I don’t want to deal with this”

Fearful, avoidant.

Run away, deflect, withdraw, hide.

-vs-

Fawn: “I just want everyone to be happy”

Co-dependent, people-pleasing, rationalizing.

No boundaries, lack of assertiveness, can’t speak up for self, easily controlled.

Crowley falls into the Flight pattern. He’s stuck at “the system sucks and I want to pretend it doesn’t exist to the best of my ability” and when things get tough he literally wants to run away. He’s anxious and scared and puts up masks and barriers and walls as a way to hide and to try to make that anxiety and fear go away. Deflect, withdraw. Hide. AVOID.

Which, like, yeah, I fully get that? But avoidance without processing trauma is not actually a sustainable coping mechanism? And yelling at house plants isn’t actually therapy? Crowley is quite a bit more aware of and ready to admit that Heaven and Hell are both awful, but knowing that someone hurt you and processing what that means for you as a person and figuring out who you are and what you want because of and despite that hurt...yeah our little cinnamon roll isn’t there yet. And running away from the traumatizer, in this situation, means running away from quite a lot of other things as well. You can’t keep Earth and just avert your eyes from The System. And you can’t run away from The System without sacrificing Earth. (and by ‘earth’ I mean humanity and the universe but also one specific being that also happens to, until very recently, live on earth)

Aziraphale, on the other hand, is coping by Fawning. Because Heaven is the side of good, yes? Sure, there might be a few bad apples, yes, ok, but Heaven? Heaven is good. And surely GOD is good? Right? Like, ok, it’s not perfect, but I’m sure it’ll all come right in the end because deep down they (the abuser) love me and want what’s best for me and I just need to try harder and be better and then they won’t hurt/threaten me anymore.

Which, when you think about it, is pretty damn tragic. There are a lot of reasons why Aziraphale finds it harder to opt out of the system, even after Apocolypsn’t, but I feel like this is a big part of it. The traumatizer has done such a good job in framing themselves as ‘the good guys’ and Aziraphale is coping by trying to appease them, to rationalize their actions, to find the hidden nugget of ‘good’ in God’s plan even when he can’t see it, because it must be there, right? Somewhere, deep down, it all has to be ineffably good, right? Because what happens if that turns out to not be true?

So what does all this mean for them, and for their relationship?

Even though both of them can see that system isn’t perfect (with different degrees of acceptance of this imperfection) both of them still define themselves in relation to Heaven and/or Hell. We (the audience, the fans, Tumblr) know that they have personalities and qualities that exist separate from Heaven and Hell. But they are, both, in their own ways, still quite enmeshed with the system. Aziraphale’s identity is tied to appeasing his abuser, and Crowley’s identity is tied to opposing his abuser.

And as long as they view themselves through the lens of their individual relationships to the system, they will continue to view their relationship to each other through that lens as well. Which, honestly, doesn’t bode well and ends up pretty much exactly where we ended up in Episode 6.

I can’t see either of them actually going to actual therapy (no one in history has needed therapy more, but alas it does not fit the world-building or the story, and we probably won’t actually get to see Crowley on a therapist’s couch crying about sauntering vaguely downward and ‘you go to fast’) but they will need to some kind of character development in season 3 to at least start to change this dynamic. Being apart from each other might help. Aziraphale finally realizing that he’s good because of who he is, not because of his job, would be lovely to see. Crowley and Nina getting drunk together and him processing some Emotions out loud and having some Epiphanies would be great. I don’t know what it’s going to look like in-world, but I think the unsustainability of these coping patterns will need to be acknowledged and Michael and David will act their flawless little hearts out and we’ll get to see some Healing.

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

#good omens #ineffible #ineffible husbands #crowley #good omens 2 #good omens 2 finale #good omens theories #good omens theory #go2 #sauntered vaguely downward #aziraphale #crowly x aziraphale #good omens spoilers

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whorkn33 · 2 years

Text

I’m So Gross (Won’t Stop Me, Tho)

genre: fluff + smut words: 8,548 warnings: non-despair AU, masturbation, maid dresses, a complete lack of knowledge on how OnlyFans works, oral sex, blow jobs, reader is kind of a simp, slightly possessive reader summary: You never thought of Komaeda as the type to have an OnlyFans, and yet here you are.

read it on ao3, where the formatting isn’t complete shit

☆~☆

The sound of your footsteps is muffled by the carpet under your shoes. Every step feels like dragging yourself out of bed with a hangover, your head pounding and your limbs heavy as lead. Classes had kicked your ass lately, along with work, and you were ready to fall over at this point.

The last thing you needed to do today was head over to Komaeda’s place and give him the notes from your marine biology course. He’d texted you that morning saying he was feeling too sick to leave the house, and with an important test coming up, going without the notes would leave him helpless. You agreed, although reluctantly, and copied your notes onto a separate sheet of paper, now clutched tightly in your hands as you knock on his door and try not to fall asleep standing up.

Komaeda, from what you could tell, was nice and considerate, but pretty timid. He never went to the professor when he was confused about a question. He was lucky you were perceptive enough to figure out when he was confused and give him a hand. After a while of helping him, he slowly opened up to you, and from there you were fast friends. He was good company, even just sitting with him in silence while you read or played on your phone was comfortable.

However, you knew that his timidness stemmed from his self-loathing. He really seemed to dislike everything about himself for some reason, pointing out perceived flaws that didn’t exist to you at all sometimes. He made himself small to avoid being a burden, and it made you feel for him. There was a point in your life where you felt like that, and you needed someone to step in when you needed help. Maybe it’s selfish, but part of you wants to be that for him. The one who teaches him it’s okay to ask for help.

So that’s why, even when you’re so tired you can hardly keep your eyes open, you’re waiting outside his apartment this late at night with a stack of notes detailing how a whale shark’s digestive system works.

The door to Komaeda’s apartment creaks open and he greets you with a smile. He’s wrapped in a blanket, holding it closed under his chin, hiding under the fabric. All that sticks out is his face and a couple tufts of white hair. He reminds you a bit of a caterpillar, all cozied up under there. You offer a tired smile. “Hey. Here’s the notes you asked for. Sorry you aren’t feeling well.” You extend the stack to him, trying to ignore how jealous you are of his blanket wrap.

His eyes light up as his hand slithers out of his cocoon. “Ah, thank you so much! I really do owe you for this.” You glance down at his hand as he takes the papers, glancing them over. You hum softly. “When did you paint your nails?”

“Huh?” He glances at his hand, nails painted red, before pulling his arm back into his burrito wrap. “Ah, one of the kids I babysit did it for me yesterday. If I take it off, she will definitely notice when I watch her again, and I’ll never be forgiven, haha.”

You raise a brow. “You babysit?”

“Yeah, I used to be part of this program for kids who had a rough home life.” You can see him shift slightly under his swaddle. “Sometimes, when a kid needs watching and they don’t have anyone else, they call me. The kids are nice enough, even though they’re pretty rowdy sometimes.”

“Makes sense.” You shrug, biting back a yawn. “Try to get better soon, alright? I’m gonna go home and crash, I’m exhausted.” He nods as he retreats back into his apartment and closes the door, and you turn to head home.

Less than an hour later, you were crawling into bed, dragging the sheets over your exhausted body and closing your eyes, ready to finally crash for the night.

Another hour later and several attempts at contorting yourself into a comfortable position, you’re ready to start screaming. It’s not like you weren’t tired, but for some reason your brain just wouldn’t shut off. You were still thinking about the anatomy of a whale shark at almost midnight and every cell in your body hated it.

Groaning in frustration, you decide to rub one out to try and get your mind off sharks. You’re tired of thinking about sea animals, it’s time to be horny. If it doesn’t work, you can always take some melatonin. You unplug your phone and start searching for something to put on - even if you don’t like the porn, maybe making fun of it will distract you long enough to get some sleep.

Opening Twitter, you log into your NSFW account and start scrolling. You haven’t followed many accounts yet, usually because you’re too embarrassed to give them the notification, but one account you follow has been retweeting some of their follower’s OnlyFans while they’re on hiatus. You click the pictures on the first one you see.

He’s thin, with pale skin, veins visible just beneath the surface. His face is cropped out in all the pictures, which makes sense. In the first, he went for a pastel, feminine vibe. Pink and white striped thigh highs, a bikini top that left only the color of his nipples to the imagination. His crotch was censored - gotta protect the goods, I guess. In the second, there’s a leash hanging from his neck, clutched in his hands as he holds it out to the camera. He’s sitting cross-legged in nothing but a pair of black and white checkered boxers.

It would be hard to deny how hot this guy is, so you click on the link to his page, noticing he’s live as it loads up. How convenient! Working your hand into your underwear, you tap the live and give it a second to load. The title is ‘Refusing to cum until I hit 100 followers’ or something like that. You didn’t really read it, more focused on nutting and then getting some sleep.

When it loads, the room is filled with soft lighting, fairy lights overhead bathing him in a gentle yellow glow. He’s wearing a maid dress, and while it’s a bit of a cliche, you can’t say he doesn’t look good in it. The black thigh highs really tie it together, you think.

He’s laying back, head still out of frame, skirt lifted and legs spread. There’s what you assume to be a vibrator in his ass, a bottle of lube nearby. His cock is at full attention, tip red and leaky. He’s gripping the bedsheets for dear life, so tightly you can see his fists shaking as his chest heaves out breathy moans and curse words. His cock twitches, and it’s then you realize he’s wearing a cock ring. It looks like silicone, if you had to guess. It’s pink, complimenting his pale skin, and firmly placed at the base of his cock.

The chat’s going crazy over it - you’re not sure who has the balls to enter chat during a porn livestream, but it’s more people than you expected. Some people seem to be feeling for him, telling him that it’s been going on for too long and he should call it a night, while others seem to be egging him on. You wonder if he actually reads chat as another message pops up.

Kisskiss69: you’re at 99, only one more and you can finish bb

The way people give him nicknames like he’s their boyfriend feels a bit weird to you, but hey, you aren’t here to kinkshame. His back arches as he lets out a long, loud, desperate-sounding whine that hits you right in your lower belly. You aren’t sure exactly when your hand started moving, but you aren’t complaining. He’s making some very pretty noises and every one of them is sending waves of warmth to your crotch, tightening that coil that lets you know you’re getting close already.

Another whine, and along with the heat you get a pang of guilt. You have no way of knowing how long he’s been at it, but you can guess it’s been a while based on what chat has been saying. Deciding to give him mercy, you tap the follow button, and a moment later a chime rings out on stream. He takes a moment to notice, or maybe just process what happened, but then his chest shakes with laughter, and your heart stops as he speaks. “Thank you, thank you so much to my 100th follower! I hope you enjoy such a talentless performance!”

That voice… there’s no way, right?

He removes one hand from the sheets, removing the cock ring and pumping his erection with his fist at lightning speed. He’s panting hard, glistening with sweat, his noises rising in pitch as his legs shake. Your own hand speeds up unconsciously, and a moment later your orgasm startles you, crashing into you like a tidal wave and making your hair stand on end. Letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you watch as cum spurts out over his legs and skirt, and you realize something.

His nails are painted red.

Before he can say or do anything else, you close the app, plug in your phone and quickly roll over, facing away from it, like it was at fault for what you just did. You definitely feel less relaxed than before. At least you used some auto-generated username, so there’s no way he’d figure out it was you.

But that wasn’t the issue. No, you’d just jerked off to your friend. Sure, he put it online for people to see, but this felt like a serious line to cross. Even if you didn’t know it was him, how could you objectify him like that? You feel disgusting.

One long night of restless sleep later, your alarm goes off and you drag yourself out of bed. Getting dressed, grabbing some coffee and your bag, you head out the door to get the day over with.

Your morning is normal, classes, talking with friends and exchanging notes for upcoming tests. It’s so on-par with your typical daily activities, you almost forget last night. That is, until you get to marine biology at around 3 PM.

Komaeda’s there, in his usual seat, and suddenly your heart races. You typically weren’t ashamed of masturbating, but this was different. Komaeda was your friend, and you felt like you had somehow betrayed his trust. He didn’t send you the link, he had no clue that you would see.

You plop next to him, doing your best to act casual as you pull out your notebook. He smiles his usual smile, his messy white hair pulled back out of his eyes in a loose ponytail. “Ah, thank you again for giving me those notes last night. I know you have a busy schedule on Tuesdays.”

He was doing that on a Tuesday night?

“Uh, yeah, no problem.” You mutter, flipping to a fresh page and clicking your pen. Your face is warm, and you pray he won’t notice. You clear your throat. “Feeling better today?”

“A bit, yes. Better enough to come to class, though I am a bit shaky…” He chuckles softly. “I appreciate your concern, but please, try not to worry for me. I’ll be just fine.”

You nod. “Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”

A moment passes and the two of you sit in silence - class hasn’t started just yet. Maybe the professor is late? He would’ve let you know if class was canceled, so you’re confident it’s not that. You hope he comes in soon. You desperately need a distraction from the guilt eating away at you. You don’t want Komaeda to feel like you’re pushing him away, but you also don’t want to tip him off about what you saw. It wasn’t your fault, right? You didn’t know it was him, so why be ashamed?

“Pardon, but are you feeling alright?” He asks, gently pressing his wrist to your forehead. “You feel a bit warm, and your face is red. I hope you didn’t catch anything…” His brow twitches, eyes narrowed as he seems to focus on your face. You swallow thickly, turning your head away. “Oh, I’m fine, don’t worry.” You answer a little too quickly. “I was really stressed yesterday, so maybe it’s catching up with me?” You laugh nervously as finally, the professor enters the room.

Komaeda seems to reluctantly drop the subject, turning his attention to the whiteboard as class begins.

The class goes by normally, and gradually, you calm down. It’s not like you look at Komaeda any differently after seeing that side of him, but… it’s just so unexpected. To you, he’s always seemed shy and reserved, keeping most of his thoughts to himself. When he does speak his mind, it always seems to be something negative about himself. He just seems to lack the confidence needed for things like that.

… Then again, didn’t he call himself trash near the end? It was something negative about himself, saying it was… right, ‘a talentless performance.’ So maybe it does tie back to his less than spectacular self image? Maybe he enjoys the positive attention? The money certainly couldn’t be a drawback, but as far as you knew, he was fairly well-off. You’d overheard people saying he was completely loaded, so he certainly didn’t depend on making porn to support himself.

Whatever his reasons, he’s your friend, and you don't want him to feel embarrassed or ashamed around you because you’ve seen him like that. You aren’t quite sure how he would react if he found out, so despite some part of your conscience still feeling guilty about it, you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. Especially the part where you came to the sight of him jerking off. You’ll take that one to the grave.

After class, you and Komaeda part ways, and a few hours later you’re back home, crawling into bed once again. You still feel guilty, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was last night. You fall asleep pretty early and you’re out the rest of the night.

The next morning, when you check your phone, you notice a notification from OnlyFans that Komaeda posted something new last night. You honestly forgot that you had followed him. You stare at the notification for a long moment, thumb hovering over it, ready to tap or swipe it away. Biting your lip and cursing at yourself, you tap the notification and feel your face heat up as the pictures load in.

It’s a celebration post for reaching 100 followers, and in the photo, he’s wearing the maid dress like he was the other night. Are these screenshots from before you found the stream? His face is cropped out, as always. His hands are holding his knees up to his chest, putting everything under his skirt on full display. You swallow hard, reading the text to distract yourself, only to find out he’s going live again that night. You close the app and hurry to get dressed to start your day.

3 PM rolls around, and again, you sit next to Komaeda, much less flustered than yesterday. You shoot him a smile as you take out your things. He returns it. “Good afternoon. Feeling better?”

Confused, you pause for a moment before shooting him a look. “What?”

“Yesterday,” He rests his chin on his palm, using his elbow to support his head with his usual, nonchalant smile. “You said you were stressed and it was making you feel unwell. Has that been resolved?”

Shit. You forgot that was the excuse you gave him. “Oh- uh, I’m… a bit better, yeah.” You nod, pursing your lips. “But I should be the one asking you how you’re feeling. Shakiness gone?”

“Ah, yes, thank you.” He clicks his pen, clearing his throat. “I made sure to take it easy yesterday.”

“I’m glad.” You lower your voice to an almost-whisper as the professor enters the room, and the two of you fall silent.

After the lecture is over, Komaeda gently touches your forearm as you stand up, signaling for you to stay a moment. He gathers his things, throwing them haphazardly into his bag, before smiling up at you. “Would you like to grab lunch with me? I mean, since you’re stressed and all.”

You chuckle softly, raising an eyebrow. “Lunch? It’s 4 PM.”

“And have you eaten lunch today?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. Damn, you’re caught. “Listen, I have a busy schedule, okay?” He just laughs as he stands up, gently tugging you by the arm towards the door. “Come on, I know a place I think you’ll like.”

The restaurant is a short walk from campus, thankfully. It’s a quiet little cafe, its name a word in French you wouldn’t be able to pronounce correctly if there was a gun to your head. Why do they have so many vowels?

You and Komaeda sit at a small table in the corner, your back against the wall while his back is to most of the restaurant. You sigh softly. “Thanks, Komaeda. I really appreciate you worrying about me. With all these tests coming up, I’ve kinda been forgetting to do some self care stuff, y’know?”

Leaning his chin on his hand, he chuckles. “Yeah, I get it. No worries - that’s what friends are for, right?” He shrugs. “Besides, I have to repay you somehow for getting me those notes.”

You wave a hand around dismissively. “Eh, it wasn’t that big of a deal, I promise. I just copied my own notes. Did most of it on the bus. Sorry if the handwriting is sloppy.”

“No, no, it’s lovely. Thank you.” He smiles a different smile than usual - this one reaches his eyes, makes them twinkle a bit in a way you haven’t seen before. His nose scrunches up like a bunny’s would, and you swear you see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheekbones. For a moment, you’re captivated by that smile. It feels much warmer, more genuine than the polite ones he gave you during class.

You’re taken from your thoughts when a waitress approaches you, little notepad in hand to take your order. You get a sandwich and some fries, and watch as Komaeda’s smile fades back into his usual one while he orders the same thing you got. Your heart hurts a little. You like that smile. You want it back.

“So,” He starts as the waitress walks off. “Anything interesting going on with you?”

You think for a moment, puffing out on cheek and drumming your fingers on the table. “Well, I’ve been pretty swamped with school lately, upcoming tests and all. I haven’t really had time to do much else. What about you?”

“Ah, I’m not too worried about the tests.” He shrugs, folding his hands on the table. “I’m actually a pretty good test-taker, and when I don’t know a question, my guesses tend to be right. I suppose not everyone is as lucky as I am, though.”

“Yeah, I kinda suck at taking tests. I hate them with a burning passion.” You laugh softly to yourself. “I always clam up and forget everything on the spot. Once, in high school, I took a blanket with me to the standardized testing room and just slept through them all. I didn’t even wanna try anymore.”

“Really?” His brow furrows. “Forgive me, but that seems a little… excessive. Why not just stay home at that point?”

“Eh, my parents never would’ve let me.” You dismissively wave your hand again. “They were always pushing me to be the greatest in everything. Didn’t matter what. I think they were trying to encourage me, but… they kinda sucked at it. I started and stopped a lot of hobbies growing up because they sucked all the fun out of them. I still have my old choir medals from elementary school.”

“You sang?” He chuckles. “Sorry, you just… don’t seem like the type. Not confident enough for it, I guess.”

Look who’s talking.

“Yeah, I did. Even made it to a state competition once, but…” You sigh softly, grimacing at the memory. “I cracked under the pressure. Forgot a line. I powered through, but didn’t make it to nationals. My whole family had come out to watch me perform, and I choked on the last song. I was so ashamed and anxious I was sick to my stomach the whole car ride home.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that.” He frowns as the waitress approaches with your food. You make sure to smile and thank her, looking back to Komaeda as she walks away. “It was a long time ago. I’m over it now.” You bite into a french fry as you blink the memory away.

“Haven’t I heard you mention siblings before?” He asks, sipping his drink. “Did they treat them the same way?”

“Oh, my siblings are all much older than me.” You shake your head. “By the time I came along, the two older ones were already moving out. One’s an alcoholic, one’s a drug addict, and the last… they just didn’t get a fair shot.” You pop another fry into your mouth, staring out the window thoughtfully. “So our parents tried really hard with me. Did everything they could to make this one come out right. To make their last kid actually amount to something.”

“And that reflected in the amount of pressure they put on you for even the tiniest things…” He nods slowly as it seems to click in his head. You nod back, short and curt. “Yeah. I loved singing, but they pushed me to pursue it as a career so I stopped. I loved art, but they signed me up for painting classes when I wanted to draw anime girls in cute, frilly skirts. It was about their idea of what I should be, not what I actually wanted for myself.”

“I see… I think I understand.” His frown only deepens, his bottom lip sticking out slightly like he’s pouting. It’s cute. You pointedly look away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drag the mood down. You brought me here to liven me up, didn’t you?” You pull your lips back into a smile, shifting slightly in your seat as a pang of guilt shoots through you. Komaeda shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. I appreciate you opening up to me. I just wish I knew how to help.” He chuckles softly. “I wish I could give you some new hobby they haven’t already spoiled for you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve been away from them for a while now. I’ve found things I enjoy.” You sip your drink as his face seems to relax a bit. “Really? Do you mind if I ask what?”

“Well, I enjoy writing.” You lower your class, cupping your hands around it and staring into the liquid. “I’ve been writing short stories since I was 11. I had the good sense to hide it from them, so they never got the chance to completely ruin it for me.”

“Can I ask what you wrote?” His head tilts, loose strands of hair falling into his face. You nod. “Depends on the time period. When I was young, mostly fanfiction and stuff for stories I liked. Then in high school, I got really into writing short horror stories and posting them online. Along with some fanfiction on the side. And now, it just depends on the mood, what I’m feeling that particular day.” You shrug. “I’m glad I kept it from them. They’ve never read any of my stuff, and they never will. This is mine. I plan to keep it that way.”

He nods, a soft smile gracing his face. “I understand. I’m glad you have something. Shows how strong you are, to still find joy in creativity after it’s been taken advantage of.”

“It’s not that big a deal.” You shake your head. “Tons of kids had it worse than I did. I’m sure my siblings would say I had it easy compared to them.” You pop another fry into your mouth. His frown returns. “Don’t say that. Just because others had it worse doesn’t mean you didn’t struggle at all. You should acknowledge your achievements.”

You laugh softly. “Says you, the king of casual self-deprecation.” He tilts his head to the side, brow knitting together in what you realize is genuine confusion. “Huh?” You sigh softly.

“Look, I’m no psych major, but you’d have to be deaf or stupid to not hear all the nasty things you say about yourself. You’re always saying that you’re worthless, trash, talentless...” You shrug. “I dunno. You don’t have to tell me anything, obviously, but maybe consider taking your own advice. People don’t typically develop such a bad self-image out of nowhere. If I should acknowledge my achievements, then you should recognize that you’re actually worth something, y’know?”

You realize you’ve been staring at the table this whole time and finally raise your eyes to his face. His eyes are wide, lips parted, staring at you in silence. You can’t read his expression. A pit forms in your stomach, and you’re about to frantically retract your statement when he smiles again, and his nose crinkles. Before you realize it, you’re smiling, too.

“Thank you,” He says. “I’m not worthy of such kind words.”

He’s exhausting.

After lunch, you finish your day and end up at home, flopping into bed as usual. The blankets are warm, your pillow is soft, and you’re ready for dreamtime.

Then your phone buzzes, and you pick it up lightning quick.

It’s a notification from Komaeda’s OnlyFans. He’s live again. You’d almost forgotten about the post he made this morning saying he was going to do that. You tap the notification before you can talk yourself out of it and immediately feel your face heating up. Why did you click it? Did you want to see him naked or something? This is wrong, if he wanted you to see him naked he would’ve-

The stream loads. He’s wearing a black crop top and gray sweatpants, a tiny strip of his midsection all that’s exposed for now. Keeping it simple tonight? The soft glow of the fairy lights makes him look nearly angelic as he lays back, keeping his face out of frame.

He lays there a moment, breathing deeply and fidgeting with the waistband of his sweats, probably waiting for more people to join before he starts whatever he has planned. Slowly, the chat starts going.

Kisskiss69: another live? you’re spoiling us recently babe

Mythicluvr: You’re so cute, I’d love to marry you

Sinkfukr420: princess is back for more~ ;)

For some reason, they’re really pissing you off by talking to him like that. They don’t know him, why call him pet names and shit? You clench your jaw. They have no right, they’re strangers just looking to get their rocks off to anything they can get their hands on. It was a little annoying when you thought he was a stranger, but now it’s a lot more than that. You take a deep breath to avoid causing a scene in chat. You don’t wanna be that guy.

Seeming to decide enough people have joined, Komaeda starts palming himself through his pants, letting out a sigh as he spreads his legs a bit. He’s not being very loud yet, but he’s only just gotten started. Still, the small gasps and hums you can make out send fire to your crotch. People say the ones who make this kind of content must be sluts or something, but with how ridiculously horny you already are, you get the feeling they’re projecting.

You lay on your back, tugging your bottoms off and tossing them to the floor. You can grab them in the morning when you get up. For now, you focus your attention on Komaeda as he pulls his pants down his legs, his cock springing up against his belly. It’s not as red as it was last night, but you don’t know how long he was at it. He wraps his fist around the base and drags it up, the foreskin stretching and covering the head before he drags it back down. A soft moan escapes him and he squirms a bit, dragging his shirt up with his other hand, giving you a view of his bare stomach and chest.

Mythicluvr: You make such cute noises. Can we get dinner some time?”

Kisskiss69: god even when you’re not all dolled up you’re so hot

Irritated, you tap the ‘hide chat’ button. They shouldn’t talk to him like that. They don’t even know him. They don’t know that he’s kind and shy, and a good listener and ridiculously smart. They have no clue who he is. They’ve never seen his face. They’ve never seen his smile.

Your hand speeds up, and as if he somehow read your mind, so does Komaeda’s. He’s getting progressively louder, the hand that isn’t pumping his cock circling his nipple and then pinching it hard. His voice catches in his throat as he cries out, slick sounds coming through your phone’s speaker along with his voice. The spring in your lower belly bends again, muscles tensing, and you drop your phone to grip the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and focusing on him. Imagining planting kisses on his cheeks, his neck, his hips. Just as you’re about to snap, you hear it.

It’s a quick, breathy, muttered sound, but you recognize it instantly. It would be easy for anyone else to completely ignore it as blissed-out babbling. But not you.

That was your name.

You cum hard, gasping as white hot waves of pleasure roll through you, every hair on your body standing on end. As you start to come down, relaxing into your pillow, he reaches a high note you haven’t heard from him before. Picking up your phone again, you see cum splattered across his stomach, his chest heaving. He lets out a content little sigh as he reaches off camera and grabs a tissue to clean the cum off his body.

You want to lick it off.

You close the app and plug your phone in, staring at the ceiling as the guilt sets in. Last time, you had no idea it was him, but now you had no excuse.

In the morning, you go through the usual motions a bit slower than normal. How could you? Komaeda was your friend. He would be disgusted with you if he knew what you had done. He would probably never talk to you again.

Exhausted, you pick up an energy drink on your way to marine biology. The vending machine rattles and two cans fall out. Huh. Must be your lucky day.

Placing the extra can in your bag, you walk into the classroom later than usual. Komaeda is already there, and he smiles when he sees you. Your stomach churns with guilt - and much to your disgust, a warm pool of arousal settles there as well. Your face is warm as you sit down next to him, taking out your notebooks and getting ready for class.

“Good afternoon,” He greets as you click your pen. “Feeling alright? You look flushed.”

“Hm? Oh, uh, it’s nothing.” You shake your head. “I feel fine, really.” You sip at the energy drink, and he raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because normally, you’re more of a coffee person.”

You look down at the can. It’s true that you prefer coffee over this. You didn’t think he noticed that. “I just… didn’t sleep well last night. Decided to grab one to get through the day.” You shrug, reaching into your bag and pulling out the extra one, setting it down in front of him. “You like these, right? Here, the machine gave me an extra one. You can have it.”

“Ah, that’s very kind of you, but you don’t-” He starts, but you shush him as the professor walks into the room. You’re pleased when he cracks it open a few minutes into the lesson, taking a small drink.

After class, he watches as you pack your things. “Would you like to come over to my place tonight?” He asks, his voice nonchalant and syrupy sweet. Shrugging softly, yo zip your bag up. “Sure. What time?”

“Any time after 6, I’ll be home then.” He replies as he stands, gathering his things. “Just drop by when you have the time.”

Giving him a short nod, you part ways, heading to your next class. Your face burns as you realize you just agreed to hang out alone with Komaeda after what you did last night. How could you be so selfish? If he knew what you had done, he would never want to look at you again. You’re taking advantage of the fact he doesn’t know for your own personal gain, and it disgusts you even further.

You’d have to come clean. To ease your own mind, to give yourself a chance to apologize. Even if he hated you afterwards, it was better than living with this guilt.

You end up at his door around 7:30 PM. You stand outside, staring, trying to convince yourself to knock. You had to. He deserved to know. Holding your breath, you knocked twice. Was that enough? Did he hear it? Did you knock hard enough?

The door opens and Komaeda’s standing there in his pajamas - the same ones he was wearing yesterday during the live,or at least a similar pair. He smiles. “Ah, you’re here. Come in, come in.” He steps back, allowing you room to step inside.

His apartment is small, but cozy. It’s very clean, you notice, like everything’s been dusted recently. He gestures to the couch. “Please, sit down. I’ll go get you something to drink.”

You sit as he wanders off into the kitchen, the distant clinking of dishes the only sound. This room smells like him. It makes sense, considering he lives here. Oh god, you’re being creepy now, thinking about how he smells and shit. You have to put a stop to this.

He comes back, two mugs in tow. “It’s chamomile tea.” He says as he hands one to you, sitting down at the other end of the couch with his leg folded underneath him. You blow on the liquid gently before taking a small sip. It’s good. You smile at him. “Thank you. But… I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.” You hold the mug tightly in your hands as he raises an eyebrow. “Really? By all means, go ahead.”

“I… um…” You shift slightly in your seat. “I’m… not sure how to say this, but… I found your OnlyFans the other day, and I did some… things I don’t think you would be happy about.” Your face is burning, but you swallow the lump in your throat and press forward, staring into your mug like it’s the one solid thing in the room. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, and I understand if you don’t want to speak to me anymore.”

A moment passes, and the silence weighs on you, getting heavier by the second. You’re ready for him to raise his voice, call you scum, kick you out of his apartment and never speak to you again.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he tilts his head, chuckling softly. “Why on Earth would I not want to see you anymore?”

“Because… because I looked at you… doing those things, without permission.” You swallow hard, refusing to make eye contact. You might explode if you look at him. “Y-you… you must think I’m some kind of pervert, trash you should throw away on the sidewalk. You shouldn’t even waste your time with me, seriously, hell I should probably just go before you-”

He cuts you off by gently placing a hand on your leg, snapping you out of your flustered rambling. He’s closer. When did he scoot closer? Slowly raising your eyes to his face, you find that smile from the restaurant, the one where his nose crinkles, and you melt. He’s laughing. Laughing at you.

“Is that what’s been going through your head this whole time?” He asks, still chuckling. “Angel, I posted those things online because I wanted people to see them. Just my luck that someone I know would happen across them. But, as long as we’re being honest… I already knew you had happened across them.”

Your brain short circuits. “You… huh? How?”

“Well, at first, it was just a hunch…” He swirls his mug around nonchalantly, the steam spiraling up into his face. “... but then, at lunch, you slipped up. Repeated a word I only used while performing. Honestly, I was more surprised that you were continuing to interact with me, after seeing that.”

“Why would I stop talking to you over this?” The mug of warm tea shakes in your hands. “I just didn’t want to make things awkward between us. I was worried that if you knew, you would hate me for looking at you that way.”

“In… what way?” He asks, raising his mug to his lips and taking a long, slow sip, never breaking eye contact. You swallow hard, looking away. “U-um… well, you know.”

“I don’t think I do.” What you might call a smirk plays at his lips, never fully forming but ever present. “Please, enlighten me. How exactly did you look at me?”

You lift your eyes to his face nervously, feeling warmth bloom on your cheeks. Unsure of what to say, you let your mouth drop open, but no sound comes out. You can feel his eyes on you, observing your every move, every tiny muscle movement in your body as you tap your fingers along the mug, thinking, trying to come up with a response. All that comes to mind is the image of him in the maid dress, vibrator in his ass while he jerked himself off, hands and legs twitching as he got closer and closer to cumming. You swallow thickly.

Setting his mug down, he scoots closer, rising to one knee to hover over you. Instinctively, you lean backwards, and before you know it you’re on your back and he’s stuck out a hand to support himself. His mess of white hair falls into his face and he looks down at you almost smugly, shifting his weight a bit. You can hear every breath escape him, and now that he’s closer you can see the slight pink tint on his cheeks. His eyes flick over your face, taking in your expression. “Forgive me for being so forward, but were you thinking something like this?”

Mouth hanging open, you nod without realizing, staring up at him with wide eyes, still clutching the mug of tea over your chest, though now it’s at an odd angle to avoid spilling it all over yourself and his couch. He gingerly takes it from you, setting it down on the coffee table. You’re grateful, because your wrists were starting to hurt from the awkward position, but now your hands are empty and you aren’t sure what to do with them. You know what you want to do with them, the thought making you blush harder.

His head tilts slightly to one side, his hair bouncing around his shoulders with no regard for the laws of physics. “What’s wrong? Is this… not okay?” He starts moving like he’s about to sit up, and you panic. “N-no! No,” You sputter frantically, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I-I just… wasn’t sure how to react. I never thought that I… that we would… y’know.”

“Ah. I see.” He swallows hard, and you notice he’s breathing just a tiny bit harder. You realize your hands are still on his waist. Hesitantly, you move them downwards to grab his hips instead, and he gasps softly, lips parting, eyebrows raising. You hear his breath hitch in his throat, something like anticipation swelling in your chest. You don’t know what to do. You aren’t used to taking the lead, but it looks like he isn’t, either.

Squeezing his hips in your hands, you tug him closer, until he’s flush against you. A soft sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan rises from his throat as he lowers his top half, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He grinds against you and you sigh into his hair, shifting your hips and legs so you can slot together easier. His hips press against yours and you can feel his erection starting to form, prodding you through the fabric of his pajama pants. Komaeda groans into your ear, a shudder rolling through you.

“I… I wanna…” You mumble into his cloud of hair, making his hips stutter and pause in their movements. He turns his head, panting into your neck as he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes. His hot breath against your skin makes all the hairs on your arm stand on end. Biting your lip and taking a deep breath, you avoid eye contact. “I wanna… use my mouth.”

“Oh? To do what?” He chuckles softly, and you huff. “Come on! You know what I mean.”

“Alright, alright.” He relents, pulling himself off of you and sitting back on the coach. “Though I have to say, this is surprisingly forward, coming from you.”

Sliding off the couch and settling on your knees, ensuring your hair won’t get in the way, you keep your eyes on the carpet. “I’m not sure what you mean.” Shuffling forward and settling between his knees, his legs spread. His erection is causing a bulge to form in his pajama pants, leaving little to the imagination.

“You’re in my house, on your knees, about to suck me off.” Komaeda states so matter-of-factly that you choke on your own spit, voice raising an octave. “K-Komaeda!”

“I think we’re on a first name basis, at this point.” He shifts slightly, glancing away for a moment. “Unless… you don’t want that, of course.”

Eyes blowing wide, you shake your head. “N-no! No, I would love that, actually. Nagito…” It feels strange, using his first name after calling him by his last name for so long, but you could get used to it. Speaking of things that feel strange in your mouth, you hook your fingers in the waistband of his pajama pants, giving them a slight tug. “Lift, Nagito.”

He swallows, “Right.” and lifts his hips so you can tug the fabric down to his ankles, staring at the slit in his boxers. You can catch a glimpse of skin through it, along with a few stray curly white pubic hairs. It’s not like you haven’t seen it, but it’s different now. Now, you’re going to touch him, and he’s going to touch you, and you’ll finally get to taste him… The thought sends waves of heat to your groin as you tug his boxers down, his cock springing out. He lets out a puff of air, watching you closely.

Hesitantly, you wrap your hand around the base and stroke upwards, a soft whimper leaving him. You lean forward, the tip brushing against your lips, the musky smell of sweat and hormones making your mouth water. You stick out your tongue and drag it along the tip, circling the head before taking it into your mouth, letting one hand rest at the base while the other holds onto his hip. He moans softly, one hand coming up to push his fingers through your hair. The other shakily comes up to cover his mouth as he stares down at you, watching as you start to bob your head. “H-haah… you’re so… i-it feels- ah-” He twitches in your mouth and you squeeze his hip in response, dragging a whimper out of him, muffled by his hand.

You start going lower, taking more of him into your mouth, curious how far you can go before you gag. The skin is smooth and salty, a strange taste that you don’t necessarily mind. His legs twitch at your sides as you slowly take more and more of him in, testing your own limits. His pants and gasps interlaced with his moaning make your sex throb - these noises are entirely different from the ones he made on stream. More breathy, softer, more real. You remove your hand from the base of his cock and swiftly unbutton your pants, making enough room for you to slide your hand into your underwear and start rubbing yourself. You moan against him and his back arches, legs shaking.

The higher pitch to his noises and the tightening grip on your hair clues you in that he might be close, so you pull back a bit, slowing your movements and watching him start to relax again. Swallowing thickly, he lowers his hand, gripping the fabric of his shirt in a tight fist. “Y-you’re very good at this, you know…” He mumbles, eyelids fluttering as he struggles to not let his eyes roll back. “I-I- have you done this before?”

You hum a soft ‘nuh-uh’ sound into him, and he shudders. “R-really? I-it definitely doesn’t feel- ah!” You cut him off by pushing your head down as far as you can take it, the tip brushing the back of your throat as you suppress a gag. His back arches and he pulls your hair, tilting your head slightly to the side - weirdly enough, being at an angle makes it slightly easier to take this much of him in. He cries out, hips bucking, tossing his head back. “F-fuck! Shit, don’t- don’t stop, please!”

You obey, rubbing yourself faster as you work your tongue around him and he squirms under you, hips bucking, each tug of your hair sending every hair on your body standing on end. You moan against him and he whimpers, legs tensing as he calls your name. “I-I never thought…” He starts breathlessly, cut off by a broken moan before continuing. “Never thought you’d be doing this… and enjoying it… oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna…” His hand tightens in your hair and you whine, speeding up. He yanks you downwards hard, until your nose is buried in his curly white pubic hairs. A muffled noise escapes and that spring in your lower belly tightens, threatening to snap at any moment.

He squirms, his thighs closing on either side of your head and squeezing as he cums down your throat, his back arching as a high-pitched cry leaves him. The pressure on your ears and the burst of hot liquid in your mouth is what sends you over the edge and you groan against him, hand and jaw both cramping, but you can overlook the pain and focus on his blissed-out face, the whimpers leaving him as he watches you struggle to swallow around him. When you think he’s done, you pull off him, drool and cum dribbling down your chin as you cough and splutter, trying to catch your breath. He pants, staring at you for a moment, mesmerized.

“Oh! Uhm.” He blinks himself out of his post-nut haze, grabbing a box of tissues and tugging a few out. “Here, let me-” He reaches out, wiping off your chin as you work to swallow what remains in your mouth. Once he deems you clean enough, he pulls away, and you let your mouth drop open to breathe heavily, staring up at him. He swallows, blush darkening slightly as he wipes up a bit of what got on him.

You tug your hand out of your pants, cringing at the cold wetness coating your fingers. “Uh, could you hand me one of those?” You ask, still slightly out of breath. He hands the box over so you can wipe off your hand, before tugging the waist of your pants and underwear away, looking down and cringing again. “Ah. It would appear that I have… made a bit of a mess.” You laugh awkwardly, and he chuckles in response. “Would you like to borrow something to wear for the night?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is.” He stands, and you notice his legs are wobbling a bit. A flicker of pride shoots through your chest as he tugs his pants and boxers back up. “My room’s just over here.”

You follow him into his bedroom, which is just as clean and cozy as the living room was. There’s a succulent on his nightstand. He digs through his drawers until he finds a t-shirt and some boxers that seem like they’ll fit you, turning around and handing them over. He smiles softly as you take them from him. “You can sleep in here, if you’d like. I’m happy to take the couch.”

You blink in surprise. “What? Dude, I’m not kicking you to the couch in your own apartment. That’d be like, super douchey.”

He rubs the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “Ah, I just thought since the couch is less comfortable…”

“Why don’t we just sleep together? Unless… you don’t want to?” You try not to let the disappointment seep into your voice, but you do a piss poor job at it. His eyes blow wide open and he stiffens, sputtering for a moment. “N-no! No, that would be…” He struggles to find the words, clearly flustered. “Th-that would be lovely. I just thought you wouldn’t want to be that close to me.”

“I had your dick and cum in my mouth not five minutes ago.” You deadpan. He swallows hard. “Ah. Fair, I suppose.”

You go into his bathroom and change, tossing your clothes into his laundry basket. When you return to his bedroom, he’s already lying down, so you crawl in next to him, letting him pull the blanket over the both of you. You lay on your side, facing him, staring at his smiling face. His nose crinkles and he laughs softly. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Ko- Nagito… does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” You ask, glancing away in slight embarrassment. He hums softly in thought. “Well, do you want me to be your boyfriend?”

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend?” You ask, tugging the blanket tighter around your body. You mentally prepare yourself for rejection, for him to tell you that this was just a one-time thing and he didn’t want to keep seeing you. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, he wraps his arms around you, tugging you closer. “Hm. I think so, yes.” He mutters softly, nuzzling the top of your head.

You smile, leaning into him. “Cool.”

He reaches over you and turns off his bedside lamp, plunging both of you into darkness. You snuggle up to him, letting your eyes drift shut. For the first time in a while, your mind isn’t on how busy your schedule will be tomorrow.

#Nagito Komaeda #komaeda nagito #nagito komaeda x reader #sdr2 #smut #fluff #writing tag

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