#I probably would talk about it more irl if people accepted more and it was more known

[aro-and-ace-memes-thoughts]

It's kinda sad people accept more when I say "I'm not interested in dating" than "I'm aroace" (or similar). They assume the first one is temporary, they can't accept I'm not like them and not liking someone ever doesn't mean something's wrong with me

[mantisgodsdomain]

We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.

[spectrumgarden]

I know I'm shouting into the void with this one but like. Genuinely so many low support needs people dont understand what it's like having even medium support needs. Like I am entirely dependent on other people for many of my needs. I can not see a doctor without someone else scheduling the appointment, taking me there and doing a large amount of the communication for me.

If my caretaker had not been accepting of me being trans and invested hundreds of hours into psych appointments and taking me to my endocrinologist and doing all the paperwork involved with my name change and literally taking a week off work to stay with me in the hospital for surgery etc i would have just like. Never transitioned. My ability to transition was entirely dependent on a singular person and that's what a lot of other parts of my life are like as well. and that's fucking terrifying and a great way to be neglected and abused in ways that are horribly hard to get away from.

I dont drive, I dont work, I struggle to leave the house at all, I dont fucking communicate with people majority of the time. The things that are hard for you? I probably can not do them to begin with. No one in my family lives even close to a comparable life to me. None of my irl friends do. I'm incredibly isolated.

And then I go online and see people rant about how easy MSN and HSN people have it because we just get everything we need and how because people can tell we are disabled everything is so easy because none of you even manage to listen to us talk about the neglect and abuse and trauma we face/d. I see people angry at their (more) disabled siblings for getting care they need to survive instead of mad at society for creating a system where its incredibly hard for families to take care of both a higher support needs child and another child.

And I see people who live completely independent lives who work and drive and make their own doctors appointments and grocery shop and travel by themselves call themselves MSN (I could go on a rant about how that's also often the fault of LSN influencers for not leaving a lot of room in their own community for legitimate struggle but that's for another day).

I just want my needs met. I want to be able to decide where I live. I want choice in my care. I want to be able to have community with those like me. I want others to realize I exist and leave the words i have to describe my existence alone. I want others to listen to what I have to say about what my life is like.

[tyhi]

i would rather format the "convenience over wellbeing" as "misinformed asshole" because long covid is a risk for everyone as far as i know. & i think "masks dont work" couldve been worded as "masking doesnt work" so then "because people dont wear them properly" -> "disingenuous coward" would more naturally include people just not wearing them at all.

[pyrodolls]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

obsessed (superfan! yandere boy x gn!popstar reader)

warnings: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

a/n: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

[hellenhighwater]

So, every animal shelter around me is heinously overloaded/understaffed and begging for fosters. I am considering applying to be one for a momma cat with kittens, but I don't know if I have enough space/time/energy to do so and don't know anyone I can ask IRL about the experience. Are you willing to go into detail about what exactly foster duty entails? Also, do the fosters coexist peacefully with Malice and Vice or do you need to keep them separated?

Fostering can be a relatively small time investment, or it can be a big one. Nearly every shelter hits capacity in the warm months, due to the overwhelming quantity of kittens.

I talked to my local shelter and explained that I don't have a ton of time to work with--I can't take neonatal kittens, or ones that need regular hand feeding, or basically anyone medically fragile. But I can take litters that are doing well, who just need time and space to grow big enough to hit the minimum weight to be spayed/neutered and adopted. On a daily basis, I swap out water, food, and clean litter, plus general tidying-up as needed. That takes maaaybe half an hour to an hour--most days I do it before work. Because most of my litters have moms, the moms do a lot of the work of feeding and cleaning the babies! They may need bathing sometimes, depending on how much of a mess they make. Beyond that, I try to spend time with them as much as I can--I'll go in and eat my meals with them, sit and do digital work, or watch movies while I do projects with them around. The goal is to socialize and handle them as much as you can.

Kittens generally litter train themselves, but accidents happen when they're little, so a space with easily cleaned floors is ideal. I start my fosters out in a jumbo sized dog crate, allowing for supervised time outside of that, and then eventually give them my whole den to run around in when they're old enough to be more independently mobile (basically when they're old enough to realize that losing sight of their mom does not mean they're lost forever, and can navigate the space on their own.) I do keep Mal and Vice out of the den when I have fosters, but there's a glass door so theycan see each other.

Most shelters with foster programs will supply everything you need for them in terms of food, meds, and litter--you just give them space and time. I got my own jumbo dog crate to use, and I pick up secondhand towels for cheap--that gives me something easy to wash for them to sleep on. If you're just getting started, a shelter can probably find you an "easy" litter to begin with. Not that there's ever a 100% guarantee, because kittens are fragile, but usually they can set up a litter that seems strong. At least for me, there's an urge to play the hero and take on too much--I have to be careful, and accept that I only have so much time to work with; I have to say no to some of the more tiny, delicate kittens, and leave them to be fostered by those who can handle them. Those people are awesome and I'm not one of them.

If you're setting up space for fosters, I'd choose a place that's easy to clean, that's not going to leave them vulnerable to being bothered by other animals or kids all the time (they sleep a lot), and which allows for you to spend time with them. You can keep your fosters in a large dog crate or other kennel--honestly, it's comparable to how the shelter would house them--or in a room you have set up to handle them, but I'd hesitate to give them complete free run of your place unless you live somewhere quite small. Kittens are fast, and you really don't want to lose one. I remove rugs and less durable furniture from their space as well, and sometimes will cover the couch in a thick blanket to reduce claw marks.

Overall, I think it's totally worth it. It's fun to get to have them through the baby days, and they have more individualized attention in a home than they would get at the shelter. It's worth trying! If it doesn't pan out--or if they start needing more attention than you can give--you can give them back, but in the meanwhile they have a more enjoyable home than a shelter.

[jasperxkuromi]

Regressors that are (bodily) older, please interact!

Later 20s, 30s, maybe even older? I would love to hear from you and maybe even your stories if you don't mind sharing!

I want to meet more people like me and also show others that age regression doesn't just suddenly "stop" at a certain age

Some of us:

Didn't discover regressing/didn't understand their involuntary regression until they were older

Wasn't in a safe space mentally and/or physically to be able to regress the way we want to

Didnt "grow out" of regressing. I think a lot of people outside the community assume we will all grow out of wanting to regress at some point. Maybe some of us will, but some of us won't. Regressing can be a safe and healthy coping mechanism, no matter your bodily age!

And probably many other reasons I can't think of at the moment lol

I would love to get to talk to older regressors, or if there are any groups/discords, I would like to know those too :3

I'm gonna talk about my story a little under the cut, but I don't exactly recommend reading it if you are little right now! I am going to be talking about s3xualization of agere and children's media unfortunately.

I started age dreamer/involuntarily regressing when I was in high school without really knowing what it was. I was really into MLP FiM during its height popularity. I watched the show, collected and played with the toys, did coloring books, took my MLP blanket to school ever day. You get the idea.

I discovered regression here in Tumblr, but this was yeeeeaaars ago, like back when nsfw was still allowed. The line between ddlg and agere wasn't as solid as it is now. Or maybe it was just because I was a kid and couldn't understand better? Either way ... i ended up getting wrong ideas of what agere had to be and ended up scaring myself off. I also had adult roleplayers leaving really inappropriate comments on my posts that made me feel icky. I thought agere had to be s3xual and scared myself off.

We also unfortunately probably know the uhhh .. types of fan art that was popular of MLP. And it just ended up making me lose interest in the series. The stuff was everywhere and it was hard to avoid even if you were vigilant.

I never got a real chance to understand what healthy, voluntary regression was. I still was an age dreamer, but most times when I involuntarily regress it is out of extreme stress and it isn't fun or pretty.

I had a lot of bad things that happened to me last year and in turn I am having more health issues. Chronic conditions I already had getting worse, and new ones popping up. My mom (the one who birthed me) has been helping me a bit, but it has still been a lot of playing adult. Making phone calls back and forth, filling out paperwork, figuring out disability leave, paying bills, etc etc. I started age dreaming more and more often to cope with the stress. Like I randomly one day bought a DVD player and sets of Winnie the Pooh and Scooby Doo DVDs lmfao.

I also never stopped collecting stuffed animals and came back to collecting dolls again last year. It helps that I have friends IRL who I don't think are regressors, but still enjoy collecting with me. (my friends don't know yet, but I think they would be accepting if I told them, or they might already assume I regress tbh)

I have kinda had age regression on the back of my mind for several months, but was scared to look back into it. I was scared of going through the same thing I did back in high school. But also denying I am a regressor and that I still need to heal my childhood wounds was getting heavier and heavier on me. I am sooooo thankful I finally felt safe to begin exploring regression again ♥️😁

Side note: while I absolutely don't care if people do ddlg and similar stuff as a kink/fetish, I am thankful that the distinction between that and agere is more distinct now. It is important we protect minors and other vulnerable people from having the same sorts of things that happened to me (or worse) from happening to them.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Hello!! I just want to say first that your writing is extremely wonderful and very talented, I truly enjoy reading your writing !!

I was wondering if you can write headcanons and thoughts in everyone in The Kid at The Back if they encounter a stern and cold MC/Reader , heck even more colder than Geo ! :)

Frore (All x Cold! MC/Reader)

So...basically, turns out if a request relates to either IRL me or my MC I go berserk??? Yippee???

ALSO, ASK BOX AND REQUESTS ARE CLOSED UNTIL MY INBOX IS EMPTIED, THANK YOU.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Frore: frozen; frosty.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you’d first stepped into the bleak, soulless halls of Olympieus University, you felt a strange familiarity amongst the numbing lifelessness that everyone amongst you seemed to possess. If your heart – the one that continues to relentlessly pound inside your torso – had been exposed to the world, cleaved open and picked apart, it would be just as gracelessly chilled and still as this wretched place.

As your days there turned into years, you were depicted as a sociopath, as an allegedly heartless and callous soul that had grown vehemently hateful and bitter over the years. You couldn’t care whether you were revered or resented by the masses, for you were here to rewin your place at your former school. To retake the No. 1 spot, to reclaim what once belonged to you. What should’ve stayed yours.

Unfortunately, now you stand amongst your acquaintances, people whose existence you’d but merely heard of. You wonder briefly, if these would be the people whom you’d develop an alien sense of fondness for.

And with time, you realised you had…

By the time Sol had talked to you for the first time, he’d already painted a magnum opus of your character.

He knew you were a frore soul, one who held a prowess for hiding, stifling or exsanguinating emotions, or any form of intense feeling from situations; no matter how extreme or bizarre.

He could tell, from the moment you spoke to him in that cold, crystal-clear voice, that you were significantly more aloof than the average person, you bore no shyness, no sense of boredom, just a monotone efficacy that he found himself respecting, (along with finding immensely hot, ironically enough).

You, to him, were a mystery. Sure, he’d overheard things about you, either from classmates or Hyugo, but he wanted to learn things about you from you.

In all honesty, he was definitely pretty fucking intimidated when you first approached him, which – mind you – is an extremely rare occurrence for him; but he gathered that you were simply a tough nut to crack and he was going to wait as long as possible to gain your favour and eventual love.

When he notices how bluntly and swiftly you deal with problems, how nonchalantly you brush off insults or rumours and how you’re so uncaring towards the opinions of others? Oh my God, he’s cumming awed.

He eagerly awaits the days where you drop little tidbits of info about yourself, and even more so the days where he coaxes a little smile or wide-eyed expression from you. Any day where he learns something about you is entirely worth it, no matter how boring it may have been.

Overtime begins to form a genuine bond with you, and as you warm up to him, he slowly begins to show his more affectionate side.

And after a while, you learn to reciprocate. You don’t have to smile, or blush, or anything. Just a hug from you, one that he knows is meaningful, is more than enough.

Will probably just end up stating he likes you without any bullshitting or beating around the bush; he knows you’re more head-on and straight forward, so he’ll do the same.

If, heh, sorry, when you accept, he’ll just die. Of bliss. You will have to just ask him several times if he requires emergency assistance, but he can’t hear you over the sound of his throbbing dick heart. He’s gonna be a beetroot while you’re just…chill.

Won’t try to make you show emotion if you’re just not the type of person who does (or can) do so. He knows you well enough that you’re genuine, and if you come off harsher than intended? It’s okay, he understands. Nothing you do can shake him off anyway. <3

When Hyugo first became acquainted with you, he honestly thought you must be a secret brain-twin of Geo’s, considering your deadpan tone and expressionless face.

In a way, you immediately intrigued him. You weren’t trying to appear mysterious or enigmatic, this was simply who you were. And if there’s anything Hyugo enjoys, it's being a detective. Solving enigmas, cracking open mysteries. You were the perfect puzzle for him.

When you ended up being in the same art class as him, he was pretty pleased. Considering how he often had access to plenty of gossip outlets who dubbed you as a bitch or a pick-me for not acting ‘normal’; having you – the real you – in the flesh was incredibly satisfying. He relished in the fact that he could either prove or dismiss the piles of ‘evidence’ that people claimed to have against you.

Hyugo’s a pretty charismatic person, so he tries to befriend you, but you seem to take a more hostile approach to this; immediately raising all walls and shields. It made him wonder whether this was due to you having nasty past experiences, or if this was simply who you were. Another mystery.

Fortunately, if you decide that these advances of his weren’t to harm or hinder you, you seem to become a lot more approachable. In your own way, which tends to be a more logical, blunt sense of approval.

When you request to start sitting with him, he’s pretty happy; despite how you’re a walking talking enigma, he grew to like you as a person as well. You felt more genuine than a lot of other people he’s acquainted with, and that is a big green flag for him.

Overall he’s pretty accepting of your nature, although it does irk him secretly that you’re harder to read. Until he decides that he’s not gonna bother, after all, he did grow up alongside a Subaru Oogami. 

He only develops feelings when you start opening up to him, and he notices the little faces you make when you’re amused or concerned. He finds them adorable, in a way.

He deems it very rewarding when you bless him with information about yourself, or a hint of any form of approval or respect. It feels like fulfilling a goal, and he’s very much a goal-driven person. It’s like tunnel-vision for him.

He doesn’t know when he exactly felt your friendship blossom into something ‘more’, but he feels like you’re a person – despite your lack of emotional expression, tone (and perhaps knowledge) – who is smart, kind and honest.

He’ll probably try to avoid confessing for a while (he can’t tell if you like him back lmfao), but when he eventually decides to just get it over with and you reciprocate? He’s astounded.

Even if you stated how you felt with the flattest tone imaginable, he’d know, deep down, it was serious.

He’d just be a flushed mess and you’re just slightly blushing. Either way, when you’re in a relationship, not only can he determine very easily that you’re not a bitch, but also that you’re just a very epic individual. <3

Brittney was more so unnerved when she first met you, she was honestly worried you were going to point a gun to her head and blow her brains out.

You just had that menacing emptiness in your eyes and the most nonchalant air about you. She didn’t know how to perceive you; not even Geo was this monotone.

Would mostly avoid you for the most part, until you joined the friend group. Would be silently yelling at Crowe the whole time. It’s not that she dislikes you, it’s just…you’re very peculiar to her. She’s not a fan when she doesn’t have the ability to instantly gain a read on someone.

If you decide to start talking to her, she’s gonna be utilising her confident facade to the utmost extreme, she refuses to appear nervous in front of you.

After a while, when you’ve started warming up to the group – like they to you – Brit decides that you’re just a bit socially awkward and don’t intend to come off as unapproachable as you are. Part of her feels a bit bad for making assumptions about you, but she’s surrounded by the goss, it's gonna paint a picture.

Starts talking to you more, and overtime realises you’re actually very interesting to talk to. You’ve got personality, intellect, sarcasm. She’s honestly very pleased her group was the one you chose to join.

If you get harassed by bullies, and don’t let it get to you, or better yet, defend yourself? She’s going to have a fuckton of respect for you.

Asks you what music you like, you guys end up forming a partnership of exchanging songs and makeup tutorials.

Doesn’t realise it until too late, but she’s really into you. Your confidence, boldness and relatability is very appealing to her. You also have enough self-respect to hold your own in a destructive, sabotaging environment like Olympieus; and that makes her feel a bit inferior to you. For the most part, she’s keeping up a mask. You make her feel secure, weirdly enough.

Will be very hesitant on sharing her feelings for you, knowing how great you are at revealing yours, but if she gets a hint that you like her back, she’ll just get it over and done with.

Is so stunned you felt the same that the only thing she thought of doing was a cunty-ass hairflip.

When in a relationship, she’ll probably ask you to be slightly less stone-faced, and if you show even little bits of emotion or expression, she’ll be extremely satisfied. Will do her best for you as well. <33

110% will ask how you achieved such levels of self-assurance; you both will also be the types to exchange life advice out of nowhere when watching a shitty romcom. :))))

Jess is legitimately terrified of you; my girl is best friends with Gyaru-Gossip-Girlboss Brittney Claire, she’s going to hear at least 21 times about how allegedly never made a single face expression except for pure rage or disgust. 

Will begin to wonder how you turned out that way, ends up becoming incredibly curious about you. She impulsively decides to ask her online friends for advice on how to approach you, realises the next day she’s too scared to take it.

Will honestly meet you through coincidence, and by coincidence I mean you’re in a class or two together.

Ends up realising you’re genuinely smart, albeit a little cocky, doesn’t know how to feel about it. Ends up feeling panic when she ends up sitting next to you one day, after being late due to traffic.

You both actually end up getting along quite decently, so you end up sitting together for the rest of the semester, and eventually, by decision of Crowe Ichabod, you start sitting with her group at lunch.

By this point she probably just feels high levels of respect for you. Well, until she gets a lower mark than her usual 80%s. She’s on the verge of tearing up, until you ask if she wants tutoring. That’s how you guys started texting, and we know Jess is 110% not shy online.

It’s because of aforementioned tutoring and texting that she develops actual feelings for you, won’t realise it until much later though.

It’ll be Brit who ends up getting you both together, either through sheer luck or a lot of pushing on both sides, it somehow happens.

When you walk up to her and ask to speak to her privately, she’s immensely paranoid. That is until you confess very aloofly how you feel.

My girl is just torn, she is shooketh. Then she becomes a stuttering mess and can’t speak to save her life. To her this is both a miracle and a WTF moment.

When she states how she feels about you, you’re just chill about it. When you both start dating though, she’s entirely used to your demeanour, although she does get a smidge paranoid about what you’re thinking at times. You’re gonna have to frequently reassure and remind her that you’re happy to be with her; and don’t fret, she’s also ecstatic she has you. <33

Geo first met you when Crowe introduced you to him and the others, and he did not give a single fuck. You didn’t either. You both essentially avoided one another unless you had to interact, which was a 1/1,000,000 chance if at all.

He only started paying attention to your existence when he noticed you were getting picked on by a bunch of troglodytes. Knowing that you were friends with his friends, he was somewhat prepared to step in if needed; yet your response was unblinkingly, emotionlessly staring into their eyes, grabbing the leaders’ wrist and flexing your arm. 

The guy was honestly a smidge unnerved by how much strength you had, and the fact that those people didn’t fuck with you again made him feel an ounce of respect. 

Your conversations only started when you realised you’d gotten somewhat closer with the others. Sure, you could ignore his existence, but you’re not a pussy, are you? Striding over to him, a cold, machine-like rhythm in your steps, you ask him about himself. He, as you expected, doesn’t answer and glares down at you; so you glared right the fuck back, his distaste matching perfectly with your ornery.

Your relationship only improved because of a mutual respect you had for each other. Sure, you both didn’t get along that well, but each person knew the other was competent, intelligent and able to handle themselves.

And so, overtime, the both of you found a weird solace in one-anothers’ relatability. There was no need for filler conversation, you could simply lean against trees together in serene calm.

Geo would only become truly invested when he notices how little you’ve cracked. If he was a geode (heh, get it?), you were like Minecraft bedrock.

Not that he minded, it simply was a weird anomaly, having someone be colder and more reticent than him.

Would start developing feelings when you stand up for one of his friends, most likely offering to help Brittney or Jess. Not that you deemed them weak, but you just utilising your reputation to get some people off of their asses was…nice. 

You made people genuinely paranoid, and if you pretended like these protective acts weren't from a place of goodwill? It worked wonders. You were the Robin Hood of bullies, you bashed them up and defended their targets to the end.

Of course, Geo isn’t the type to readily accept he likes you, so anything blossoming between you two will take fucking ages. Crowe and Brit will have to be wing(wo)men for you both, seriously.

Advances of his would consist of him being more snarky with you, more intrusive in knowing what you’re doing, ensuring your safety consistently…acts of service, mixed with a strange overprotectiveness. You didn’t know how to feel about it, or him (denial is a river in fucking Egypt).

You’ll have to be the one to confess, and thank God it’s done privately, or you’d have never seen Geo have a faint pink blush dust his pallid face, or him trying to compose himself when he quietly accepts and reciprocates his emotions and feelings for you.

You’re both black cats that just hiss at everybody else, only softening up when in the presence of the other and being content in one-another’s soft company. No bullshitting, nothing overtly emotional, just upfront, genuine feelings with a smidge of quality time and doing each others’ hair and makeup. <33

When Crowe was first acquainted with you, during both your first years at Olympieus, he was intrigued by your guarded posture and stoicism. He’s the friendly type, so he knew he’d end up introducing himself one way or another to you; and as soon as he found himself face to face with you? He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit nervous. 

Your eyes bore through him, deep and lifeless. It was as if sheets of ice had abandoned your eyes in pitch-black darkness; rendering the true colours and liveliness trapped beyond unbounding walls of cynicism.

He’d been all smiles at the time, but as soon as your mutual introductions had ended, he was almost convinced you wanted him dead. Your answers had been quick and sharp, like a bullet popping during a quiet night.

When you were put in the same class together, he decided to observe you. He didn’t know why, he just felt this innate urge to learn more about you.

You weren’t shy, he picked up on that quite quickly, judging by your authoritarian aura. What he also picked up, is you tended to be very closed off to people whom you deemed as ingenuine or shallow.

He decided he wanted to get past those beliefs of yours and see what lay behind those gelid eyes, and over the span of the next few years, he did.

Nowadays you were still stoic and firmly logical, but you were well-meaning, funny and kind. Hell, you were smart as a whip, there isn’t much he could say to take you down a notch. You’re extraordinary to him.

And well, one day he realises the feelings and sheer pedestal he’s put you on aren’t…exactly platonic. The racing of his heart when you cock your head at him, that squeeze when you bemusedly smile. He ended up going from inquiring to worshipping. He couldn’t even determine where this had come from.

Luckily, a distraction would be to have his friends meet you! He can admire you from afar and have you close by, he’s lost count of how many times you both have had to move hangouts to study.

What he didn’t realise, was you’d also developed feelings for him. Potent ones; and with the help of a certain Brittney Claire, along with plenty of obvious hints, you ask Crowe out. He’s a tad embarrassed he didn’t end up being the one to ask, but he’s blushing hard anyway.

When you guys are together, he’ll ask you how you prefer to address issues, communicate etc. Your boundaries, hobbies, kinks are talked about with each other, and you both thrive on being honest and upfront. Don't worry though, he’ll still be poetic and a romantic-at-heart. ;]

Deryl is honestly excited when he first meets you (most likely through Crowe). Similarly to Hyugo, you remind him of Geo; and he’s a pretty big fan of Geo.

To him, the coldest people are often the nicest deep down, and beneath their icy exterior possess the most opulent hearts of gold.

So he makes an effort to befriend you, slowly of course, he doesn’t want to push his luck. His curiosity and need for stubborn cat-like friends is powering him through the days of you bluntly telling him to either leave you be or to ask him about himself. He knows you’re steering the topic away, but he’ll let you. For now.

Will ask you if you play(ed) any sports, and depending on your answer will either excitedly ask about your experiences/roles/team position, or query whether you’ve just not had the time, chance or interest.

Will offer to teach you sports as a sort of hangout activity. He doesn’t care if you’re shit at it, he wants to try and see how you act in different situations. Turns out he’s quite perspicacious when it comes to reading people. That’s kinda when he deems you as a not-asshole.

Over time you both (mostly you) warm up to one-another, and you one day offer Deryl some candy. Bad idea. Scratch that, horrible idea.

It made you like him a bit more, weirdly enough. It helped you realise that he wasn’t acting friendly for the sake of it (at least, not with the friend group), and he was just a massive goofball.

You felt a weird fondness for him at that point, and every now and then when he’d ask if you wanted to hang out, you made sure to pretend to think it through before silently nodding. The shock and eagerness on his face made the days just slightly better.

Soon enough, he comes to the conclusion that he also holds feelings for you, quite strong ones, in fact. He’s pretty distraught at first, but then decides to ask the almighty Geo for advice. Not love, that…isn’t exactly a topic Geo specialises in, but more so how to approach such a matter with you. Geo just shrugs in response (he’s such a mood).

However, Deryl, knowing the type of person you were, decides it’d be best if he just mustered up the strength and told you. Running away from the feelings would work for a while, but he just hoped you wouldn’t be too repulsed.

When he gets his feelings off his chest, it’s like a weight was lifted from your soul. You deemed yourself far too unapproachable, too monotone for someone as lively as him; but hey, opposites attract, right?

After you nonchalantly reciprocate, it takes him a hot second to process the positive response, and he’s a ball of pure joy and energy. He’s ecstatic, actually, it’s like a burden had been thrown off of his shoulders.

During the process of you two dating, you’re compared to the ‘Black Cat + Golden Retriever’ shipping trope, and he’s content with that. It’s not a lie, after all. (You just don’t care lmfao). He learnt across the span of your friendship-turned-relationship a lot of gestures or movements which indicated how you felt. 

My guy is as supportive as you can get to be honest, his logic is “If nobody is hurt, it’s okay.” You’re a priority of his, and he knows you won’t screw him over. 

You can sleep well knowing these things: Deryl’s loyal, he’s respectful and he’s a fucking sweetheart.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I haven't played/read any of the new events. I just read some stuff people have been posting, so I'm not sure if this has already been proven wrong. but skully says that his village knows jack skellingtom very well, but he's not well known outside the village, right? When I heard that, my mind went to Skully being a little fanboy and because (I'm assuming) his village is small, everyone had to listen to him ramble about jack so much to the point they all know about him so well. probably not the case irl but i think it would be cute for the whole village to just enjoy listening to a kid talk about their interests so much.

From my understanding, Skully is from a rural village that reveres Jack Skellington as the founder of Halloween. Everyone in his hometown is very into Jack (and, by extension, Halloween), not just him—albeit the townspeople probably are not as excitable.

It sounds like it’s more a case of Skully growing up surrounded by all these stories of Jack’s greatness that he became a Halloween otaku, not that he influenced his hometown by talking about his interests ad nauseum. I’m sure that everyone back home doesn’t mind listening to Skully ramble about what he’s truly passionate about though! … The problem for him seems to be finding that same acceptance and camaraderie at school and in the lands beyond his hometown 💦

[olderthannetfic]

Being a trans man and not being an anti is also isolating, which is part of why I think trans guys gravitate towards either being an anti or reposting anti posts. If you're not an anti, you get booted from discord servers, blocked on social media at best or sent misgendering rape threats, death threats and suicide bait by other trans men at worst, and now that I'm in college I've found IRL that not being an anti makes a lot of people in queer spaces available to the average college student incredibly uncomfortable. So you have to either be entirely alone - which is very difficult when you're young, queer, and just coming into your own identity - or you have to be around it a lot without saying a word. Agreeing with it at first wouldn't even be necessary. You just have to not say anything against it, and then you'll be able to be around other people.

It doesn't help that most trans men who get sucked into anti circles are teens at the time. There's 501 proposed anti-LGBT laws right now, not counting everything that has passed, the majority of it anti-trans. If you're a teenage boy seeing all this transphobia on the rise, you're going to feel powerless. Bullying people like antis do makes you feel power over at least a few people. Being told you can consume your way into being a good person via media intake makes you feel like you have power and control over at least that.

I was sucked in incrementally because I wasn't exposed to the more violent antis who fantasized about murder and hurting people for writing fiction, I met my only friend - who was an anti - after my dad had beaten me for coming out as trans, and I was sixteen. I got out when I was eighteen because once I went to live with my mom, a psychologist, she gently corrected me when I would say things that aren't based in fact. She pointed out how upset these people were making me. She taught me how to fact-check claims and look into the veracity of claims.

And when I tried to convey to my friends that no, what they were saying wasn't supported, they turned on me. Including the only person who had been there for me when I was hatecrimed, who had reached out to me specifically because she met me what day. I lost every friend I had in roughly 30 hours.

If I hadn't had a really great mom, a very intelligent rabbi who's well-versed in psychology and is a former lawyer who saw the "fiction made me do it" excuse used to defend heinous crimes and doesn't buy it, and an older half-sister who lived through people calling her a psycho lesbian because she's a lesbian who played D&D, listened to metal and dressed Goth in small-town Montana in the 80's/90's, I would have probably killed myself. Having those three people who accepted me and did not accept this extremist rhetoric kept me sane and repaired my self-esteem enough to keep me going.

But a lot of people don't have three adults who are intelligent, supportive, and know better than to fall for this faux-psychology. A lot of people don't even have one. Often, they have unsupportive people who also believe firmly in the faux-psychology of "if you watch a thing you'll do that thing IRL". So there's not only no one hauling them out of this, it's getting reinforced.

Being a non-anti who is a trans man gets me a lot of shit from a lot of people online and offline. (As other anons have mentioned during the ace discourse, online talking points come up on college campuses and in real life, because the internet is not an alternate dimension, it is something being used by the people around you who exist in the same physical space as you.)

A reality that I don't think people want to discuss is that trans men, just like all other people of all other genders, suffer a lot of psychological distress if they're put in a position where they have no support. I sure as fuck wasn't happy being in a position where I went from having tons of online friends, discord servers I could hang out in and fandoms I associated with good vibes to none of that, plus harassment, plus massive misgendering.

It's a lot less awful of an existence to be a trans man and an anti when you're young and need community and support than it is to not be an anti and be isolated. And humans gravitate towards the least awful option 99% of the time.

--

Yuuup.

Having some kind of real support network, usually offline but at the very least not randos you met a day ago on discord, is vital and is the difference between not only whether you rot in a pit of antidom forever but in stemming the massive flood of trans teen suicides. The overall queer rates aren't great, but the specifically trans rates... they're bad. They're so, so bad.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Okay let's talk about Reality in Welcome Home.

YES THIS IS JUST ME RAMBLING AGAIN BUT I SWEAR I HAVE A POINT TO MAKE. This is more of my collecting my thoughts and trying to make sense of what we have right now.

TLDR: The reality of Welcome Home is separated by the "fourth wall" that the characters are not aware of except for few.

So ever since the first update after the website launched I have been wondering about where the reality shift lies in Welcome Home. How can this be a haunted puppet show with no notable names for actors, production crew, puppeteers, etc. I was basically trying to figure out if this was Hello Puppets or My Friendly Neighbourhood kind of situation. Especially after Sally's Halloween Story, it came ever more clear that they are not fully aware of the fact that people are filming them.

This past update has somewhat solidified what I think is happening. The Welcome Home Puppet show exist in it's own version of reality literally separated by the fourth wall. The neighbours are completely unaware that they are puppets, being filmed, etc. The idea that a magic narrator can talk to them is normal (as it is in many children's cartoons, the Narrator from The Powerpuff Girls and The Storyteller from Into the Woods comes to mind). This really all comes together for me alongside the theory that some of the neighbours are self-aware. I'm not gonna argue who is and who isn't but I don believe the Neighbours featured in promotional material that directly speaks to the viewers or anything outside the show are aware.

(Note: It would be a big stretch to say the things like the TV and radio apprenticed were staged or faked by the Welcome Home Crew)

I think the ones most aware are Wally, Barnaby, Frank and Howdy. Everyone else is rather slowly becoming aware or going through the motions like Eddie. Wally and Barnaby are self-explanatory, they are closest to Home and the Narrator(s). Frank by the way of the Bug Theory and the fact that he "breaks script" to comfort Eddie. Howdy is because I cannot think of a way that he would participate in those commercials without knowing somehow. If Home really is antagonistic towards the Neighbours, I can believe they would act in line. Also during Eddie's panic attack, he doesn't move ever after expresses him desire to leave, because he can't move. He's a puppet. It's worth noting that everyone else has a puppeteer accept Wally and Home. Wally has a handler and Home's eyes are the only thing on it that can move via a crank on the side of it not showing to the camera.

I believe the cartoon reality is the one that the puppets see and why in all of Wally's answer videos we see it in IRL footage. He is not blind to what the show is doing. Eddie's panic attack shows up that what they see and we see are very different. This isn't like a foolproof way of thinking because it leaves a lot of holes but most of those holes have to do with things I believe will be answered later. Like:

What exactly is Home and the power Home has over the Neighbours?

Why did the show shut down?

The benefactor sending the packages

Why is Wally the one that remains? Where are the others?

Why were we able to see what Eddie and Wally sees outside of the reality they exist in?

etc.

Thats last point is still up in the air for me because that easier could of been a storyteller point but the fact that Welcome Home narrator and logo pops up at the end of the Homewarming Special alludes that everything Eddie went through we saw. Or at least it was filmed and probably cut out of the official broadcast.

I don't have any answers. What we do know now is that the show shut down, someone is still present and sending packages to the WHRP and Playfellow. This mysterious black goop has the power to influence those in contact with it, even causing loss of time. The WHRP went through an investigation internally and in the website. W is a part of the website and actively doing their own investigation after "supposedly" making contact with Wally in the post-halloween/pre-March 9th update (which you can see btw on the Wayback Machine). Wally, regardless if he is the one sending the packages, is using them to communicate. He wants someone to find him because he KNOWS we are watching and we are looking for him.

Personally I believe Home or whatever entity is controlling it, is sending the packages and trying to control others. I think Wally is a by product of all this and is trying to find his way out by any means necessary. I will never let my "Wally did nothing wrong" propaganda go.

This all btw does nothing to answer the mystery on the website. I have no idea how this reality breaking allowed Wally yo infiltrate the website. The fact that his eyes are no longer visible on the page means he's not here watching us (for now). Also the "You" character description is missing. As far as the Bug theory goes, I still believe that is Frank trying to give us more insight on what happened/happening. Same goes for W, who we know is human since they described the same events of the phone ringing and hearing Wally that the curator did. I don't believe this is Wally vs the Neighbours. I think this is the neighbours being physically or metaphorically trapped while not able to reach Wally they can reach this website and are doing the same as Wally, reaching out to us. I still believe Home/Entity has some control over them and is connected to who is sending the packages and infecting the WHRP and Playfellow. W is also apart of WHRP but has taken notice to everything going around and is choosing to document their findings since the WHRP is starting to run a tighter ship after the last slip up of W (probably) contacting Wally.

Hopefully this made sense to you guys...

[z3nitsusgf]

paper bag

roman roy | reader

tw: fem!reader, toxic relations, manipulation, l*gan roy, romann is sick in the head, Roman says a slur (unsurprising), dog motif, teasing, dirty talk, ooc roman bc he's scared of pussy irl, this shit long af I’m sorry, backwards storytelling bc I’m inconsistent

The room is sticky. Sweltering in a post-august heat. The box fan churns and spits out whatever puffs of air it can muster, but the both of you still sweat on the linens of the motel bed.

The walls are stained from years of misuse and neglect, tinged a dirty yellow. You can’t tell if it’s oil or something more debauched that clings to the plaster, probably the latter.

It’s late into the night, too late for anything to be open and too early for it to be acceptable to up and leave. So the two of you are rooted here, stuck till daybreak.

The sounds of people arguing, a car horn blaring, and the buzz of fluorescent whir through your head. There’s a small box TV, it fizzles and pops every time you try to change the channel. Gurgling in a pre-2000s war cry. You could almost laugh at the circumstances.

You wonder how the fuck you’ve managed to snag New York’s brattiest billionaire, even more at how you’ve convinced him to fuck you in a shitty motel just outside of Hell’s Kitchen. Or to even fuck you at all, you only know rumors of his… strange bedroom endeavors.

You stifle an un-humored chuckle, Roman is lying like a royal Persian cat across the bed, shirt long gone and covered only in his boxers. A brand you've never heard of laces his hips, something expensive and out of reach. Just like most of him.

“What?” He asks, head resting on a closed fist. He draws shapes on your leg, neat nails dragging along the soft skin. He likes the smell of your lotion, something girlish and fresh like linen. Almost like something Shiv would wear, or a nanny from his memory. All he knows is that he likes it.

“Nothin’, just thinking.”

He likes your accent. It reveals your upbringing, obviously not the stupidly refined wealth that Roman inhabits but something humbler. It’s a little rough around the edges but not crass. Your words are straightforward and clear, unlike his family's. The bubbling words they offer to air up a conversation, you cut straight through that.

“Thinking about what?”

You give a smile, taking a long drag of your American Spirit and tipping your head back to blow it up to the stained ceiling. The smoke curls and swirls around before dissipating into nothing. He's not used to the smell, it gives the air a hint of pine-tinged outdoorsy aroma. Warm, comforting, familiar, and terrible all at once. Like something Logan would smell like when he came home, on the rare occurrence Roman was around him long enough to get a whiff.

“How I just bagged the Roman Roy, and how it’s gonna look in the papers.”

You joke, obviously. You’d never tell your endeavors to the pressing public or the sneaky little journalists that gripe for your small breadcrumbs about the family. Even if it is technically your job.

Roman hums, “Waystar son indulges in debauched acts with local journalist slut.”

He makes a gesture with his hands, eyes lighting up and going wide. A dopey grin rested on the plane of his cheeks, a row of sparkling whites glimmering under the citrusy glow of the lamp.

“Fuck you.”

You kick him haphazardly in the chest, his laugh rings around the room like a bell. Roman grabs your ankle, curling his fingers around the bone and yanking you down towards him. He’s uncaring of how you slip down the headrest, watching how you squeak and mumble small profanities.

“Prick could’ve dropped the ashes on me.” You mumble, not serious in the slightest.

“What would your father say?”

You snip, reaching down and dragging a hand through his hair, tussling the already licked-up sweaty strands. He practically melts into your touch, eyes closing and lips parting at the contact. He memorizes how your nails feel on his scalp, visualizing the soft pink of your polish running through the strands.

It feels good to have you touch him so effortlessly. As if he was nice to hold and caress, something soft to be sentimental with. Not a bad dog locked in a kennel for once but allowed to curl up on the bed.

But that's exactly what he is, isn't he? He is the dog that sleeps on the floor at the edge of the bed. Curled in on himself, happy to just be close. Nosing at the sheets, contempt with the presence of its owner. Even if he's cold, shivering from the floorboards - you just being there is enough to keep him warm. The few pats on the head allow him to sleep through the night. He is the dog that never leaves your side, sitting off to the right of you and waiting.

He lets out a bitter giggle, a small grimace twitching his lips. It hides the shimmer of despair that is pooled in his head.

“He’d probably be glad I got some pussy for once. Maybe he’ll stop calling me a fag.”

He laughs when he says it, even though a part of you knows he’s dead serious. You've come to learn he always is when it comes to his father.

The sadness cuts through the raunchiness of his words and you fight off the frown that wants to stitch itself across your face. A part of you wants to reach out and mend together the brokenness, another wants to pull out your journal and backlog it for later. A rotten, benign part of you wants to take this man apart and study it to smithereens.

Roman doesn’t say much, surprisingly. He’s reserved in his intimacy, holding back all the love and care that he wants to pour out. He's been starving for decades, yearning for a love that won't come. He's resigned to the fact he is broken. Besides, he’s not here to cuddle up to you for anything more than to get you to not publish your story on the Roy’s. You're both fighting for the same thing, just on different sides.

You respond the only way you knew how, “Fuck, that’s really fucking depressing.”

Roman admires your brutal style, honesty is a rarity that he treasures when it comes. It's why he noticed you in the first place, your articles about the wealthy family in the tabloids caught his eye. Especially the ones about him -it sounds different when you say it, not like you're vying for an undercut but like you're genuine.

He laughs.

You both laugh. Tipping your heads back and howling with laughter. He's got tears in his eyes, and you can't breathe.

///

“Not really your cup of tea, huh?”

You teased, flinging off your shoes and laying on the questionable sheets.

He gives you a snarky grimace and raises a brow, “Careful, you might get scabies or a fucking STD just from breathing in the air.”

It’s not the sort of place you’d expect to see Roman Roy occupy. You can hardly even wrap your head around the fact he’s here now. You imagine the Roy in lavishness, draped in silken white and cashmere. Sipping champagne from a crystal glass brought by room service. Watching the glittering of New York from a floor-to-ceiling window on the billionth floor of a hotel that costs your entire paycheck for just one night.

No, you can’t even pretend that Roman doesn’t look completely out of place here. With his no-tie, popped collar, Tom Ford wannabe pretentious ass. He’s comically out of place. It makes you want to giggle to hell at the way he looks so uncomfortable.

A pretty little rich boy who’s never had to worry about being in anything other than a 5-star. Who now stands in a seedy motel that looks more like a crack house than the Arlo in Midtown. And in place of the champagne, he chugs your shitty beer and water bottle vodka. Cracking open a six-pack of michelob’s and cringing at the taste. It’s painfully cheap, but alcohol is alcohol.

“Come on, don’t act so high and mighty. Relax.”

You pat the empty space next to you, scooting over so he can tentatively sit. You have your thick black journal resting beside you, inside containing all the juicy details and bits about the Roys that would burn down empires and topple over conglomerates.

You’ve hidden most of it well, you’ve had to, or else you get a hit put out on you from the man himself, Logan Roy. Using different names when publishing your work, making interviews anonymous - hell, you feel like Batman with the way you work in the shadows.

Roman inches onto the mattress, eyeing the notebook at your side. He knows, vaguely, what it contains. The secrets, the stories, untamed facts about the company and his family. Usually, he wouldn't give a rat's ass about what a snoopy little journalist had to say about him and his family.

He’ll admit your stuff is good, great even but it's all fluff, a buffer that fills up the sides of newspapers so they have more meat to them. And most of the time it's always the same thing; how horrible his father is, the treatment of Waystar employees, how disconnected the children of the billionaire were. But you- you dug deeper than that.

He never had a reason to look into you until now.

Your stories were revelations for the public. The lies, the coverups, the shady business that their media team works day and night to conceal. You spill it all. And now that you're gaining more traction, more popularity, they're losing revenue quickly. Business deals are turning to dust, stocks are dropping, and employees are quitting on the spot. It's making Waystar crumble from the inside out. And Logan refuses to lose from a puny little journalist, let alone a woman.

When Gerri and Karolina uncovered who was behind the articles, they wilted. If they had told Logan who you were - what you were - he would've squashed you like a bug. Completely ruined your life till you had nothing.

So they took a different approach, a softer more merciful route. They sent Roman after you, and like the loyal dog he is, he went. Mingling with over-eager, latte-sipping, pretentious journalists to get your contact info.

It wasn't as easy as he thought, more work than he wanted to put in. But regardless, he eventually a friend of a friend of a friend gave you up. Not soon after you got a very informal email from the COO, asking to meet up for an "interview" on the pretense of discussing your stories. Or your "allegations" as he liked to call it.

To say you were surprised was an understatement, you nearly passed out in disbelief. It started with meeting him on neutral ground, a coffee shop. Somewhere public and clean, nothing seedy or easily misconstrued.

And when Roman strutted into the small shop, you were very aware of how real this was all becoming. The starkness of his wealth is evident in comparison to the rest of the shop.

"Ah, if it isn't the little paper-pusher I've heard so much about."

Those were his first words to you.

“Mr. Roy, a pleasure to meet you.”

He sat in front of you, pulling off his jacket and haphazardly throwing it over the back of the chair. You're 100% sure it costs more than your yearly salary. At your words, he gives an obnoxious giggle.

“Please, don’t call me that. Makes me think we’re in some sick porno.”

You raise a brow at his crassness, “Ok.. pleasure to meet you, Roman.”

He stifles another giggle but reaches a hand across the table, shaking yours.

Once he’s pulled back he claps his hands together, “Alright, what do you get from this shithole. And don’t tell me you’re one of those hipster-loving morons who gets like matcha or some shit.”

Your eyes widen at how loud he’s being, uncaring that staff or other customers might hear his openness. You know what kind of person he is, you’re just not used to the oozing brattiness in person.

You can only gawk, “Well, um, usually I get a macchiato or just a regular cup of coffee.”

He nods, “Hmm, I see. Ok. I’ll get whatever you get. Throw in a Danish too, I’ll pay.”

You blink vigorously, “Oh no, it’s alright Mr. Roy-”

“Roman.” He corrects, giving a cheeky grin.

“And don’t worry about it, you’re not gonna break the bank with some cheap-ass coffee.”

You wonder if this was a good idea at all, but you quickly come back to reality. You’re here for business, you can’t treat this like a nightmare date from hell. Even if that’s what it feels like. So you do as he says, ordering the coffees and two danishes, even getting an extra muffin to-go.

Time quickly flew by, as much as you hated to admit it. You managed to tug the man back into the conversation you came for - Waystar. Though Roman was more elusive than anything.

Tapping on the table, leaning his chair back, and distracting you with other topics that most certainly were not work-appropriate. Like if you were just making all this fuss because you just wanted to get finger-blasted by the COO. That one made you flush and snap at him like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

But he was so charismatic, in his own twisted way. Like a car crash, you couldn’t look away from, the smoldering flames and heated looks were more than you thought he was capable of.

After hours of talking he drew out your more playful side, the snarky little wit you don’t usually use with the people you’re working with. It was inevitable. And soon, it was late into the evening. With the coffee shop getting ready to close for the night.

“Looks like it’s time to wrap it up for the day.”

You moved to stand, dusting off crumbs from your lap. And Roman is quick to jump up, “Aw, you sure? I mean it’s not that late, wanna maybe head out somewhere?”

He’s vague with his words, you give him a smirk.

“Are you trying to get me alone with you, Roman?”

He chuckles and puts on his jacket, “Of course, I mean, how else am I gonna murder you?”

You both laugh, “Murder me? Sweet little me? What for?”

The two of you walk onto the sidewalk, the crisp night air breezing through your hair.

“We both know you’re not sweet.”

You smile, tucking a lip between your teeth. He’s magnetic, in a venomous and dark way. You know it’s wrong to do this, to get close like this. But sometimes you have to do things in order to get what you want.

“I know somewhere we can go.”

///

That’s how you got here, at least how you remember it. It’s all blurred from the copious amount of alcohol you’ve drank.

Now you have a very not sober Roman Roy on top of you.

He’s flushed, there’s pink smattering across his heated cheeks and he’s got blown pupils the size of the moon. He leers over you, his hand cupping your throat. He’s close, too close.

You can feel the curve of his lip on your cupid's bow, the prickle of his stubble. He smells like Costa Azzurra, citrusy and woodsy. It clouds your drunken brain, making you want to pant and sink your teeth into his neck.

Roman is mumbling, you can’t quite make it out but you feel the warmth of his breath across your cheek. It feels dizzying, like a waking dream.

“I’m gonna kill you. Not gonna let you leave, you’re stuck with me.”

He huffs against the warm apple swell of your cheek. You giggle at that; he feels the warmth of your laugh. The scent of lime and lone star on your breath. There’s a certain giddiness that flutters in your tummy at the words, a sick satisfaction.

One that a dark part of you craves. A feral depravity lies in between your teeth. One that aches to chew on his marrow and swallow him whole. When they trust you to completion, it makes you want to crush them completely.

“Oh yeah?”

You’re hazy. Starry-eyed with droopy lids, face hot from the alcohol and closeness. There are bruises in the shape of his teeth. Ringed purple marks that fade into shimmery blue and greens. Speckled aches across your thighs and neck - all from him. Like rabid animals fighting the very nature of their beings, you claw and tear at one another like beasts deprived.

He buries his face in your chest, trying to hide himself within it - claw his way in and sit inside your heart. Plunging his hands into your back and holding you to him like you were the only ones on earth. He kisses your skin, brushing his lips along your collarbone, down to the center. Straight in your solar plexus, like he could see through it.

As if he could see that beating organ as if he could reach in and take it.

“Yeah. Wanna keep you, like a pet or a girlfriend. What’s the difference?”

You squirm at his hot breath on your neck, the humid air making you needy. You grab his face in your hands, lifting his face up to you and pressing your mouths together in a sloppy kiss. He groans, he doesn’t even wait before he slips his tongue in. Sliding across your lips and flicking on the roof of your mouth. You make a choked sound, the feeling of his tongue invading your mouth.

You can feel the hard bulge of his cock pressing against your stomach, it makes you ache with need.

“Roman,” you pant, “I wanna fuck you.”

He hums, “Wanna fuck you too, wanna fuck your pussy.”

You moan, you want to tear him apart at the seams and eat him whole. Crack that soft apricot heart and bite down into his tissue. You bet he tastes just like it too, sweet and sugary like jam. You want to rip him to shreds, consume each sliver, and savor him like he’s raw slices of strawberries on your plate.

///

He spreads your thighs, gripping your ass in rough hands, practically moaning at the sight of your fucked out pussy. There are silvery webs of slickness that glisten along your cunt. You’re panting into the sheets, fisting them as you shiver from the cold AC.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so wet.”

His thumbs graze along your swollen lips, and you twitch - whining like a puppy that wants a kiss. Hips jerking into the mattress when he grips the fat of your ass and swipes your folds.

“Look at you, so fucked out. And you still want more?”

You nod, humming breathy whimpers each time he gets close to your clit. You let out a sharp yelp when he slaps a hand across your ass, hands flailing and thighs instinctively trying to shut.

He keeps you spread, knee coming up to prevent you from ruining his fun.

“Gotta say it, babe. Can’t read your mind.”

You’re trembling, lips swollen and drooling as you try to push out the words.

“Yes, I want more.” You mumble, face buried halfway into the sheets.

He’s mean with it, pressing the pad of his thumb onto your pulsing clit. Rubbing till he hears the sloppy sound and you’re jerking away with a scampery yip.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

You could cry, wet tears pooling on your lash line. Your cunt throbs, empty and flushed and fucking aching.

“Please, please I want more. Want your cock-“

He’s groaning, yanking you back till your ass is in the air. Spine arching and you feel the brush of his cock on your folds.

“Yeah? Want my cock?” You can hear the smile in his voice, hips shaking in his hold.

His tip is kissing along your entrance, and he watches with hearts in his eyes at the way you coat him in slick. Rutting the length between your folds, dipping in to watch you clench on nothing. Wetness clinging to your inner thighs and painting your pussy a shimmery diamond-esque.

“Mmhm, want it. Want you to fuck me, want it so bad.” You moan, half brain-dead with how stupid you sound.

He giggles, high a girlishy. Slipping in fast and quick, hips jerking till he’s flushed with your ass. His pace is like a rabbit, practically humping you into the mattress. You yelp at the feeling, cock splitting you in two.

“Roman-!”

“What was that?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. It makes you whine, gripping the edge of the bed as he slams harder.

“I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you getting fucking pounded.”

You let out a moan when he hits deep. Slotting all the way, flushed against your ass. His tip is kissing something untouched inside you, sticky head brushing along the cushiony pucker of your cervix.

“Fuck you-“

You choke on your words when he bucks his hips. Slamming impossibly farther.

“Huh? Speak up, baby. Can’t hear you, your wet pussy is too loud.”

You bury your face into your arm. Biting at your lip to keep the drool from spilling over your mouth.

“How’s it feel? Feelin’ good? My little paper-pusher like how I fuck her?”

He makes you insane.

You fist at the sheets, nails digging into the soft gray linen. He’s pushing you into a pretty arch, thumbs keeping your ass spread so he can watch himself fuck your cunt.

“God, your pussy is insane.” His hips are smacking against the backs of your thighs. You’re on the verge of tears from how good it feels, you can feel the veins of his cock pulsing in you. Mouth parted and spilling sticky moans.

“Fuck, how are you so wet?” He murmurs, shivering at the feeling of your tight walls gripping along his length. At this point, his thrusts are sloppy and uneven, but the tip of his cock is still able to hit that special spot deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Roman, m’gonna cum-”

You absolutely lose your mind when he rolls his hips against you, scratching the sheets.

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

You nod, waiting for the pit in your tummy to explode. But it doesn’t come, Roman pulling out in one even jerk.

You cry out, “What the fuck?”

“If you wanna cum you gotta promise not to publish that little article of yours, babe”

You’re hazy and desperate, in the back of your mind you know what he’s doing. And it clips your chest. But the pulsing of your cunt overrides all sanity. And you’re too fucked out to even care at this point, you just want to cum.

“What’ll be, huh? Wanna get pounded till you gush over my cock, or do you want to post a dumb story about me?”

You whimper, you’re dangling on your own leash of longing. He’s pressed against your back whispering all the fucked up things he promises to do to you if you just give in. Just let go, he murmurs.

Temptation licking the back of your heels like hellfire. It doesn’t help that he’s pawing at your tits, squeezing your tender flesh like clay. Cock slipping and sliding against your sodden cunt, slick with want and need. Dripping a honey-thick desire so brutal you’d think he was a demon sent from the inferno.

“Ok! Ok, won’t post it, just fuck me! Please, Rome.”

He groans, a hearty whiny thing that makes you clench around nothing.

“Good girl, good girl.”

It’s immediate, the way he slams back in and drives home. Your sticky skin slapping against his, thighs shaking with burning effort, stretched cunt a dripping mess against his cock. You’re babbling, hands reaching back to grip his thighs, nails digging into his flesh.

It’s not long before you’re gushing, clamping down, and seeing stars in your blacked-out vision. Hearing Roman moan and whine before he’s pulling out to cum over your back. The warmth spreads over your spine. He’s shivering, thighs twitching, and abdomen clenching. It’s never felt that good before.

You both pant and heave, body relaxing into the sheets. You’re exhausted, eyes lidding and drifting, faintly feeling the sensation of a towel wiping across your skin.

“Holy fuck-”

You smile softly, eyes closed. Roman plops down next to you in bed, watching as you roll over and sit against the headboard. He’s sweaty and so very good-looking. You smile in a chagrin manner, brushing a finger against his cheekbone.

“How’s that for an interview?”

You laugh, swatting his arm.

“You’re crazy.”

He smiles at you, strangely content. A pinprick of emotions swells in his chest, and you feel that influx of rot starts to crawl its way up your chest. He’s so beautiful, that you’d hate to see him crumble when he finds out you already sent your paper to your editor to post.

But for now, you enjoy the small moment of peace between you two. You laugh and joke and keep this sweet until morning until he realizes what you’ve done.

[dokoni-mo]

Crave: Part Three || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: Your first time with him.

NSFW // smut

word count: 8,088

warnings: age gap relationship (reader is 20 while William is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, allusions to dysfunctional parent-child relationships, talks of divorce and custody battles, smoking, will is a bit delusional, will has scars, corruption kink, usage of pet names, Will is a bit of a creep, obsessive behavior like REALLY obsessive, and possessive, sensual touching, swearing, Michael is briefly in this too, kissing, brief and faint sir kink, breeding kink, aftercare, also yandere vibes for a very little tiny bit, praise, body worship, fingering, virginity loss, premature ejaculation, dom/sub undertones, general smut lol

minors dni // please read warnings!!

a/n: omg omg my first fic back!! I had to polish off the rust (esp with writing smut) but i got so many requests for part three of this I just had to!! anyways I hope yall enjoy!! Ive tagged a few people whom I thought would like to read this, but if you'd like me to not tag you pls let me know! enjoy! (also just a little disclaimer, i do NOT condone this type of relationship irl!! this is just my take on being with Willy)

part one // part two // part four

~~

William could remember the first time he ever laid eyes on you. He remembered it as plain as day and recounted it often.

In fact, it was probably one of the most solidified memories in his mind. Even more so than the birth of his children, or even the day he married his ex-wife. He could recall every single little detail; what clothes you and him wore, what you smelled like that day, how you styled your hair. Every last little bit, he remembered. The first meeting is always important, yes. But this one was much more important to William. In a way in which he doubted anyone but you would understand.

For it was the first time in nearly all his life that William wasn't faking.

From very early on, William knew he wasn't normal. Or, at the very least, what everyone else deemed as normal. Even as a boy, William was hard to excite, or even get some sort of reaction out of. Toys, games, new friends, holidays; none of it was ever appealing to him. He found it all boring. It caused his mother great worry too. William could see the way she looked at him. Even as a boy, he knew what that look meant.

Perhaps that's why he began to lash out in his early years. That's why he was labeled a "problem child".

William had thought that if conventional means of joy and excitement couldn't elicit a response out of him, perhaps other means would. Lying, cheating, getting into trouble. It had some effect, he had to admit. The thrill of it all. He had gotten pretty good at not being caught, too. But, of course he would slip up some times. That's when the trouble arose. William was emotive, at last, sure. But no one liked it. At least, no one liked how it came about. His mother often scolded him. Teachers too. And, if William had a father that gave two shits, he was sure he would've received punishment from the man as well.

It was confusing. Terribly, terribly confusing. Couldn't he finally be happy doing what he loved? That's all his mother wanted, wasn't it? What everyone else wanted, too? For William to find himself, and be emotive?

Then why were they mad at him. Every. Single. Time.

It was frustrating. And, the more frustrated William grew, the more he acted out.

It was a balancing match made in hell. And William grew tired of it all. William accepted that in order for him to have peace, he must comply. Mr. Afton would have to wear a mask of his own face, and be what everyone wanted him to be.

Charming. Handsome. Intelligent. Charismatic. Great husband. Better father. Businessman. Inventor. Successful. Approachable.

William played these charades for nearly 40 years now. Enough to where the lines on his face grew deeper, and the roots of his hair turned grey. He played it through the unpleasant surprise that was his eldest, Michael. Then again at his wedding to that bitch Clara. Again though Elizabeth and Evan's births. Then continued after the divorce. And on through the custody battle. And on and on all the way to now.

Every. Single. Day. For 40 years.

William was tired of it but found no avenue to stop. If he dropped the act now, he couldn't even imagine the headache that would be the fallout of it all.

He had to keep it up. He had to. This was the life he made for himself. He made his bed long ago, and now he had to sleep in it. William was in a prison of his own making. That no one even knew was constructed. He hated that he got Michael out of all of his kids. He hated his business. He hated his neighbors. He hated his friends that weren't Henry. He hated his fancy house, expensive car, and clothes.

This life was his fate, and how unfortunate he was.

Or so he thought.

He didn't want to pay for Michael's college. William would never admit it out loud, but he thought that boy trying to make something of himself other than a minimum-wage employee was a joke. That's why he forced Michael to pay his own way. In reality, he told Michael it was to "make him more of a man", but William knew his son saw right through it. Michael could be smart, sometimes.

Sometimes.

Because Michael was, in fact, a minimum-wage employee at his father's diner, the young man couldn't afford much else than the local community college. Not that that was a bad thing to the young man; Michael didn't care that much. William wouldn't have cared either way, but Michael's compliance made things easier. And, being around other people his age, Michael was out of the house more often. This meant less fights that William would have to deal with weekly. It was a win-win all around.

And, when Michael was home, he would often be accompanied by one or two of his friends. William didn't mind, as long as his house was kept tidy, and no one made too much noise. Any distraction that would take his idiot of a son away from him was welcome.

If William was around when Michael showed up with a friend, William was polite enough to them. A smile and a how are you, perhaps even a question or two. Just small talk, enough to keep up his façade of good dad, better person.

That was until, years into his university, Michael brought you over.

William was in his house that day, doing paperwork at the kitchen table with a cigarette pluming smoke in the ashtray nearby. The Diner was closed whilst the state was doing their bi-annual health inspection. While Mr. Afton preferred to keep himself occupied to his workshop in the basement, he thought that perhaps a change of scenery could do him some good. Smoking in the basement made it stuffy down there, anyway.

He would later be so, so grateful for this decision.

From the opposite end of the house, William heard Michael's keys in the door, twisting the lock to let the young man in. Listening a second longer, William could discern two sets of feet walking along the wooden lining of his foyer, along with two hushed whispers bantering amongst themselves.

Mr. Afton breathed a quiet sigh through his nose.

Great. Michael was home. And dragged some other runt along the way.

William knew that in order to reach Michael's room, his son and his friend would have to go upstairs. And, much to William's dismay, the entrance to the stairs was positioned in such a way that his son and his friend would have to go through the kitchen.

Great.

Hearing the footsteps grow closer and the whispers louder, Mr. Afton leaned back in his chair, tamping out his cigarette in the process. Grey eyes situated on the paperwork in front of him, William put on his well-rehearsed soft, friendly smile, waiting for his son to show himself.

Michael was the first to round the corner, the care-free smile slowly fading off the young man's face as he saw his father sitting in the kitchen. Sensing Michael's presence in the doorway, William looked up from his work and to his son, his fake smile growing to make up for the disgust he felt.

"Dad..." Michael groaned, "What are you doing here? I thought you had work today..."

William chuckled, "Michael, I told you this morning. Inspection, remember?"

Michael rolled his eyes and sighed, looking around the corner of the door and saying a few more hushed words. Whoever his son's friend was, they must be shy. William couldn't blame them too much. Mr. Afton was probably the most popular guy in town these days, with the amount of business the Diner had brought in.

Michael turned his attention back to his father, "I have a friend over. Is that alright? Or are you gonna throw another fit?"

William clenched his jaw, "Of course, of course, it's no trouble at all! Just keep it quiet upstairs, yeah?"

Rolling his eyes again, Michael said a few more words around the corner before making his way to the stairs. William had dropped his gaze for a moment to fill in a few of his signatures. When he sensed that his son's friend had finally shown themselves around the corner, William looked up to give them a friendly smile.

Oh, and there you were.

Adorable, precious, beautiful, darling you.

The world around him seemed to fade away when William laid his pale grey eyes on you for the first time. Instantly, he knew you were the single most breathtaking creature he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. You put his ex-wife to shame ten times over. A hundred times, even. All of his past flings as well. They were nothing compared to you.

You were a timid little thing. William could tell by the pink on your cheeks and your hands clasped in front of you. You had a small, soft little smile; your lips so perfectly round and plump. The way your hair had framed your face made you look as if you were hung in the Louvre itself. Your eyes were kind, looking at the older man with a warmth William didn't know possible. Genuine warmth, too.

The way you looked at him. The way you carried yourself. The way you smelled, even halfway across the room. The way you smiled. The way those clothes hugged you in all the right places. The way your body curved and bent...

William swallowed the saliva building up the back of his throat. Without noticing, his lips had begun to part, but he was quick to fix it with a smile.

You gave Mr. Afton a tiny little wave as you shuffled awkwardly towards the stairs behind his son, your voice barely above a peep.

"Hi, Mr. Afton." You had said, "Sorry to interrupt you..."

Shit. Your little voice saying his name like that. It matched you so well.

William's smile grew as he leaned forward in his chair, setting his paperwork to the side.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, love." He said in his thickly accented voice, "At least you're getting that one out of my hair for a while, yeah?"

William almost never made jokes at the expense of others. At least, not around everyone else. He kept his true feelings in his mind most of the time. He knew most folk wouldn't react too kindly to what he really thought of them. But you...

You didn't seem the type to need such filters. He could see it already. You were the type of person to tell it how it is, and not apologize for it. Just like how he wanted to be.

How interesting.

You let out a little giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. William could feel his jaw clench again. Why were you hiding yourself from him? He wanted to see your smile. Your laugh was so cute, surely your smile is too.

William felt himself still. William wanted to see it. Your smile. That was the first time he had ever wanted someone's smile. And the fact you laughed at his joke about his son...

"Yeah, well, it's not like I wanted to, but someone's gotta do it!" You responded with sarcasm, Michael's groan making you giggle to yourself again.

Without even having to force it, William felt a laugh bubble up from the bottom of his chest. He heard it reverberate off the walls of his shiny, sleek kitchen, and it surprised him greatly. Mr. Afton couldn't remember the last time he didn't have to force a laugh. Let alone a smile. All attempts from others just made him cringe on the inside.

Idiots.

Michael had dragged you up the stairs after your little joke, annoyed by the banter between you and his father. William's eyes were fixated on you as you disappeared from sight, watching as your cute little legs carried you up his staircase.

From your height compared to his kitchen counter, William could deduce that you were much shorter than him. If he had to guess, you'd probably only about come up to his shoulder. From the lingering smell in the air too, he could tell that you took good care of yourself. You were clean. Fresh. Supple. And, from the tiny bit of your personality he saw that afternoon, William already knew he liked you. In fact, it was from that moment on that William would think of you.

He encouraged Michael to bring over more friends in hopes that you'd come back. If you weren't in his house, William found himself wondering where you were. What you were up to. What your routine was. What he assumed to be an infatuation quickly grew. He begun to think of you more frequently. When sitting down for a meal, he would wonder if you would like what he had made. William wondered what such a cute little thing like you was doing in this nowhere town. Did you have dreams away from here? Is this were you wanted to be? He had never seen you in his diner before, he was sure of it. He would've surely remembered such a pretty little thing. Although, his diner was the talk of the town. For both adults like yourself and for children. So where were you?

You became illusive to him. You were full of mystery, and he had to know more. It would never be enough. He wanted more. William began drilling Michael about who you were. This was met by some animosity by the young man, but William didn't fucking care. Eventually, when Michael became obsolete of information, William took to other means. He would eavesdrop around the diner on the security cameras, hoping one of the other college kids in there would utter your name. It was slim pickings, but the thrill of it is what got to William.

Every single little thing he learned about you was priceless to him. He committed it all to memory, as if you would vanish if he had not. You were a plague to him. It was your name he thought of first thing in the morning, and it was the last thing he moaned quietly into the night. His fantasies grew dirtier by the day. He had imagined you in oh so many different scenarios. Different positions. Places. Outfits.

Everything about you was perfect to William. From the very top of your head to the very bottom of your feet. You were his soulmate. He just knew it. Every single little thing about you had been crafted just for him. Everything you did, said, perfection. He could be so, so good for you, just as you'd be so good for him. He made more than enough money to spoil you rotten. His house was big enough for you to move in. Not that you'd need the extra space. Of course you'd be sharing a bed with him. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Couldn't you see it? How you and him were meant to be? Couldn't you picture your budding life together with him? This is what all those years of suffering were for. To lead him to you. You were his everything. His sun, moon and stars. The oxygen he breathed. The food he ate. The ground he walked on. All of it.

You.

His precious, precious little bunny.

~~

William already knew he loved you. He did, he really did. He didn't have to fake that part about him. Loving you came as naturally to him as breathing. And with you pinned underneath him, Mr. Afton felt as if he was on cloud 9.

Sure, this isn't exactly how he'd plan things to go. He didn't want to have his first time with you on his couch. You were better than that. You deserved all the nice things he had to offer. But William wasn't too sure he could contain himself long enough to carry you to his bedroom. He had already waited so long to have you. Surely you wouldn't mind, right?

You didn't seem to, at the very least. As the man continued to grope and squeeze at your chest, his other hand ripping his tie off, he studied your face carefully. His pale eyes never left your pretty little face, not even for a moment. Your cute little hands were gripping the fabric of his couch, and soft little moans escaped past your puffy lips every so often. Your eyes were focused on his arm rather than his face.

He found this to be a shame. He understood that you were probably embarrassed, perhaps even overwhelmed. This was your first time with him, after all. Oh, but it just wouldn't do, little bunny. He wanted your eyes on him.

Where they should be.

After finally getting his black tie off, William used his free hand to slip underneath your chin, using his pointer finger and thumb to tilt it up towards him. Your glossy doe eyes met his, and he could feel an uncontrollable grin creep across his handsome features.

Just look at you. Not even five minutes in, and already so eager to please him. William could see how much you were enjoying yourself already, the pleasure of it all making the ache in his pants all the more tighter.

Patience, William, patience. The night is still young.

You are something to be savored. Not just a quick fix.

"(Y/N), my darling," Mr. Afton said to you, feeling the heat radiating off your cheeks, "keep your eyes on me. I want to see you, love."

William leaned down to kiss you again, feeling how your hands gently found a spot on his chest before he could do so.

"W-wait..." you peeped out, making William still his movements. He pulled away from you for a moment, his smile falling as he looked into your worried eyes.

"What's wrong, my love?" He asked, "Please, tell me. Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head, "N-No! It's just-"

William removed his hands from you, clasping your little fingers around his own, "Please, my bunny. Whatever it is, I'll fix it immediately. Please tell me."

Mr. Afton watched you like a hawk a you looked over your shoulder towards his door, the heat on your cheeks creeping down your pretty little neck at his words.

"It's just..." you whispered to him, "What if Michael walks in on us? He should be back any minute, right?"

Oh, that. The lie he told you. He had forgotten all about that, actually. William was glad you reminded him.

Mr. Afton pressed a small kiss to your fingers to ease your worries.

"Don't worry about him, my love." He said, admiring your features as if they were fine art, "It's all taken care of, I promise. Keep your focus on me, darling. On us. You can do that for me, hm?"

After studying his face for a moment, William watched as you nodded in response, making his smile widen as he kissed your fingers once again.

"Can we maybe just move, erm... this, somewhere else then?" You asked, "Please?"

Oh. So you did mind. William mentally kicked himself. Stupid fool. Of course you would mind. How could he have overlooked that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

William leaned in and kissed your sweet lips one more time.

"Of course, bunny." He whispered to you, finally letting go of your hands. William got off from on top of you and planted his feet on the ground. Once he was secure, he leaned down to you again and slipped you into his strong arms, holding you bridal-style close to his toned chest. He felt his heart swell inside of him as you wrapped your tiny arms around his neck, nuzzling your cute face into his neck. Gently, the older man carried you through his house and into his dark bedroom, using one of his legs to push the door open.

Once inside, William gently laid you down on top of his bed, giving you a kiss before leaving breifly to shut his door. After he was sure that it was shut tightly, William turned his attention back to you.

Heat creeped down his face and neck when he saw his precious bunny on top of his bed. Oh, little one. If only you knew how many times he had pictured you there. How many times your name was repeated over and over like a mantra within these very walls. Even with all the fantasies William had played over and over in his mind, none of them compared to the real thing. Just look at you. So so cute.

And just for him.

Walking back over to you, William was sure to drink in the sight of you on his bed, and commit it to memory. His hands on autopilot, William unbuttoned his purple dress-shirt as he neared closer, exposing his chest to you.

You must've felt awkward being the only one with all your clothes still on. He saw how you went to shrug off your jacket, but was quick to stop you as he took his place on top of you once again.

Silly bunny. That was his job.

"Ah, ah, my darling." He whispered to you, gently taking your hands away from yourself, "No need to worry about that. Just let me do all the work, yeah? Just relax, and let me take care of you."

Mr. Afton saw that his words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Your eyes weren't on him. Instead, they were lain gently on the expanse of his chest, going up and down over and over. The dim lighting made it a little hard to see exactly, but William knew what you were doing. Ogling him.

William wasn't sure how much harder he could get. Look at you. Precious little you, drooling over his chest. What a good little bunny. That's exactly where your eyes should be, little one. On him. And only him. He only had eyes for you, so wouldn't you do the same for him? Of course you would, bunny, of course. By the end of the night, you will. Mr. Afton is gonna show you so many levels of burning hot pleasure you didn't even know existed. Why? Because you'll be his. His bunny. No one else's. And if anyone dared try take you away, then well-

"How did you get these?" William heard you peep out to him, snapping him out of his trance.

He felt one of your little hands pull out of his grip, and gently trace lines up and down his chest and stomach, earning a shudder out of him. Elation ran through his veins, knowing this was the first time you had ever touched him. Touched a man like that, too. Slowly, whilst coming down from his high, William could recognize the patterns you were tracing.

Ah, yes. Those. He had forgotten about those, too. His scars. He hadn't even remembered to warn you first. He knew that at first glance, they did look rather gnarly.

But, still. You didn't seem to mind. You were his good bunny, after all. Of course you'd be good for him. Love him no matter what he looked like. Just like how he loved you.

While you continued to feel up his chest, William shrugged off the remains of his dress shirt and tossed it to the floor. He subsequently leaned down close to you, capturing your lips in another kiss. The following ones trailed down the side of your face and to your exposed neck, earning another whimper of pleasure out of you.

"It's nothing to worry about, love." He whispered to you, pressing more kisses to your skin, "Let's just say the early designs of my spring-lock suits weren't without their... flaws."

"Do they hurt?" You asked him, your little fingers finding a place on his shoulders.

William's breath fanned across your heated skin as he chuckled, "You ask far too many questions, bunny."

William gently bit down against the swell of your neck, earning another gasp out of you.

"Just, relax, little one." He said, his hands slowly working your jacket off of you and discarding it to the floor, "Do you want to stop?"

"N-no! I just..." you trailed off, your voice fading to a whisper "I just want you to be okay."

Mr. Afton picked his gaze up from your neck to look into your eyes, committing to memory the pink on your cheeks. Oh, precious, darling little bunny. If only you knew just how much he loved you. If only you knew just how you made him feel; the gravity of your presence around him.

The older man leaned forward to kiss your neck again, his large hand gently slipping underneath your shirt.

"My darling bunny," William whispered, "you're far too kind. So, so good for me. My bunny. Mine."

The brit's movements begun to get more frantic and passionate as his hand crept up to your chest, groping and squeezing from under your shirt. Your moans became more frequent in conjunction, along with the sheer amount of bruises and marks he was sucking into your soft, warm skin. Your hands found their way across his bare shoulders, one eventually travelling up to tussle into his dark brown hair. William rumbled out a groan from the back of his throat as he continued attacking your neck.

Once he was certain that you'd have plenty of hickeys in the morning, William detached himself from you and sat back slightly. His hand ran further up your chest, pulling your shirt along with it. Once your garment was halfway up your torso, William brought his other large, calloused to the base.

"May I remove this for you, my sweet?" He asked through half-lidded eyes, the tent in his pants growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. His mind told him over and over to just cut to the chase and pound you into the mattress already, but he dismissed the thought. He needed patience. William had waited for this day far too long to piss it away. He wanted to savor it. Stretch it out as long as possible. Not only for his selfish reasons, but for your sake too. You were a virgin, after all. He didn't want to scare you away, oh no. Eventually you'll get the hang of it, anyway. Don't worry about that, little one. William promises to show you how all of it is done. Show you just how amazing he can make you feel, and spoil you rotten in the process. Give you the treatment that only his bunny gets to have.

But, for now, slow and steady it is.

You looked him in his eyes as you gave him a timid nod, making another grin stretch across his face.

"Let me hear your words, darling." He said.

"Y-yes, Mr. Afton. Please... take it off." you responded.

Fucking hell you were so goddamned cute. Sweet bunny if only you knew just how many times he imagined your cute little voice saying those exact words to him. How long he dreamt of it.

Another shudder ran through the man's veins as he pulled your shirt off of you, leaving you bare-chested in front of him.

"Please, love," he whispered, "Call me William."

The tips of his fingers ghosted over the expanse of your chest and stomach, earning a shudder of your own under his touch. Leaning down, the older man pressed more open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and chest and his hands crept down further, stopping at the hem of your pants.

"Though, if you're up for it," he continued, "I'm quite fond of sir as well."

Before you could babble out any sort of response, William gave a few more open-mouthed kisses to the space right above your pants, your hands finding a home in his hair again. Your soft whimpers underneath the brit made his kisses all the more violent, and his hands all the more wandering. They traveled underneath you, coping a few feels at your butt before slowly trailing down your thighs.

It was getting harder by the second for the brit to control himself. He wanted to go slow, he really did, for you. But he wasn't too sure how much longer he could restrain himself from taking you as his. Here you were, right where he had wanted you for so long. Moaning and whimpering underneath him just like he wanted you to. You were already so good for him, even without him having to coach you on what to do. You truly were made for him.

So, perhaps you would forgive him for picking up the pace a little bit.

Could you do that for him, bunny?

"How about we remove these next, yeah?" He asked you through half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, his fingers picking at the hem of your pants.

You nodded in response again. Embarrassed and bashful.

Oh, naughty naughty bunny. Didn't he tell you to use your voice?

"Words, darling." He reminded you, his tone soft yet laced with firmness. He didn't want to punish you, no. Not yet, at the very least. It was your first time, and William was a generous man. He could let you off the hook this time, bunny.

This time.

"William, please..." you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Afton had to take a long, deep breath through his nose to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head, a cold, sharp shudder running down his body. Begging him already? Oh, sweet little one, you were made for him. You were you were you were. You were what he was put on this earth for. Not his stupid fucking business, or being a father. No. Not at all. It was for you. He was put on this earth for you. To be your man. To give you every single little thing your precious heart desired. Money. Fame. Love. Pleasure. All of it. All of it for you. And oh did he have plenty to give you. You were his soulmate, he was sure of it. How else could you be here now? How else would he have happened to find you in this small, puny town? Amongst all these fucking idiots? You and him were meant to be, little bunny. Couldn't you see it too? Just look at you. William fits so perfectly on top of you, doesn't he? And you look so adorable underneath him with that blushy face of yours. His sweet little rabbit. His darling beloved. His sweet angel. His treasure. His love. His. His. HIS. HIS. HI-

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Pressing a few more kisses to your belly, he snuck one of his hands down to feel around his crotch. The tips of his fingers were greeted by a small wet patch.

Damn. He really got carried away that time. First on his phone call with you, and again now? Could you notice? No, surely not. It was too dim in his room. His pants were dark too, so that made it all the more unlikely. You probably wouldn't care either way.

He was still plenty hard for you.

Composure, William, composure. Don't ruin all the fun before it even begins.

Making sure to settle down the many thoughts in his head, William gently lifted your legs and cute little butt off of his bed. Slowly, he was able to discard your pants off of you, giving your shins and thighs a few small kisses as his hands returned to the hem of your underwear.

"This too, love?" He asked.

Out of instinct, you nodded again, "Yes, but... what about you?"

William breathed out a chuckle. Silly bunny. Don't tell him you're becoming the impatient one now. As adorable as it was, William had to still go slow on you. Patience, little one.

"That'll be soon, rabbit." He told you, one of his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, "You are a virgin, yes?"

He already knew the answer to that. He just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yeah, I am... Is that a proble-"

"No, no, little bunny, no." He said in response, gently sliding your underwear down your legs and discarding it on the floor, "I just have to make sure you're prepared. Besides..."

William shifted his weight down so he was face-to-face with your lower half, guiding your thighs to rest on his shoulders. Looking up at you, he pressed his kisses into your soft flesh, throwing in a few bites for good measure as he cupped your heated sex in his palm.

"Your body is so beautiful, my love." He said, "I want to savor every part of you. My needs can come later."

William watched as your whined and squirmed underneath him as his hand made contact with your lower half, his cock aching inside of his pants yet again.

"I will warn you bunny," the brit said, "It may sting a little to start with, yeah? Are you okay with that?"

You swallowed the saliva that had been pooling in the back of your throat, "Y-Yes, that's okay. I trust you."

William let out a satisfied hum, "Good bunny."

Slowly, William trailed his hand downwards, the tip of his middle finger inching close to your hole. Mr. Afton had to swallow the saliva that invaded his mouth at the sight, worried about drooling on you and making a fool of himself. If he could focus, he would be able to tell that his hands were trembling with excitement. Oh if only you knew how long he had dreamed of this day. He was already halfway there. Halfway to making you his. He just had to make sure his precious bunny was ready first.

He didn't want you in any pain when he filled you up with his love.

William gave you a few seconds to get ready before he pushed his finger inside of you, immediately making your back arch and your hands find his shoulders and hair. The grip you had on his grey-brown locks was tight, but compared to the elation he felt while inside of you, it was nothing. A pitiful drop in the bucket of his ecstasy. You were so warm around him. So so warm and tight. A million times better than what his fantasies made him believe. And a trillion times better than those sex toys he bought.

Mr. Afton let his excitement get the better of him just a touch as he begun to pump his long, bony finger in and out of you. His other hand gripped as your thigh, squeezing it as his lips placing gentle kisses on the flesh of it as a form of silent praise.

The noises his finger made going in and out of you were sinful, and echoed off of the walls of his room. Or perhaps, his shared room now. It'd only be a matter of time now before he'd ask you to move in, if all went according to plan. He was pleased to see that you eventually loosened up around his digit and you started to become more comfortable, once all the residual pain had subsided. This is when you started to moan for him. Quiet at first, but gradually got louder and louder as he found the more tender parts of your insides.

William's eyes would often flutter shut as he heard his sweet bunny's sounds underneath him. He was elated that you were enjoying yourself. If William knew he did one thing right in his life, he knew he was pleasing you like you wanted. He could die happy knowing that. That he got one chance with you; got to hear his bunny's sweet songs just once.

But, no, no.

William was a greedy man.

He wanted more.

And he would get more.

"That's it, my beautiful little bunny," he praised you, his deep accented voiced husked with his lust, "Just like that. You're doing so amazing, my darling. So perfect for me..."

William forgot to give you a warning as he inserted another finger into you. But, with the moan that escaped your lips as he did so, he was pleased to see you didn't mind. And, he was even more pleased with the way you found your own rhythm with his fingers, helping him to finger-fuck you all the better.

"Ah- Ahh! Oh my god, Mr. A-Af- William..!" you cried out to him, your grip on his hair becoming tighter as he found the most tender part of your insides.

You were playing with fire, little one. Did you want him to have another accident?

"Oh, my sweet bunny," he groaned, trying to shift his weight to relieve some pressure off of his crotch, "yeah, that's it. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, love. Make them for me."

"W-William, I-I feel-"

"Shh, my darling, it's alright. Let it happen. Make a mess all over me, my love. I want you to. I want it, bunny. Cum all over my fingers, goregous. Don't dare hold back on me. So, so good... my precious bunny. My bunny."

The pace of William's fingers quickened the more he said, until he felt you spasm around you and a flurry of moans escaped your lips.

He did it.

He finally did it.

William has waited for so long, and he had finally done it.

Halfway there.

Halfway to go.

Mr. Afton helped you to ride out your orgasm by pressing his fingers into you a few more times. Once you had settled down, and your moans had turned into soft, breathy pants, William took his fingers out of you, pressing reassuring kisses into the plush of your thighs.

"So good, little one," he whispered to you, "You did so well, my love. Perfect, absolutely perfect."

After a few more kisses, to allow you to catch your breath, William sat up again on his knees, looking down at your sweat-gleamed, adorable little face. You were still breathing pretty hard as his hands found his belt buckle, the clink of the metal making you look up at him again.

"William... please, I need you so bad..." you breathed.

Mr. Afton's breath hitched in his throat, "I know, love, I know. And you'll have me. You've been such a good bunny for me... 'Gonna make you feel so good, my adorable little rabbit."

A rush of relief washed over William as his belt was shed to the floor, along with his sleek black trousers, making him groan. He watched as you little eyes kept flickering between his tented crotch and his face, not sure of where to look to be polite.

Silly bunny. You were allowed to look anywhere you wanted.

As William finally was able to pull off his boxers, he breathed a sigh of relief. His cock had been aching for what felt like hours now, and he was finally able to give it some relief. He could feel how he throbbed against the cold air of his room as he looked down at you once again, drinking in the sight and committing it to memory.

William knew he was a well-endowed man. Hell, that's probably why he was so popular to begin with, at least amongst the women. None of that ever mattered to him before. He didn't care. Yeah, he had a big dick. So what?

It never mattered to him, that is, until now. He could see how scared you were when you looked at him. See it in your eyes, how you worried how something like that would fit into you.

You needn't worry, sweet bunny. William would never try to hurt you. Not ever. It'll fit, sweet one, don't worry.

Don't you trust him?

Mr. Afton gave a few pumps to his length, coating it in the slick of his pre-cum as he lined up at your entrance. He could feel waves of excitement and need wash through him as the tip made contact with your flesh, making him let out another shaky breath. Though in the past the brit found missionary to be rather boring, he found himself to not mind it with you. It allowed him to be close to you. To see your face, and hear you well. All he ever wanted.

Besides, he could always try new positions next time. If you were ready.

"It might sting a little again, bunny." He warned you, "But it won't for long."

"O-Okay..." you said, "Just... Can you hold my hand? Please?"

William felt his lips part, "Yes, my love. Yes, of course."

Shifting his weight briefly onto one arm, William slipped one of his large hands into your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. His other hand was firmly situated next to your head, careful to avoid pulling on your hair.

"Good?" he asked.

You nodded, "Yes.. I'm ready now. Please, William..."

"As you wish, darling."

Excitement bubbling in his veins, William gently pushed his hips forwards, the tip of his cock entering inside of you. Along with your gasp, the man above you let out a low, breathy groan of pure, raw pleasure, a shudder making its way down his spine.

Holy fuck. It was so much better than he had imagined. You were so much better than he imagined. He was sure of it now, more than ever. You were made for him. You were pure perfection.

And all the more reason to make you his.

Get to work, William. His bunny is waiting for him.

Careful not to squeeze your hand too tightly, William let out another breathy groan as he slowly pushed the rest of his length into you. At the feeling of being fully sheathed inside of your hole, William felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to save-face. You were breathing rather hard underneath him, your other arm having come up to drape across his bare, scarred shoulders for extra support.

As you he felt you slowly start to relax around him, Mr. Afton pressed soft, loving kisses to your jaw and neck, the hand next to your hair stroking it softly.

"Th-That's it, love..." he whispered to you, "So good for me... My adorable bunny."

You whimpered underneath his touch, "William, I... i-it's okay to move now. Please..."

Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, William gently pulled his hips back, then thrusted up into you. He watched as you bounced slightly underneath him, a low moan escaping your lips. With all the conformation he needed, William was quick to find a steady rhythm inside of you. He never found himself to be that vocal in the bedroom from past experiences, so the brit continued to surprise himself with every groan and sigh that escaped past his lips. But, then again, it was quite different now. This was you.

And damn did you make him feel amazing.

After finding a good pace, William was able to angle himself better, trying to find the most sensitive part inside you. With one lucky guess, he was able to see how you threw your head back in pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as you moaned for him.

"Ohh goddd, William..! F-Fuck, right there!" you cried out for him, your encouragement making him pick up the pace.

"Yeah, bunny?" he goaded you, "Does that feel good? You're so fucking cute. You- hahh - you feel so fucking amazing, my love, fuck..."

The brit could feel your peak drawing nearer with every clench of your walls around him, his cock twitching back in response as it continued its barrage of your most sensitive parts. This only made him snap his hips into you all the more sharply.

"(Y/N)..." he cried out to you, "(Y/N), my love. So fucking good for me. So, so good... You're perfect, (Y/N). Perfect, my bunny. Perfect."

"W-William, I-I'm gonna-"

"Me too, bunny, me too. Please, bunny - fuck - please, together, my love. Let me fill you up, my darling. With my love. Let me show you how much I adore you. Will you, my love? Please, please."

"Yes, Will! Oh my god, yes please!"

With your sweet words ringing in his ears, William made one final push inside of you, sinking in as deep as possible. Mr. Afton groaned loudly as he could feel your orgasm around him, his following not long after. He was able to manage a few tiny, sloppy thrusts inside of you as you both rode out your high, feeling as how your insides became coated with his orgasm; no, with his love.

So, so much love.

And, you, finally

were now

his.

At long, long last. He finally had you.

Happy was an understatement. Overjoyed even more so. No, William was a new man. He was now yours. Your man to protect and take care of you. And no one else's. Just as you were his now, and no one else's.

His.

It took a good while for William to catch his breath again, as well as you. Once he did so, William found the strength to pull out of you, one last ripple of pleasure washing over him. You were looking up at him through your glossy eyes and heated face, a small, dumb smile on your face as you breathed heavily. He was able to get one more kiss on your lips before he shifted his weight off of you.

"Wait here, love." He said, "I'll get something to help you clean up."

As much as it pained him to leave you without him, William knew that aftercare was important. Especially to the inexperienced. In the past, he was never fond of doing too much of it, but with you, it came naturally to him. You were such a good bunny for him, it's the least he can do to show his appreciation.

The brit was quick to disappear into his bathroom and grab a towel, feeling the cold air around him in the dark. By the time he returned, he saw that you had already turned on your side, and had wrapped yourself in nearly all the covers on his bed. Creeping closer to you, William saw that your eyes were closed; soft, steady breaths escaping past your little lips.

Damn. You were asleep already. William knew tonight would wear you out, but damn.

Looks like he still has it.

And you were far too cute to wake up now. It would just be mean if he did so. Very well. You win, bunny.

Placing the towel on his nightstand, William peeled back the last little bit of blankets you allotted him and slipped into bed behind you. You being much shorter than him, he found it easy to meld his body against yours, wrapping his arms around your little waist and pulling you close to his chest. You were so warm, and he couldn't help but take a long inhale of your scent. He was hoping to talk to you a little more after, and tell you how amazing you did, but this was fine. He could do all the in the morning. You were too cozy for now.

But that couldn't stop him from giving you some praise.

"You are perfect, my darling." He whispered into your air, as soft as he could as not to wake you, "Just as I knew you would be. You're going to learn just how much better I can make you feel, sweet thing. This is only the beginning."

William pressed a few soft kisses to your hair.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you to get you here. I just couldn't think of any other way to get us alone. But, you'll forgive me, right?"

You didn't answer, of course.

"Oh, I know you will. If you ever find out, that is, bunny."

There's some things you're better off not knowing, anyway.

"Get plenty of rest, love. I'll be right here, I promise. I promise."

How could he ever leave you now?

"I love you."

Goodnight, little bunny.

~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 , @the-official-memester , @randomwriteralan , @mrsrogerwaters , @laylaaftonshit , @cherry-slushee , @insert-memical-username , @mrssafton , @horrorking2000

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!!

[kingadi97]

Everyone that head canons the men in jjk as sex gods will never not be funny to me because I head canon them as absolute losers and the only reason they pull any is pretty privilege. If these men were to exist irl I do not think they'd know how to interact with a woman (or any normal human being) at least normally (besides Nanami and Higuruma and maybe Takuma). Keep in mind I don't really read NSFW stuff so if my word isn't accurate do not take it to heart.

Realistically the only person who would pull is the people who've had contact with the outside world.

Nanami would get so many women but never accept because he's too busy working to even consider a relationship. Not only that he has such a sense of responsibility over the kids he's more concerned about them living rather than thinking about anything serious.

Geto could also pull but he hates humans and thinks they're all monkeys so he uses his pretty privilege to convince people to join his cult and scams the absolute fuck out of them. There's no way canonically this man would want to touch a normal person with a 10 foot pole.

Toji pulls but only when he feels like it other than that he's more concerned about money and trying NOT to give Megumi anymore siblings. I think he'd do a one and done situation.

Gojo has the looks and potential busy training teenagers and being important if he does pull it's similar to Toji where he just feels like it but even then it doesn't interest him. I just think Gojo would like the attention at least a little but his arrogance would probably make him lose points.

Choso also has potential but realistically when was the last time he interacted with a woman outside of Yuki? Like the man's been tagging along with Geto and his crew I don't think any of them have interacted with a fully human woman at least (also everyone making him so submissive is so funny to me).

Higuruma is similar to Nanami where he does in fact pull because he interacts with women like a normal person but is probably drowning in work (the man's a lawyer for christ sake) not only that but he's a genius (which I don't think people talk about enough) he could also pull but chooses not to.

Takuma has that cool factor so that earns him points and honestly in my opinion would be seeing someone if he wasn't a sorcerer I think that's the only thing stopping him.

These are my opinions again not to discredit people who do write NSFW imagines it's just funnier to me when I think about it realistically because it seems like everyone writes most of these characters as daddy doms and absolute sex gods but I think most of them wouldn't know what to do with a woman (or man I don't judge) being present in front of them.

[ryuichirou]

What do you think about Lilia and Idia's chats? I know you ship them but did they affect you in any way?

Sorry for the late reply, Anon!

This is one of those asks that I really went “oh no I have to think about this one properly, this is a very important topic” lol But it’s probably for the best because today is kind of a perfect day for me to write about this particular topic.

As always, I ended up talking a whole lot, so I hope you enjoy reading it. I’ll try not to digress too much!

Short answer would be yes of course it affected me: I’m pretty sure it was one of the main reasons why I started shipping them in the first place.

As someone who crawled out of Homestuck’s cradle (and will stay there forever at least in some capacity), I really love it when characters chat. I think all of us act a bit differently when we’re on the internet, even if we’re trying to be 100% honest, or at least we are perceived a bit differently. And when you have two characters who know each other irl, but also know each other online as different people, and one of them is crushing hard, it creates such an interesting dynamic… so beautiful.

It’s very interesting to see Idia swooning so hard. He doesn’t act that way around anybody else, even people he is kind of close with (Azul is the only example but), which contrasts nicely to his usual snarky antisocial self. I love it a lot when this type of character gets very into someone and ends up being a bit tormented by his own inner demons: he craves to be closer to that person, he wants to spend more time together, but he is scared that the moment he accepts his feeling he’s going to get hurt. He is terrified of being vulnerable, but Muscle Crimson makes him so happy that he just can’t help himself. Idia is so cynical and pessimistic, he already accepted the fact that he’ll stay lonely forever, and yet whenever Lilia appears, he gets hopeful, romantic and longing. Very Megara of you, Idia lol

What doesn’t help is that no matter what Muscle Crimson does, somehow it only makes him more perfect in Idia’s eyes…

For starters, in ch6 Idia said that one of the things he loves most about Muscle Crimson is that he never oversteps and is very understanding of him, and how he is very natural in a way he expresses things. What I’m trying to say is that Idia never feels like he has to explain himself or push himself, like MC always gets it and never pries into his affairs. This is the thing that Idia usually struggles with the most: social expectations, the pacing of a conversation, the arbitrary rules of how two people should communicate; and he doesn’t have those issues with MC whatsoever. It’s very easy for him to talk with MC because the moment this usual obstacle isn’t present, Idia is suddenly very eager to connect with another person. MC is chill, MC is nice, MC is mature and MC isn’t needy. We see it so much with their online conversations, it’s incredible.

I also really love their chats because they very nicely show what exactly Idia wants from a relationship. Whenever I talk about Idia’s ideal type, Idia’s love language, Idia’s anything, I always end up talking about it: Idia loves quality time and sharing things that he loves with others, so the fact that he can play videogames with Lilia is massively important for him, but this isn’t the only thing. In Idia’s dorm uniform vignette (god that vignette is such a feast for a multishipper), Idia gets so excited because MC not only agreed to listen to his favourite band, but also was engaged enough to express that he wants to listen to them! On his own volition! Azul-shi who didn’t even bother to listen to their music that Idia kindly brought to him should take notes!

I’m sorry but let’s take a look at this dialogue (official translation from wiki but I just want to make a point okay):

<Muscle Red>  

Ah, I see. My apologies for not being well-informed on the topic.

<Gloomurai>   

NP! sorry for rambling about something you don't care about lol

Imagine ranting to someone about your oshiis, and instead of being annoyed or politely agreeing with you, the person goes “oh I’m sorry that I haven’t heard about them”. Of course, Idia’s instinct is to pull back a little and to apologise for his rambling and to joke about MC not being interested – not as a jab at Lilia, but as a jab at himself instead for bothering him with unnecessary information.

And instead of just letting the conversation go to some other lane (which would’ve been a bit sad, but ultimately not that bad because Lilia’s initial response wasn’t an annoyed one), for some reason, MC does this of all things:

<Muscle Red>  

Actually, after seeing how passionate you are about them...

<Muscle Red>  

My interest in this Premo group has been thoroughly piqued.

<Gloomurai>   

you're already interested just from hearing me drone on and on?

<Gloomurai>   

you're like the nicest guy. i'd give you 100 rare drops if i could

<Muscle Red>  

Would you recommend a particular song for a first-time listener?

Not only he didn’t get a “ehhh yeah cool”, but he also got a “send me their songs” instead. It’s like Lilia is actively trying to lure this poor otaku boy into his embrace lol But the best thing is that it is so casual and genuine, even Idia-the-biggest-cynic doesn’t feel like he is just trying to be nice about it. And as I always say, despite being a hikikomori, Idia is good at reading people, and someone as insecure as he is would’ve definitely thought that MC was just being nice. But he didn’t, instead he got super excited about it.  The boy is so smitten he’s melting as we speak...

And not only that! When in that exact vignette some shenanigans happen with the website of the band, and Idia gets upset about it, MC is so quick to cheer him up and comfort him. It’s interesting with Lilia because he really is wise and mature, but sometimes he doesn’t quite know what to say to comfort someone?? There are some areas in which he is a bit clumsy, I guess, but it seems like when it comes to Gloomy Samurai, it feels like he knows him super well. How his mind and emotion operates, what makes him upset. It’s sweet that he is very eager to support him and feels genuinely bad for him; we’re even shown Lilia himself in his own room being troubled that his online buddy might get depressed over what happened. It’s just so… sweet?? I don’t think Idia had anyone other than Ortho support him like that before. I’ll talk about Lilia in general in a moment though.

One last thing about this vignette is that I wanted to talk about is this little exchange:

<Gloomurai>   

it'd be so cool if we could meet up IRL...

<Muscle Red>  

Oh? Well, if you wish to meet offline, I'd gladly visit whenever you like.

<Gloomurai>   

oh nonononono, i live in a super remote place rn!

<Gloomurai>   

i'd have to take planes, trains, buses, and boats to go p. much anywhere

<Gloomurai>   

meeting up would be a whole THING...

Imagine Idia fucking Shroud not only having a gaming buddy he is excited to talk to, and not only entertaining the idea of meeting said buddy irl, but also EXPRESSING THIS IDEA OUTLOUD? And once again, he is met with enthusiasm, because OF COURSE MC wouldn’t mind hanging out irl! And the moment he gets that response, he pulls back once again, keeping his distance, being anxious and overwhelmed by the possibility of meeting up with MC. It’s incredibly interesting to see Idia acting this way, and once again it shows just how much he doesn’t want to ruin what they have right now. Let’s be honest, it’s not just the fact that he is in NRC; he would’ve easily traveled somewhere if he needed to, they have portals, for fuck’s sake, although not for personal usage. In this convo Idia does what Idia does all the time in their chats: he dares to express interest in MC’s irl affairs, and then gets terrified that MC won’t like it, or MC will answer and somehow this newfound knowledge will ruin something, or that things will get weird: Idia just doesn’t want to risk breaking this balance between them that is super fragile in his eyes.

I love him being so unsure and anxious. I love him being invested and infatuated, but also being so afraid to get hurt. It’s like Lilia is taming him little by little… which isn’t intentional on Lilia’s part lol He’s just hanging out with the guy he likes to hang out with! And the guy is out there falling in love deeper and deeper with every single one of their chat.

But the thing is, this is still not completely one-sided. It’s just that we tend to focus on Idia during these chats, and Idia is really crushing hard on Lilia, but when we’re shown Lilia’s side in his Suitor Suit vignette, we have a little more info on how he feels.

I find it interesting that after Idia’s little rant about how marriage in-game is a stupid mechanic and that it’s such a pain, Lilia changes his mind about asking Idia if he wanted to get married in-game… for unlocking an achievement of course. Which is SUCH A SHAME because Idia would’ve gone full 180 on this topic and would’ve accepted his proposal so fucking hard lol After learning just how much Idia pulls back and rambles, the whole thing really feels like Idia thinking that someone like MC would never ask him for something like this, and how suggesting it himself would’ve been stupid: what if MC thinks that he’s weird or clingy or cringe? So he threw the ball to Lilia’s side of the court so aggressively, that Lilia just figured that Idia hated the idea in general and didn’t want to play with him at all… SUCH A SHAAAME.

But still, it shows that Lilia also doesn’t want to make Gloomy Samurai uncomfortable. Not from the place of extreme shyness, but from the place of loving hanging out with him and not wanting things to become too complicated.

But also!! It’s so interesting to compare the way they act and type. Lilia is so proper with his lack of emoticons, but he is still playful with his comments from time to time. So reliable, so mature, of course Idia’s mental portrait of Muscle Crimson is “older man who may or may not have a family and may or may not be a proper businessmen” lol The boy is talking to someone else’s husband and dad in his head… I also love moments during which Lilia just goes “oh yeah I used to wear armour for work” and Idia just assumes that he’s joking around. I want to see more of their chats ahhh! And I want the big reveal!!

On a personal note (you don’t have to read that part lol), I have my own sentimental reasons to be so into this whole thing. It feels very nostalgic because the whole dynamic, the situations, even the typing style to some degree, it all feels very similar to what we went through ages ago. I won’t point at Lilia and say “he’s just like me for real” because I definitely wasn’t as slick as him at the stupid age of 16, but I did try to have this mature image back then lol But also, just like Lilia, seriously underestimated just how much that antisocial sweetheart I enjoy talking to a lot is into me.

Those early stages of the growing and blossoming relationship, moments of pulling back, showing initiative, trying and being insecure about all those things: I can see it in them, especially in Idia. Since I was technically the Lilia of the situation, I feel such warmth witnessing those early steps in Idia, his crush and his doubts about the whole thing. It’s like… flirting, but not quite? Some other style of flirting that isn’t really noticeable until you really look at it. Since I myself was quite dense back then and, once again, didn’t notice a crush (that I was told about btw) for quite some time, I feel especially sorry for Idia and his pains LOL But also, especially hopeful~

It’s precious. I could’ve written something edgier or sexier but ultimately I feel like it’s very precious, at least to me lol I really love these two. And this is why I’m writing this post today of all days. Very sneaky of me.

Anyways, thank you so much for your question, Anon <3 I love these two a lot.

[charyou-tree]

I'm trying to hype myself up to come out to my parents as trans tomorrow. I'm planning on sending them a long letter I've been working on composing explaining the situation via email , with a text to prompt them to read it. I want to give everyone involved some time to formulate their thoughts before we talk.

I'm traveling home for 4th of july and although I haven't medically transitioned I really don't want to grow my beard back out, and I'd prefer not to lie and deflect about why I suddenly shaved. I'm probably overthinking it, but I just hate feeling like I'm keeping secrets from the important people in my life, and quite honestly I don't want to keep pretending to be a guy when I can safely get away with it. I've been agonizing over whether I was trans for years now, I want to stop hesitating and enjoy being a girl. And if I'm going to come out to them, I don't want to show up the day before a big family party and surprise them with a huge life event and have everybody have to process that on the spot as guests are arriving. I'd rather tell them sooner so that everyone has a few weeks to get used to the idea of me being a girl before I visit.

I'm fortunate, I'm 99% sure they'll accept me as Claire. I've already come out to them as Bi, as has my wife, and they've been cool with my trans and nonbinary friends. My folks were understanding when one of my cousins was struggling with their gender.

That only makes it so much less scary to explain to your parents that their idea of their child is wrong in a fundamental way, not to mention the danger that identity puts them in.

And more than just that, I feel like telling my family makes it real. Like, if I were to entertain the trans impostor syndrome in my head and decide that this was all a big mistake and un-come-out to my friends it would be a bit embarrassing, but ultimately nothing about my life would change in any meaningful way. But once my family and wider social circle knows a lot of people will see me fundamentally differently forever, no matter what I do. Once I share this secret I can't go back to comfortably pretending to be a guy even if I should want to. Now being trans isn't just a fun roleplay that I do for my internet friends (and a tiny circle of IRL friends), now its my actual fulltime identity. Its a scary but necessary step.

I know I won't regret doing it, but the minutes between sending them that email and getting a call back will be some of the longest in my life. I've been stressing about it all week, I need to get this over with.