#ooc [ what's new pussy cat ]

[rcgued]

like this post and i'll spam ur ask with memes <3

[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.

[photographerstanheight]

FIRST DEAD BODY I'VE EVER SEEN...

THEY LOOK DIFFERENT IN REAL LIFE. THEY DON'T MOVE.

Hi. I'm Adam. Adam Stanheight. 26 years old. He/Him, what else do I say... I got no goddamn clue what I am. Bi? Gay? Pan? Don't give a shit. Women are cool. Men are fucking great. Like all those kinds of people. I'm that one guy, you probably know me, from that fucking bathroom shithole or whatever. It fucking sucked. ...And now I'm here. Posting on some random website I thought was interesting, plus it's full of freaks to make fun of. What will I post exactly? No fucking idea. Cats, photos I've taken, maybe some death threats to Jigsaw... By the way Jigsaw go kill yourself. Old Prick. Anyway. Do whatever. I really don't give a shit, you wanna talk? Talk. You wanna send memes? Send memes. Make sure they're fucking funny. You wanna whine to me about how sad your sorry life is? Go right ahead. I'm not a therapist so I'll probably laugh in your face.

Everyone shut the fuck up we have a fucking art fridge now this is a new addition yes I’m serious

Art 1. (Mr Millipede ily /p)

Art 2. (Aka me kissing billy its canon)

Art 3. (Smiling friends… smiling friends save me…)

Art 4. (Me and the HOMIE!!! A COUPLE OF BFFSSS!!! Unless… WHO SAID THAT!!!!)

By the way look at my cool ass cat. Her name is Mabel.

OOC UNDER THE CUT

Frowns... Hi chat... It's me... Dew... Sighs....... I have been uncovered from the depths of hell.... sad face emoji... but hi :,]

I'm sure all my mutuals will come swarming so i'm not gonna go thru the whole junk ab pronouns or whatnot ugh... he/him just in case. also don't be weird. I am an adult and yeaes ... so yeah if i see age below 18 i will nawt be doing weird 18+ stuff BITES OWN ARM OFF

But heeeeeyyyy, I'm a chainshipping, rustynailshipping and yapping FREAK so i made this to hopefully hang out w chatters... but also i wanna bother the fuck outta apprentices and other people sorry not sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Erm.. what else... my writing of Adam will be that he's trans!!!!! Omg ur transgener... That is so cool... He has top surgery but not bottom surgery,, guh... girl queen pussy boss....

AAAAnd I think I'm gonna let a bit of my chaos out so expect poootentially sooome sexual schtuffs?? Yours truly has some sillies in mind as a hypersexual loser like myself... I won't make it his whole personality tho idk :P

How did Adam get out of the trap? I don't fucking know and I am too goddamn lazy to think of it rn. I'll post tho when I actually can think , puts splinters in my eyes

Tags... lame. Whatever yapyap i'm a loser and i like 2 b fan see

|📸| ~ 𝑴𝑶𝑫 𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑺. - ya boy is yapping

|📸| ~ 𝑨𝑫𝑨𝑴 𝑨𝑵𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑺. - ask replies ofc

|📸| ~ 𝑨𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑺 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺. - hes talking to people waoah,...

|📸| ~ 𝑨𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑺 𝑹𝑨𝑴𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺. - he's talking!!!!! just for fun

|📸| ~ 𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑻𝑶𝑮𝑹𝑨𝑷𝑯𝑺. - beginning to roleplays perhaps idk i just like to have them

anyway erm... face reveal!!!!

[skelly-words]

bf!Choso headcanons

it’s midnight and but i don’t have class until 4 tomorrow so idc. i wrote this on my phone so it’s really low quality, mind the typos

nsfw at the end so NO MINORS

tw- there’s a cnc headcanon

Forehead kiss enthusiast, both giving or receiving. It’s such a simple and cute show of affection and also a comfortable form of PDA, so it’s kinda perfect.

He loves trying new things because there’s a lot he hasn’t experienced, so his favorite dates are aquariums, museums, art fairs, new restaurants or foods, etc.

He likes all animals, but wants a cat as a pet. They match his mellow energy and like napping and people watching too. Get this man a kitten to put in his hoodie pocket.

He likes dressing complimentary to you. It’s like being an accessory to your outfit, so he waits to see what you’ll wear for the day and then picks his outfit accordingly.

So obsessed with you, but in a quiet way. Just looking at you makes him feel so happy and full inside. Love is an amazing thing and you're showing him that experience for the first time.

His love language is probably quality time, so it's easy to keep him satisfied. I think he'd be really self-conscious about being clingy, so invite him everywhere so he knows that you want him around.

Doesn't talk much (I love a man who knows when to stfu), but he has small non-verbal cues that he uses as communication. Some of it is in his body language or mannerisms that you've picked up on. But over time you can almost know what he wants to say by just making eye contact.

His wallpaper is layered hearts of your eye color (the tik tok trend yk) even us kaka brown girls (monochrome is sexy). And I know he'd be so smitten if you did the same for him, but he'd never ask you to.

Ok y'all I got the nsfw ones too

We know he has a nasty, gross, hot hot breeding kink (it's practically canon atp). But he's also respectful. I'm gonna say Choso 100% gets a vasectomy pretty early into your relationship. (1) he thinks female contraception is sketchy. (2) he accommodates for his own kinks. Alright I think I'm done now.

He's big but doesn't know what to do with it. At least seven inches and his tip flushes to pretty purple when he's really hard.

Loves messy head, giving or receiving. A sloppy blow job could fix 99% of his problems. Lots of spit and moan with him; he’ll last five minutes, maybe.

If he’s giving oral though, it’s usually foreplay. He’ll let you cum, but he’s gonna fuck you too.

He prefers having sex in your room, nothing crazy. But aside from that, he likes to fuck on the couch. The husband material he’s made of gets horny after dinner and he gets handsy while you’re cuddling on the couch underneath a throw blanket. He bends you over the back if neither of you feel like waiting (it’s so you can’t put your face in the cushions)

Did I mention he likes when you’re loud? mostly because it’s hard to hear you over the filth coming out of his mouth if you’re too quiet.

Power dynamics don’t matter to him. He can be subby or dominant no matter what position you pick, and it just depends on the mood at the time. As long as he cums inside at the end, it doesn’t matter.

He’s into cnc, but in a “it’s hot that you trust him to know when you’re in the mood” way.

And he gives your clit a little kiss after. It’s an essential part of after care.

Okay and here’s some slightly ooc toxic ones if you’re into that (WARNING: idk what to warn for. cw- my weird shit?)

I don’t think he’d mind sharing you with his friends as long as they don’t touch your pussy. Ignoring canon obv, i think he’d be good friends with Sukuna (that’s a whole other thing), um, and Choso wouldn’t mind a three way or if his friend asked for some head while the three of you were hanging out. You’d have to be into it, bc that’s the part that gets him off. He likes that you love him so much you want to help his best friend out too.

So so manipulative when you’re angry. He just want you to stop being mad and will say whatever you want him to. He means it when he makes promises to you, but if that doesn’t work or you actually want to leave him then it’s just a game of what words you need to hear.

“Nobody else can understand how to love you, don’t you get that? This is it.”

“What do I have without you, baby? You’re my everything. You can’t just take everything away from me like this. Haven’t I been good enough to you to deserve better?”

Additionally he’s into cnc in a “you’re always in the mood if it’s for him” way.

He constantly has babies on the brain, family is the natural progression of love. He loves you and doesn’t understand what a big deal kids are. And he can take care of you and the baby anyway, so there’s nothing for you to worry about. Just let him get you pregnant 🙄

a/n- was this aight? idk what to write anymore and uni is killing me. it’s the first day of my thanksgiving break so i finished this 😭😭😭

[sansvol-a]

my gf made the mistake of playing whats new pussy cat once

[afictionalwhore]

Kitten Licks

Pairing: post-timeskip!Kenma x fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, minors dni

A/N: There’s just something irresistible about Kenma Kozume (23) University Student, Stock Trader, Pro-gamer, Youtuber, Bouncing Ball Corp. CEO. Do I think he’s ooc in this? At first, but then I thought about it and I think if Kenma’s heavily involved in a romantic relationship, after enough time, he’d really open up and be a bit more vocal.

T/W: exhibitionism, face fucking, masturbation, reader is a big brat

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☆⭒

You knew that Kenma Kozume was a busy man. University student, pro-gamer, youtuber, and CEO all at just 23 years old? It was inevitable that there would be stretches of time that your boyfriend wouldn’t be able to spend a lot of time with you, coming home exhausted and going straight to bed or finishing up a stream into the early morning, hours after you had called it a night.

You knew all this, yet here you were, under Kenma’s desk where he sat streaming, rolling your clit between your fingers with one hand and pawing at his clothed cock with the other, desperate for an ounce of attention. You were being greedy, and you knew it. You could wait for Kenma to finish. This was an important stream for him. Tonight, he was playing with high profile American streamers. There were plenty of things to keep yourself occupied in the meantime. You could take a nap. You could catch up on your own studies. You could watch that romcom you’ve been dying to see that Kenma didn’t seem too keen on. You could even just take care of your itch yourself. But no. You wanted your boyfriend, and you wanted him now.

Earlier that evening, you had passed behind Kenma, laundry basket in hand, wearing nothing but his old high school jersey and your favorite lacy red panties, leaning down slightly on the man, peeking at what he was playing. As you leaned, a few socks had fallen and slipped under Kenma’s chair. 

“Oh! I’ll get that,” you said.

“No don’t bother. I’ll get it when I’m done. We’re about to start,” Kenma began to protest, but you were already on your knees, crawling under his desk to reach the befallen sock. Kenma rolled his chair back to give you space.

“I just about got it!” you said before you were unceremoniously shoved farther under the desk by Kenma rolling his chair back into place.

“Sorry, babe,” he said. “We’re starting now. This game’s important.” You knew that. Kenma had been talking about playing with the high-profile American streamers for a solid week now. The only other things that would get Kenma that excited is a visit from his childhood friend, Kuroo, or your pussy.

“Kenma, what the fuck?” you whined, smirk going unnoticed by Kenma as he began his usual streaming introduction in addition to introducing his new American friends.

Bingo, right where you wanted to be. It was almost too easy.

So there you sat, waiting a good bit into Kenma’s stream so that he would be too focused on the game at hand to notice you playing with yourself under his desk as he streamed.

You rubbed a finger against your slit, testing how wet you had gotten yourself, before pinching your clit between your thumb and forefinger, rolling it in your slick. You lifted a hand to run up Kenma’s thigh, adding a slight pressure when you reached the junction between his legs. You moaned at the feeling of Kenma’s cock in your hand, albeit still covered in his clothes. Too much clothes in your opinion.

“Hold on guys,” you heard Kenma voice above. Kenma muted as you squeezed the outline of his cock, palm rolling over the rising tent in his pants.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Kenma said, glaring down at you, voice flat and devoid of emotion, yet you knew him well enough to pick up the hints of frustration and arousal.

“Maybe I wanted to play, too?” you pouted, hand leaving your panties to join its twin in unzipping Kenma. 

“You’re not going to stop until you get your way, are you, kitten?” A dangerous glint shone in Kenma’s eyes, sending shivers down your spine as you pulled down his pants and boxers in one motion, freeing his half hard cock.

“Nope,” you said, flashing your boyfriend a cheesy smile as you proceeded to gently push and pull his foreskin, a gasp leaving Kenma at the friction against his sensitive tip as you picked up your speed.

“Don’t think for one second that you’re slick. You think I’m stupid enough to fall for this shit? You really are my dumb little kitten,” Kenma threatened as you gave small licks and kisses to his tip before pushing him into your hot mouth. “Do what you want, but don’t think for one second you’re going to get away with this scot free.” The drop in his voice sent shivers up your spine as you wrapped your lips around his tip.

“Keep quiet, or else,” he growled a final warning.

You nodded from around the tip of his cock. Satisfied with that, he unmuted his headset. “Hey guys! I’m back, sorry about that. My cat got under the desk.”

“Aw! A cat!” you heard the Americans say. “How cute!”

Kenma chuckled darkly. “Yea, she’s still just a kitten.” You shivered at the use of your favorite pet name so publicly. “Doesn't do too well without me quite yet.” A hint at your incessant neediness.

“I bet she’s adorable,” the Americans continued, oblivious.

“She is.” You could hear the smirk in Kenma’s voice. “Too cute for her own good sometimes.” You smiled at the statement, popping Kenma’s cock out of your mouth in favor of kitten licks, tongue running over the veins that decorated him.

Once Kenma was fully erect, you took him into your mouth, rounding your lips over your teeth and lolling your tongue out to rub against his underside. What you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you took in your hands, twisting slightly with your spit as lube.

You couldn’t ignore your own need. Your clit throbbed insistently at your abandonment, panties soaked from your previous ministrations on yourself and your current ministrations on Kenma. A hand left Kenma’s cock in favor of sneaking into your panties, rolling your hips against the hand to hit your sensitive clit. You hummed at the feeling, vibrations causing Kenma to twitch in your mouth. You slipped two fingers into your hot, dripping pussy, curling them to find the spot that would have you cumming hard in no time. 

Once you found it, you ground your hips into your hand, palm hitting your clit and sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You repeated the motion just a few times before you were close, so very close.

You moved the hand wrapped around Kenma’s length down to give attention to his balls, rolling and squeezing gently. You cupped his balls as you pushed yourself farther onto his cock, taking him deep into your throat and swallowing around him to fight your gag reflex as you desperately humped your clit against your hand. 

Kenma’s own hand shot down to press your head against him, fisting your hair tightly. The pressure of his hand holding you down completely on him and constricting you of air sent your body over the edge, cumming hard against your fingers. You choked and moaned around his cock, squeezing his balls a little too roughly and causing a gasp to escape Kenma. A gasp that went directly into the headset. 

“Yo, what’s that?” he heard from the other end.

“Sorry, just my cat just jumped on me. Surprised me, that’s all,” he quickly covered up. You giggled around him as you pulled up, the vibrations from your throat sending shivers up Kenma’s spine. Your own need out of the way gave you a clear mind to focus completely on him.

“The kitten?” you heard the Americans coo. “Man, I wanna see!”

You could hear the smirk in Kenma’s otherwise soft monotone as he unfurled his fingers from your hair. “Sorry guys, maybe next time. When she’s a bit more trained to sit still.”

You pulled away from Kenma’s cock as soon as he resumed his gaming. Chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. 

You heard the clicking of Kenma’s keyboard as you zeroed your attention in on his cock, angry hard and glistening with a mix of your saliva and the precum leaking from his slit. You ran the hand that was wet from your own juices up and down his length. You bobbed your head up and down what you could fit of him in your mouth.

Finally you heard the long awaited words: “Good game! Same time next week?” After a brief confirmation from the Americans and a few more clicks of the keyboard, Kenma pushed away from you, leaving your mouth with a small pop. You sat on your knees, crouched under the desk and waiting further instruction from Kenma. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt and squirmed under his gaze.

After what felt like eternity, Kenma finally said, “What were you thinking? Pulling a stunt like that?”

You opened your mouth to speak.

“I don’t want whatever pitiful excuse you’re going to come up with.”

This was the side of Kenma you loved, the brat tamer side that only came out when you had crossed a line needed to be put back in place.

“Come here, kitten,” or else going unspoken yet clearly understood by you. The familiar heat flaring up deep in your core. You crawled towards Kenma, eyes locked onto his own golden cat eyes. Once you reached him, you placed your hands on his knees, sitting back on your legs.

“You want it?” Kenma teased, taking his cock in his hand and stroking lazily up and down. You nodded. Kenma tapped his cock against your lips. “Use your words.”

“I want your cock,” you said flatly.

“Yea? And what do you want to do with it?”

“Want to suck it.”

“Okay kitten. Then suck it.”

You hesitantly gave small licks to his cock.

“Where did all your confidence go?”

In your true bratty nature, you pushed yourself down on his cock, taking him fully into your mouth and earning a groan from Kenma. You quickly bobbed up and down on his cock, drool leaking out.

When you pulled off his cock for air, Kenma pushed down on your head and thrust against you, balls hitting your bruised lips. You understood instantly, opening your mouth and sucking them in with a gaudy slurp. You wrapped a hand around his cock, slick with your spit, pulling his foreskin over his tip.

“Good girl. Baby, that feels so good.” Kenma purred as he tugged your hair to pull you off his balls. “I’m close, baby.” He shoved you back down on his cock, causing you to gag. 

Once you got your rhythm back, Kenma stood. His fingers tangled in your hair and kept you pressed up against him, pulling you up with him, cock still down your throat, until you were on your knees, spine straight and hands clawing at his thighs for support.

“Relax, baby. I’m gonna fuck that tight throat, okay? Remember to breathe through your nose.” Kenma waited for confirmation from you. You nodded, earning a soft whispered “good girl” from the man above you.

The grip on your hair tightened almost painfully as Kenma fucked your throat like a fleshlight. The noises escaping you were downright pornographic. Drool dripped down your chin, creating a lewd, wet smacks as Kenma’s balls hit your chin which each thrust.

“Gonna cum. Swallow it all.” You didn’t need to be told twice.

Kenma pulled back just long enough for you to suck in  a deep breath before he slammed you back down on his cock, nose hitting his pubic bone. Kenma bent over you, arms wrapping around your head and holding you down against him. You gulped hungrily as he shot hot loads down your throat, settling heavy in your stomach.

Finally Kenma pulled out with a groan. A small strand of your spit connected you to his cock still. Kenma held your face in his hands, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. The room was silent apart from the two of you struggling to catch your breath. Kenma was the first to break the silence.

“You’re just too cute for your own good, kitten.”

[blownbybakugou]

My Spot

Pαιɾιɳɠ: Kαƚʂυƙι Bαƙυɠσυ x Rҽαԃҽr

⚠️ Warning ⚠️ : Smut/Nsfw, Public Sex, Unprotected Sex, Ooc Aizawa, humiliation kink, dumbification, daddy kink, degradation, creampie.

Additional info: Reader has a Cat Quirk

Word Count:721

I have had this in my drafts, for 2 years. No joke. I accidentally posted a version of this on Wattpad when I was 18, but I re-edited it to make it better.

Y/n has a chair in the 1-A class. And she loves it so much, that if anyone even dares to touch it, they will get shredded

You walk into the entryway of the classroom, your eyes immediately darting to your special chair, which some unfortunate soul was seated in. The room goes dead silent at the vicious aura that surrounded you, and your pupils dilated in pure and utter rage.

Your footsteps were the only thing that could be heard as you walk to your chairs current occupant, your glare unnoticed by the unforgiven student. You eye the blonde male, only to receive a harsh snarl. "What the fuck are you staring at Garfield?!" He growls.

Everyone gasps as your demeanor becomes angrier by the second, and your once neutral orbs suddenly become sharper. Just as you were about to strike, you analyze his features. He was somewhat good looking, with porcupine like hair, and his crimson eyes that had a rage of passion in them. You decide to lower your claws, and plop yourself on his lap. “What the fuck?!” He yells. "My spot." You deadpan. Everyone erupts in laughter at your reaction to the matter, as the boy just turns red while keeping his scowl.

You remove yourself from Bakugou’s upper thighs tentatively and strut out of the classroom smugly. You were honestly shocked that Mr.Aizawa didn’t say anything about where you were sitting the entire class, and it only made you more complacent.

.

.

.

You walk into the class yet again, to see Bakugou still sitting at your desk, and looking very entitled while doing so. You tread over to him and look down at his self-satisfied face, before resting yourself down on his lap again, a blank expression upon your face. "My spot" You claim. "Yeah, Yeah." Katsuki mocks.

During Aizawa’s boring lecture, you felt Bakugou paw at your thighs, rubbing taunting circles into your soft flesh. He was slowly but surely removing upward, his warm fingers now pulling at the rim of your panties. Your eyes bulged and your face flushed at his sudden advances, but nonetheless you let out a content sigh at the feeling.

Bakugou leans in towards your ear, his hot breath hitting the outer shell of it. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you? Didn’t know you’d want everyone to see your dirty little pussy.” While saying this, he slides the base of your panties until your increasingly wet hole is on show for his eyes, as well as anyone who looked under your desk.

“Am I still your spot babygirl?” He asks, leading your hand to the zipper of his trousers. You mumble a string of ‘yes’s’ as you fumble to pull his cock out of the hole you had unzipped. He hums into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and a new found wetness in your core.

“This cunt is so wet for me isn’t it?” He asks, pressing the pad of his thumb against your hardened clit. You whine out a quiet yes once again, stroking his cock subtlety between your now slick thighs.

Pretending to readjust, Katsuki lifts you up, and harshly drops you onto his throbbing erection. “Fuck yourself on daddy’s cock.” He hushed. Your eyes almost roll back at the feeling of being so full of Bakugou’s cock, and the moment you drop yourself back onto his hard dick, you feel his swollen tip slam into your cervix. A slightly more audible moan pushes past your lips, a very apparent smirk popping onto Bakugou’s face. He holds you in place with an iron like grip to make his cock push against your sensitive womb.

“Moaning like that, you must really fucking want for someone to see such a big cock shoved into that little cunt of yours” He states, thrusting his hips up to prod against your cervix. The movement leaves you breathless and the pain throbbing inside of you was automatically translated to pleasure.

You didn’t even care if you were in class, and everyone could see you getting mercilessly pounded by a fat cock if they wanted to anymore, all that mattered was how close you were to releasing on Bakugou’s hot dick.

“Cumming so soon, precious slut?” He groans silently. You nod, your eyes rolling back at the overwhelming orgasm that overtook you. 

Your cunt convulsed around Katsuki, making him shoot out his warm cum inside of your unprotected womb. “This is your spot, isn’t it whore?”

[rcgued]

“I don’t ship jonsa” ok liar ://// what do you call all those knuckle rubs we had 🥲😭

i said i don’t ship jonsa, i didn’t say i don’t ship robbjonsa, sometimes minus the robb

[escherstrange-ffxiv]

Layers: Escher Strange

Tumblr failed to notify me that @yvesoix-sellemontiere tagged me. How dare.

WARNING: Mildly NSFW.

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

—–

Name: “Escher.”

Strange isn’t his real surname so he avoids using it when he can.

Eye Color:  “Yes, it’s pink. Your point?”

A DIY fantasia potion gone wrong gave him one purple eye, though there may be other aetherial reasons behind it.

Hair Style/Color: : “Of course it’s naturally pink, I got it from my grandfather! I used to keep it short, but one day it grew out and I looked into the mirror and-”

He absolutely did inherit the pink hair from his grandfather, though Tia is convinced it’s actually lime green. He never keeps his hair long at the back, only in front.

Height: “The fates are fair - what I lack in height, I compensate elsewhere. >)”

He’s like 175 cm max. Not min height, but what I’d ideally like to be. As for compensating, he’s just slightly larger than the average midlander (7 ilms approx). 

Clothing Style: “My family never had a reason to dress finely but now I do, and you bet I’ll milk it for all it’s worth.”

His regular MSQ glam is the screenshot above: Scion Adventurer’s Jacket + Pants, Expeditioner’s Thighboots, Leonhart Gloves, all in Jet Black Dye. Depending on his mood he’ll go full ham or something subtler but still stylish. He doesn’t look too good in baggy stuff so it’s mostly fitted.

Best Physical Feature: *Flips hair* 

I initially picked his pink hair for shits and giggles, but it’s started to grow on me, and his face looked surprisingly good once I removed his facial hair. I know this because the FFIV subreddit confirmed it.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

—

Your Fears: “Have you seen Tia when he’s angry? Trust me when I say you don’t want to make Tia angry.”

He’s still scared of sharp things to the face, though it’s slowly being replaced by Tia.

Your Guilty Pleasure: “How does one feel guilty from pleasure? That makes no sense.”

He’s always been the sort to do what he likes when he likes. Getting copious amounts of sex in Eorzea was just the cherry on top of the cake.

Your Biggest Pet Peeve:  “When people just aren’t open to new things. It’s just for science, you’re not going to die! ...Okay maybe you might die a little, but think of what you’ll contribute to the future!”

Your Ambition for the Future: “I said I’ll prove that one man can cause a calamity, and I intend to see it through. But after I taste test Tia’s cookies. It’s not a metaphor for anything, gods damn it!”

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS —

Your First Thoughts Waking Up:  “Did I burn anything last night, and am I in the correct bed?”

What You Think About the Most: “How well would this burn?”

What You Think About Before Bed: “Have I done all that needs to be burnt today?”

You Think Your Best Quality Is: “My ability to focus.”

He gets quite easily distracted, but once he finds something to hold his attention (usually fire), he concentrates at the expense of all incoming danger.

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

—

Single or Group Dates: “It’s hard to excuse ourselves to commit extremely silly and reckless crimes if we’re in a group. Manners and everything.”

To be Loved or Respected: “Respect. Anybody can be loved. Respect must be earned.”

Beauty or Brains:  *Looks at Tia* *Looks at Kieo*  “...Beauty. I have enough brains for the both of us.”

While not book-smart, his partners make up for it with a LOT of common sense/street smarts to get him out of trouble.

Dogs or Cats: “...Cats.”

Tia is a Moon Keeper Miqo’te while Kieo was a half-Keeper Elezen. Escher confirmed to have Chiao Churu treats in his blood.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

—

Lie: “If I lie, I’d have to lie to you now, and then what would be the truth?”

Believe in Yourself: “Of course. You can’t do explosions otherwise.”

Believe in Love:  "I’m going to die horribly if I say no, aren’t I?”

Want Someone: “I already have Tia. What’s left to want?”

LAYER SIX: EVER?

—

Been on Stage: “Tia won’t let me. Something something set the stage on fire. Pussy.”

Done Drugs: “Haven’t found the right one for me.”

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “I didn’t do it in the Studium, I’m not doing it anytime soon.”

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

—

Favorite Color: “Black. Pink. Blackpink. Heehee.”

Favorite Animal: “Tia- hey ow! It’s true, you have cat ears and- OW! Not the face!”

Favorite Food: “I’m Sharlayan, my taste buds are too dead to like anything.”

Favorite Game: “The game where I burn everything and see if nothing lives- what?”

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

—

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be: 6th Sun, 4th Astral Moon (July 6)

How Old Will You Be: “Add 5, carry 4, square root of 7.43 factored by 12...TIAAA, how old am I again?!”

32 at ARR, 34 by Shadowbringers. Escher is just phenomenally bad at math (except things that require gil transactions).

Age You Lost Your Virginity: “I’m not counting the one that happened at 18 because I don’t remember anything, so....add 7 to the power of 3.4....KIEOOO how old were we when we did it on your dad’s bed?!”

When he was 18 he drank spiked punch at a graduation party and woke up naked between a male Elezen and a fem Roe. Since he can’t remember a thing, his reasoning is “if I don’t know it happened, it probably didn’t happen.” The other virginity loss was at 32 at the First Steps, a hostel/guild for new adventurers. Nobody talks about it. Ever. (Like IC don’t go and talk about it, this incident actually caused mild OOC drama. 💧)

Does Age Matter: “As long as the FBI isn’t on our lawn. Tia, what IS an FBI?”

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

—

Best Personality: “Someone said this about my taste in partners: Gay, feral, powerful, and slightly dumb.”

Best Eye Color: “Rolanberry red.”

Tia’s eyes are red.

Best Hair Color: “Pink, duh!”

Best thing to do with a Partner: “Sitting at a high point watching the world burn, like cuddling in front of a roaring fireplace. And then we eat cake.”

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: “The heat in my face from a massive explosion.”

I feel: “Warm. And fuzzy. Is there alcohol in this drink?”

I miss: “The friends I lost, the hearts I burned. I’ll never be able to heal that.”

I wish: “To burn the world. What, you thought it was ever going to change?”

----

And done! *flop*  Tagging @finallyfancy14​, @fenrishion​, @aelyriawindrunner​ and @forthyn​ because I don’t have enough FFXIV friends on Tumblr (should everyone be glad though...?).

[acuppellarp]

Welcome (again) to A Cup-pella, Jen! We’re excited to have you and Mae Díaz in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Jennifer, she/her/hers Age: 21 Timezone: Central Ships: Mae/Chemistry Anti-Ships: Mae/No Chemistry

IC INFO

Full Name: Maite “Mae” Guadalupe Isadora Díaz   Face Claim: Camila Cabello Age/Birthday: 21/ February 22, 1997 Occupation: Music education student at NYU, part-time teacher at Gymboree Play & Music, member of the Warblettes Personality: Bubbly, playful, goofy, creative, insecure, loyal, kind Hometown: New York City, NY Bio:

Mae came to be through a scandalous affair between an aspiring, young actress, Maribel Díaz, and a well-known film director. Maribel fell in love with him, and he claimed to as well, but when asked if it would ever become more than sleeping together, he would respond with being married with two children. That was indication enough that their relationship would never go beyond an affair. This relationship soon changed when Maribel found out she was pregnant with the director’s child and he wanted nothing to do with it. The only thing he offered to provide Maribel was money to get rid of the baby, should she want to go through with one, which he strongly encouraged. Otherwise? Maribel didn’t exist to him because his career nor Maribel’s starting acting career could handle the hard blow of an affair coming to light.

Maribel couldn’t go through with an abortion, so she hid away in secret through the length of her pregnancy, gave birth to Mae, and then left Mae to be raised by her mother, Fidelia Díaz. So Maribel left Mae with her mother and never looked back, deciding that her acting career was of more importance. Fidelia never heard from Maribel again and decided to completely erase her daughter from their existence. Fidelia didn’t want Mae to live on hope that her mother would come back or to hold onto the belief that she wasn’t wanted, so, because of this, Fidelia raised Mae in a loving, supportive, and caring household. Fidelia wanted Mae to know that she was incredibly loved despite how Mae came to be.

Mae grew up humbly in East Harlem in New York City in a household that always played music of Spanish artists such as Celia Cruz, Jose Jose, Juan Gabriel, Rocio Durcal, and Ana Gabriel, so that’s how Mae first fell in love with music. Their tenant next door played the piano and gave Mae piano lessons for free and Mae learned the guitar from a band that played at the Mexican restaurant Fidelia worked at. Mae’s passion for singing came from the church choir at their church, so it’s clear that Mae’s talent for music was a community effort.

Fidelia claims that Mae came out the womb with a big smile on her face and twinkling eyes and her face just stayed that way since Mae had always been a very joyful, bubbly person with a kind heart. Which is why it confused Fidelia when suddenly her granddaughter became quiet and distant during her teen years. What Fidelia didn’t know, however, was that Mae was struggling coming to terms with her sexuality and she didn’t know if her grandmother would be accepting of it given how conservative the Latino community could be. Mae didn’t want to lose her grandmother, too. She already had no parents, so to be completely alone because she was gay? She couldn’t bear the idea.

But Fidelia wouldn’t let this slide, so she eventually confronted Mae about it and Mae couldn’t hide it any longer and burst into tears and a stream of apologies as she tearfully and fearfully came out to her grandmother. While it was difficult to wrap her head around the idea of Mae being a lesbian, she had promised herself that Mae would always know she was loved regardless. So after a lot of reflection and talking about it with different people, Fidelia wholeheartedly accepted Mae for who she was.

So when Mae had her first kiss when she was 16? Fidelia listened every detail with a smile on her face. Mae’s first relationship? First heartbreak? Fidelia was there for it all with open arms, a listening ear, and loads of comfort food. Because Mae would always be loved, Fidelia had spent Mae’s entire life making sure of that.

Mae’s love life has never been extravagant. Sure, she had a few relationships here and there, but most were short-lived. Mae is usually the comedic relief and the “mom friend” of the group and is the one to alleviate any tension than be the cause of it. This role of hers is one of the reasons Mae always lands in the friend zone with most girls she’s interested in. They see this side of her and can’t see anything but a friendly face. Mae channels this energy in songwriting and hopes that one day she falls in love and gets to write more love songs, like the hopeless romantic she is. But for now she’ll just live life with frequent trips to ACup, being part of the Warblettes, going to school, and working with little tots and babies.

Pets: Recently, Mae got a tiny orange tabby kitten after she followed Mae home after work. Mae couldn’t resist the kitten that waddled like a duck and took her home, cleverly enough naming her Duck. Mae uses Duck as her excuse to talk to girls now by showing pictures of her cute kitten that walks funny.

Relationships:

Jackie Puckerman and Rosie Carter

Mae and her roommates get along well enough. Mae is usually hanging out in her room or over at her grandma’s house because her grandma comes up with any excuse for Mae to go visit her. Regardless, she loves her roommates and knows she won at least part of their heart over with home cooked food her grandmother has her bring home. It’s usually gone by morning.

Blair Anderson, Serena Smythe, Rowan Flanagan, Jane Hayward and Jessi St. James

Mae has slowly become the little sister of the group, always coming to rehearsals with a smile on her face and a lot of enthusiasm. And while she does tend to joke around a lot, everyone is well aware Mae is creative and passionate about music and always has feedback to give and ideas to throw out there. She doesn’t fight for the spotlight and doesn’t mind being in the background making sure everyone else looks good. Mae’s in it for the music and to get creative energy flowing.

EXTRA INFO

mae díaz /@yesyoumae/description: come at MAE, yo.

Five latest tweets:

@yesyoumae: working w tiny tots all the time has made it really hard to find a strong balance of when to use my happy teacher voice so @ Rick from Starbucks I’m so sorry

@yesyoumae: here’s a small thread of pictures of my cat, Duck (1/258)

@yesyoumae: Me: *humming a song on the subway*

Stranger: What’s that song you’re humming? It sounds so catchy!

Me: *sweats nervously bc idk how to tell him it’s the Shark Song intended for babies and toddlers*

@yesyoumae: you know, Duck followed me home and that’s how she became my cat…so does this mean I’m…a pussy magnet?

@yesyoumae:”God, I wish there was a way I could write down song lyrics that come to me in the shower without staining the shower.” “…Mae are you talking about bathtub crayons?” @Crayola thank you sm

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im gonna have a minor blog revamp see y’all on the flipside

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i have the biggest urge in the world to start a passion project of making an interactive westeros map that is made up purely of my favourite tid bits from a bunch of places

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pspsps I AM STILL HERE i am just having a hectic old time !!!

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this is such a random ramble but it's IRRITATING me. rp got me interested in graphic design and is the reason i learnt photoshop like 10+ years ago & now i finished my graphics degree and i am so burnt out from it. its making me miserable tho bc making the pretties was always one of my favourite things to do and now i open photoshop and i am gagging shaking crying

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Tag your incest freak :/

tag ur freak, incest :/

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i’m shredding through fire & blood and i can confirm i am a devout nettles enthusiast