#aren't I followed by someone with that exact name? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

st4rbwrry · 4 months

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𝒜𝑀 𝐼 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴?

✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who's willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren't welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡

you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.

this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old . . . giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even . . . but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.

as your sticker covered macbook’s motherboard screamed for air, warm on your thighs and now sliding on your tummy the further you leaned back. . . you were growing tired. huffing and puffing from literal exhaustion. am i wasting my time? should i just go out and find people like in the movies? but this generation made it so hard to even physically connect anymore. what happened to people running into each other at a coffee shop, a book store, a park? sharing interests and going on dates. granted, what you were looking for was strictly work related. you wouldn’t dare stare a stranger in the eye you bumped into at the farmers market and ask, “hey, wanna fuck me for content?” it’d be tasteless. you have self respect. others may think differently considering your side quests to fund the unfathomable reality of adulthood on top of just being a girl.

“this fucking sucks,” you groan to yourself, thumb aching from how quickly you hit the big ‘x’ on the bottom left corner of your phone screen.

maybe it was time to call it a night. you had an early shift at the salon, about five clients to be exact, booking either re-twists, goddess braids, or a wig install. so you had to save your hand strength. sighing, you shut off your laptop and set it aside on your nightstand, disconnecting the music from your phone before getting up to cut off the light. your fluffy cat that laid on the edge of your bed shooting her head up in alarm, ready to follow at any adventure you pursued.

“relax, mommy’s not going anywhere,” you smile assuredly, knee dipping into the bed as you lean over to smooch her on her tiny head, pointy ears tickling your cheek as you watch her tail sway. “good night, sweet — oh, fuck! i forgot to feed you. i’m so sorry baby.”

the alert in your tone has the black cat stand in attention, cursing to yourself as you slip on your heart printed slippers and make your way towards the kitchen, your studio apartment being on one level making this task easier. you listen to her tiny paws thud on the floor after she jumps off the bed in a hurry, dashing in front of you, damn near tripping you.

“oh my god, you’re so extra,” you shake your head, but couldn’t help but laugh. she meows at you violently, as if you hadn’t fed her in two weeks. rolling your eyes, you reach for her bowl off the floor to clean before opening a fresh can of fancy feast, using one of her plastic spoons to arrange her dinner.

whilst she awaits, you can’t help but glare at the screen of your phone as it suddenly dings, forgetting to turn off your ringer. hovering over it to activate your face i.d, it immediately opens the hinge app, reloading the page to see a new match. the air you inhaled suddenly catches in your throat as you stare wide eyed at your screen, the man in your view is just what you’ve been waiting for.

“oh, holy fuck,” comprehension wasn’t on your radar seeming as you lost the ability of the cat food in your hand, dropping it to the floor and flinching from the mess your fur baby began chowing on. sucking your teeth, you mutter, “goddamit. no, no. stop it.”

flailing your hand gently to get her to stop, you snatch the can and dump the remainder in the deep oval ceramic bowl. you try to ignore the rapid pounding of your heartbeat, unsure why it went so astray. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen a man so fucking fine. deadly fine, foul almost. as if it was such a disrespect to all beings. she’d cleaned up her own mess, so you take the time to grab your phone and lean against the sink to observe this man further. he had matched with you, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so depressed a few minutes ago . . . unless you were waiting for him to like you back.

toji. it’s his name. simple, nice. he only has about three pictures, one of them a huge black cane corso with a gorgeous silky coat. it made sense given the vibe he was giving. dark, intimidating, sexy. jet black hair, slender smoke gray eyes, sharp jaw and a fascinating scar on the side of his mouth. another thing you noticed was how big he was. most of the clothing he wears sticks to his skin like glue. molding the outline of his muscles, the thickness in his arms, the heaviness in his thighs, the brick trail of his abdomen.

a certain feeling burns in your chest, and between your legs as you scroll to see the last image. he’s sitting on a beach chair, thighs spread in black cargo pants, matching tee, a yuengling beer in his hand and a cross dangling around his neck as he takes a sip of his beverage with a hungry look into the camera. it’s cocky, possessive, dominant. the dark brows above his eyes lowered with attentiveness. his shirt is half risen above his abdomen, and you can easily see the dark trail of hair leading into his crotch. it’s full there, clear as day. so it’s easy to tell he carries something serious.

fuck. “fuck,” you feel yourself growing hot, blowing out a breath of air before making your way back to your comfy bed to stare at him more. what a fucking man. honestly, you’d never seen someone so of your standard. exactly your type. before messaging him, you check his profile a bit deeper to make sure you’re not mistaken of anything. find some flaws, though profiles only express so much.

thirty-six, that makes you moan. that’s a twelve year age difference. though that only makes him hotter. not too old, nor young. he’s a . . . gynecologist.

“so he’s good with pussy,” you giggle to yourself. he makes a decent amount of money. he’s into fitness, clearly. cars, politics, sports. seemed like a pretty laid back man to you.

without even realizing, he had already messaged you, your heart dropping to your toes at his first response.

toji

i’ve seen you before.

you blink, fingers typing quickly.

you

mhm, where?

he takes a moment to reply, so you fiddle with your necklace out of anxiousness, laying on your stomach and swaying your feet.

toji

sounds a little embarrassing, but an adult website.

you

sounds about right. does that bother you?

toji

i wouldn’t have matched with you if it had.

you

so you’re saying if i wasn’t a porn streamer you wouldn’t even look my way?

those three dots prolong longer than you wanted, only making you aware he didn’t know what to say.

toji

i matched with you because i find you attractive. whether you want me in that way or not is up to you. i want you.

he’s straightforward. you can’t help but bite the tip of your acrylic, smiling like a stupid teenager, kicking your feet in the air. the attraction being mutual boosting your ego.

“i want you, daddy,” you joke to yourself.

you

i’m assuming you’ve read my bio. i’m looking for someone to film content with! if you’re down for it, we can meet in person and talk about it! i’m not really looking for a relationship. . . right now at least. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

toji

of course, sweetheart. i’m free saturday’s and sunday’s. you don’t seem that far from me. let’s grab italian. my treat.

there’s something blunt and grown about him, you can practically feel his intimidation radiating through your fingertips. he seems just like the kind of man you knew would fuck you stupid. scream his name until the walls bled. until you’re trembling, and the sheets are off the bed, and his sweat is on your back so arched to the point where it’s painfully delicious. biting your lip, you had nothing else to lose. you needed his help, he’s offering lunch, you only live once.

you

you had me at italian. saturday at 2?

toji

saturday at 2. see you then, darling.

𓇼

the nostalgic scent of blue magic hair grease fills the air of the salon, your fingers working tirelessly to intricate detail into the woman’s scalp you worked on. your last client of the day in fact. you couldn’t wait to clock out and grab a bowl from chipotle, thinking about it your entire shift. fingers entwining artfully as braiding hair flicks from angle to angle, you finish up the final knotless braid with a hard working sigh. you tried to remain optimistic after she’d taken her seat, unfortunately arriving an hour late to her appointment. said she had ‘issues’ with her boyfriend, smelling like weed and partially slurring her words when she came in. but you could care less when you were on a time crunch.

you hated when people wouldn’t respect the clearly listed rules on your account. so, for that, she’d be paying a late fee. after you applied moose and rosemary oil to her scalp, she’d pay you through apple pay and be on her way. you thank her, and when she’s out the door, you instantly turn to your friend and roll your eyes.

“you’re too damn nice for doing her hair. i would’ve told her ass to kick rocks after showing up that damn late,” amethyst speaks, crosslegged and shaking her head as she digs her fork into her chinease platter, filled to the brim with shrimp fried rice and popcorn chicken. the smell alone makes your tummy growl. “did she even tip you?”

“not at all,” you brush off, not even wanting to think about it anymore. “still got my money at the end of the day.“

“hey, you’ve been off the whole day, everything alright?” amethyst proceeds to question, and your shoulders slump as you halt from sweeping up hair off the floor.

aside from tireless appointments, you couldn’t get toji out of your mind, super impatient, even anxious for saturday to come. it’s two days away until you finally meet him. you’ve texted here and there, shared a few updates on life or spoke of relating passions and wanting desires. you had told him your occupation outside of being a camgirl, and how dissatisfied with it you’ve become. this field wasn’t for you anymore. the passion for it is dying, the clients grow irritable, and you just wanted to breathe. you feel like you’ve been working your whole life. in conclusion, since fifteen. started from an early age dealing with responsibilities due to financial constraints within your family. your mother raised you on her own, along with four other children. and being cursed with the older daughter syndrome, you developed faster than you wanted to. barely having time to live your life until you moved out. even then, it’s been all about work. you needed an island getaway.

“this week just burnt me out. i’m just glad it’s almost over,” you reply, not having the energy for a full conversation. she was a sweet girl, albeit very nosey. you try to keep events in your life private, gossip to a minimum.

“awe, bookie,” she pouts. “what’s your plan for tomorrow? me and the girls were gonna check out that new club ‘sin.’”

shaking your head, you disagree. “now you know i’m not big on clubs. have an art piece to work on anyways before the weekend comes. so i’ll be busy.”

amethyst nods. “well, alright then. i guess i’ll just see you whenever you get booked again.”

you don’t know why that felt like a backhanded response. you’re only here three times out of the week, and most of those days you see about five to six clients. everyone else had a bigger following on social media, meaning more attention, more money. you believe because you aren’t so passionate for this major, your ability to promote and put effort only shows in your adult entertainment career. since it’s where most of your income comes from as of four months ago.

“guess i’ll see you.”

after packing your ballerina pink telfar bag with all of your tools, you wave goodbye to everyone before making your way to your white honda civic, interior a vast splash of pink matching the two-piece skims set you wore. shorts since the weather is about seventy-five degrees today. buckling yourself in, your only agenda is to head to chipotle and then home. ordering your delectable signature bowl of barbacoa, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo, corn, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, and refusing to eat the bowl without their vinaigrette and a side of chips.

it’s around 9pm when you’re finally cleaned off from a hot shower, curly hair pushed back from your face with a hello kitty headband as you finish your skincare, sitting at your vanity while scandal plays in the background. you’d already eaten your food about an hour ago, even taking a thirty minute nap to regenerate for this art piece you needed to finish. in total, you had about three jobs; hair stylist, camgirl, ceramicist. you had an etsy profile where people bought cute little things of yours you liked to sculpt. tea pots, coquette flower pots, plates, heart cake jewelry boxes . . you name it. you had a few orders for mini miffy trinkets you had to ship out by saturday.

saturday. the warmth in your gut swarms at the thought of seeing that man. quite frankly, you’ve been unable to relieve your mind of him. he’s like a poison, hard to get rid of, but desperate to stay bonded with you. and you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his embrace; small and fucked out. since he’s been busy with work, and so have you, there hasn’t been much time to even call and chat. then again, you wanted to wait to see him in person. to feel that magnetism stronger than it already was. two days away and you’re anxious to even hear a hello.

while patting your toner into your face, you gaze through your mirror to see a scene playing from your show where fitz and olivia fight before they fuck for the hundredth time. the way he grabs her, speaks to her, caresses her and worships her. it has you thinking of toji instantly. the burn for him aching more than normal. practically feeling his eyes on you the way he stared into the camera in that one photo, long fingers clasped around the glass bottle, craving for that lock around your throat. wondering how tight he’d make it. would you be able to breathe? would he kiss air into your mouth to help you? tell you it’s okay, to feel it all, to take it all, to cum on his dick till you're milking him dry?

your thighs squeeze together from your imagination, staring at your reflection . . . and it’s all in your eyes. deep arousal, and the harsh clench you currently held your moisturizer in, close to grinding in your seat to ease the buzz of your clit. there’s only one solution for this, and you might as well make money off it. standing to your feet, you think not a second more before retrieving your laptop from your closet, setting it on your vanity desk and logging into the domain of prettyfuckbunnies.com. it seemed to be the main site for growth, given your eight thousand dedicated subscribers. you check yourself in the mirror once more before going live, rolling your chair back a few inches so they could see your entire frame. dressed in nothing but a small red slip dress.

angelbwrry is live!

your subscribers were notified well before others, hundreds of them swarming the chat within seconds. you were a new favorite, a prized star of the platform. admiration from both women and men. people who tipped you just for being pretty. others here for the obvious. applying gloss to your lips, you stare intensely into the camera, the character you play going into affect.

“hi,” you mutter quietly, slowly titling your head to the side as you bite your lip and sink lower into your seat, back arching. “i’m so fucking horny, and i just need someone to watch me fuck myself.”

the black kuromi chair you sat in begins to sway as you gently swing yourself side to side, eyes trained on the chat to witness them praise you, some comments degrading off the rip that you chose to ignore, others demanding you get on with it. for the most part, you tend to be discreet with sharing much about yourself. technically, you weren’t hiding much, your face easily accessible and probably even less hard to track. you’d always pray that there wasn’t a psycho willing to go that far just to find you. role playing was your forte. writing ideas for new personas to please them. and you had fun doing it. you’d never do something you weren’t in to for the satisfaction of others. never took private calls, or meets ups for obvious reasons.

but, you had to talk about him.

“i met this guy i can’t get outta my head,” the softness in your tone making dicks go erect and clits beat, the chat asking questions and growing fond of your way of interaction. “well, maybe not met. we’ve texted, and i meet him in a few days. possibly someone you’ll see on the channel. and . . .”

the tenseness in toji’s neck bothers him as he groans and leans back into his office’s chair, fork in one hand as he chews on his salad from sweetgreen a coworker grabbed for him, reading through emails his secretary confirmed appointments of, needing to add it into his schedule to be aware of what he can fit between. needing to run a few errands this weekend. the white doctors coat clings to his body, one foot raised to rest on the front of his desk, manspreading and jaw shifting as he finishes his food tiredly, knowing he wouldn’t eat a thing once he got home.

“goodnight doctor fushiguro! get some rest tonight, yeah?” a body comes to view of his secretary; a woman with glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a chunky face and beautiful red hair. she waves enthusiastically.

toji smiles, the older woman trying her best not to swoon. he’s young enough to be her son. “good night, miss thorn. thank you for today. you get home safe and enjoy your trip. i wanna hear all about it when you’re back.”

“you know you’re the first person i’m running to tell!” she chirps, toji chuckling. “i left my keys on the main desk. don’t forget or else you’ll have to break open the drawer for your patients files.”

“i’ll be sure to remember.”

twenty minutes pass and toji’s cutting off lights to his small facility and locking up. twirling the keys on his long finger, starting up the sleek black maserati ghibli gt sitting in the parking lot from his key. a black patent leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, doctors coat discarded and now attired in his usual black tee with matching slacks. setting it beside him in the passengers seat, he gets a ding! from his cellphone, resting his shoulders in his seat before checking what it was, perhaps it was miss thorn, she tends to leave things behind.

angelbwrry is going live!

toji raises a brow from the notification, checking the sapphire bulova watch on his wrist for the time. 9:54pm. why were you up so late? forgetting people have other schedules, he’s so used to being asleep around this time, much more having to be done today the only reason he was still in the office way past the hour it closed. part of him grows inquisitive, wondering if he should invade your privacy or what not. though, he’s not new to your escapades. he’s seen every inch of your body, memorizing it quite literally. he’s not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him off a few times these past months. he feels like he knows you on a deeper level now, so itching for that perverted behavior would be indecent to both of you. especially if he’s seeing you in two days . . . for a conversation about what you do and his potential participation.

nothing wrong with just watching, right?

as the engine to his car hums, toji finds himself in a devious act, clicking onto your feed and finding you displayed in your feminine bedroom. the videos on mute momentarily before he’s going full screen and turning his phone sideways. there you were, small and standing tall as the slip that barely clung to your body arose the more you moved. hips wide, thighs full, nipples taut and tits defying gravity. the strap on your right shoulder falls elegantly, your hair hoisted up by a claw clip and your brown skin radiating glow. the man openly groans from the sight, knowing you smelt so good.

“wait, i have an idea!” the cute tone of your voice blares through his phone, a smirk painting his stern features as he watches you scramble for something in your room, your slip riding up your ass. the hourglass shape of your body, to the pudge of your tummy . . he’s enamored.

he, and a thousand other people watch curiously as you lift the seven foot mirror that previously leaned against your closet door and position it on the floor at the edge of your bed. then, you’re digging into your bottom drawer for something else, toji catching a brief glance at the chat raving and thirsting from the view of your perky ass peaking out, a tiny birth mark under the left one. the cellulite in your legs that squish together from size, the stretch marks leading from beneath your ass cheeks down to the backs of your knees. so fucking soft.

“ta-da!” you wave the object in your hand courageously, an evil grin on your face as you show the crowd your confetti designed dildo, the brow on toji’s face raising. he almost wants to chuckle. you’re so silly, he thinks. watching you dance your way back towards the mirror where you hum a tune to yourself, swaying your ass in the air for dramatics before plunging your toy onto the center of the mirror so it sticks, watching it spring for attention.

“gonna pretend this is him, ‘till then. can’t wait any longer,” your hands slowly drift up your thighs to show your audience your bare pussy, hiding between those luscious thighs of yours. he wanted to suffocate his face there badly. what you say almost goes over his head. pretend who’s what?

toji ignores the flow of comments filling the chat, degrading you to some degree which he briefly clenches his jaw from, feeling somewhat protective. others praising you, acting like your cash pigs. pathetic, he thinks. he sees one comment in particular that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

prinxxxspeach

aren’t you seeing him saturday? call him now to come help you girl!!

don’t fucking call me, angel. i’ll nut in my pants right now if i hear you say my name. he’s slightly amused that you spoke of him. is that why you went live so late? thinking about him? so pent up, and impatient, you had to just fuck it out your system? he’d fuck you a lot better than that lousy toy you had, that’s for sure.

you giggle from the comment, contacts still in your sockets so you can read what people are saying from afar.

“he can wait for me. he’s making me wait,” it’s like an old film camera flipping to the next scene, or maybe his mind had gone blank from your response because now, now you’re sinking your tiny pussy onto your toy after coating it with lube, the reflection of your cunt for all to see in the mirror. watching as this toy splits you apart, pretty folds swallowing it deep as you balance yourself on the tips of your toes. fully sitting and rolling your hips to adjust, your mouth falls wide and a whimper escapes.

“nng, s’so deep,” that voice of yours is going to get you in trouble. the broken moans you release as you lift your hips to grind and bounce, face falling forward to look at yourself, seeing someone other than yourself. your imagination begins to run wild, and you forget a cameras watching you, dainty fingers caressing the mirror before laying your palm flat, as if you’re choking him. biting your lip, you occupy your other hand by molding at your chest.

you uphold your balance well, clapping your ass down against the mirror now coated with your slick, pussy squelching ridiculously loud aside from your weak moans and desperate whimpers.

“fuuck,” your breath hikes, sounds broken and almost pleading, eyes rolling back as you collapse to your knees and lazily rock back on your idea of a dick. by this point, toji’s eyes are malicious, and his dick is hard in his slacks. shifting in his seat uncomfortably from what you’ve done.

“lemme see your face,” toji whispers in the air, the heat rushing to his cheeks. the things you do to him truly fascinating.

“g’na cuum, mmph daddy!” a high pitched squeal you let out stuns him, your hips shifting back and forth hurriedly. the flesh of your ass moving like water, and he’s in a trance. daddy? what the fuck are you doing to him? he wonders if you knew he was going to purposely join your live. already talking about him gave it away.

“c’mon, angel. show me,” the blood swells in his cock rapidly, tip damn near dripping with precum, unable to help but palm his heavy hand with it, humming and widening his legs.

“too-jii,” it’s faint the words you falter, a pathetic whimper followed by drool covered lips and a cute squeak. your body trembles from the depth of your orgasm, riding out your high and giggling cutely to yourself. to others, the words were inaudible. but to him, he knew exactly what the fuck you said.

the way you smile at yourself in the mirror, as if you’re looking at his fucked out face, you slowly upturn your head to bring it back to the livestream, a drunken, and dangerous grin on your face. never in his years of life had a woman made him gulp. to fear for what you’d do to him. how bad you’d break him, make him go fucking crazy. yearn for your pussy on his mouth.

you were fucking ethereal.

𓇼

of-fucking-course you’d be running late. you were supposed to meet toji at two and it’s two thirty. the location of c’est moi exactly twenty five minutes away from where you lived. you were close to the downtown area, not fond of parking down there but you’d drive faster than an uber can. you made sure to make toji aware of your lateness so he’s not getting the idea that you stood him up. never. not after the other day. you don’t know what happened, but your mind took over your body and you couldn’t help yourself. you only pray he didn’t see it, not expecting him to. it’s embarrassing now that you think back on it.

you manage to make it out of the house twenty minutes after, throwing on a simple white pleated cami dress with a ruffled hem, ruched bust, and pairing of olive green sandals that had tea rose shaded orchids clipped onto the forefront. a teri cherry printed coach bag tight on your shoulder after you sped sixty miles per hour towards the restaurant, finding parking and hurriedly making your way inside.

“hi, reservations for fushiguro. i’m extremely late,” as you approach the host, you make out the sight of the man you were here to see outside instantly. sitting alone sipping a cup of coffee. his side profile all you can see, that deep scar carved into the side of his mouth, his veiny hands big as he clutches the mug . . and your throat clogs up.

he’s fucking . . . big. fuck being nervous before, this made you want to run and hide and never show your face. he’s practically hunching over the table, making it appear smaller than it actually is. his hair is midnight black, his broad shoulders and muscles suffocating the sleek gucci button up he wore, a few undone, eyes studying his cellphone, awaiting your call. one thing about being a doctor, he’s learned to be patient. understanding your alarm forgot to go off, or rather you slept through it . . seemingly growing to become impatient. he needed to see your face now.

“right this way.”

your feet follow blindly behind the hostess, trying your best not to trip over your own feet, heart beating drastically against your ribcage. your palms are sweaty, feeling the warm breeze of spring air hit your skin as the hostess leads you outside to the table where toji resides. he sees you before you see him, the sun beaming on your skin not nearly as hot as your cheeks suddenly became when finally making eye contact. your right hand picks at the ends of your dress anxiously, toji taking a stand to welcome you like a gentleman. it’s like slow fucking motion the closer you approach him, and when you’re inches apart, you can see the stillness on his face. he doesn’t smile, his face is almost unreadable. not sure if he’s upset with you for being late, or he’s just not one for emotions.

“hi,” the hairs on your skin stand from the deep baritone of his voice, visibly swallowing as you stare up at him, height difference making you dizzy.

“hi,” you blink like an innocent doe. he’s hovering over you and the waiter whom sets the menu down on the table, his chest almost touching you as he comes around to pull your chair out for you to sit, finally getting so close to the point where he could breathe in your sweet perfume, the peony and white musk scent has him forcing down a groan. he’s staring intently at your backside, dark hair going to the middle of your back in wild curls, a bit frizzy due to the humidity outside.

“can i get you anything to drink, miss?” the waiter addresses you, politely waiting for toji to move out the way.

why is your entire body on fire? no man has ever had this affect on you. his aura exudes something sinister, overtly masculine even. “u-um, yes please. can i just have a frozen sangria?”

“of course, i’ll be back with that while you decide on your meal.”

“thanks,” you smile sweetly, trying your very best to avoid complete eye contact. once the two of you are alone, you build up the courage to look at him again. he’s seated once more, leaning back into his chair with a left arm resting over the back of the chair with his legs comfortably spread. he liked to do that a lot. his eyes are low, head adjusted somewhat to the left as he observes you.

“good to finally see you,” he’s the first to speak, again. that fucking voice of his; raspy and dominant. how are you supposed to carry out a conversation without folding?

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, sitting up straight after shyly clamping your hands between your legs and trying to hide like a porcupine. “i want to apologize again for running late. out of all days my phone decides to not ring my alarm. i rushed here as soon as possible. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

his lips began to rise into a soft smile, and that eases your nerves. no one would notice you’d rush to get ready. so naturally pretty with your face glowing from rose water and petroleum jelly, hair brushed out, lashes only curled with mascara, lips lined with black liner and smothered with gloss while your prescription glasses sit on the bridge of your nose. too cute.

“sweetheart, no need for the sorry’s. i understand.”

he’s not mad, thank fuck. “kay,” you smile back, tucking pieces of flown hair behind your ear. “did you order yet?”

“was waiting on you,” he replied. “though i kind of lost my appetite. i’m craving something . . . else. so, order anything you’d like.”

that was surely a double meaning. now, you’re not so sure if you had an appetite anymore. you couldn’t bare to eat in front of this man right now. when the waiter came back with your drink, you downed half of it, toji chuckling from your anxiousness. you needed the liquid courage before uttering another word towards the man who watched you with motive, intention. the intimidation brewing from his body is corrupting you. you order a simple caesar salad, nothing too fancy.

“oh! i printed out the document we have to go over.”

toji’s eyes trail to your hands that reach for your purse, acrylic nails painted a peony pink pulling out your notebook stuffed with an arrangement of papers as well as a pen. “guess we can call it like an nda, affidavit . . whatever. i’m sure you’re aware of the obvious on why. um, we can discuss boundaries within the bedroom . . . things we will or will not condone. a safe word is a must. if you don’t feel comfortable showing your face i’d blur it out, but given i do livestreams most of the time that’ll be impossible. so i’d suggest a mask, which i’m actually in to so if that’s something you’re willing to do . . “

toji nods as you continue to ramble, carefully analyzing everything you say, though, his mind begins to drift elsewhere. he still couldn’t get that damn livestream out of his mind. killing himself these past two days just thinking about how fucked out he needed you to be, buried deep and crying underneath him. the cute expressions on your face when you moaned his name so publicly, as if you dared him to see. how desperately you fucked yourself on that pathetic toy of yours from the very thought of him. your whines, the illicit way you stared at your reflection in the mirror beneath your sculpture of a body you rolled seductively. he shifts in his seat, attempting to conceal the stirring of hunger within him as you continue to talk. he doesn’t need a fucking contract. he’d fuck you good and wouldn’t tell a soul.

his expression is firm yet tinged with a hint of something different this time . . anticipation. “why do you film content?”

the unwavering intensity in his gaze causes you to cut your sentence short, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you ponder on his question. was he even listening? “wha—what do you mean?”

toji chuckles. “i mean, why do you film? is it your main source of income? do you enjoy submitting to hundreds of people? does it make you feel confident, make you feel good? why?”

that should’ve been something you prepared yourself to answer. most of the guys you filmed content with didn’t have personal answers to ask, nor did they care. they were simply there to have a good time and go about their lives. you came into this situation thinking that’s what toji wanted as well. now you’re getting a gut feeling it’s more than that. or maybe you’re just an over-thinker. the whole point of making an account on hinge was to find better people to connect with for work, but most of them never got the job done, and you were tired of faking an orgasm and boosting a man’s ego. something about this one though, you can feel that he’s willing to worship you.

“well, i actually have three jobs. hairstylist during the day, which i’m growing to lose passion for. i’m good with pottery so i make little things and sell them. and then as for filming content . . . it’s fast money. the economy is shit right now. minimum wage jobs aren’t cutting it. rent prices are horrifying. i want to fund a new life for myself. to travel more, and just be a girl.”

toji smiles, admiring you.

“bali has been on my mind as a place to reside. it’s always been a dream of mine to be somewhere tropical. less breathing in polluted air and eating foods they pump full of hormones. mexico and puerto rico are also on the list. i really need to dip my feet in some sand or something. i don’t know. it’s also kind of sexually liberating to be in my own bubble and enjoy myself in that way. i do it for no one but myself.”

toji sits up in his seat, taking a piece of ciabatta and smearing softened butter onto the breadpicked up a slice of bread and smeared some butter onto it. “i think that moving to a place like that is a good idea. there’s a lot of bullshit in the world that’s hard to run away from. if you feel like it’s what’s best for your mental and emotional being, then go for it. you seem like you’ve worked real hard your entire life. you deserve a break.”

the heat in your cheeks rise as he leans himself closer, guiding the bread to your lips, waiting for you to take a bite. you smile softly, sitting up a bit in your chair before taking a bite. toji watches intensely as you moan from the taste.

“isn’t it much better when it’s given by someone else?”

“yeah, it’s good. real good,” you swallow, licking your lips to rid the breadcrumbs, reaching for your glass of wine to take another sip. “i have most of my savings in tact, so my plan is to be out of here by next year.”

the unadulterated pull between the two of you threatens to consume him as he stares at you, his body almost painfully yearning for your touch, your taste, your everything. toji can no longer resist. he reaches out and gently cups your chin, his fingers gently yet firmly tilting your face up to meet his smoldering gaze when you dared to look away. “how ‘bout you take me with you.“

the entire scene switches, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of lust and vulnerability makes you fall shamelessly into his trance. you feel your heart patter against your chest, scanning his entire face with small indications of panic, and excitement. you’ve been dying for his touch all week. you pray he’s as good as he looks.

“what’s the catch?” you breathe inordinately.

toji smirks. “we get fake married or something and change our identities.”

you shake your head at his joke. “i need to see a ring first, mister.”

“mhm, you look like a marquise kinda girl,” he tongues his cheek, in deep thought. “go to bali. i pay, you enjoy life.”

pairs of lips are mere inches away, toji ghosting his softly amongst your own, yours parting to follow. you feel like you’re in space, the feeling extraterrestrial. surrounded by depths of nothingness with only the two of you existing.

“i. . no, i can’t let you do that,” you shake your head dismissively.

“you deserve it.”

“you don’t know me.”

“good. that’ll be the perfect occasion for us to spend more time together,” he concludes, softly pecking your lips to coax you into giving him what he needed. you’re stunned, unsure what to say, or to think. so, he doesn’t make you think.

“fuckin’ kiss me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of desire and vulnerability, eyes flickering from the plumpness of your lips to your eyes. “can’t wait any fucking longer.”

the heat of his breath mingles with yours as his lips brush against your own in a hungry, fiery kiss. his mouth devours yours with an intensity that borders on primal, each movement filled with a desperate need to taste and consume everything you have to offer. his tongue slips past your parted lips, eagerly exploring the depths of your mouth as if seeking to memorize every inch of you.

you were drawn in fully now and you didn’t think you’d be able to pull away even if you wanted.

within the moment of your passionate kiss, as toji’s rough hand trailed to grasp your throat, your waiter begins to approach with your salad, eyes widening as he noticed how deeply, and somewhat aggressively your make out session was. practically swallowing each others faces. deciding to mind his business and turn the other way. he’d come back in a few minutes. toji breaks the kiss abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of reluctance.

“damn this table,” he mutters, his gaze shifting towards the barrier separating the two of you. his breathing is ragged, body practically trembling with pent-up need. even so, he manages to pull himself together enough to maintain some semblance of composure.

he’s left you breathless, feeling something in your chest you’d never felt before, this attraction for him otherworldly. your lips are pouted, hands bawled into little fists levitating in front of your chest, as if you were begging for him to come back. when he begins to rise to his feet, you wonder where he’s going, eyes coming into immediate contact at the bulge growing tight in his jeans. you swallow, shifting your gaze up to the tall man that hovers over you possessively.

“go home, send me the address. i gotta handle a few business calls then i’ll be there at eleven.”

you hadn’t noticed the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you give him those damn puppy eyes, as if you’re so fascinated by him, almost scared of him to leave right now. toji grabs the pen resting between your little pink book, signing his signature on the indicated line on the bottom of the page for your gratification. after, he’s fishing for the brown leather wallet in his pocket to place down a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the tab and the waiters tip. then, he leans down, lips gently brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. he lingers just a moment longer, as if reluctant to let go.

“see you later, angel.”

finally, and with that, he steps back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns and walks away, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoes in your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a lingering sense of anticipation for the evening to come. starstruck entirely.

𓇼

a rush of arousal burned within you like wildfire as you lay in your empty bed, yearning for the man who's been gone for only a few hours now. caressing your collarbone while chewing on your lip, your phone rests in your palm, excitement brewing for twenty minutes now ever since he texted you to let you know he was on the way. a black baby doll is adorned on your soft skin. ruffle lace details at the neckline and hem with a satin waistband tie at the back into a cute bow. matching mesh g-string panty, and floral patterns along the bust and hip area.

you took the time to curl your hair, reminding yourself to actually put your contacts in this time. also keeping makeup to a minimum with just mascara, a bit of blush, and some strawberry chapstick. skin moisturized in baby oil and spritzed with miss dior. . . waiting. the camera’s set up across from your bed, trying to distract yourself by engaging in conversation with your viewers. the comments were raging about how impatient they were to see something, but how did they think you felt? you could barely walk out of that restaurant without feeling your legs shake.

he intimidated you beyond measure, and god knows what he’s going to do to you when he gets here. it’s a fear and form of greed you’d never felt before.

“my fucking hands are shaking,” you giggle anxiously, smiling to yourself and shaking your hands before dramatically breathing out.

as you waited, you did little things to keep your buyers entertained, showing your ass every now and then as you cleaned your room like a cute maid. call it foreplay. sitting on your knees now become uncomfortable, so you aim for lowering to your tummy and stretching your arms ahead of you, ass raised up. as soon as you get comfortable, your head pops up from the sound of heavy footsteps surrounding the small area of your home. it’s him. you’d hope, leaving the door unlocked so it’d be easier for him to enter.

“oh, fuck—y’all,” the anxiety is even worse now, mentally preparing yourself with steady breaths and shoving your face into the bed to scream happily. the emotions are bipolar. “he’s coming up.”

toji steps closer to your slightly cracked open door, pushing it open wide to see you. his demeanor nothing short of serious when he gets a good look at you, hearing you yap at your camcorder with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. he rests his right shoulder against the frame of the door, staring at you, admiring. his boots hit along the floor the closer he gets to you, and that cute ass you had perched up. the lights in your room are dimly lit, citrus candles spread around and led lights from your vanity illuminating the area. the vibe is nice, he likes it. like he likes you.

you continue to speak to your livestream and pretend he wasn’t there, trying to ignore your heartbeat picking up. the tension is in the air. you tried to steady your breathing as you continue to ramble about nonsense; animal crossing, sims you wanted to recreate and purposely wicked whim them. anything to distract yourself from the sparks shivering through your body. you prod the inside of your cheek trying to bite back a grin when you finally feel his hands on your hips, eyes watching the chat go wild from the brooding man behind you. what makes it all the more hot is that he hasn’t spoken a word, feeling like an intruder. stalking, waiting.

“so yeah, i’m thinking about dying my hair red. i feel like my face is kinda full to have a silk press so i’ll look . . off? maybe p-pin ‘urls,” a wave of pleasure shocks through you when you feel him press the outline of his dick against your cunt, dragging you back to air-fuck you once or twice. a few times. for the tease of it. his fingertips lightly flowing along the curves and contours of your body, your hips being the most sensitive. gasping and twitching from the feel, the thong you wore barely shielding how wet you were.

your breath became heavier, and you found it harder to continue speaking. you felt like moans would slip out of if you continued to react to his touch, the heat between you two rising. you were drawn fully into him. the reaction from him gave you a confidence boost, a slick smile showing on your face. while his body speaks of his own growing need, he remains a silent observer, his intense gaze watching as you maintain, or try, your playful conversation with the camera.

“i gotta admit something,” you smile into your hair that falls angelically around the frame of your face. his form, silhouetted behind you, takes on an ominous yet seductive presence. even though he remains hidden from view, his yearn is palpable, eyes locked on you as if he could consume you with a single glance.

“i fucked myself thinking of him,” a jolt of electricity runs down toji’s spine as he recollects the image. a low, involuntary groan escapes his throat as his grip on you tightens. “those of you who don’t remember. it was really, really good.”

that’s the final trigger. in seconds, a rough palm strikes the flesh of your ass, causing the cutest squeak to emit from you. toji’s wrapping his other fist around the softness of your hair and pulling you back to his hard chest. his cologne is strong, enrapturing even. your hand reaches beside you to catch his wrist in your grip, feeling the coldness of his expensive watch while he’s busy locking your jaw still and pressing his lips beneath your ear.

“really?” the tone is condescending, and as you nod frantically, pushing your ass back to feel him more, all you can hear is the unraveling of his belt. slowly removing it, the sound of the leather rubbing against the buckle and his pants. the anticipation fills you at an alarming pace. “i knew that, angel.”

how? wait, did he fucking watch the live you made that night? your legs nearly go weak at the possibility, sheer embarrassment consuming you. he wasn’t meant to see that. yeah, you told him about it. but him seeing that, then having lunch with you like nothing happened is crazy work. he noticed you’re frozen, chuckling darkly behind you.

“relax, doll. i can pretend i didn’t, ‘n you can show me all over again.”

he grabs your wrists, pining them behind your back with a rush of power fueling him, crossed hands sitting on your ass.

“this okay, baby?” he scans the side of your face for approval, using the smooth leather to bond them together. you hum, lips bitten and nodding obediently.

the look on your face in the camera is so worth the thousands of views from people who were just as desperate as he was to see you submit. your hands wriggle to touch him, laying your head on his shoulder and biting your lip as his teeth graze from your shoulder, to your collarbone, and your neck. your body’s completely on fire, and he makes it worse when he gently shoves you forward to fall on your face, back arched and ass high for his view, and theirs.

toji stared down at you as you remained there, fully surrendering yourself for the taking. his larger body leans over yours, fingers grabbing your chin to force your mouth to open. toji brushes his lips along yours, your desperate mouth sinking into him, feeling that same spark you felt earlier during lunch in your chest. he deepened the kiss to give you what you wanted, easily reading you, his tongue ravaging your mouth with his waist grinding into the shape of your ass. the kiss is so wet it has you mewling like a cat in heat, losing your breath.

“give me a safe word, hm?” toji sucks on his lower lip, the arousal in his eyes ruining you. a heavy hand rubs circles on your ass before hitting it again, another cute sound leaving that pretty mouth you had.

brushing your cheek along your bed set, dark curls dancing around your face and a pout on your lips, you whimper, “strawberry.”

“mhm,” your stomach flips when you felt his hand drift between your inner thigh, toji’s tongue skidding over your lips the same time his fingers apply pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles after he pulls your panties to the side, your babydoll resting pretty on top of the rolls on your back. your fists are balled tightly in your restraints, widening your mouth to suck on his tongue before giving him a deep kiss. the image on your face is pure dizziness. acting like your fucked dumb while barely being fucked. he couldn’t wait to see you crumble.

you squirm under his touch, breath growing short and shaky, toji maintaining eye contact with you dangerously. he’s big on it, and it makes you shy, yet brave enough to endure it.

“you hear yourself, girl?” toji hisses, pecking your lips hard, his fingers coated with your slick the more he rubbed. you whine, arching your ass even closer to his hand. “you’re so needy for me, it’s cute.”

it’s ridiculous that you can’t even speak, him turning you into nothing but a whiny, whimpering sub. “you’re desperate for my touch, for my tongue.” he whispered, his voice growing even rougher as his own need grew.

“mmm, yes. need it so bad,” you pout, mouth gaping after he spanks your clit lightly. “fuck, please eat it, baby.”

“i will good girl.”

he didn’t hesitate for another second, sliding behind you with one knee pressed into the bed and his big hands holding you still, spreading your cheeks further apart and cussing under his breath from how fucking cute your pussy was. fat, and glistening in your juices, clit hiding between your folds giving him something to search for. “g’na fuckin’ kill me, angel. pretty fuckin’ pussy you got.”

you scoot up as much as you can, hands still bound behind your back, wanting to cry from the inability to move, but loving that he had you at his mercy. his hair covers his eyes and he’s submerged into you, pressing his mouth to your pussy in a sweet kiss, like he’s knocking politely, before running his thick, long tongue over you slowly. a groan resounded devilishly, toji lapping at your dripping clit, tongue hot and your toes can do nothing but curl.

he’s slow and deliberate, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was getting out of you as you writhed and quivered under his ministrations. your pussy and his mouth makes up the loudest voice in the room, so fucking sweet and wet he’s salivating over you. spanking you, taking his time to devour you as he swallows your cunt whole, tongue gliding from your clit all the way to your hole. occasionally dipping his tongue into you to fuck you like that. your eyes cross, a broken cry making him lose it.

“keep bouncing that ass back, baby. fuck, fuck my face, angel,” he’s hitting you again, and you can’t take it, shifting your thighs to roll your ass back onto his gorgeous face. you’re panting like an animal, jaw dropping as he keeps his mouth on your clit, sucking it hard and groaning into your cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine.

“oh . . god, oooh god,” the gasp in your throat became high pitched, toji licking you faster when he sees you giving your utmost effort. continuing his onslaught on your sensitive clit, swollen and satiating his taste buds. his fingers dug into your thighs, lowering himself completely to sit on his knees before you, rocking you back on his face as he eats it, unrelenting. sucking, licking, slurping, drowning his tongue inside of you . . . damn, it’s fucking good.

“c-cumming,” he can barely hear you as you stuff your face into the bed, toji’s head bouncing as you settle your feet on his shoulders and rock back on his face even quicker, groaning. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, babyyy.”

“mhm hmm,” he’s moaning into your pussy, kissing and tonguing you down until you finally burst, your hands in their constraint balling into fists, getting the chance to latch onto his black hair once he pushes you flat on your stomach to bury his face completely between your ass and thighs. “let it out, baby.”

his chin glistened from your juices, toji groaning the rougher you tugged at his scalp, dick jumping in his jeans he needed to unravel soon. when you cum, you do this thing where you squeal and gasp at once, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. lifting his face, he licks his lips proudly, wiping his chin and patting your ass to watch it shake in his palm. you were a lovely display beneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ownership over you.

he reached down and traced a finger along the length of your trembling leg, his dominant presence still overwhelming. he brings his hand to the back of your neck which you arched into his touch, his eyes darkening at your silent plea. “you want more?”

“nn, yea,” a breathless giggle falls from you, toji dragging you to sit at your knees by the grip on your neck and around your chest with his forearm, back hitting his chest again, and your eyes come into contact with the camera, almost forgetting it was there.

“show them what i did to your pussy, angel. let them see how perfect you are,” toji whispers, tapping at your knees to help you sit on your behind.

“okay,” the words are small again, because that’s how he makes you feel. once you sit, you raise your knees to your chest, toji lifting your babydoll to show your soft tummy and the pink lights from your vanity mirror glowing on the angles and curves of your body. you look like the finest art.

it’s liberating seeing yourself like this, a sense of relief washing over you when he begins to unloose the belt, humming elatedly and arching into him, your periwinkle painted toes twinkling in the air playfully. toji laughs at you, your hand coming to your cunt to cover it out of fake shyness, rolling to lay on your side and giggling to yourself. you really did know how to play a role, or maybe you’re just naturally silly.

toji unfastened his button before drifting his zipper down, thick thighs spread and arms bulky as he kept them in fists into the bed, tilting his head in your direction as he sat beside you, body taking up half the bed. you sit on your knees next to him, your hands running across his stomach and lifting up his shirt, toji licking his lips when your nails delicately scratch at his hips. you moan when his hand comes into contact with your hair, your nails digging into the broadness of his thigh.

as he guided your head down, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. you could smell the unique scent of masculinity wafting off of him. the feeling of his fingers running through your hair sent tingles down your spine, his touch tender and affectionate despite his dominating demeanor. your chest fluttered when his thumb touched your lower lip, your breath stuttering and your body quivering, a heat rising in your core all over. you felt the need for him grow stronger, pulling your lip downward. he shifted his fingers and tilted your chin up further, exposing your throat and neck to him. then he leans over, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head as his mouth latches onto your neck. pressing light kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing out and your skin pricks with fire.

“can’t stop tasting you,” he grunts, his lips and tongue on your throat licking hard, driving you insane with need. his hand holding the back of your neck in a possessive manner, keeping you in place as his mouth explored your sensitive skin.

“toji. .” your voice is weak, feeling your inner thighs drown in a puddle of your arousal. “wanna suck it.”

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he hums.

“don’t tease,” you roll your eyes and pout.

“mhm,” he lets out a little grunt as his eyes rake over you, his breath catching slightly as he stares at you. he runs his hand down to your waist, gripping fervently. “so pretty,” he murmurs.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a strong rush of affection for him. “you’re so handsome,” you say, your voice low and tender.

“g’na give it a good kiss, baby? real good?” he hisses, your hand pulling at his jeans to sit lower on his sharp hips, letting his dick free and watching it with a watered mouth as it sat against his tummy. heavy, thick, two veins protruding on either side. you fucking knew he was big. bless your intuition.

“yes, want it,” you plead.

a low growl escaped his throat. “show me you want it then,” he purrs, his eyes growing darker with desire and his grip on your hip tightening.

the salivation in your mouth gave you just what you needed to do the job, widening your mouth to accommodate his size, drooling over his dick as you pull him in as deep as you could to start. half of him enclosed by the warmth of your mouth and instantly toji moans from the feel, your cheek sucking in while you guide your head up and down, keeping your hands to yourself, one on his thigh for balance. your eyes are closed to focus, humming and dragging your mouth slow to make him feel it all. toji catches himself knocking his head back, pulling the sheets between his fingertips and scrunching his brows together, stomach caving in.

he can hear you slurp and suck at him needily, moaning around him and riding the air with your ass, spit gliding down to the base of his dick as your tongue sticks out to drag along the under of his shaft, bobbing your head and licking at him. something about giving him head in specific felt intoxicating. maybe it’s the sounds he makes; guttural yet whiny. the desperation begs to tug at his throat, shifting his hips blindly and cussing under his breath. eventually, his fingers find their way back to your scalp, toji sitting up and entangling both hands into your hair, face curated in pleasure with eyes wired shut and a gaped jaw.

“shit, ꒰♡꒱. that’s fuckin’ good, doll,” toji grunts, your moans around him encompassing him to briefly detangle a hand to spank against your ass in clear indulgence. “damn.”

your hand couldn’t help but travel to touch him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick to stroke your hand according to the pace your mouth drags. that gravitational wave in his abdomen hit, a deep ‘your suckin’ it so good’ fleeing from his mouth followed by another harsh spank and a steady tug at your scalp to push you down only enough to follow your rhythm. when he hits the back of your throat, you force yourself to hold him there for a few seconds, purposely constricting your throat to hear him moan for you again, and again. his sounds addicting.

toji chuckles from how good you’re doing, raising your head to breathe before swallowing only the tip while stroking the remainder, your salvia being enough lubricant to quickly move your wrist. twisting and tugging while keeping it mostly on the head of his cock, the sensitive spot your toy to play with as you give teasing kitty licks, two hands covering him now.

picking your head up momentarily, you stare into his eyes with your siren ones, low and dangerous. pulling at his dick while you bite your lips before kissing him, mewling when he shoves his tongue into your mouth, pulling your body closer by your ass, the other grabbing the side of your face he practically swallowed into his own. the kiss is feverish, something straight out of a movie. he’s highly infatuated with you, tasting himself off of you with the mixture of yourself. toji sucks on your lower lip, and you find yourself positioning your thigh over his to sit and grind on his leg. you had enough of the foreplay, you needed him to fuck you.

“fuck me,” a whimper escapes, pressing your body down harder onto him, hand still stroking at him, that fucking voice of yours driving him mad. he doesn’t think he’ll last if you keep it up. “toji. . . toji.”

“stop begging,” he shuts it down quickly, the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he kicks them off exciting you. of course you couldn’t hide the smile, feening innocence as you pet at his jeans to help him remove them.

he's only in his black shirt now, your eyes following how his muscles swallowed the material, showcasing every sharp cut of his upper body. he made you dizzy, truly. that slit on the side of his mouth curving with his mouth as he smirks at you for getting lost in your cute little dream land.

“focus, love,” toji reels you back in, his hand on your lower back to arch your chest into his, dragging you to straddle him. if he could see the blush on your face he’d see that you were red as a tomato, his dick sitting right beneath you and you can’t help but shudder. “need you to lift your hips, help daddy out.”

“kay,” you nod like a damn bobble head, laying your hands on his shoulders and balancing yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck for extra security. toji’s large arm his thrown around your waist to keep you locked to him, both of your body heat scorching.

he catches a hold of his dick, pumping it twice before he’s rubbing the fat tip against your drenched opening, collecting your flow before a soft gasp emits past your lips when you feel him gently enter, sinking you down carefully, little by little. the sensation from the stretch is . . like a fantasy. your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling as he removes his hand to balance the two of you on the bed, leaning back somewhat for your comfortability.

when you think he’s fully apart of you, that thought is knocked down the minute he utters, “c‘mon, girl. you gotta lot more to take.”

“oh my god,” the shock is out of, well, shock. he feels really good already, it’s gonna be hell if you handle any more. embedding your nails into his clothing, chin resting between the crook of his neck while you ground your ass back to make it easier for him to slip completely in. the two of you groan in sync, toji’s arm tightening around your waist from how tight you felt.

the more you rock, slow, steady, it fucks the both of you up. holding tightly onto one another while toji lets you take your time, the heavy breathing and hearts beating rapidly is fucking poetic. one might call this act making love. once you drop your ass entirely, that pressure in your sweet spot causes you to scream out softly, losing balance and sitting on your knees, holding onto him with an unexpected whine.

“shit, baby, you alright?” he’s immediately checking in on you, bringing you up and make eye contact, hands holding either side of your face and scanning for signs. pushing away the fact that you’re convulsing around his dick and trying his best not to fuck you hard. yet, at least.

again, you can’t even speak. your mouth is wide open, nodding and breathing heavily, shifting your hips and grind onto him, flexing your ass when you arch your back deeper before lifting halfway and slamming yourself down. toji chokes, face copying yours as he grips onto the sheets and places his arm back around you, helping you lift yourself.

“you feel . . really good, baby. stuffing me full,” you moan, toji grunting and yanking you up and down faster, losing his patience now. it blew out the fucking window the minute he slipped inside you. he fixates on the sound of your pussy sliding and swallowing his dick, the slick making his tongue water for the taste all over. you’re so fucking sweet it’s insane.

“yeah?” he lets out a low, guttural groan and grips your hips even harder, his breaths coming out in deep gasps. “fuck me like you fucked that toy, thinking of me.”

that makes you smile, that insecurity of him seeing that video earlier disappearing as you take both of your small hands and wrap them around his throat, using your weight to push his body so he falls onto his back, his hands cupping the curves under your ass cheeks. toji usually isn’t one for submission, but he’s been thinking for a while about trying new shit, and a pretty girl like you choking and fucking him was only the start. you see the look in his eyes, and you feel heat sweltering inside of you even more, relishing the fact that you are the one in control, applying more pressure to his neck, loving the way his breath hitches.

“you want me to fuck you just like that?” you lick your lips and grind teasingly, the dangerous swirl of your hips making his head sink further into the bed.

“want you to fuck me like that, angel. gimme a show.”

and you won’t deny his wish. positioning yourself back on the tips of your toes, his hands are smoothing underneath your thighs, clutching on either sides as you with his eyes going dark, his hips bucking. he can barely string a thought together, his mind completely consumed by the sensations you’re sending through him. your pussy takes it all while you pounce your body above him, rolling your waist each time you dip your ass down and meet his thighs.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes never leaving yours before his voice rasps out, “keep going. fuck me for real. like you want it. it’s yours.”

you let out a strangled gasp, body jerking and mind almost slipping away, the pleasure he’s giving you overwhelming and consuming you completely. his hands on your body clench harder, the warmth from his body on yours killing you.

“just like that,” his hands move at their own possession now, slamming down on your ass repeatedly to bruise your skin, the hits vibrating straight to your clit and it’s making you drunk. your eyes scroll back into your skull, his appraisal driving you to work for it faster.

“t-toji, i’m so wet for you,” you gasp in shock from the slickness between you two. “look what you did to me. you slide in and out so easily.”

“f-fuck, doll. you’re killing me talkin’ like that,” he lets out a strangled gasp at your words, voice ragged and eyes filled with need. “you like it that much, baby?”

“y-yes!” a squeal sounds from you, bouncing heavier than before, your voice getting caught in your throat from the impact. you clutch any part of his skin you can grab, losing yourself in the way he fills you. “i love your dick, baby. makes me feel prettier.”

hazy eyes filled with pleasure admire your features, fucked out already when he still has so much he wanted to do to you. give you what you deserve. a smirk tugs at his lips, sitting up and leaning in close, missing the skin contact. his voice low and rough as he says, “you look prettier when you’re sitting on my dick.”

“yeah,” you drunkenly nod. “s’mine.”

toji raises a brow with amusement. “it can be yours. when you cum on it real hard.”

wanting him even closer to you, you keep only one hand around his neck, placing the other on his forearm and pressing your chest to his entirely as you gyrate your hips and tease his neck, hovering over his skin with your mouth and teeth before you leave little love-bites on his skin. toji guides your hips in a circular motion, the simple switch up making you gasp and whine into his ear, hitting that spot repeatedly.

“god, baby,” you feel his guidance, his grip on your hips firm as he moves you. you ride against him, the friction on your clit making you whimper weakly, his deep voice in your ear making your body shake, feeling another orgasm develop. “i love it. s’fucking me so good.”

“see you movin’ just like you did for me on that mirror,” he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing firmly. your eyes lock, yours clouded by arousal, his with an agenda. “fuckin’ yourself like that . . ima fuck you real bad for that,” toji hissed, swiping his tongue across his lower lip before aggressively smacking your ass. “i feel that fuckin’ pussy squeezing me tighter. if you’re g’na cum then do it on me. gush all on it.”

the more your body reacts to his praise, and sprinkles of degradation, the faster your orgasm approaches you, washing over you hard as your body spasmes from the intensity of it. your teeth sink into his shoulder as you scream, riding out your high, squeezing hard on his arms. toji kisses your temple, keeping you close as he falls back and lays on his side while turning you to face your camera you’d both forgotten about, still did.

“you did so well,” the kisses continue around your face while your brains on autopilot, his hand clasping around your neck as he presses his hot chest against your back. his kisses are so aggressive it makes you feel small and wanting to obey. you jump when he spanks you, moaning weakly into your shoulder with your arms halfway hanging off the bed.

toji goes lift your right leg to adjust himself behind you, dick achingly hard and covered in your juices, slipping back inside of you fully before angling your knee towards your tummy, keeping a hand locked under the bend of your knee, your skin smooth to the touch. you smell good too. everything about you besotted him. your hand touches his face, tugging it closer to the point where his nose smushed against your cheek, dark hair clouding your eyesight as his big frame overtakes yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper, eyes focused on each other, a giggle creeping up.

“not you,” he whispered back, rolling his waist back and forth, grinding deeper into you. the plush of your ass molding against his sharp hips. his lips brush on your neck as he kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin. your hands roam over your body, touching and exploring every inch of yourself as his lips trail down your collarbone, darkly watching as your hand presses on your clit. “her.”

as he possessively holds you in place, he’s prepared you enough before he’s fucking you hard, knocking the wind from your throat completely. a hard gasp falls past your lips as toji slams his hips against your ass, knitting his brows together, squeezing his eyes shut while his mouth falls open. the utter silence both of your voices held at the moment was more powerful than the rough interaction of your skin. your eyes a ghost white as he pounds his dick into you hard. when a noise is made, it’s from equal parts, syncing your eager moans.

“ooh, fuck baby. you’re taking it,” he huskily whispers into your ear, his words punctuated by the way he continues to move into you. “sucking me so deep. m’not going nowhere.”

“to-ji,” his name is broken down by the harsh pounds he fucks you with, whining and moaning in his entrapment. your vision gone. “i love the way you fuck me. you fuck me so good.”

he fucks like he’s not letting up, his body pushing you deeper into the mattress, the grip around your neck remains tight, the feeling of his ownership only growing more intense. his body is hovering over yours now, digging deep as he can to fuck you real good, to make himself feel it all. your body remains to the side, only half twisted as he drops your leg and pushes his weight into you so your stomach is close to grazing the bed.

“s’too much, fuck . . i, i—” the words are caught in your throat from the overstimulation. breathing heavy, tears begin to fill your sockets, whining his name loudly in his face like you’d lost your mind for good this time. this pleasure was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s everything you needed and more.

toji shushes you, kissing your nose as he grips your face, big hand almost covering it whole. “you like when daddy takes control? you like when he tells you what to do?”

toji will admit, you’ve got him fucking spent. it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman submit and cry under him, and you do all those things well. the gorgeous image on your face, to the salacious movement of your body. the softness of your skin and the equal relation of your voice. capturing and captivating him. you’d think he was on drugs the way he was talking. high off his ass from your pussy. his lips gently brush over your ear. your eyes flutter, his voice attacking your clit, and you swear it makes it gush even more, soaking the sheets underneath your ass. “when he makes you his? you like being my good girl, pretty?”

he knows you can’t speak anymore, but you’re still interactive with your body language. the slur of your nonexistent words to the way you try to roll your ass back to fuck him back . . but he’s got you trapped. even the tears falling down your face from overwhelming pleasure. he knows you’re okay, asking for a safe word prior for your protection. you’re a big girl, he knows you can handle it.

“nnng,” you can’t stop trembling, gasping for air and sobbing in his face. toji places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes and nodding, cooing. you are fucked dumbed. toji hisses, hitting your ass and pausing momentarily to look between where you two collide, an ‘oh my god’ faltering out. he’s as gone as you are.

“you so fuckin’ creamy, girl,” toji drags out a frustrated hum, getting annoyed by how good your pussy is. you’re going to become a problem.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying it for. do you need him to stop, do you want more, or are you just completely fucked out you’re saying anything that’s coming to your head? that butterfly feeling is back in your stomach, as well as a foreign one near your clit, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “toji, m’ g’na c-cummm. oh my god, babyy.”

your hiccups and sobs only urge him to fuck you even harder, loving how the breath literally jumps out of your throat in shock.

“cryin’ on this dick. fuck, you got me going crazy,” he really doesn’t want to cum yet, he needed to fuck you in every way imaginable. but he knows you need a break, to breathe for sure. he wanted to edge himself so that when he finally came, it’d be the best fucking orgasm of his life. your moans are clawing at his soul, so filthy and dulcet. you’re making it really fucking difficult to obtain that.

toji finds himself slamming his palm over your mouth to bury them in a way, but you’re so damn loud it’s getting to him. ‘fuck fuck fuck’ he’s cussing repeatedly in a whispered hush as he fucks you as hard he possibly can. his hand doesn’t even work, because you’re consuming him wholly and the minute he feels that build up, he pulls out to cum and you’ve drenched the sheets as you squirt. an almost blood curdling scream surrounds the room, your body rapidly trembling as your mouth falls open in utter shock, gasping, whining, whimpering, moaning his fucking name while he moaned yours. toji nutting up the entire side of your body, wrist twisting as he holds you body still, mouth drawn open.

his hand reaches over to unclamp your legs, heavy hand rubbing your pussy to stimulate you further, your back arching and head sinking into your pillow, crying out. he watches your hand flail to grip his wrist as your wetness continues to spurt out of you like water.

“strawberry!” toji listens to you weep, choking on your cries and pleads. finally having enough.

“holy s-shit,” you’re laughing while also trying to catch your breath, not believing that just happened. he can tell by the shock in your face that you’ve never had it happen before, or that much.

“damn,” he laughs along with you, smacking your outer thigh before smashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, gliding your tongues together while his hands massaged every part of your body after allowing you to lay on your back. caressing and soothing you to calm you down. “gonna grab a rag.”

you pout when he goes to stand, already missing the disconnect as you lay empty on your . . messy bed. absolutely disgusting you two, hawk puth! one things for sure, you can’t keep that wide ass smile off your face. he comes back into the room, one of your pink towels wrapped around his midsection covering up that demon of a dick he carried. toji smirks down at you, grabbing your ankle and tugging you down to the edge of the bed before he’s taking a warm rag that smelt of your dove beauty bar to wipe what he painted on you. you swallow your lower lip into your mouth, watching with hooded eyes as he drags the rag sensually along ever part of your skin. you flinch when it comes to contact with your cunt, toji kissing your inner thigh with a ‘sorry’. he admires the curves of your body even more, kissing your ankle adorned with a silver anklet after he finishes.

“how you feeling?” he asks.

“i’m more than perfect.”

he hums. “you’re something else.”

“i was good?” you ask seriously, batting your lashes shyly.

toji stares at you as if you’re deadass. “don’t do that. you know you were. you didn’t hear me? i fuck you deaf?”

that makes you roll your eyes, but not before giggling. “hate you.”

“you won’t after i tell you i got chinese in the kitchen,” he winks, the light in your eyes making his heart swell. “c’mon, sexy.”

you sit up, gasping. “i knew i fucking smelt that shit when you came in. i thought it was outside!”

“nah, i realized i didn’t eat shit at the restaurant earlier so i decided to get us both something. did you even eat your salad?”

“i did, had to after you dropped a whole hundred,” you shake your head. “how’d you know i liked chinese?”

toji blinks. “baby, we literally talked half of this week. for hours. i have good memory.”

that slip of a nickname outside of sex warmed your chest, burying your face in your hair to hide your shyness. “you’re right.”

“don’t hide now, i’ve seen it all,” he chuckles, tickling the bottom of your foot.

“oh, whatever!” you chuck one of your plushies at him, half of them had fallen to the floor. toji gets up to grab your robe he saw hanging on the bathroom door, draping it around you as you stood.

he kisses your forehead and you walk ahead of him into the kitchen, screeching when he hit and gripped your ass, the two of you forgetting about the livestream altogether as you warmed up the food, poured a glass of wine and reminisced about what just happened.

angelbwrry live : 1M viewers.

#𝜗ৎ ˚⋅ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘.#jjk #toji x you #toji x reader #toji x black reader #toji smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader

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babyouran · 6 months

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Trust Me! - y/n is introduced to the host club, though her immediate disinterest catches the members' interest to make her a part of their community.

pairing - fem!reader x host club members

apart of - ouran add-in

"Fujioka, haven't we spoken about where to do our project already? I'm afraid this isn't the right way to the library," Y/n mentioned, currently having her wrist wrapped with the other girl's fingers.

Just a few months ago the duo were placed together as partners and had grown a close relationship together. Haruhi was the first person to befriend Takahashi Y/n, not even knowing her family's occupation. She saw the girl by herself reading and figured they might have a similar interest to talk about and soon enough became friends. Such a true relationship was refreshing for both of the young ladies, someone who didn’t care about all the superficial things and just about what mattered mostly.

"Takahashi Y/n, trust me, this may not seem like a good place to study but it will soon prove useful," Haruhi tried to reassure her, pulling out the young woman's full name to show she was serious. Haruhi’s eyes were narrowed showcasing that she was on some type of mission to get the fellow young woman more involved.

"If you insist," She sighed, letting the other girl drag her around, even though she was very capable herself.

"Takahashi-sama, may I ask you a question?"

"Takahashi! I saw that your fath-'' Voices began to try and start up conversations with the girl, but none were successful since her dear friend was on a mission to get her to Music Room 3. In a rush, Haruhi fastened her speed to the room yelling a curt goodbye to the student.

"And we are here," Haruhi exhaled deeply, the girls stood in front of the door. One girl's expressions held pride and excitement while the other had confusion and a hint of worry.

"Fujio-" Y/n began, turning around but was interrupted by her dear friend.

"Again," She sighed. "Call me Haruhi, you don't have to be so formal, there aren't people watching you all the time," She smiled lightly at the slightly taller girl.

"Correct, Haruhi-chan, I'm a little confused about why we will be studying in a music room," She tilted her head, to get a better look at the sign and express confusion. "Music room three to be exact," She corrected herself.

"This is where I go after school, this is where the club I am in resonates, and sometimes it serves as a nice laugh!" She exclaimed. "Though some of them can be very annoying, they are also sweet."

"I don't need any more friends," Y/n deadpanned. "I followed my father's wishes and made one, making more would be a nuisance.”

"Nonsense! Takahashi, it's not a bad thing to make new friends, and these will be good ones, trust me," Haruhi tried to reason with her. It was clear since the beginning that Y/n was very closed off when it came to the truth of her home life. But this was a prominent feature that she thought would help connect her with the boys who resided in Music Room 3.

- flashback -

"Hello, I'm Fujioka Haruhi, pleased to meet you," She bowed in front of the girl sitting daintily in her yellow dress engrossed in a story.

"Ah," She sighed, continuing the story. "Takahashi Y/n," She turned around to face her fellow student and put on a light smile upon her lips. Though it was harder to identify the gender of the student she figured she was a girl because of her very soft nature.

"What are you reading?" Haruhi peeked over the book, getting much closer to Y/n’s face than originally intended. When she lifted her head to look into the fellow girl's eyes, their noses almost touched. Y/n didn’t flinch, she just scrunched her eyebrows in the slightest bit and took a small glance down back at her story.

"Norwegian Wood, it is a very interesting romance story,” glancing back up towards the girl she continued, “Fujioka, I'm going to make an inference and please don't be offended. You're a female correct? Yet, you don't care about social standards and little things like clothing. You're also content with people assuming you are a boy. If I may add, you differ a lot from fellow students here which concludes that, most likely, you have a different background than them here," Y/n observed, looking her up and down. "If you would like me to use he and him pronouns I will,"

Haruhi stared at the once quiet girl, she had gotten everything spot on. It was odd how easily she was able to read Haruhi since most of the students couldn't even figure out her gender. But in reality, most students did not give her the time of day to even try and figure out a basic thing as such.

"You can just use female pronouns when it is the two of us," She sat at an empty desk beside Y/n, now staring intently at her. "How did you-"

"You were kind, most richer children only talk to other children once they know their status and how it affects them. Your features also seem feminine, so in all honesty, I just took a guess," She shrugged. "Suppose I was correct,"

"Yeah, scarily correct,” Haruhi's eyes narrowed at her before a smile began to form on her lips, chuckling to herself. “Would you like to be partners for the English class? I have my guess that we will get along well," Haruhi expressed.

"I don't have anyone else myself, and my father commanded me to make a friend, so I think that is an intelligent idea," She put the book away and looked hopefully at Haruhi. For some odd reason, Haruhi felt her stomach flutter a bit, almost as if a tiny butterfly was flying about inside.

"I trust you," Y/n admitted. "But I don't trust that this situation will work in the ways you hope it will, I'm not in the mood to be bombarded by music students. I will not want to join any orchestra, I simply want to finish a new book in French I got," Y/n explained, suddenly yanking a book out of nowhere and showing it to the girl.

"Please, Takahashi-sama, I'll owe you a favor. Just give it a chance?"

"I will do it, but the favor I want you to give to me is about my name. Please refer to me as Y/n, and don't use any title after, unless it is chan," Y/n told the girl, showing a faint smile. Haruhi nodded and opened the doors to the empty classroom with boys waiting.

"Welcome to the Ouran High School Host Club, how can we help darlings like you?" A blonde asked, hand facing up with his palm open. He was not wearing the normal uniform but instead dressed in a captain outfit, as if he were the captain of a boat.

"These are your.... friends? Where are the instruments?" Y/n turned to Haruhi, very confused.

"Ah! Haruhi!" The blonde jumped from his position running over to the girl. "You need to try this sailor girl costume we got," The man jumped up and down, running to the side of the room to grab it. He resembled a very excited puppy who just got a chance to get a treat.

"Haruhi, who is your friend?" A boy with auburn hair pops up, a carbon copy of him standing on his right and staring at Y/n intently. The two looked more mischievous than comforting, silent side eyes shared.

"Haruhi, thank you for your suggestion, but I think I will just read in the library," Y/n nodded to her, swiftly making her way out of the room, her strides quickening to get out of the room. The boys' attentions were now all peeked and focused on her. Tamaki had finally recognized the new guest, dropping the dress from his grip and walking to try and reach her. The door was slammed shut as soon as Y/n made it outside, Tamaki’s face right by the large door moments from being smacked by it.

"Shoot," Haruhi grumbled. "I guess she was right again,"

"Who is she?" The other twin repeated.

"Her name is Takahashi Y/n," She told them, pinching the ends of her hair. "I thought it would be good for her to meet some new people, you guys are kind of like her in ways. It doesn’t matter much now…”

"Takahashi?" The black-haired boy with glasses walked over, his notebook propped open. "She is the daughter of the Mamoru Takahashi. That man is very well established through his electronics company. He's top of the line in the field," Kyoya informed the group, reading a page from the notebook.

"She's that popular? Wait, you don't mean the line of electronics called 'Taka', that's made by them?" Haruhi asked bewildered.

"Her family, they are an interesting sort. I don't have much about them because they are more on the mysterious side. I'm surprised you were able to befriend her," Kyoya mentioned.

"My favorite cake mixer is from them, I always ask the cooks to use it! It whips up the ingredients so good and it tastes extra yummy," The lolita type boy added, running to Haruhi. "I heard they are coming out with a new dessert maker! I can hear my tummy grumble just thinking of it!”

"I like the watches, very high tech," Mori expressed.

"The TV's are great for watching my reality shows!" Tamaki exclaimed.

"I have some of her products," Haruhi mumbled. The group turned to look at her, almost as if they were confused she could afford something. "I'm not poor, I might not have as much as you guys but some of their stuff is affordable," She rolled her eyes.

"Isn't Takahashi the one girl in our class, some people bombard her because they want to see what she would look like without that mask," Hikaru remembered, recalling that she was sitting by Haruhi on multiple occasions.

"I forget she wears that sometimes," Haruhi chuckled to herself. "I’ve grown used to it, I don't ask about it anyway since it could be personal. But it does a fine job in helping conceal her identity."

"We must get her here!" Tamaki declared. "Gather up! I have a plan, men!,” his pointer finger raised in the air, Hikaru and Karou’s own hands in a position of a salute. “Oh! Haruhi too,"

"I don't know about this.”

Y/n was sitting in the library, a mask covering the bottom half of her face as always. It did not take her long to forget about the past events and completely engulf herself in a new story.

"Psst," A person poked her shoulder, interrupting her peaceful reading bliss.

"If you would like a free product I'm not the one to ask, though we appreciate all of our customers who purchase our pro-" She started to ramble, still reading the book but remembering what her father told her to say. It was programmed into the young woman's brain by now as if memorizing lines for a play.

"No! No, that's not why we are here," The voice interrupted her, now fully gaining her attention.

"Not many people come into this library, especially in this section," She hesitantly said, very confused about why this person was here now. They were dressed up in a trench coat, wearing a fake mustache and a barre to top the outfit.

"I'm undercover, I need your help with something," They cupped their hands over their mouth, to give the image that it was a secret.

"Pardon me?" She questioned, completely muddled. "I won't take part in any 'undercover investigation'. If you need me then you will have to speak to my lawyers beforehand, or at least my father," She reached into her pocket, just to grab a bookmark as she now figured her quiet space wasn’t about to stay as quiet but the action startled the man. He rushed to keep her hand in her pocket, figuring that she might be reaching for a phone instead to make the call.

"No! No, wait look," He ripped off the mustache, making a face of hurt afterward. "Suoh Tamaki, president of the Ouran High School Host Club! I'm afraid we didn't have a proper introduction earlier, my beauty," He got up from the chair, grabbed her hand, and placed a kiss on the top of it.

"Um," She pulled her hand away, right afterward, grabbing a handkerchief from her backpack nearby and wiping off any remains. "You're a friend of Haruhi's, that's nice. But I'm not in the mood for more friends, kind offer, but no thank you," She replied, clutching her book and moving away from the once quiet spot in the library.

"You ruined it boss," Kaoru chimed in through a walkie-talkie.

"That's why we have multiple plans. Your turn boys,"

Y/n left the library, walking back to the previous classroom where lessons were held earlier that day. She was merely a foot away from the door before someone lightly bumped into her.

"Sorry, Yah!" A boy with a blonde wig yelped. "We exchange students from Germany," He answered, his twin with the same blonde wig but it was curved to the right instead of left. They had on a dirndl and kept leaning into each other.

"Vill ye help us with class?" The other asked, with a horrible impression of a German accent.

"I can't. I took a class in German culture and language when I was younger. I don't think they wear those kinds of outfits everywhere. You're the twins for that club, right? I am okay and should be leaving now," She trailed off, eyes warily looking back at the two boys bickering over a small object. Y/n made her way to the cafeteria, now having limited options of where she may go.

Finding an empty lunch table in the back, she took a seat, letting out a deep breath, and looked around for any suspecting fellows.

"Hiya!" A blonde boy popped up on her side, considerably shorter and having a younger look to him.

"Oh, hello," She gave a slight wave, eyes darting back down to her book. Y/n silently thought to herself he was just trying to be polite and that would be the end of it, what are the chances of running into someone from the same club for the third time?

"Please, please," The boy started, moving closer to Y/n and putting on a pouty face. "I-I came in here with my dad, I can't find him. He was going to get me cake, and now I can't have it," He went into a full-out sob, tears flowing down his face and hiccuping resounding around the area.

"Okay, where was the last place you saw your father?" She inquired, giving him a spectacle look, Y/n hesitantly patted the boy on the shoulder. He looked somewhat familiar, yet she couldn't put her finger on it.

"In a music room. My dad said-" He once again broke out into a fake cry while Y/n took his hand and let him lead the way to where he once was. "He's a part of a club here," The blonde mumbled.

"A club? Your father is a student. Wait a minute-"

"You found my son. Thank you. Please come in." The 'father' thanked her, now wearing the same fake mustache another blonde had tried.

"No, you both are a part of that club. Just like those other guys,” Y/n took a step away from the duo. “Why are you following me?"

"Um," The 'father' voiced refusing to look Y/n in the eyes but instead stared straight ahead.

"Do I get my cake now?" The blonde pulled out the walkie-talkie and spoke into it.

"Why are there walkie-talkies?" Y/n pondered.

"They are like that," Haruhi chimed in, sneaking up on Y/n.

Y/n flinched, stepping aside to make room for her friend, "Haruhi, your friends are kind, but I'm a little confused about all of this."

"Takahashi Y/n, in the same year and class as Haruhi and the twins. The only daughter of the Takahashi family wears a mask and enjoys her peace. Good at figuring things out," He stopped, looking at the girl whose eyes were wide open with confusion. "Well Somewhat. Yet I can't get much more on you," He walked closer to her.

"That's all you need to know, more than you do. Ootori Kyoya, your father is Yoshio, and you have three other siblings, all older. Your family is well established as well, I know more about you than you will ever know of me. It shall stay that way, I don't need people knowing much about me, it's... odd," Y/n voiced, walking into the club room and searching for a phone.

"Y/n, wha-" Haruhi began.

"I'm sorry, I have a feeling I'm going to get in trouble if I continue speaking. I hope I didn't offend any of you and our family relationships can stay well, I just need to make a call," She started plucking in the digits for the number.

"Takahashi, why must you consult your father on a friendly conversation with fellow teenagers?" Kyoya wondered.

"I can't say, I mean I'm- well," She didn't know what to say, she didn't have an excuse ready at the moment, she was caught fully off guard.

"Join the club," Tamaki spoke up, walking over and taking the phone from her hand, the butler on the other line speaking into it. "You interest me, the whole club, the school. We just have tea with fellow students, you can do the same," He offered.

"Thank you, but-"

"Think for yourself," The 'father' from earlier chirped up.

"I,” Y/n looked down at the phone resting in the hand of the club president, an inviting smile on his face. For once, she felt that she had control of her life and her choices, she felt that way when with Haruhi and wouldn’t mind it becoming something more frequent. “I suppose it could prove useful for our company, and it could be enjoyable," She muttered, a small smile appearing on her features hidden underneath the mask, though Haruhi knew Y/n enough to be able to recognize the little changes in her facial features to tell she was happy.

"Great! Y/n, welcome to the Ouran High School Host Club!”

an - hello, this was just something silly I made up to introduce y/n to the rest of the group, the next chapters will be adding y/n into episodes. (There is a reason she wears a mask, not COVID-related or sickness, it will be shown later on. Y/n often uses titles like ‘senpai’ similar to the characters in the anime/manga)

hope you enjoy it! please let me know what you think!

next chapter - Beware of the Physical Exam!

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simp4konig · 1 month

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"You drive me crazy."

Obsessed! Nikto x Reader

Word count: 2472

Nikto's POV! Sporadic uses of "Y/N" — otherwise, reader is referred as "You".

To say that Nikto is obsessed with you would be an understatement 😵‍💫...

Nikto's psychological state gradually deteriorates as you read!

Google Translate Russian lmao 💀,, please forgive any errors! 😟

Edit: Realising that this fic is darker than my usual works. Warning my readers for darker content!

Edit 2: Added the appropriate "dark content" tags. <3

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I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.

I've lost my mind long ago. We're losing it as we speak. I've lost myself long ago and I have not known what to do with ourselves.

Of course, not all was lost. I was cleared for service. I can approach situations without hesitation or uncertainty — but most importantly, kill methodically.

All I need are targets. Just give me targets. Nothing else matters. Nobody.

But I found you. I found you. And you found us. Although there was nothing to find, you found us.

How? It's a mystery. An enigma. An unsolvable puzzle.

My name is Igor. Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich.

Игорь. Igor. I—gor. Two syllables. Four letters, in English. A not so common name in Russia, according to the statistics: in 1991 — the year of my birth — approximately 37 baby boys born were named as such. In 2021, only 17 baby boys born were named Igor. I would assume the number declines each year — maybe less than a dozen Igors were christened this year. Or a single digit. Nine. Eight. Seven. Or even less than five.

October 13, 1991 was my exact date of birth. I was born in Novgorod, when Russia was still the Soviet Union. I had parents. A sister…

…Yet that means nothing to me.

Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich? That is foreign. That is not anyone that I know of. I am Nikto. I am no one. Nobody to know, yet somebody that I know of. Not this… Igor. I am nobody. Никто.

When the voices are quiet, that's when I can silently mourn the man that I once was.

Though, can you mourn someone whom you don't know? Can you mourn the faceless person in the casket, whose face is unrecognisable? Can you mourn at a funeral that no one attended, and hadn't taken process?

I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to repeat it, yes?

I knew it. We knew it. Everyone else knew it.

But you didn't. You. You.

You… remind me of someone.

They're dead now.

They were just a target. Too bad I can't remember who they were.

But you're not. You're more than a target.

You treated me with kindness when everyone avoided me like the bubonic plague. A Black Death following the death of the former Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich and the black, black blackness lingering — a reminder. But not anything that allows us to remember, or reminds us of who we once were.

I don't remember anything. I don't remember anyone. Photographs of my family before the torture are irrelevant. Documents stamping my existence could just as easily make us inexistent. Nobody exists any more aside from Nikto.

A cacophony of voices has infiltrated my brain. Our brain. We will never be me anymore. We are who we are now.

I am a broken man. I hear the voices of many men, who won't let me sleep, won't leave me be, won't give me peace. I was one of those men. Maybe all of the men are me?

But if all of them are me, and I am all of them, then who are we? What are we?

Then again… who I am is nothing. What I are is everything. What we are — crazy.

The pieces of the puzzle aren't fully there. Surely you must have been aware, my treasure?

You were doing your due diligence to arrange the puzzle pieces, so meticulously and with dedication, devoting hours of your time and wishing for the finished product to be cohesive, but you won't find that within us. How unfortunate.

Some of the pieces are missing. Some of them don't even fit. What you're left with is an incomplete picture — one which will never be completed.

No matter. You can be the missing puzzle piece, yes?

My fellow operatives named me Никто — “Nikto”, meaning “Nobody” or “No-one” in Russian — for… what did they say? My “uncanny ability to replicate other people and hide [my] true identity”? Ironic — seeing as replicating an identity is not the same as claiming your own, and being an individual. Having an actual identity, as opposed to being forced to think that being nobody can suffice.

Funny. I was apparently religious before all of this.

Have you heard of Orthodox Christianity? It's a branch of Christianity most often practised in Eastern Europe, in case you weren't aware. Orthodox Christians believe that Jesus redeemed humanity by sacrificing himself through crucifixion — unlike Catholics, who believe that Jesus sacrificing himself through crucifixion was all in an effort to redeem humanity.

Perhaps I was an altar boy in my childhood. Or wore a cross around my neck. Maybe I was devoted, and prayed in the morning, before a meal for grace, in the night, before a mission for mercy, during a mission out of desperation, and after a mission as gratitude.

Such bullshit.

Obviously, God doesn't exist — not in the ethereal, omniscient sense.

Oh no.

The God is You. You are my God.

Just like with Orthodox Christianity, and the salvation of humanity after the sacrifice of Jesus, your presence, your mere existence, was salvation. You brought redemption unto us.

Of course, following my torture, God became an abstract concept. How could the Holy Father abandon me? How could my prayers after the tortue be so wilfully ignored? Why would he actively play a passive role in my damnation, as I'm burned, as I'm beaten, as I'm bruised, abused, cut, and mutilated?

No one was born a sinner. Not even me, this nobody. So what kind of retribution was this — a disfigured face, ruined body, and voices which infiltrated my psyche, words equivalent to the evil of the Antichrist?

But You? You made it worthwhile. Your kindness. Compassion. Charity. It was all worthwhile. Even to gaze at You from afar.

Well.

For the most part.

We have repented for our sins: stealing Your dirty laundry, Your hairbrush, Your t-shirts, and other trinkets which we deem Holy Relics; using Your lip balm without permission, You none the wiser; committing sinful acts in the comfort of your own bedroom, only for You to return, oblivious. We apologise for that nagging paranoia, demanding You to turn around, to catch a glimpse of the eyes staring at You, but You not noticing us when we were camouflaged in the shadows. For stalking You and learning Your schedule. For hacking into all of Your devices and acquiring every little piece of information available from Your digital footprints.

But, You forgive us, yes?

Don't look so horrified, dushka. We left no trace, yes? No evidence. You said You have forgiven all of our transgressions. Think of this as a confession, nothing more. Besides, we never tampered with You belongings. They're all still with us. Just like you will.

You are our oxygen. Without You, we can't breathe. Our lungs suffocate without Your natural scent to fill them, to keep us alive. Our eyes go blind with time without the sight of Your face, Your body. We can't hear anything other than Your voice — our ears tune out any frequencies and wavelengths that don't leave those pretty little lips, yet wage civil war amongst ourselves, spitting curses that cut like knives and pierce like bullets. And Your lips. And Your eyes. And Your eyebrows, hair, hands, neck, God — everything.

You won't abandon us, yes? You wouldn't abandon us, would you, мое сокровище? You are our treasure. I treasure you — all of us do: your pretty little lips, that speak in the softest of tones to us; those eyes that stare in slight fright, yet crinkle in as genuine of a smile as you can manage; those eyebrows that furrow over your bright eyes in the subtlest of frowns, in sorrow or frustration, maybe vexation — and that's just your face. What about your hair? Your hands? Your neck? Your body? What is there not to treasure?

Боже мой, Bozhe moy, my God. Oh God, it's as if an angel has descended and granted us salvation, a merciful deity absolving us of our sins and cleansing our soul. And both the angel and deity are You — working in perfect sync, so benevolent and forgiving, taking pity on a creature so pitiful, so ruined, so unfixable.

We can't remember what some of those was.

Those puzzle pieces, of course.

Zakhaev’s torture stole some of the pieces to the jigsaw, and the puzzle won't ever be solved. We ourselves interrogate, torture, eliminate, kill. Sometimes we dissociate. Other times I am completely in control. Yet all the time, we are committing sins, sins, sins.

And You forgive them. Forgive us.

Every prayer is us praying for you, to you, about you. And each one concludes with your sacred name, whispered in hushed tones as the syllables are too precious to utter out loud.

Poor, poor thing. You probably didn't even know what you were signing up for, did you? You probably intended to be charitable. Sympathetic. And you were, sweet one.

But you were naive to have assumed that we wouldn't become possessive of you like an unwanted stay mutt of its only bone. So innocent — perhaps stupid — but we like to think that you were misguided in your intentions, yet guided by some God.

An ignorant God? If You're the God to worship, then are You an ignorant one? An innocent, naive, and unconditionally loving one? Yet, one that, despite Their obliviousness, can knowingly soothe with a simple string of words? With a caress?

What an oxymoron. It suits You. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Aw. Are those tears, dushka? Let's wipe them, hmm? Kiss it better, yes? You will like our lips on you.

Don't scream. Don't hurt those vocal cords. We like the sound of your voice. We want you to talk.

There there, little one. You look beautiful when you cry, but you look most beautiful when you're smiling. Smile, hm? Do it for us. Your Nikto.

You don't have to be afraid, you know. Don't be afraid, krasotka. We love you.

Here, put your hand on our chest. Feel how our heart is beating? It beats only for you.

Our abdomen, our stomach. You feel how toned that is, yes? You feel the muscle?

What about our biceps? The strength in our forearms? They're all for you. We're all yours, yours yours yours.

Our blood looks good on you, dushka. The blood really accentuates your nails. But please, stop. Stop.

You don't have to scratch us, or scream. You know that none of that will change anything. You know that we will love you, even if you tell us you hate us. It's too late.

Get used to touching us, yes? What's left of us, anyways. Yes, our body won't be the most appealing, or the handsomest, but it's all for you. Every inch. All for you — just like how you are all ours.

You're ours, just as much as we belong to you. You could stab us with a knife and we'd smile. You could shoot us with a gun point-blank in the head and we'd thank you. What an honour it would be to live with you by your side, or die by your side. We're a dead man either way. Your dead man. Your Nikto.

You underestimated my capacity for violence. Or were perhaps too naive to understand it.

That's okay. Put your hand on my face. Just like that. See? Nothing to fear. It's just us. Your Nikto.

I can feel it shaking. Why do you shake so much, hm? Don't be afraid. There's nothing to be afraid of. You should know there's nothing to be afraid of. After all, you were fearless when it came to speaking to me, and weren't afraid to reach out to us. Surely you don't want to abandon us now?

That's too bad. You won't abandon us. We won't let you.

I'm crazy: I don't think I need to repeat it, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.

You drive me crazy.

So crazy.

So, so crazy.

I am already crazy yes but it is You who drives me to insanity do You know that? Why do You deny? Do not deny us this yes? Yes You do know that it is You who makes me mad beyond return of course You do You've always known it and You know it now little one You're just pretending feigning ignorance with surprise in Your eyes. Why pretend that it was all a pretense? Your kindness? Your sympathy? Your company? It was not pretense to us no it was everything. Everything we could have hoped for prayed for and lived for.

You drive me crazy.

So crazy.

So, so crazy, baby.

Craaazyyy. Crazy crazy crazy!

You have made us the craziest we have ever been from the moment we met Your eyes and will be forever driven crazier with Your around from the day You die. And that won't be anytime now, my treasure. We will treasure You, take care of You, keep You safe. You will want for nothing, we can assure You — nothing, nobody, no one. Only Nikto. Nobody will ever look at You, as their eyeballs will be gouged out for having the audacity to spare a glance at the pinnacle of perfection. And nobody will ever want You, nobody will taint that precious skin with unworthy fingers, as anyone who tries will have them broken have their bones crushed to dust their skin muscles and tendons ripped to ribbons until there is no body left.

Nobody will ever look at You. Only Nikto. Us. Forever, and ever, and ever and ever and ever we will have our eyes on You until our retinas dissolve and our pupils can no longer absorb light and we become blind and crippled, crying, crying crying crying for You, crying only for You. You crying out for us until Your voice is hoarse from moaning, until our name becomes a prayer just as much as Yours is to us.

We love You. Think of nobody. Only Nikto. Only of Nikto. Only for and against Nikto. We will live for You. We do already, do you understand? We're yours. Yours. Yours yours yours yours yours yours to have yours to hit yours to scratch with those nails yours to scream at yours yours yours yours yours. Yours. Yours! Yours!

Yours!

Y/N.

I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it. You should have known it.

And if you didn't know it, then You will know it.

Because You drive me crazy.

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A/Ns

Really really really Really REALLY had doubts about posting this and thought that no one would like it. I felt inspired and happy and proud of myself when I was almost finished but it took me days to conclude the work since I was second-guessing whether or not I should post this after all. Kind of embarrassed, in all honesty, but I decided to post it in the end since I quite like it. :'>

I just wanted to highlight your, @//connorsui, lovely, lovely words when you reblogged my last Nikto post 😭😭😭💘💘💘. To receive not only some compliments, but your thoughts on my headcanons AND analysis *AND* your evaluation of my post was so, SO heartwarming to wake up to in the morning 🥹🥹🥹💓💓💓, especially when it was so long!!! Like, what?!! 😢😢😢😢😢😿😿😿😿😿😭😭😭😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💖💖💖💖💖✨✨✨✨✨

Thank you so so so SO much for your positive feedback !!! I've read it over four times by now. O really appreciated and still appreciate it. ☺️💞🫶💖✨✨💕💕

(I also want to kiss Nikto's scarred face ☹️☹️☹️ just wordless acts of intimacy where words aren't necessary and just to show the man some affection, regardless of how he looks 😟💝 need that ugly traumatised Russian man SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭)

Inspiration for this gained from:

thisvvv song!!! and Chapter 7 in Metro 2035 lol,, when Artyom was drunk and disorientated I thought it was written really REALLY well and I wanted to incorporate his meaningless drivel into this.

Nikto's voicelines and his various voices/sporadic changes in character

the Fandom Wiki

my own headcanons lol 😋

From fluff this whatever the fuck this is!!!!!!!!!! Hope you enjoyed 💗💗

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grahambaham · 19 days

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Controversial opinion, especially for any Jason Todd fans out there (I'm one of them), but I completely understand why the fans in, the 80' I think, voted to kill him off. Hear me out, okay?

Jason was at first a literal Dick Grayson copy, was legit given his backstory and personality with the name being the only change. And for a while that was all they knew about and, rightfully so, hated about him. Now I'm not sure whether he was given the whole Alley kid who tried to steal Batman's tire story before or after his death but either way, in those fans' minds, Jason Todd was just a boring replica of Dick Grayson and no one liked him. If I was alive and a fan back then, I honestly would have done the same thing.

WHICH IS WHY I HAVE SUCH A HUGE PROBLEM WITH THE WRITERS DOING TO JASON THE EXACT SAME THING THAT GOT HIM KILLED OFF BEFORE!!!

Jason immediately after getting brought back to life was a villain. He wasn't misguided, he wasn't an antihero, my man was a Villain with a capital V. He didn't protect workings girls or children from any drugs or anything, he just made one off hand comment to a guy not to sell to kids and that's it. One of his only interactions with any prostitutes is to mock her for her past and decisions that led to her becoming one. Bruce did not abuse him or attack him unfairly. Jason had not only tried to kill Joker or other horrible villains, he killed anyone whether they were rapists, or robbers, or petty fucking thieves and he didn't do it for justice or whatever the fuck but because he was angry and taking it out on everyone he could get his hands on. He stopped Batman from going after Nightwing after Bludhaven blew up with him in it. He blew up a school. He beat up Tim in his little Robin panties and was a fucking villain.

I love Jason. But I love him as the messed up asshole he is. Not as some misguided wittle antihero. Which is why I despise the fact that the fandom latched onto the completely inaccurate version of him, because the writers of DC had started writing him the way the fandom wanted and he is now irreversibly ruined. Aside from the already mentioned stuff, they made him into a copy of Dick Grayson (for the second fucking time) and Helena Bertinelli.

Helena is the one protecting women and children, the antihero that often uses violent force. She's the one with the reluctant sibling relationship with Tim. Jason was not Tim's Robin by the way, Dick was. Tim does not like Jason one fucking bit and spends most of their forced interactions roasting him so bad he has to buy burn salves. Also her personality was taken and given to Jason in some ways too, like her manner of speech and stuff, but I'm willing to let that slide as accidental.

From Dick Grayson, they mostly took his relationships, romantic and platonic. Jason slept with Barbara and Kori both, which aside from just being dumb as hell is also weird and creepy because Jason is six years younger than them at least and they knew him as a fourteen year old when they were at least twenty, and they would never date someone so much younger than them, they aren't fucking creeps. Then they took Starfire and Arsenal and made them forget their own lives to join Jason's little antihero team (neither of them are antiheroes what the fuck) and act like the sun shines out of Jason's ass and he's their leader or some shit when they would never follow him before that, especially Roy who has led so many other teams and does not deserve that shit. Some fans also ship him and Jason, which is both creepy and character assassination for Roy's entire character more than him being friends with Jason and in the Outlaws already is.

Also, Pit Madness is not a thing you fucking brainless losers. Stop trying to justify and erase the flaws that make him an interesting character. His anger has always been due to the trauma of being tortured and dying and the misguided feeling of betrayal he felt for Bruce. He was unwell and taking his problems out on others. So, repeat after me: PIT MADNESS IS NOT A REAL THING!!!

Thank you for reading <3

#dc #dc comics #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #helena bertinelli #huntress #rant post #rant

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coulsonlives · 2 years

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PSA: CAT MEDICAL BILL SCAM

Please signal boost this if possible to inform your followers about these scams.

Earlier today, I got a message from the account nicole-loves-king, where they asked me to signal boost a post because their cat needed medical help. Here's the ask:

(And you can see the post in question here)

I looked at this post and was immediately put off because they were asking for people to send things through 'friends and family', which if you aren't aware, is a very insecure way to send someone funds using paypal, because you don't have the protections you would get if you used 'goods and services'. So scammers can make off w your money really easily.

I looked at their blog and scrolled down to the end, and I realized their blog was made today! And, all their posts (there weren't many posts to begin with lol) were of trending topics. I noted puss in boots, and welcome to nightvale among others. This is probably how they found me, because I reblogged some of that stuff recently.

Here's the time stamp from their oldest post (notice it says the time, not the date, which means the post was from today):

In their ask, they also tell you to answer privately. Hm, that seems sus. Why would someone not want you to publish a request for help?

So I have a policy where I don't signal boost posts from brand new blogs because, yknow, they could be scams. I posted this, and the scam account blocked me. They also blocked my friend when they replied to their ask and said their blog looked suspicious. I did some more digging, and I found a comment from someone that confirmed my suspicions:

This is in fact a scam!

@nicstonka is almost identical to the above account (nicole-loves-king). Look at the avatar, the pictures, and the paypal address, both accounts even have 'nic' (as in 'nicole') in the name. The only thing that is extremely different is the name of the cat! Yet both blogs also have the name of the cat in their url ('king' and 'tonka'). That should also be a red flag, because usually someone isn't gonna have the name of their pet in their url, only a few posts, and a signal boost for that exact (fake) pet.

Here's a side by side:

Looks at those paypal accounts: nbrunelle519, and nbrunelle391. Nope definitely not a scam /s

And the cat pictures side by side:

Tumblr's "scam" tag is actually full of these reports now, which you can see here. Or if there's nothing there anymore, click here and here for images.

And links to some older PSAs about other cat scams: 1 2 3

So if you see any blogs like this, where all they have is trending posts, it seems like they've copied and pasted an ask to you, or if they're asking you to send things via friends and family, vet them so so so carefully, because chances are you're walking into a scam. Don't just repost things without carefully checking! If you aren't in a position to check carefully, better safe than sorry: don't repost it! Don't let these scams spread.

Pro tip: If a blog is dash only, so you can't view their archive to see when their first post was made, and you're on desktop, you can just open the blog in its dashboard view, then click 'end' on your keyboard over and over until all their posts are loaded. Usually if it's a spam blog, you'll only need to click 'end' 5-6 times, sometimes a bit more, since they only post just enough times to give the appearance they're active, then there's absolutely nothing after that.

If you want more proof someone is a scammer, you can look at the currency they use their post (or the currency shown in the vet bill), then hover over the paypal link and inspect the part of the url that says 'country.x=AA'. The 'AA' is the abbreviation for the country your money is going to! If that country doesn't match the country of the currency shown in the post, it's a scam! Example: someone's post says '$' for USD/CAD dollars, but the country in their paypal link is 'PH', which stands for Philippines, where they use Philippine pesos, not dollars!

Also keep in mind that these are not bots! There is a real person behind these accounts. They have replied to people who wanted to confirm they were real, but their intentions are still to scam you, they just know it looks better if they reply.

Stay safe!!

Edit:

Updating this post to announce the scammer's made more blogs, and they're probably gonna keep doing it! Here's the list so far. This isn't up to date btw, go to @scamarchive and check their pinned post for the most recent detected blogs

turncoatrune, starlightdisc, xxmy, wxnt, eeyore-pg, coatedpeanbean, starrypanelstars, panelstars, scyllostyle, the-nonbinary-witch, aash-aash, leechness, ash-aahs, commandobutch, lovely-pages, pagefive-to-six, reconnecteed, five-and-fourty, stepsapphic, farmer-butch0, health-pages, turnersapphic, lxve, march-pls-be-good, emberful, imse7en, kassidymaygemz, kassidymaydream, dreamingkassidy, kasdream, live-march, confusedskulll, march-lives, criticaltuesday, quicksilvah, wrldy, quicksilveey, the-stucked-pan, flurrbum, o345, nxce, thls, hokkairi, sykdykee, furrtasticbu, bumfurry, supsense, wickdart, the90sbest

Keep in mind you may not receive an ask like the above ones. You may get something simpler like this, instead:

Most of these are cats, but there's been dogs and even people too.

If you wanna get even more info on all these accounts, there's an archive of this scammer's pinned posts and asks here, so you can see at a glance how similar they all are. You can also see a comprehensive list of scammer red flags specifically for tumblr here!

And lastly, you can report the scams using 'report something else' > 'unlawful uses or content' > 'phishing'

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yinorathedragontamer · 4 months

Note

Could you do a Dead Boy Detectives Cat King x reader Payne, Edwin’s sibling who is a ghost after a freak accident and helps them out. They always put the boys needs above their own. After the first Cat King meeting they get a little jealous of their brother but they know it’s wrong. Of course Monty and the others would like Edwin.

Pairing: Thomas "the Cat King" x gn! ghost! Payne! reader, mild implied Monty x reader if you squint, Edwin Payne x sibling! reader

a/n: tysm for this request! i hope it is to your liking and i hope it's not too ooc<3

warnings: jealous reader, it's implied that reader could be interested in Monty, Charles and Crystal [Cat King talks about which form he should take, inspired by the scene in the show when he turns into Monty and Charles to try and seduce Edwin], i wasn't sure whether these warnings were necesarry but i added them anyway just incase

You had been part of the dead boy detectives agency for a while, ever since you had found your brother Edwin again, you stayed by his side, and ofcourse Charles's too.

you aways helped out, kept them safe the best you could. even when you weren't in a state to do so.

there were uncountable times when you took the hit instead of them, physically and mentally.

you helped calm down ghosts who were lost, helped along with cases to make sure everything went according to plan, steped infront of them if someone tried to attack with an iron weapon, no matter how bad it hurt.

ofcourse, Edwin greatly appreciated it, and yet somehow you feel underappreciated.

they never changed the name, even though you joined, they were the ones people, well, ghosts looked for.

it was always "where are the two boys we were told about" and never "aren't you one of the dead boy detectives?"

when Crystal joined, she didn't seem very fond of you at first, which you honestly didn't mind too much.

could you blame her? she got her memories stolen by her demon ex and now she has no idea where she's supposed to be, where her home is.

when the four of you went to Port Townsend you thought little of it.

it was just one quick little case, right?

wrong.

because of your brother Edwin using a simple spell on a cat that you guys got stuck here.

when you first met the Cat King, you were intrigued to say the least.

maybe it was his way of talking, maybe it was those eyes that captivated you, whatever it was, you felt drawn to him.

but ofcourse, he only looked at your brother.

was it normal to feel jealous like that? you love your brother dearly, you shouldn't want to take something like that from him, right?

right?

when you met Monty, you thought he was pretty cute.

not your exact type, but cute.

but ofcourse, yet again, Edwin was the star of the show.

eventually Monty wanted to hang out with you too, but it was after the third time of him asking to hang out that you found out the only true reason was so he would have an excuse to see Edwin when walking you 'home', which really pissed you off.

so you left, mumbling something about just wanting to take a walk alone for a moment.

much to your luck, they accepted it without another thought.

as you walk, you can't help but notice the amount of cats you see everywhere.

Edwin was supposed to count them all, right?

maybe you could help by counting aswell, and telling Edwin later on how many you saw.

but you were too upset to really do that, so you just kept walking.

until you notice that one of the cats seems to be following you, no matter how many times you turn a corner, or stop for a moment, it seemed to follow your every move.

up untill a specific part, near the woods.

you thought it finally stopped following you, untill you turned around to see none other than the Cat King standing there.

that startled you, for some reason you didn't exactly expect it, and you nearly tripped if he didn't catch you.

"why are you here? why did you follow me?" you instantly question him, which seems to surprise him atleast a little.

"woah, calm down, i wasn't following you, i was just... taking a stroll... okay no i was totally following you" he admits.

"has Edwin counted all the cats yet?" you roll your eyes.

"no, obviously not, he would've gone to find you if he did" you cross your arms and look away from him.

why did he have to look so charming?

you thought he'd leave, but he didn't.

why was he still staring at you?

"you know, i only pay so much attention to him because of his spell on one of my dear cats, you should remember that"

"why would i care who you give your stupid attention to" you practically snarl, though he doesn't seem to be bothered by your tone.

"now, now, no need to feel so attacked. i just want to know, what is it that has gotten you in such a sour mood" he nearly sounds like he cares.

nearly.

"nothing, i just wanted to take a walk" you lie, hoping he'd just leave you alone.

"right, lets try that again, hm?"

he swipes his thumb over your mouth, and much to your surprise you spill everything that you've been keeping quiet about.

"it's just that, i really do love my brother, truly, but sometimes i wish he wouldn't be the one getting all the attention, like, you gave him all your attention back when you wanted to punish him for his 'crime' and Monty only wanted to hang out with me to get closer to him and i just wish that for once, just once, someone i'm interested in would actually see me too. Edwin and Charles, now Crystal too, always get so much credit for solving cases too, and yet i'm the one that keeps getting hurt, that keeps being the target, i always put them above me and ofcourse i'm not greedy about getting attention or gratefullness but does it really hurt that much to ask if i'm okay? if i'm okay with being the bait when it's necesarry? if i'm okay with being ready to face death and go to the afterlife so she'll leave them alone? is it too much to ask for just a little care that's more than just some simple praise?" you ramble on for a bit, barely noticing the small, sypathetic smile on his face.

"now, now, darling, that is quite a lot of emotion, huh?"

"oh fuck off" you snap back, the tingling feeling of the spell he used to make you tell him fading as quick as it came.

"i see you, i have for a while" he admits.

"do you have any idea how hard it is to focus on being intimidating and giving your brother his punishment for using a spell against one of my cats when you're right next to him, all pretty and enticing" he drawls out as if he's a kid who's throwing a tantrum about not getting icecream.

"i mean seriously, have you seen yourself?"

"not exactly, i don't have a reflection as a ghost" you mumble, trying to ignore the growing heat on your cheeks.

he rolls his eyes.

"tell me, what form should i take to entice you to... stay with me, atleast for the night? Monty? Charles? Crystal? i can be whoever you want me to be, my dear [name]" he says as he takes the respective forms of each person he lists, and you notice how even though he practically shape-shifts, one thing always stays the same: those eyes you've grown to love.

"just be you" you murmur, daring to take a step closer to him, to which he subtly licks his lips.

it seems as though he's about to say something, but then he kisses you instead, taking a hold on your waist, he seems to be more gentle than you expected, and you kiss him back.

if someone told you that this kiss lasted for hours, you would've believed them.

it felt as if you got that peacefull after-life that you were promised, without ever leaving behind those you care about.

reluctantly, you both pull away.

"can i stay with you tonight, then?" you mutter quietly.

the Cat King nods, taking your hand, ready to lead you to his abode.

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

#the cat king #edwin payne #dead boy detectives #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #the cat king x reader #dead boy detectives x reader #request

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 8 months

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Um, hi! Regarding that other anonymous asker wondering about the comic's enjoyability, I actually WAS one of the people who voted "I've never watched the show but I do read the comic" in that poll; all my prior knowledge about Steven Universe was from passive osmosis. I don't know anyone personally who likes it either, my baseline is limited to, like, the premise and 'hey I think that one's a major character?' every now and then (this was most recently Lapis Lazuli. Peridot I'm prettttty sure is canon, but I didn't recognise her right off. Betting that Sea Glass isn't. No clue about Jasper).

So if it's of any help, from my experience I do think that your comic is fairly accessible to folks outwith the Steven Universe fandom! I read long-form fanfiction for media I know nothing about on a regular basis, and it does a good job of explaining the core concepts required for the plot to hold water; it makes it much harder to spot foreshadowing that I feel may have been more obvious to experienced readers (e.g. I didn't get anywhere near working out Earl's issue because I didn't know that A. White Diamond could do mind control, or B. what societal role Pearl-class gems (is that the term?) hold relative to the Diamonds), but the actual narrative itself holds up well so long as you're willing to put the thought in. Actively following your blog helps a bit too, I've gotten extra context clues from the FAQ and asks you've answered.

My one warning would be that reading a long-form story for a fandom you don't know is a very different experience. The best way I could describe it is akin to reading Arthurian stories or folkloric retellings without studying the source material: while the main narrative is comprehensible, you become distinctly aware that certain parts are name-checking their original culture in a way that the author expects to be apparent but isn't, not to you. I spend a lot of time faintly baffled when I'm not cross-referencing between multiple fics for commonalities to reverse-engineer (also do that regularly, would recommend), which is fine! It's fun! Might not be for everyone, though.

I just want you to know I love this ask, and I was enraptured reading this. It's a very cool insight! Especially as someone with the exact opposite reading philosophy, this is extremely valuable.

It's neat to also get a confirmation about the fact that a lot of over-the-top stuff that was meant to echo the original show might not get pinged by those who aren't familiar with the original. Though to be fair, people didn't quite pick up on what was happening with Earl even when they knew what White Diamond's powers were.

I also find it hilarious to realize that Jasper might not be a recognizable original-show character to most outsiders. DEMOTED!

#chekhov answers

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klttn · 5 months

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Kill valentino. I don’t care how. Just do it. You know we both want this fantasy to come true

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝒶𝓃

pairing : alastor x f!reader, slight huskerdust if you squint

content!! : mention of abuse, violence, death, no smut

summary : valentino takes it too far both with angel and with you, oh no, now he’s dead. a little drabble for the valentino haters out there.

“ugh i hate him soo fuckin’ much,” angel whines into the pink silk of your bed.

it was three in the morning and angel had only just sauntered in from work, valentino had run him ragged, he was covered head to toe in bruises, bites, rope marks, whips n cuts. you dread to think about all the sick things he’d done to your best friend today.

“i know, angie, im sorry, he’s a prick… even for someone in hell.” you muttered, resting yourself next to him.

“twenty guys, y/n, and there’s nothin i could even do about it!” a small tear slid down angels face as he said it. your heart shattered.

looking up at angel, he saw your eyes start to water, you were trying so hard not to cry but you couldn’t help it. seeing him like this, the hatred you had for val and everything he puts angel through was just too strong. you could just kill him.

“you don’t deserve this,” you say, anger seeping through your voice just enough for him to notice.

angel’s actions wavered, the seriousness becoming too much.

he wiped the salty drop out from under his eye, smile now forming from ear to ear as he adjusted his chest fur, shaking his non existent boobs. “i’m goin’ to the bar," he struts, "the nights only young, if i try my best, i’ll have forgotten about val in the next hour!” he winks at you, trying to put a smile on your face.

please don’t tell me i just made him leave.

before he goes, he leans down and whispers to you, leaving a little kiss on your forehead as he does, “i’ll be okay, yknow.”

“i know,” you halfheartedly smile.

as he walks out your hotel room door, your smile falters. at least you know he’ll be safe with husk. you can rest knowing that. he’ll forget all about val the minute he lays his eyes on the black cat.

it’s just, something needs to be done about that vile moth.

♡ ⋆ ˚ ❀ ｡⋆୨୧ ‘

not much time had past since angel was in your room, just enough for you to be huddled up in the back of a taxi, seething and headed straight to valentino’s exact whereabouts.

you had no idea what you were going to do once you got there, your nails were practically drawing blood with how hard you were digging them into your thighs. fuck valentino.

both angel and alastor would be livid if they knew what you were doing but you know your boyfriend wouldn't have helped. too sloppy and reckless. how dare you let your emotions control you?

you pull up at the place, 'consent' written above the disheveled building, how unfitting for valentino. you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

taking a deep breath, you walk into the bar, a wave of pink tinted smoke radiating lust and floating hearts in the air being the first thing that hits you. composing yourself, you sigh, storming straight for the source.

" VALENTINO!" you screech amongst the crowds of bodies, "we need to fucking talk."

almost immediately, a pathway clears through the smoke and array of sinners, a smug looking pimp following through "now who the fuck do you think you-" he stops. "oh," now he’s smirking, "you’re alastor's little bitch, and a friend of that worthless whore i own."

"his name is angel dust." you spat.

"excuse me?" annoyance evident in his voice.

"I said his name is angel dust, are you deaf as well as blind?"

val clicks his tongue, “i’ll let the sass slide just this once out of courtesy for angel,” he trails, "you know,” he pauses, taking you in, “you're quite a pretty little thing, aren't you?" you scoff, of course the snarky bastard is hitting on you. "such a shame to be wasted with that prude radio demon," you shot him a warning glare. this is not what you came here for.

val leaned closer to your ear and brought his voice to a whisper, testing your patience, "if you were with me, at least id fucking touch you-"

SLAP. you hit him, the harsh noise echoing causing everyone to fall silent, their eyes following the sound to you.

“why you little bi-“

val had barely any time to react or even form a thought other than rage and a balled fist before a gush of wind and red essence placed itself in front of you. protecting you.

alastor. shit.

gradually spawning in, his deer horns protruding, long limbs and black whips growing, eyes glazed over with hatred and that eery sharp toothed smile that always adorned his face.

“i hope you weren’t about to lay your filthy hands on her,” the demonic sound of alastors voice stilling you.

he was scary like this, very few times had you seen his demon form, but never as raw and uncontrolled as this. alastor hated losing his composure, especially in front of you.

"did I make bambi mad?" valentino’s condescending voice broke you from your trance.

a quick look from alastor, his eyes softening by a touch, just for you, had you back to being grounded, he was still your al.

“my doe, would you be a doll and wait outside for me? we’ll discuss your silly little adventure after my arthropod entrée.” he begun, voice heavily static and his tongue darting across his lips. “my little lady should not have to see what I'm about to do to you," he finished, redirecting his attention toward the purple demon.

the last thing you saw before you left was the puff of valentino’s wings as he prepared to fight alastor. “this is for my sweet girl and angel dust.”

oh, val is definitely dead.

A/N : what do we think!!! please share your thoughts!! this is basically free therapy for me after what ep 4 made me feel

#mine ♡#⁺˳✧༚ dolly’s drabbles #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor altruist #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin valentino

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dark-audit · 6 months

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Things I wish more writers understood about PTSD

Traumatic events don't always lead to PTSD. Two people can experience the exact same traumatic event, and one can go to work the next day shaken up but otherwise alright, while the other still has trouble functioning normally two years down the line. This is a fact that's been studied to death in psychology, but we're still no closer to figuring out why this discrepancy exists. So no, that character who experienced a very traumatic event and wasn't traumatized to your liking wasn't actually 'unrealistic'; they just didn't live up to your preconception of how trauma is supposed to effect people.

There is no flaw or 'weakness' in a person's temprament or personality construction that will make them more likely to develop PTSD, and likewise, people who don't develop PTSD are not inherently 'tougher'. PTSD is not the kind of illness you can blame on the person who suffers from it; human beings are more complicated than that. Furthermore, people who don't develop PTSD from a traumatic event exist, in fact they're very common, and while they don't develop that precise, largely arbitrary set of symptoms, they are still likely to be deeply affected by the event/s. Their experiences are no less real than those of their counterparts.

Sometimes, a person who experienced a traumatic even didn't develop PTSD afterwards - because they already had it. There are lots of people who go into therapy following a traumatic event only to discover they've been experiencing the symptoms of PTSD for years, following a previous unrelated traumatic event. This is especially common for people who had C-PTSD beforehand. Since PTSD can often manifest in very subtle ways, and since people are likely to 'mask' symptoms as a way to keep judgement or prying at bay, this scenario is not particularly uncommon.

PTSD doesn't always develop immediately following the traumatic event. PTSD can take any amount of time to develop. For most people, it takes around 3 months for symptoms to appear, but for a lot of people, the symptoms of PTSD do not appear for many months, even years after the event/s. This usually has something to do with the memory issues that can arise after trauma, and also might be affected by how a person conceptualizes the 'threat level' over time.

People with PTSD are not 'broken'; people with PTSD can be treated. Human beings aren't inanimate objects; we're living beings, graced with this incredible ability to adapt, grow and change. While there is no 'cure' for PTSD, there are loads of types of psychotherapy and medications that help to alleviate symptoms, and many people with this disorder are able to live fulfilling lives despite the diagnosis. Recovery is never out of the question, no matter how severe a person's symptoms might be. PTSD or not, I for one have yet to encounter anyone I would ever consider irrevocably 'broken'.

People with PTSD don't all experience the same symptoms. I feel like it needs to be said, because there is a bit of a 'type' in fiction, isn't there? And this can be incredibly disheartening to read for someone whose PTSD doesn't align with the way it is constantly shown to 'normally' manifest. In reality, PTSD is a very complex disorder, which might express itself in a wide breadth of different ways, and people handle their symptoms using a wide breadth of different methods. You'd be hard pressed to find two people who are completely alike in this regard.

Perpetrators of violence are just as likely to develop PTSD as their victims. This is one of those things I learned though my torture research escapades, and I've found it applies to other violent crimes as well, such as violent assault and murder. It's not a particularly nice fact to know if you want to maintain your straightforward good-vs-evil worldview, but alas, the real world is grim and complicated. There is actually a name for this type of PTSD, and it is Participation-Induced Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PI-PTSD), or perpetrator trauma. PTSD does not discriminate, and you're not safe from it just because you're not on the recieving end.

People with PTSD aren't automatically more violent. I don't know why this myth has to be so prominent with every single mental illness ever, but like, yeah, its not true for this one either.

#correct me if i got sth wrong im no expert. about anything really. this is just some pet peeves #nonfiction #ptsd #trauma #psychology #writing

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amiizuki · 3 months

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(a 2 weeks late repost of my comment from this Reddit post, cause I forgor)

things RWBY "teaches":

if someone lies and hides info from you – beat them up, yell at them, and then proceed to later do the exact same thing they did to someone else. except this time consider whoever tries to call you out for lying evil

if, after you run away without explanation, one of your friends decides to follow you and try to help – slap them in the face repeatedly and berate them loudly

if a person, who previously helped you and your friends multiple times without expecting much in return, is on edge and looks like they're on the verge of a panic attack – scowl at them the whole time, like they murdered your family or something (add bonus scowling and start thinking of them as pure evil, if said person also starts to call you out for betraying and lying to him earlier)

when it comes to forgiving and offering redemption – only offer it if the person in question is female; if the person is male then continue villainizing them or kill them altogether

if your overly stressed sibling is having a meltdown in front of you – scowl at them, while protecting your date from said sibling, as if they were an insane lunatic ready to kill

if you see your friend/sibling commit sudoku, once again, in front of you – watch it happen, without even attempting to stop them, and then spend some time having a group hug with your friends, before remembering about your dead friend/sibling

bonus stuff, that were said by other people in that same comment thread:

also a somewhat long addendum to the 3rd point, because rewatching the Gravity scene, to grab screenshots of Yang's face, somehow made me angrier than it did the first time I saw it:

lemme fucking tell you, that Yang did not start to scowl at Ironwood after he called RWBY out for being lying hypocrites. her angry face, in fact, appeared the moment he started talking! sure, at first it looked more like a slightly confused scowl, but a scowl nonetheless. girl even had her hands in fists already, like c'mon (at least during the moment when Ruby realizes Cinder was the one who left the chess piece, Yang's hands aren't visible in earlier shots, so I can't tell if she had them like that the whole time or not)

so this potato sack looking cunt, who supposedly had PTSD and should supposedly know how it looks and feels like, saw this overly stressed man, who ALSO has PTSD, and who just got faced with an image reminding him of one of the most traumatic events in his life, starting to freak out about the safety of his people and kingdom, and, again, overall looking like he's about to have a full on panic attack, and her gigabrain idea was to fucking SCOWL the whole time he's talking. wowww Yang, what a nice and kind thing you're doing there! I can feel soooo much sympathy coming towards this distressed general, who you actively lied to with no remorse by the way, from your ugly ass scowl. this will definitely help to deescalate the situation and calm Ironwood down, and it definitely won't make him call you out for being a lying shithead and throw your desaturated blonde ass out of the window.

oh, but I guess Ironwood isn't a cute catgirl named Blake, so he doesn't deserve anything more than an angry look from Yang. makes sense, considering Ruby isn't a cute catgirl named Blake either, and so Yang constantly forgets that she exists, only remembering Ruby when it's time to scowl at her, call whatever she's planning dumb, or when it's time to go drink boba and go shopping with her, instead of spending that time planning on how to defeat Salem who has 2 or 3 relics.

#rwde #♤mizu.txt #also kinda funny that most of the things that I listed here were done by Yang #not surprising though

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frangipani-wanderlust · 8 months

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How To Call 911

So most of my followers know now that I started working last May as a 911 dispatcher. Super proud of myself. And now that I am starting (very much still starting) to settle in a bit, I want to offer some tips on how to call 911. So, hold on to your hats.

(no-color version if the yellow text isn't rendering on your screen correctly)

When in doubt, call 911. Don't take this as me encouraging you to jump at shadows. Your neighbors' loud party is not an emergency, google the local non-emergency line and call that. Neither is the dry cleaning not giving you your clothes (I actually got this call on our 911 line). Nor is the fact that you saw a fox inside city limits (also something a real human called 911 about). But if you see a situation unfolding and you think "this seems dangerous, maybe this is 911-worthy" then it's 911-worthy. Don't hesitate. Call.

If you call 911 and you are freaking out, that's okay. If you're in a crisis, you may not remember a single tip I'm about to give you. We are trained for that, we can handle it, just do the best you can. It's not the end of the world to have a hysterical or frightened caller, and these are tips, not rules.

Location, location, location. We can't send you help if we have nowhere to send it to. Ideally, know the address. Failing that, know the name of a business or a church or an intersection. It is not cheating if you read this off a sign. There isn't a set of invisible rules that says you have to have your exact GPS coordinates memorized. Be prepared to describe the location somehow. That way, if our connection drops and that's all you can tell me, I can still send some police out to come find out what's going on and they can ask for medics or firefighters or whatever if needed. But we absolutely must know where to send assistance, it is the first thing we're going to ask.

Location again, but with a twist. The first thing our office says for emergencies is, "911, what is the address of the emergency?" If a building is on fire, tell us where the fire is. If your neighbors are being robbed at gunpoint across the street, give us their address. If you witnessed a car accident, tell us where the accident happened. The location of the emergency isn't necessarily the location where you are. Don't send police and fire to your office building if the wreck is on the freeway.

Answer the questions that you are asked. If the calltaker asks "Is the patient breathing?" don't start in about the seizure they just had (if they aren't breathing, the seizure they just had is not the biggest problem). If the calltaker asks, "Which way did the man you saw go when they ran?" don't tell them about how they broke down your door (if they are running away, knowing they broke your door down does not help the police know which direction to start looking). The particular question you are asked is being asked for a reason, and that reason is not frivolous but in an emergency, we aren't going to stop and explain everything.

Do not launch into a speech. If you're asked a yes/no question, yes or no is all the answer you should give. Your impulse will be to explain the yes or the no because more information is better than not enough, but overexplaining is its own problem. Now, we are hired for good typist skills, and are encouraged to get better and faster, but infodumping means things can get missed. The calltaker is going to have some information they're going to ask for by protocol and probably the option to drill down on some of it if clarification is needed. If you spend five paragraphs explaining your last answer, it delays getting other pertinent information.

Do not launch into a speech, part the second. You don't call 911 for things that happened last week, or even yesterday. Tell me the emergency that is happening right now. Ideally in one sentence. If someone is having a medical issue, and you call 911 about it, when the calltaker asks exactly what happened, do not tell them about how the patient had a surgery 5-and-a-half weeks ago. You called 911. What is the emergency that is happening right now. Don't be telling me about their surgery when the problem you called about is a broken leg. Yes, the surgery may have led to generalized loss of balance that has yet to return which caused the patient to fall which caused them to break their leg. Understood. But you didn't call because of all of that. You called because of the broken leg. Apply this principle to all emergencies.

Don't launch into a speech, part the third. When asked a specific and direct question, do not give an explanation instead of an answer. If the calltaker asks you "Is the weird person on the side of the road actually in the lanes of traffic?" do not explain to them how it's a very narrow roadway (see parenthesis for the story here). Aside from the fact that we're not asking these questions to be funny (see part the second), there's also the fact that now you are coming over as suspicious as hell. If I asked "how did that person on Facebook know what this supposedly missing kid is wearing and where he's going to be at 3:00 today?" and you say "well Facebook is a good way to spread information" I am now extremely suspicious of you.

(Also an actual call I have taken. The man was a totally ordinary guy out for a walk to the store, but this blue collar man walked through a Rich Person Neighborhood™ and according to Lady Catherine De Bourgh on the phone with me, that merited a call to the police. When I asked her if he was actually in the lanes of traffic [traffic hazard call type] versus not [suspicious person call type, on a technicality but technically...], she tried explaining three times that the road was narrow before she finally got the message that I was not going to stop asking until she told me the actual answer and answered "Well, I suppose so, yes." At this point, because she'd been so reluctant to answer me, I no longer believed the man actually was in the lanes of traffic and to this day believe that she lied to try and manipulate the police into a stronger-level response than was actually warranted. Because determining whether she was lying for sure is beyond the scope of my job, I put down what she said, but I didn't believe then and still don't believe now, that she told the truth. The totally ordinary and probably very nice guy was not arrested or hassled at all and was instead given a courtesy ride to the store.)

Be prepared to describe relevant people, maybe including yourself, and that includes race. If you have an asthma attack at a football game, the medics need to know how to find you in a crowd. If you are a black woman, that's gonna rule out everyone who isn't that. If you are a black woman wearing a yellow shirt, blue jeans, and a blue bandana over your hair, that excludes nearly everybody and when the medics arrive, they'll know exactly who to look for. Most of the time, someone's race isn't relevant information. When describing someone to emergency services, it absolutely is and it is not racist to accurately describe the relevant person or people.

There are more tips in the world, and I may come back to this post and add them as they occur to me. In the meantime, please enjoy this short treatise on how to call 911.

#actual 911 #emergency services #tricks and tips #resources #how to call 911 #yellow color chosen because dispatchers are gold #no seriously #emergency services have star trek style color coding #and dispatchers are gold #lol

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lesbianchemicalplant · 1 year

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I more or less agree with the point here about people's readings of ToS usually being unproductive, but regarding

Shitty people like nazis and terfs thrive on being edge cases. They are very good at finding a boundary and standing juuuuuuuuust on this side of it and going “la la la I’m not violating the ToS, you can’t stop me!” and that blows and it leads to a lot of people encountering a lot of shitty stuff on a lot of websites but personally I’m pretty glad that there’s a lot of gray area....

moderators aren't Faeries who are magically bound to the exact literal wording of ToS and content policies

case in point: cohost just bans TERFs and Nazis. cohost moderators just ban them, even when they're doing the “I'm not touching youuuuu” strategy

and because cohost just bans TERFs and Nazis,

(1) TERFs and Nazis tend to not even bother with trying to get a foothold on cohost

(2) cohost doesn't have the huge, thriving, entrenched networks of TERFs and Nazis that tumblr has

with (1) and (2) mutually reinforcing each other

(and notably, even the most “crypto” of TERFs and Nazis don't have much reason to use cohost, because their more open and explicit friends aren't on there. part of the utility of being a crypto-TERF on tumblr is that they can also have a more explicit TERF sideblog, there are all of the open TERFs for them to follow, and they can even contact followers of their crypto-TERF account to encourage them to come over to TERFblr proper. none of those benefits are there if TERFs and Nazis just get banned)

granted, tumblr is a bigger website than cohost, but “it's impossible to just ban TERFs and Nazis” just isn't actually true. the more basic reason for tumblr allowing TERFs and Nazis to build huge communities on here is more mundane: they make number go up. tumblr needs their userbase to be as large and rapidly growing as possible for them to monetize, and Enlightened Centrism is the resulting moderation strategy. they don't want to drive Nazis and TERFs away because they're active users whose presence brings in more active users

that's an actual reason, not because it's just soooo impossible to ban someone if their description says “Gender Critical” instead of “TERF”

moderators are not bound by faerie law, they don't inherently need to hear a specific magic incantation or trick someone into saying their name to be able to ban them. they don't ban them because tumblr has incentives to keep them around

#tumblr #my posts

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manicpixielosergirl · 2 months

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@ MOOTS PLEASE BEWARE !!! DIABETIC DONATION SCAM ON TUMBLR

hi guys, there's been a donation scam recently with a person pretending to be a palestinian diabetic needing money for insulin - they keep making accounts under different names and aren't verified although they say they are, PLEASE don't pay them anything nor fall for it/share it, i've seen some moots and people i follow share it already (i did too a couple days ago but i just got the EXACT. WORD FOR WORD same ask with the sender having a completely different name than the first one hence why i found out it's a scam)

their current @ is @atomicollectorladdy HOW FUCKING DARE YOU exploit a genocide that's killing people as i write this? this is genuinely the nastiest shit someone can ever do GET FUCKED and burn in hell

here's a further explanation of the scam that i found after researching:

stay safe everyone !!

#donation scam #gaza donation scam #diabetic donation scam #palestine donation scam #palestine #gaza

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little-pondhead · 2 years

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Wanted to hop in on the supervillain Danny au questions! Do we think Valerie would have any interest to get in on this? Between being a pawn for Vlad as Red Huntress and her "friends" ditching her as soon as she stopped being rich, I like the idea that evil billionare mastermind is her general vibe. Heck, maybe she and Tucker flip roles and she becomes the guy in the chair, not being a front line powerhouse and actually coming up with elaborate plans.

And on that note, do we think that if Vlad somehow found his way into this mess, he'd see the whole thing as a fun little game of "opposite world" and try his hand at being a hero? Because I for one think that would be hilarious, I actually don't have ideas for that because I can't imagine a heroic Vlad.

Amyway, that's all I got for now. Love your work!

You're one of the vertebrae creatures who keep hoarding all the brain wrinkles, aren't you??

---

[Okay, so I lost your ask, wrote this shit, then found it again so it's not exact but I'm trying here.]

Let's start with Valerie, or keeping up with the trend, Gray in the DC universe.

Valerie is so tired. It's a different kind of tiredness that has a grip on the others. Danny is tired of being a hero, Sam is tired of her parent's expectations, and Tucker is tired of being unable to protect his friends. Jazz is tired of being the bigger person, and Dani is tired of not having someone to rely on. The DC universe is their escape, and honestly, it's doing wonders for their mental health. Valerie notices. She has a shaky truce with Phantom and his crew, but she can't just let him get a leg up on her, can she? So Valerie follows them, through town, through the portal, through the new world they popped up in.

There, she stops. Phantom is now Fenton, and doesn't that make sense? Many things click into place and Valerie starts to understand as she watches the others from the shadows. She's surprised they haven't noticed her, but a little green sticky note on her visor says she had a little hand in her reconnaissance. So when she's done, she returns to her dimension. Back to Amity Park and back to her bed. Valerie lays there for a while, staring at the ceiling and fingering the sticky note, committing every detail to memory.

And you know what? Valerie gets pissed. How come Danny and his friends lovers? and family get to just visit other dimensions whenever they want a break and have no repercussions whatsoever? Just because hero work is hard?? She's a hero too, dammit!

Obviously, someone out there apparently agreed with her because, in a quick, dizzying moment, Valerie finds herself suddenly in the Ghost Zone, plopped down on a ratty blue couch with a very old ghost sitting across from her. He introduces himself as Clockwork, the ghost of time, the regent of the king, and Danny's guardian. Mentor? She wasn't sure; ghost speech always gave her a headache. Either way, Valerie found herself exceptionally calm and somehow struck a deal with the Ancient. To her chagrin, Clockwork informed her that Valerie was well and truly Liminal now, despite her best efforts. (What did she expect? Her suit was practically drenched in ectoplasm.) As part of the deal, Clockwork extended the same courtesy to her that he had to the others. Anytime she wanted, Valerie could have free reign and access to the DC universe and could do anything she liked with no bad consequences. And because of her liminality, he was able to grant her just enough power for her to create her own portals directly to the other realm.

[What did Clockwork get out of this deal? Well, that's up to someone else who's not me.]

So Valerie goes to this new universe. She switches her name to Gray, as if to mock Fenton, who had no idea she was there. She does not try to become a supervillain. And what's this? Outfit analysis time!!

In the show, I've always liked Valerie as a character, and whether it was intentional or not, her design seems to fit her attitude and actions. They were in high school in the early 2000s before her dad lost her job; Valerie was very popular, from what I remember. Her family had money. Other kids expected her to keep up with social norms, so her outfit looked more stylish than practical. She wears yellow, which is most commonly seen as a happy color. Her hair is slicked back so people can see her whole face. She has nothing to hide. She's confident and youthful, ready to lead, and overall enjoying her lot in life. Then ghosts start appearing, and we all know her backstory as Red Huntress. Her suit is tight to her skin, bright red, and overall she's armed to the teeth. Everything about that screams DANGER! Valerie is a threat now.

Her civilian outfit also never changes, which is understandable because this is a cartoon from 2004. But it's secretly genius because yellow is often considered a cautious color. It turns from being a happy color to a warning. Yellow is also associated with anxiety, betrayal, and even egotism, which is something both she and Danny experience during their interactions. She's uptight and constantly on edge. She feels like she has to provide for her family and is quick to anger.

Now for the opposite of that? Valerie is tired of being angry all the time. Rather than go apeshit on a bunch of poor heroes and villains-been there, done that-she treats this whole thing like an actual vacation. Gray wears a soft long sleeve, sweats, and fuzzy slippers. Her hair is relaxed and in a bun, with her bangs hiding half of her face. It takes some pressure off of constantly keeping her expressions in check. People also can't see how she's silently judging them. She lets the stress melt from her shoulders and lets herself curse like a sailor whenever she feels like it. Her clothes are dimmer colors, which don’t stand out or demand attention. She lets herself be not perfect.

Although, just because this is a vacation for her doesn't mean Gray can't just lounge around doing nothing. She has no money! So Gray, after shuffling through a couple decades of this world's history and discovering that Craigslist is universal, applies for the first work ad she sees. In short, Gray joins the Goonion. She ends up making a deal with the guy who hired her. And her new boss. And her new neighbor. And-

Gray very quickly becomes the John Constantine of the criminal underworld. She brushes up on her people skills and learns to talk rings around other people, getting people to owe her favors as much as she dishes them out. Balance is the key here, as she’s learned from Danny. Gray is never tied down by too many IOUs at a time, and her tight grip on her companions and team quickly earn her a questionable but reliable reputation. She presents a morally-gray character, if you will.

Gray’s quick climb to power-that was definitely sped along by Clockwork-earns her a powerful position in the Goonion. If she plays her cards right, Gray doesn’t have to do any work at all. She just leans back and enjoys being paid for wearing pajamas all day and occasionally signing some paperwork. She siphons away bits of her own paycheck to a dimensional bank account she threatened asked Technus to set up, and Gray is finally able to slip more than a few tens into her father’s wallet when it’s time for him to pay his rent. It’s a good life.

Now, Vlad? Oh, he's fucked. This can work for whatever redemption au you want. He can be exactly like he is in the show or working towards bettering himself as a person. I imagine him being halfway to a redemption plot, and in an effort to gain the Fenton's trust, he starts hanging around with the family more. Jack loves this. The others do not, but what can they do? Everyone is just trying to be civil to each other in an effort to make Jack happy. Since old habits die hard, Vlad very quickly notices Danny's improved state of mind and is attuned to the Zone enough to feel when Clockwork stops time on their end. He starts to purposefully rile up Danny and realizes that the time stops happen right after Danny leaves the room in a fit of anger. Then the boy comes back all smiles and sometimes doesn't even remember what Vlad had said to him in the first place.

So he puts his ear to the ground. Whispers are floating around about a new portal that's been opened near Phantom's Keep. A natural one. A permanent one. No one can investigate due to its location, but the young king and members of his fraid have been seen frequenting it more often than late. Not suspicious in the slightest, Danny would have protested. Vlad goes poking around. Entering the Keep uninvited felt like millions of bugs tugging at his skin, but turning human helped ease the sensation. It was laughably easy to slip between the cold stone walls of the Keep, avoiding Fright Knight's walking path and sticking to the shadows. The portal was in the courtyard, under the watchful gaze of two stone gargoyles leftover from Pariah's reign. Right before Vlad can investigate further stick his head in and see what happens the world warps, and suddenly the older halfa is sitting on his ass in front of a very old ghost.

Looks like Vlad fucked around and found out.

Basically, Clockwork yoinked Vlad to his side of existence right before he entered the portal. Even if all he wanted to do was relate to Danny in an effort to mend their relationship, The Master of Time wasn't okay with Vlad going off into the DC universe all willy-nilly. Oh no. Letting Vlad loose in this world would lead to bad things regardless of his intentions. Even if Vlad promised to play by all the rules and pretended to be human, he was bound to slip up and cause trouble.

So there were two courses of action Clockwork could take here. One, he could pull in a few favors and wipe Vlad's memory, sending him back to his own universe until he inevitably went sniffing around again, and this whole song and dance continued. Or second, he could equip Vlad with similar ghost artifacts Manson and Foley possessed and temporarily seal away Vlad's powers while he was gallivanting around the DC universe. He'd be on Clockwork's payroll, so to speak, and could only act on the older ghost's instructions. Clockwork presented these two choices to Vlad. The older halfa chose the second option after weighing the pros and cons. He didn't want to be controlled by Clockwork, but he also didn't want to lose his memories (over and over again, from how he worded it.)

This is how Vlad's hero persona is born. I'm unsure if he should stick with his last name, Masters, or take on something different to distance himself from Fenton and his family. Let's stick with Masters for now.

Clockwork has this drowning little rat man on a rehab program and uses some fancy ghost jewelry to inhibit his halfa abilities. He doesn't make Masters do much, just drops him in here and there when the DC timestream needs a little nudge. It's not like Clockwork will have Danny deal with it; the kid already helps out with every other timestream when asked. Masters can help out here. And since his halfa abilities are blocked, he gets to do everything as a human, which brings its own set of challenges. The idea is that by throwing Masters face-first into a new world filled with people who could end his existence and be forced to win every fight or else, he'll come to appreciate what Danny goes through on a daily basis.

The JL Dark becomes very familiar with the mysterious Masters, who doesn't seem to have any powers but still fights like he does. The man can be extraordinarily clumsy and short-tempered but still graceful and light on his feet when it matters the most. More than once has someone caught Masters muttering under his breath, cursing out gravity and a 'purple-cloak wearing bitch.' Masters always shows up out of the blue at the most random times. He is literally just there, and sometimes even Masters himself looks shocked about his sudden scene change. But he's always suited up and ready to go, so not many heroes question it. They usually need the help anyway.

In the DC universe, Masters is wearing four magic bands, each engraved with the words Dominion of Time on them. Several bands made from tungsten were buried deep with Clockwork's Tower in an old wooden box made from aspen and diamonds. Each band was a blank slate, glowing slightly from magic long past. Clockwork had simply selected the four he needed, engraved the spells needed in ghost speech, and handed them over. Vlad grumbled and tried to find a loophole in the artifacts, but ultimately accepted his fate and wore them whenever Masters was needed.

Vlad's new outfit for this outfit is similar to Valerie's; it's loose and uncomplicated. (Actually, there are a lot of parallels between these two.) In the show, Vlad always wears a tailored suit and dress shoes. He's well-groomed and his hair is slicked back. He always tries to show off his wealth and power by having full control over his appearance. In layman's terms, he's the walking cliché trope of a rich billionaire villain in every superhero media to ever exist. After all, in a kid's show with a teenage protagonist, what's more intimidating than an adult nemesis who has their life together?

As Masters, Vlad is forced to throw all that out the window.

The hero outfit he wears was literally picked up off the street. If glowing metal bands were not adorning his arms, some would assume that Masters was a homeless man. The top was dug out from a dumpster behind a costume store, and the sandals were given to him by a woman who couldn't wear them anymore. His arm sleeves were sewn together from some blackout curtains he found at an old housing demolition site, and the pants were just some sweatpants that were a tad too short. The mask was bought from the corner store, his belt salvaged from a junkyard, and his scarf was actually a gift from Jack-not that he'd wear it around the oaf. The only 'expensive' things Masters wore were the four magic bands, a handful of large glass beads hanging from his belt, and the sharp metal claws he wore on top of each finger. The claws were bought on a whim years ago when Vlad was building his fortune, and boy, was he glad for them now. They were the only real weapons Clockwork allowed him to carry for some reason.

In other words, Masters is exposed. With his loose hair and flowing clothes, Masters is forced to trust the others around him to have his back. He's humbled every time someone covers an obvious blind spot of his that he's not used to compensating for. He gets dirty and messy, fighting to survive against enemies he knows nothing about. His outfit symbolizes his efforts to change. Masters is re-learning what it's like to be truly vulnerable in a world you don't understand with no help whatsoever. Clockwork has no issue pitting him against demons and ghouls even John Constantine would hesitate at, and his narrow victories quickly earn him an invitation to the Watchtower.

The Justice League is puzzled by this walking lump of wet spaghetti. He disappears so easily into the background and doesn't stand out at all. Every once in a while his eyes scrunch up like he's confused about something, but he won't admit that he's lost the conversation. Masters will offhandedly say weird things and turn as if expecting someone to be there, then suddenly stop himself with a soft flinch. He refuses any form of payment. He can stare down Batman. His appearances are random and the man carries no form of contact. Masters often has an aura of resignation and regret around him, as if he didn't want to be there in the first place. He's awkward around kids but fiercely protective of a few teen heroes. (Mostly Conner.)

It finally starts to come together in the JL's mind when Masters becomes more widely known in the world of supers. One of the higher-ups in the Goonion hates him. Dani held a gun to his head. Manson screeched bloody murder when she saw him. Nightingale declared herself his official nemesis. The final piece was when, after a long and exhausting fight, Masters temporarily removed his mask to wipe away some blood around his mouth.

The Flash, who was sitting next to him, nearly let out a squeak.

Masters' blood was bright green.

Masters' teeth were shaped like a shark's.

Masters was another fucking Fenton, wasn't he?

#pondhead replies #DPxDC #supervillain danny au #villain! everlasting trio #The Fenton Menace #FUCKING FOUND THE ASK #FINALLY #GODDAMN #does this make any coherent sense #jesus fuck i'm going to bed

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