#someone sent me an ask with this link i KNOW it but i can’t find it 😭😭

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Yeah. Uh-huh. That’s why your ideas are stupid and we’re all gonna die.”

Keith fumes. Like, actually fumes, making the noise and everything, face bright red and scowl twisting his face so tightly that there’s a genuine concern he’s in pain. Lance, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered, flexing his fingers and checking his nails like he has no stake at all in the conversation.

Hunk exchanges a glance with Pidge. He’s at least glad they know better, if not poor Keith — Lance’s leg is bouncing up a storm underneath the table. He’s just as affected as Keith is, he’s just being a dick for brains because he’s emotionally stunted.

“If there’s something wrong with the plan,” Keith says, carefully enunciating every word through gritted teeth, “then please point it out to me and suggest an alternative.” The ‘otherwise shut the fuck up’ goes unsaid, but Hunk feels the sentiment is pretty clear regardless.

Lance upheaves a big, dramatic sigh, flopping backwards in his chair and covering his eyes with his hand like merely voicing his thoughts is such a struggle.

Keith’s eye twitches.

“You’re going to get a knife thrown at your head,” Hunk warns pleasantly, fully aware that it will do nothing.

He’s right. Lance ignores him.

“Look here,” he says, flicking a hand — with a more than reasonable amount of fanfare, Hunk will add, in fact he’s relatively certain that Lance has painted his fingernails gold entirely so they shine and catch everyone’s attention when he waves his hands around — at the holo blueprints Keith has pulled up of the Empire warship. “I mean, you have a plan that would work well for an EXC-76E-5 ship. Enter through the west hatch, sneak through the side hallways, ambush the gathered crew on the bridge. Except —” he swipes the image to the side, pulling up a file and displaying a photo sent by the Blades of the ship they’re currently planning to infiltrate — “the ship we’re infiltrating is an EXC-76E-4, dumbass. The hallways available to the west hatch opening don’t lead to the bridge, they lead to the armoury. If we mosey our way to the one place on the ship loaded with bombs and trigger happy Empire soldiers, it’s bye-bye Voltron.” He raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly, before parting his hands in faux surrender. “Of course, you’re the leader, though. If you say it’s time to go boom, I say sayonara, cruel word. Your wish is my firm command, Oh Fearless Leader.”

There’s a moment of tense, shocked silence. Hunk hurriedly pulls out his own file, noticing peripherally that everyone else does, as well, and hurriedly scans the report — the Blades have mistakenly noted in the write-up that the ship model is the EXC-76E-5, but the photos show, very clearly, an EXC-76E-4. Lance is right, and is the only one to notice — he must have all the models memorized. It’s a very Lance thing to do.

So is being a smug little shit about it, Hunk knows that for certain.

Beside him, Allura is biting her lip hard to keep from laughing. Over the past few months, her and Lance have gotten much closer, and while that has done wonders for team dynamics, it has also done wonders for Lance’s ego, which is.

Well.

It just is.

Pidge is also notably hiding her face with her hands. Hunk himself has several years of practice keeping his face in check when Lance is right, as is his duty as the number one Lance humbler (and as Lance’s duty with him — Hunk will admit that he can be a cocky shithead when he wants to be), so he’s looking straight at Keith.

Keith’s face has dropped to a deadpan stare. He grinds his teeth, glancing at the file and then back up at Lance, who smiles sunnily as if he’s not the absolute king of being as irritating as possible as often as possible.

“You know what your problem is?” Keith mutters, angrily swiping his hand through his battle plans to delete them and pulling up new blueprints.

Lance grins smugly, placing his hands under his chin and his elbows on the table. He blinks slowly, then opens half-lidded eyes towards Keith.

“Enlighten me,” he says.

“You,” Keith continues, as if Lance had not spoken, “are really cute, so no one ever told you to shut your fucking pie-hole.”

For the second time in the last ten minutes, the briefing room rings with shocked silence. Keith doesn’t seem to have noticed that he said it, or even that he said it to Lance’s face — he’s muttering grumpily to himself, crossing out every other thing he writes. He’s not even looking at Lance.

Lance, on the other hand, looks completely shocked. Shocked does not begin to cover it, honestly. Startled, maybe? His hands have dropped from under his chin, and his brown eyes are wide, looking at Keith in disbelief. His mouth is open slightly, gaped, at a total and complete loss for what to say.

Allura loses her battle. She clamps her hand over her mouth, trying her damnedest to muffle her laughter, eyes tearing with the effort. Pidge’s shoulders have started to shake, too. Hunk, for his part, can’t decide who to stare at, flicking wide eyes between Dumbass #1 and Dumbass #2.

Suddenly Lance’s expression shifts — the shock evaporates from his face, and in its place is something smug, something unbelievably satisfied, like a cat that knows it has its prey exactly where it wants it.

Hunk is generally a mature person, but drama is his weakness. He is straining every part of him so as not to miss a word.

Lance allows Keith a couple more moments of frustration, then starts tapping a nail on the table, a sound that is well known to annoy Keith quickly and reliably. When he, as expected, whips his head towards the sound and glares, Lance smirks, eyes honestly a little salacious between fluttering eyelashes.

“You think I’m cute?” he purrs.

It takes Keith maybe half a second to clock what the hell Lance is talking about, and then he goes so red that Hunk is sure he can feel the heat of his face, from exactly where he’s sitting, ten feet away.

Seriously, he’s glowing.

“Shut your pie-hole!” he snaps. “God!”

Rapidly, he turns back to the holoscreen, enlarging the proper blueprints with his new plans so everyone can see.

Lance cackles, continuing to snigger as Keith tries valiantly to outline his new plan and not die of self-induced heat exhaustion.

When Hunk peeks over Lance’s shoulder to look at his notes, though, he sees that he’s been dotting his i’s with hearts.

———

comic this fic is based on

[porcelana-r0ta]

let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was. 

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM: 

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin. 

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia. 

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option. 

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. 

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house. 

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death. 

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building. 

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?” 

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.” 

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl. 

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house. 

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight. 

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!” 

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.” 

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.” 

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms. 

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly. 

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!” 

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs. 

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead. 

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.” 

“What did I do?” 

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?” 

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!” 

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand. 

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.” 

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?” 

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.” 

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.” 

Damn, Jason curses to himself. 

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?” 

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.” 

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.” 

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!” 

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.” 

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face. 

Jazz doesn’t dispute it. 

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t. 

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.” 

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!” 

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!” 

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again. 

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.” 

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab. 

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy. 

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green. 

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell. 

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?” 

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings. 

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral. 

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it. 

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery. 

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton. 

“Why are the fucking Bats here?” 

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?” 

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?” 

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.” 

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?” 

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls. 

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating. 

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.” 

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks. 

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.” 

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks. 

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.” 

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.” 

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it. 

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.” 

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.” 

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully. 

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?” 

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X: 

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her. 

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

[kyra45]

Keys guide to scam spotting (v2)

Hi! I’m Key (Or Jess depending on which blog you know me from) and I’ll be telling you some better information and detail on how to spot a scam account be it a pet scam or a donation scam. All information is based on my own experiences and I’ll try to keep this post accessible so the only big text is the title. This information should help in understanding how these scams work and how to spot them without having to do too much work. As always, if you appreciate what I do and want to show it, sharing these info posts helps other users see it and learn about blogs that might send them asks.

—

What is a donation scam? - A donation scam is when someone is being deceptive to get money by claiming they need mutual aid or support. For example, they are using the story from someone else’s fundraising post in order to get donations and won’t tell anyone their lying. This is called a donation scam. While the story may be legitimate, it is a story stolen off someone else and means the real person isn’t getting the support they asked for because someone else is using it. These stories are often stolen off Facebook/GoFundMe or even Instagram and could come from a private account or group so searching wouldn’t come up with a source. The images may also be stolen from somewhere else too.

How do you spot a donation scam? - Donation scams are usually easily spotted if you take a closer look at the information being given. Stolen stories will often have certain parts removed and replaced with the information the scammer added themselves. Sometimes the post may be composed of two different parts and won’t sound right if you pay close attention. For example, part of the story sounds fine but then the second part of the story seems out of place and doesn’t match up with the beginning. Another thing to check is how old the account is and if you have timestamps on you can see if an older post is backdated. You can also check to see if the account has tagged certain blogs in their post though this isn’t always a sign of a scam.

What is post backdating? - Post backdating is changing the dates of a reblogged post to look older then it really is. While this can be used with good intentions, scammers often use this to trick people into thinking their account is years old or even a few months old. The one way to find this is by turning on timestamps in dashboard settings and checking ‘other notes’ in reblogs. This is the only way to see the true date something was shared. Accounts who backdate posts will often claim someone told them to do it or they’ll say they didn’t know it was bad. However, you can not accidentally backdate a post.

Did the account contact you first? - A common occurrence is that you will get scam asks if you share a popular or trending post. Usually these accounts send asks to anyone they find without care of who it is and might lie as well if you ask them how they found you. In general, a brand new account shouldn’t easily find you unless they were watching the notes of popular posts. Occasionally these new accounts will even send asks to certain accounts they shouldn’t know about unless they have seen the account before. If your DMs are closed, the ask may ask you to message them because it’s urgent but all they will do is ask for money or ask you to loan them some money.

—

What is a pet donation scam? - A pet donation scam is where someone has went and looked around for vet fundraisers online and then took it for themselves by saving the images and story while erasing any links that would lead to the real pet getting support. They will then repost it to tumblr and say it’s actually their pet needing urgent care with the post title being very large and in red text for a sense of urgency. Sometimes they’ll say they can’t use GoFundMe because it has a fee or something else. This is a scam because they are not the owner of the pet and have stolen everything meaning no funds sent will be towards the actual pets care.

How do you spot a pet donation scam? - A common way of a pet donation scam is by how old the pinned post is and how many posts are reblogged on the account. Usually there is only a few posts shared and always shared around the same time and then no more. These posts all come from a trending topic, a fandom, or are popular posts. Another thing is checking the bio in Google search and seeing if it’s been took from someone else as the scammer never makes their own bio. Reverse image search their pfp to see who it really belongs to in case they stole it. Another important thing is to check their link and see if it matches up with the vet bill. Since most pictures are stolen off a private group, reverse image search won’t find them. The name they may have is likely not their real name and is stolen.

Did the account send you an ask? - Regardless of what the ask says, it usually requests you to answer it privately or message them so they can tell you thanks. These asks may have several emojis in them as well but their always just copy/pasted and sent to multiple users all at once on a daily basis. The private answer is so the ask won’t show up if someone is looking it up. If their post is public, there shouldn’t be a reason to need a private response to an ask you have sent to many people unless you are trying to hide it. Messaging these accounts is useless because they’ll lie to you when you ask them questions back or just ignore you.

—

What is a fake check scam? - A fake check scam is when a generally blank account with no pfp will message you after you used certain tags and ask you if you still need help. Even if you have links to send support, these accounts will ignore that in order to ask for your personal information such as phone number or banking details. They will then offer to send you a check. This is a fake check and cashing it won’t be scamming the scammer. You will lose money instead and the scammer will already move on to someone else. Never give them your private information.

Are there any other scam types? - When you tag posts, you’ll often get messages from accounts claiming they can help you get more attention on your campaign but you have to pay them money or go off-site to contact them. These are fake support accounts and they always use stock images while pretending to be officially affiliated and act like their Digital Marketing title means their not trying to scam you. They get defensive when called out and may start insulting you when they figure out you are already aware they aren’t legitimate.

—

What is a funeral donation scam? - A funeral donation scam is when an account posts saying someone has passed away but the images they used are actually took from someone else and may be photoshopped. Bills may be edited to suit their story and names may be changed to someone else’s. This isn’t a real common scam! But it’s happened a lot lately but the basics are the account will steal someone’s pictures and pass them off as theirs and when caught will say they were forced to or know it’s wrong but did it anyway.

—

In closing, this is information regarding common scam types you’ll find on tumblr. It’s always suggested to pay close attention to asks you get it they fit the criteria of being sent from a scammer. Answer the asks publicly and call out the blog. The scammer may block you as a result, but it’ll help your ask be seen it someone has looked it up. I suggest never spamming asks to share your pinned aid post because unfortunately scammers do this and you shouldn’t ignore people saying to please stop spamming. Always check to see if someone is comfortable getting these kinds of asks too because it won’t look too good if you have sent them an ask when they say please don’t.

As always, not everyone asking for support is a scammer! Legitimate people are out there. It’s just unfortunate scammers have made it harder for them to get help. You can always do your own research and compare it to what others have given and come to your own conclusion.

[snoutbleed]

Telling a story takes guts.

Forensic photographer Sören Heinrich can’t ignore the nausea bubbling in his throat when documenting someone's darkest day. He loses sleep over the fates he captures but is drawn to the purpose vested in his grisly role. When blood-slicked prints become Sören's next subject, he finds a message that blurs the line between his personal and professional life.

"This is where I’ve been. Don’t follow."

Unable to fathom his long-lost brother’s crimson handwriting, Sören descends into the criminal underworld for answers. The young boar's inner demons guide him toward a morbid self-reckoning.

Direktion 2 has their work cut out for them.

Crime is on the rise in post-reunification Berlin. Among the cases, the Polizeidirektorate in the city's westernmost boroughs is baffled by freak murders at the hands of denizens without motive.

In the shadow of the Berlin Wall, the crime wave takes a supernatural twist behind the lock of a post-Soviet puzzle.

Camera flashes at the crime scenes reveal gruesome secrets stirring in the shadows.

Unravel the conspiracy in #LONG STORY SHORT.

#The Filing Cabinet -- scan the profiles of those in the know. #Bloodstained Polaroids -- view the images of lives gone astray. #Evidence Board -- learn the details of secrets best kept. #Mystery Signals -- behold the lore of the mind melt. Face the music in the official Long Story Short playlist!

Everyone gathers toward the Abschnitt.

There are several Polizei Berlin stations like the Abschnitt, but everyone tied to this supernatural symphony ends up near this Spandau station particularly.

Sören Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The black sheep of the Abschnitt. Sören’s abrasive nature keeps his co-workers at bay, a division widened by their western ideals clashing with his East German upbringing. He distances himself from the station through tight focus on his job, always the first to arrive at a crime scene. Don Jae Hale -- ( elk | tag | bio ) The silver-tongued Kriminalhauptkommissar of the Abschnitt. Hale is quick to dismiss the killings up until his leadership comes under siege by the paranoid public. Umeya Romanova -- ( fox | tag | bio ) The Bundeskriminalamt detective sent to assist with the Abschnitt’s mounting cases. Rumor says Umeya is there for more than the mystery, but her motives veiled by a callous attitude. Marieke Reiss -- ( rabbit | tag | bio ) The star psychology student barely escaped a killing. Now a key witness, Marieke can’t rest easy knowing she could be the next victim, driving her to take matters into her own hands. Reinhardt Müller -- ( donkey | tag | bio ) The Abschnitt’s disgraced ace detective, worn down and living in the grimy corners of Berlin. When crime spikes, Reinhardt tries to relive his “glory days" of detective work. Ukko Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The crime lord defends his territory with brutal but firm methods. He's sworn to his found family, the country's political rift making him protective to a fault. Vorwitz Albrecht -- ( bat | tag | bio ) A gardener with good banners but bad morals. Vorwitz's unsavory career choices put him in the Abschnitt, but he finds a way out with Sören.

Entropy knows no bounds.

Stop, look and listen: stories are everywhere. Behold my settings.

Face more madness in #TALES GONE STALE.

LAID TO WASTE -- an abomination stirs in the bayou, its secrets poisoning a township. THE WASTED LIVES -- a group of galactic fugitives embark on a never-ending getaway on a runaway cruiser. (Links need an update. Stay tuned.)

The mind behind the melancholy.

ACHTUNG! This blog is 18+ for gore and suggestive content!

You can call me Dissy (she/her). I'm a writer with stories and ideas always bouncing inside my head, especially this one. Feel free to ask me about myself, my writing, my characters, or anything else. I promise you I can bark up a tree for hours.

I also do Polaroid photography: check out @hogrot for my shots!

I also encourage comments, critique, etc. about this setting. I want to pace myself while writing this, therefore I have all the time I need to refine this where I can. I don't expect this story to come out for a while anyway, especially as I run it through critiques. Hell, this pet project wouldn't have come into fruition thanks to the feedback of some incredible friends.

Shoutout to PYRY for doing character design and art for this setting, as well as giving his ideas and characters for the Heinrich plotline. Go check out his killer art. This story wouldn't exist without him.

Another shoutout to @tsanapi, an incredible artist who drew the art pictured above. Her sense of style is so keen.

And a final thanks to you, the reader, for tuning into the mind melt. This signals wouldn't have picked up without you.

[boltupbitches]

One Day at a Time - Justin Herbert

Prompt:

Can you do a Justin Herbert one where let's say you have a situationship. You find out he's seeing someone else and you want a commitment. Says he's not ready then a few weeks after you find out you're pregnant and keep it from him. A friend accidentally shares your gender reveal on instagram and he does the math so he knows it's his daughter. He comes over and is mad at first but then yall argue it out. Happy ending please.

This entire situation was fucked from the get-go. Situationships, friends-with-benefits, fuck buddies.. Whatever label you wanted to use to describe a no-strings relationship. What ended up being a one night stand after meeting at a bar in Eugene turned into 6 months of hook ups and hangouts.

Yet, Justin never made the move to make it official with his ‘friend’ Alex. At least, she was very certain they weren’t even friends at all because friends don’t fuck every time they link up.

Justin’s constant dodging of the conversation she wanted to have with him reached a boiling point when she caught on to a rumor online about him hooking up with a reality tv star. The same night he avoided coming over, avoided her texts and calls, and essentially ghosted her.

Then, the news broke and the reality tv starlet leaked the private DMs he sent to the media.. Creating an even bigger frenzy.

Alex was heartbroken and mad. Mad that he was leading her on and mad that she gave him the opportunity to do so countless times.

That’s how they ended up here at her apartment, fighting over the situation.

She had sent him one final text saying ‘whatever this is is done.’

A half hour later he was at her door, acting shocked by her decision.

“I just want a straight answer from you for once!” She shouted at him as he turned his back towards her, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Stop yelling, Alex.” He demanded.

“No.. see what you’re not going to do is talk to me like a fucking child. I am not one and you are going to listen to me. I’m tired of the games, Justin. You’ve been playing games with my heart for months and we both fucking know it. I just want some transparency and you can’t be decent enough to give that to me! So, what is this officially and where do you see it going?” She demanded.

He was silent again, not looking at her.

“Well?” Her eyes were tearing up as she stared at his back. “Nothing? You can’t even fucking look at me when I’m talking to you?” She bit her lip, trying to fight back the tears.

He turns around and stares at her, his eyes impassive. “Alex.. I.. I’m not ready to commit to anything. I’m sorry, ok? I just.. I am young and I’m enjoying my career. Being settled down isn’t a priority to me at this point. Outside of football, I am not thinking about anything else commitment-wise.”

“Get out.”

“What?” He asked with a shocked expression.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment. Get the fuck out of my life. And fucking lose my number, you piece of shit!” She yelled at him, pointing her fingers towards her door. “Get out!”

He stares in shock once more. 

She doesn’t look at him and stares blankly down at the floor, schooling her face to not show anymore emotion to him.

“Alex..” He whispered pitifully.

“Just go.. Please.” She said back quietly, refusing to stare at him.

It was quiet for another moment or two and then she heard his footsteps pass her and go towards the door. She wished he had fought for her, but he didn’t.

The door closed behind her and when she heard his car start and pull out of her driveway, she finally collapsed to her knees, hugging herself tightly as she sobbed in heartbreak. 

She didn’t hear from him after that. Even though a small part of her hoped for him to come crawling back and to show he regretted it, she knew it was better he didn’t. What they had was unhealthy. Yet, she still held onto some hope that he would.

He didn’t.

A week later there would be another gossip column spreading around about Justin’s dating life, this time with a lingerie model. 

She was disappointed, but not surprised.

—---------------------------------------------------

A few months would pass and before Justin knew it, the season was over and with it a heartbreaking playoffs loss against the Jaguars.

He flew low after that, focusing on recovery post-surgery and keeping himself busy. And for once, that didn’t include dating.

Los Angeles had planted some habits in himself he swore he’d break free from before the pre-season training camp in the summer. One of those habits would be hookups and dating famous women. 

He found after the couple dates with the lingerie model that beyond their beauty, there wasn’t much substance to them. Instagram followers, brand endorsements, and sponsored trips were conversations he had with his business manager and PR specialist - not with a romantic interest.

He found also that his heart ached at times, his mind drifting to Alex and wondering how she was doing. She had blocked him on everything and from what he understood through mutual friends who remained oblivious to it all, she moved back to Eugene as well to live with her mom.

He missed her. He couldn’t deny that. Most of all, he regretted how he treated her and made her feel. The drive back from her place that evening she kicked him out was absolute hell. He couldn’t figure out what the deep pang in his chest was until he pulled into his driveway and put the car in park. There, he broke down crying.

He realized he loved her and then lost her all in the same day. It was his fault for leading her on and avoiding commitment. His stupid justifications were that if they remained in the situationship, the likelihood of hurting each other’s feelings would be less. 

Yet, looking back on it now, it made absolutely no fucking sense.

She was right - he led her on and broke her heart. And then she was done with his shit.

He ruined it. He didn’t even have the courage inside himself to go back and beg her for forgiveness, to take back what he said, and to apologize for hurting her.

No, instead he poured himself back into football, continued to go on dates with beautiful women that he had no interest in beyond surface level. Nights were lonely and he missed talking to Alex. Often, he’d pull up their text message threads, ignoring the most recent one and scrolling back to some of the good times they had.

Funny enough, thinking about her seemed to be a more common thing and Justin was certain God was now playing a cruel prank on him. Because what he came across next while scrolling Instagram was something he was NOT prepared for in any capacity. He sat in complete shock. It was as if every fiber in his being had turned to stone for those mere seconds his eyes scanned the images in front of him on his phone.

Snapping out of it, he quickly viewed the Instagram story again. It was from a mutual of his and his ex friend with benefits, Alex.

It was a gender reveal… for Alex... who was visibly pregnant and beautiful as the pink confetti from the poppers were floating around her.

And in that moment he knew. He had gotten her pregnant because there was no way she was out messing with other men. He knew better than to think that. She wasn’t that type.

But she apparently was the type to get pregnant and not fucking tell him.

The stirring of emotions in him at that very moment was more than he could comprehend. All he knew was that he was heading over to her place to talk whether she liked it or not. He wanted answers right then and there. And the two of them were both in Eugene. No better time than to pay a visit.

Justin could barely remember the drive to her mom’s house. He just knew she lived 25 minutes from him. By the time he came off auto pilot, he was in front of her door, knocking loudly.

There was no answer at first. Then, just as he attempted to knock again, the door swung open to reveal a sleepy Alex who had clearly just woken up. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt, Oregon State pajama bottoms, and socks. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail. 

She was rubbing her eyes and was just about to greet whoever was at the door when she realized who it was. 

They stared at each other in shock. Justin opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the door was being slammed in his face.

He stuck his foot in the doorway in just the split second he had and winced in pain at his foot being smashed in the doorway. “Fuck - wait Alex! Please!”

“No! Go away, Justin!” She yelled, using her own foot to try and nudge his out of the doorway, blocking her from shutting him completely out. “Seriously!?” She shouted as she felt him open the door wider with his good arm. Finally, she gave up and let go of the door, backing up to let him open it.

He did, proceeding into the house and bending down to rub his sore foot. “Fuck, Alex.. break my foot next time why don’t you..”

“Oh.. I gladly would. Who sticks their foot in the doorway like a dumbass?” She said rudely back.

He looked up at her, his expression showing how unimpressed he was with her attitude. “Well, clearly me because how else was I going to get you to talk to me?” He demanded. His eyes move instinctively to stare at the swell of her stomach showing beneath her baggy sweatshirt. “Alexandra.. We need to talk about this.” He nodded his head at her stomach.

She instinctively took a step back and wrapped her arms around her body. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There absolutely is.” He stood up, staring down at her with an upset expression. “When were you going to tell me that I got you pregnant?”

It was her turn to turn away from him and start walking to the living room. She ignored his calling of her name and waved her arm behind her, indicating for him to follow her. 

He did so without another word, still upset and still frustrated by everything. He didn’t know what to think or say. There was so much going on in his mind at that moment but anytime he tried to muster up the right words to convey the maelstrom going on in his mind, the words just wouldn’t string together and come out. 

She sat on the couch and gestured for him to do the same.

 He did, although he was unsure what she wanted him to do.

She reached forward towards a box he just now noticed that had his address on a shipping label. She was going to send him something.

Wordlessly, she handed the box over to him and watched as he used his house key to tear open the tape. He pulled the box open to find a beautiful wooden box with a cursive engraving that said, ‘Baby Girl Herbert. October 2023.’ He lifted the wooden box carefully out of its packaging and placed it gently on his lap.

His fingers traced the cursive lettering a few times as he stared at it. He knew what was inside it, but was stalling because the tears were already starting to form in his eyes. Justin looked up and made eye contact with Alex who smiled back at him tearfully, her eyes sad.

“Go on.” She urged gently.

And he did. He lifted the lid carefully and stared at the pink blanket that had patterns of ducklings on it. Carefully, he unraveled the blanket and found a copy of a sonogram, a baby onesie that said ‘dad’s #1 fan’, and a letter in an envelope. He didn’t know which to look at first, but his hand instinctively went to the letter.

He opened it and read it silently as Alex watched him with tearful, expectant eyes. 

Dear Justin,

I never imagined writing this letter to you - much less with how things ended between us. I want to get straight to the point. I am pregnant and she’s yours. I will gladly go through the court system and complete a DNA test if you’d prefer that for proof. I also would prefer this to remain quiet between us (including our legal counsel in the know and our immediate family) at this point because I am not interested in being in the news. 

I know this is shocking news to receive. I spent many nights trying to decide how I could even begin to approach you about this. I was terrified that you wouldn’t believe it given how we ended our situationship, and I was heartbroken. I told myself after finding out that I would take a few weeks to come to terms with this. It’s huge, Justin, we can’t deny that. 

Instead, time seemed to pass so rapidly and I just let time continue to pass. I am sorry you are finding out this way, and I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want. I plan to keep her, but I understand if you prefer a minimal role given how much football means to you at this point in your life. I certainly understand that.

Please feel free to give my home phone at my mom’s house a call. I listed it below in this letter.

Regards,

Alex

Justin gulped, tears now spilling down his chest as he folded the letter back up and stared down at the baby onesie in the box. His hand shakingly picked it up as he stared at it in wonder. He couldn’t believe such a tiny person could fit into this, much less a tiny person he helped make that would wear this. He wondered what she would look like. Would she have his eye color or hair color? Would she have the same smile as his? His nose or eye shape? The more he thought about it, the more the tears flowed.

Finally, he placed it back gently into the box and lifted the sonogram next. In college he studied biology and always figured that if the NFL career didn’t work out, he would consider med school as his back up. Sonograms were interesting to him given the few he’d seen in passing.

His eyes studied the shape of the fetus, his eyes pouring over the details. 

“The technician said she’ll like by a long baby.” Alex’s voice broke him out of his spell.

He looked over to her, staring at her in interest as she continued to explain the current size of their unborn daughter. Justin listened - the one thing he wish he had done months ago. He listened as Alex listed off how far along she was, how many appointments she had been too, her expected due date, the heart burn she was suffering with currently, the nursery her mom set up in the spare room of the house. He listened to it all.

When it was quiet again, Justin slipped the sonogram back into the box and sat it gently on the coffee table in front of them.

Then, he slid to the ground gently, turning to kneel in front of Alex who was still sitting on the couch, staring at him in shock, unsure what he was doing.

Justin gently gripped knee and leaned forward to place his head in her lap. His large frame started to shake as he cried quietly into her lap.

Alex immediately started to sooth him, running one hand up and down his back as the other ran gently through his hair. “Justin.. It’s ok.” 

He shook his head gently and mumbled, but Alex couldn’t hear them.

“What?” She asked gently. “Please sit up. You’re going to hurt your knees kneeling like that.”

He stayed put for a few more seconds before lifting his head up and staring at her with red eyes. “I said.. I am so sorry for everything. I know this doesn’t fix things between us, nor does it take back how I treated you, but I truly, sincerely mean it. I am sorry for being such an asshole. I am sorry I hurt you and put myself first. I am sorry I haven’t been here. But, Alexandra? I am now,” He stared earnestly at her, “I am. I am not going anywhere. I want to be here for our daughter and I want to be here for you. Please, please allow me that chance.”

She nodded tearfully and cupped his face, her stomach making it a bit difficult to lean forward fully. “I will never ever keep you from her, Justin. No matter what happened or is going on between us.”

He nodded at that and looked down. “And us?” He asked hopefully.

She smiled at him, “One day at a time, ok?”

He smiled back sadly, knowing she was right. It would be one day at a time for them, but he was hell bent to build a better relationship for them going forward. It wouldn’t be easy - he knew that. It didn’t stop him from wanting to try however. He was going to make this work.

“One day at a time.” He agreed.

[harrystylescherry]

Part Four: Terms and Conditions

A/N: FINALLLYYYYY

what it is: a summer romance in the south of france that breeds nothing but hurt

word count: 4.6k

pls pls pls reblog if you liked it!

i’d love to hear your feedback :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

here we go:

June 9

Harry hadn’t seen Della in more than a few days. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. If she was as unknowable as she said she was, it was because she was unreachable. On more than one occasion, during the first three days of not seeing her, he had called her—though he only let it ring a few times before hanging up. Even after they had laid the ground rules—or conditions, as she called them—and made it clear that she was attracted to him and wanted him in a very particular way, he was still feeling insecure. 

“Anything I’d like?” Della asked. Harry nodded. “I don’t know if you could handle what I like.”

Harry felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. He cleared his throat and willed himself to not think of all the things that could mean. It wasn’t exactly the right moment for a hard on. “I could.”

Della came forward and leaned her forearms on the table. “Let’s say you could,” she challenged. “But are you willing to follow the conditions?”

He had never been very good with rules. It was why most of his relationships ended. But this wasn’t a relationship, he reminded himself. There was less at stake. It would be easier. He leaned forward and mimicked her position. “More than.”

It was when she sat back with a smirk that Harry thought he might be a little in over his head. 

The conditions (rules) were as follows:

No sleepovers (which he should’ve seen coming)

No telling anyone they’re involved (he may have already broken that one, but he wasn’t going to tell her that) (he also was trying very hard not to be offended that she hadn’t bragged about meeting him to anyone)

No meeting up before three o’clock in the afternoon (this made no sense to harry, but Della swore no one met up with their fuck buddies before happy hour—from his experience, that wasn’t exactly true but she spoke with too much authority for him to question it)

No dates (if they went out to dinner or grabbed drinks, they would split the bill fifty-fifty–Harry only agreed to this to avoid an argument but there was no way in hell he’d let her pay for anything)

No catching feelings. The second someone came close, they had to be over (Harry’s cheeks flamed on this one, and he really pretended not to know why)

After they finished their drinks, Harry walked her to her door and they parted ways without a kiss. He would’ve, but Della refused to kiss him after having kissed someone else. Harry was grateful that she at least respected him that much, but part of him wanted her so badly that it wouldn’t have minded. So it was probably best that she didn’t. 

He had just come back from a run when his phone buzzed with a text from the enigma herself. It was a link to a jazz bar with the question: Tonight?

Harry Googled the place and saw it was a fifteen minute drive from him and a twenty minute walk from her flat. 

He texted back. I’ll pick you up at 9?

I’ll walk

No you won’t. I’ll pick you up at 9. 

Fine, bossy

You know you like it

Maybe only a little. For now, at least. Try me again in a few hours

Harry rubbed his palm over his smile, trying to wipe it away. See you later, Del

He had sent the message before he could think through the nickname. For a second, he stared at the message with a stomach full of nerves–but they vanished when the little thumbs up appeared above the bubble. 

“You can’t do that,” Della’s voice was stern as she spoke into her phone. She was half-ready for the beach, in her blue bikini with her cover dress gripped in her fist. 

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Josh said, annoyed on the other end of the line. “You told me to find somewhere else to live, and I did.”

“You weren’t supposed to find somewhere in the same fucking building.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me.”

“What I’m doing to you? That’s real fucking rich, Della. You broke off our engagement. You made me think you loved me and then moved to another fucking country!”

“I’m sorry–I don’t know how many times I have to say that, and I don’t–I’m not arguing about that anymore. I didn’t end things the way I should’ve. I–”

“I fucking followed you across the ocean.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that! Actually, I remember very specifically telling you that I had to go and do this for me.”

“There was nothing specific about the way you ended things and you know it.”

“Josh, you can’t live there.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”

Della scoffed. “As if I ever told you what to do.”

“You’re right, and you don’t get to start now. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’ve changed, and not for the better. Honestly, you breaking things off was probably one of the best things you’ve ever done for me.”

She could feel the rage seep into her bones. It was a new sensation–one that she had felt for the first time when Josh had shown up to her flat in London with a suitcase and a two-year visa stamped in his passport. It had become a familiar feeling since then, one that she didn’t know how she’d ever really lived without before. Every time she felt it, she realized that this is what it was like to have convictions, to have boundaries, and to have them crossed and violated. This is what it felt like to want to fight back instead of being disappointed for a few days before letting it all go. 

“Go home, Josh. Go back to Vermont. Go away.”

“I have a job here, now.”

“So find a new one.”

“I paid for a visa.”

“I don’t care. Just get the fuck out of my life.”

“Della–”

She hung up and took a shaky breath. She looked at the hardwood floor and considered lying down. It’s what she usually did when the feelings were too much, when it felt as though they would consume her. She’d lay on the floor and wait for the sadness or grief or disappointment or melancholy to seep from her. Anger didn’t work like that, though. It simmered, wanting to boil over and explode. Her body buzzed with the energy. She wanted to throw something, punch something. Suddenly, she felt she could relate to teenage boys–and she grimaced with the thought. 

She grabbed her journal and shoved it in her bag. All she knew how to do was write. It’s all she could do. She’d bake in the sun and swim laps in the sea and carve her anger into the page. 

Harry’s thumb tapped anxiously on the steering wheel the entire drive to Della’s. They hadn’t spoken since they made their plans that morning and his on my way text had gone unanswered. 

The day had dragged as he counted down the hours until now. And he hated that. He hated how invested he already was, how badly he wanted to see her, to feel her body beneath his hands. 

He was chalking it all up to sheer lust. Della was beautiful–striking. And she was a riddle. He had already been exposed to so many different sides of her–versions of her–that he didn’t know which ones were real and which were an act. He also couldn’t decide which version was his favorite; Shy Della, who fumbled with her keys and blushed every time he looked at her, or Self-Assured Della, who sat down with him after kissing someone else, not a hint of embarrassment anywhere on her, and told him that she’d like to forge an arrangement. 

He was prepared to walk up to the door and buzz her flat (3E, he remembered) and was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance. She stood in front of the Hermes storefront with her head buried in her phone. A breath caught in his chest at the sight of her in her periwinkle silk dress. The neckline dipped between her breasts in a way that made his mouth water, and the fall of the fabric made it seem as though it was cut precisely for her. He could see every line of her body–the curve of her waist, roundness of her hips, a tiny indent where her belly button was, the outline of her nipples. He had to collect himself before stepping out of the car. 

Her hair was thrown up in a casual ponytail, with wisps of red baby hairs floating around the base of her neck, over her ears and along her forehead. In her flat, gold sandals, she was so effortlessly beautiful, so chic, Harry suddenly felt a little unworthy and very insecure. 

“Hi, love,” he said once he stood in front of her. 

She jolted in surprise before looking up from her phone. “God, sorry, I didn’t even hear you pull up.” 

She had more freckles than the last time he saw her, and the tops of her shoulders were colored pink. His girl had gotten some sun. 

He physically cringed at himself. She wasn’t his anything. He’d do well to remember that. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said. 

Her eyes looked him over appraisingly. “So are you.” She tucked her phone into her bag. “Ready?”

Harry nodded and led her to the car with a hand on her lower back. He made sure to open the door before she could get to it and only closed it once she was tucked in and buckled up. 

He wanted to punch himself–or throw himself into oncoming traffic. Really, he was willing to do whatever he needed to stop being so nervous, so unlike himself. He was so aware of her, of her eyes on him, of every small movement she made in the passenger seat as he settled in and pulled away from the curb. 

“You’re quiet,” he commented when he realized they had made half the drive in silence. 

She tossed him a smirk. “So are you.” 

“Sorry, I’m just a little–” He stopped himself before he could say something that would scare her away. Because he knew it would. If he admitted to her he was nervous, then she’d remind him that this wasn’t a date, and so there would be nothing to be nervous about, and then she’d see that it didn’t matter and she’d call this off before it could even start. He’d come to know her enough to know exactly how that would go (and he only knew her so well thanks to the hours he’d spent picking apart every interaction they had). “Is everything okay?”

She sighed. “Yeah, just having to deal with something from home. A very annoying something,” she muttered. 

“Is it your ex?” 

Della’s head spun to look at him. “How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess. So what’s the deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened that sent you running all the way to France for the summer?”

“I did not run to France to get away from him. That’s what London was supposed to be for, actually. It didn’t exactly work the way I hoped.”

With a quick look at her, he caught the grimace on her face. “And how did you hope that would go?”

“He was supposed to forget about me.”

Harry scoffed. 

“What?”

“There’s nothing remotely forgettable about you.”

At a stoplight, he looked over at her and smirked at the look of shock on her face. She recovered quickly. 

“I need to be drunk  to have this conversation with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

The jazz bar was underground, the entrance a few steps below street level. The stained glass door was held open by the man working the door, and the couple slipped inside. 

It was hazy, though Della wasn’t sure why, considering smoking wasn’t allowed indoors–proven by the crowd of people inhaling and chatting on the street outside. The small tables were crowded together, forcing Della to lift herself onto her tiptoes as to not knock over the glass of the table nextdoor as she moved to her seat. 

A hand wrapped around her hip. “ça va?”

Della looked to the man the broad hand was attached to. He was hot, the French kind of hot, and if she wasn’t here with Harry, she’d probably end up sitting in the chair between him and his friend. But she was with Harry, so she sent him a polite smile and said, “Bien, merci.”

She slid into her seat and out of his grasp. When she looked up at Harry, his jaw was tight. He hadn’t liked that. His reaction made her giddier than it should’ve. 

“Humid in here, no?” She leaned over the small table to ask, moving the tealight towards the center of the table. 

Harry looked around. “Yeah.” His jaw was still ticking. 

Honestly, she was surprised at his jealousy. She didn’t think he had it in him; he just seemed too sweet, too go-with-the-flow, and hands-off to care enough to get jealous. Clearly, she underestimated him. 

Josh never really got jealous, and Della was always just toxic enough that it sort-of bothered her. There were a few months her sophomore year where she had found herself going out of her way to spark it. It never worked. She understood being secure in a relationship, being comfortable and sure about where you stood with someone, but it wasn’t about that. It was about feeling wanted, desired. It was about knowing that someone wanted you so much that they got just a little unhinged about it. A little possessive, like they wanted every piece of you for themself. 

But Della was who she was, and so she had simply let it go and accepted that it just wasn’t part of who Josh was. 

Harry’s eyes were locked on the stage, his jaw still tight. Clearly, he wanted to say something, whether to Della or the Frenchman she wasn’t sure, but he felt he couldn’t. Probably like it wasn’t his place. And it wasn’t, really. They weren’t together. This wasn’t a date. They were just two people…hanging out. 

“Should we get a bottle of wine?” She asked, while lifting the worn black book off the edge of the table and flipping through it. 

“Yeah, whatever you want.”

She let the smooth notes of the piano fill the space between them. When he still didn’t look at her, and the furrow in his brow didn’t lessen, she reached under the table and dropped her hand on his linen clad thigh. 

His eyes snapped to her’s.

“Should we get a red?” She asked casually, as she squeezed the taut muscle beneath her palm. Why she was trying to reassure him, she didn’t know–couldn’t even begin to think about why she cared. Not when she was meant to be doing the exact opposite. 

He dropped his hand onto her’s and smiled. “Yeah, we could do that.”

“Cool.” She pulled her hand away and held the book out to him. “You pick.” When he went to grab it, she pulled it just out of his reach and narrowed her eyes. “But nothing crazy. Fifty-fifty, remember?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Drunk enough to have that conversation?” Harry asked as Della drank the last of what was in her glass. 

“What conversation?” 

“The ex-boyfriend one.”

She scrunched her nose and Harry melted at the cuteness of it. Della eyed the bottle in front of her. There was probably a glass and a half left, but Harry didn’t plan on drinking anymore (he had precious cargo to drive home) so he poured the rest into her glass. 

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”

“What’s that?” 

“You think if you liquor me up, I’ll tell you all my secrets.”

“You’re drinking wine, not liquor.” She rolled her eyes. “And no, not your secrets.” He shrugged in earnest. “Just trying to get to know you.”

“I already told you–”

“Yeah, you’re unknowable. So you said.”

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t believe that.”

“Not believing something doesn’t make it any less true,” she said before taking a sip. 

“The same way that believing something doesn’t make it true.”She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t want to share, I can accept that. As someone who has had to fight for every ounce of privacy they got–and even still sometimes lost–I understand. But c’mon, Del, it’s not that you’re inherently unknowable, it’s that you want to be.”

He couldn’t tell if he’d gone too far. Her expression was unreadable. Panic tightened his chest and he took a long drink of water. 

Her pretty mouth twisted in…he couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or amusement or sheer, unfortunate acceptance that he’d just dragged them into the kind of emotional place she clearly never wanted to go. 

“I don’t know who I am. That’s why I’m here,” she said. “I’m unknowable to me.” Harry leaned forward, hanging on to every word she spoke. “London was supposed to help me. It was going to be mine, only mine. I was going to have to make decisions. Real ones. There’d be no one to catch me, or lead me, or influence me. Following the wind wouldn’t be an option because I’d have to survive–I’d have to thrive in order to survive. And then that was taken away from me, and everything was all washed up and confusing all over again. Not easy–no, not easy at all. It could’ve been, if I let it, but by then I’d learned how to have some resolve. I had conviction of my own. And I couldn’t give it up.” She finally looked up at him, though her fingers were still toying with the stem of her glass. “So I came here. To hold onto it. I can’t lose it, Harry, not when I just found it. Not when I need it.”

He understood what she was saying. He heard her. She wasn’t in a place to let anyone in right now, not when what she had found for herself was still so fragile. Della seemed to know herself better than she thought. She knew enough to know what she needed. If she thought herself as easily influenced, well, Harry could argue with that, but he didn’t know her before she came here. He didn’t know the version of her that she was so clearly trying to shake, and he wouldn’t challenge that. He wouldn’t make this any harder for her than it already seemed to be. But he wasn’t going to give her up either, so he’d be whatever she needed–whatever she wanted. 

“Okay,” he said, allowing an easy smile to take over his face. 

“Okay?” He didn’t like the insecurity in her voice. 

He nodded once, sure. “Okay.”

She could keep her secrets and her heart as long as she gave him everything else. 

Della was tipsy. Definitely, so. 

Which was fine. She was having fun, and the music moved from smooth to boisterous without a single warning. Something her and jazz had in common. 

On her way back from the restroom, where she waited in line for ten minutes to take the longest pee of her life, the Frenchman caught her hand. He’d caught her eye with his a few times throughout the last hour or so, but Della had done well with ignoring him. The glances weren’t creepy. More interested, questioning. 

And she knew exactly what he was questioning. She was in France, for god’s sake. She raised a single eyebrow. 

“Est-ce que je peux t'offrir un verre?”

He wanted to buy her a drink? She shouldn’t have been surprised by his boldness, but still, she was clearly there with someone else. 

She looked at him, and then back at Harry, whose jaw was tight, eyes set in a glare. 

Her hand slipped from his grasp as she leaned against Harry’s side, her hips level with his chest. She dropped a casual hand into his hair and toyed with the waves. His hand slid up the backs of her legs and over the curve of her ass to hold onto her hip. She looked down at him and smiled. “Non.”

His eyes flicked to Harry. “ Peut-être après?”

Maybe after? She wanted to laugh in his face, and also flick his forehead. Clearly, he knew Harry didn’t speak French. If he thought there was any chance he could understand their conversation, there was no way he'd be so forward. Her anger flared at the lack of respect. 

Even though it shouldn’t. She’d think about that later. 

With way too much ease, she settled herself onto Harry’s lap. For a second, he stiffened, clearly caught off guard, but within seconds, his arms were around her waist. The guy wasn’t worth a response, so she didn’t give one. Only turned towards Harry and kissed his jaw. It was still tight. 

She lifted her hand and held it on either side, massaging her fingers into where she could feel him clenching. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not the point.”

“I know,” she whispered. Then giggled, the wine fueling her more than anything else. 

“What?”

“I think I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Jealous. Possessive.”

“Protective,” he corrected. 

She smiled. “That too.”

He shook his head, and lowered his lips to her’s. 

A knock on the edge of their table broke their bubble. 

A different man, older, stood behind Della’s chair, his hand holding the back of it. He pointed to his left, where a few feet away, his group stood around a table. In French, he asked if they were using the chair. 

Clearly, she wasn’t in her right mind, because she told him he could have it. 

“Wait, sir–” Harry started as the man took the chair away. 

“Let him have it,” Della said and she relaxed further into him. “I’m perfectly fine where I am. Prefer it, actually.”

She really was going to be the death of him. All her squirming and readjusting each time she reached for her wine or water had hardened him beyond the point of comfort. It was taking everything in him to get it to go down–barely. He just needed to relax enough to get out of there without poking anyone in the eye. 

“Ready?” Della asked after she drained the rest of her water. 

“Yeah,” he said, though he was not. As she stood from his lap, he tried, as inconspicuous as possible, to readjust himself, managing to tuck himself into his waistband. He only had to deal with the discomfort until they got to the car. He could do that. 

He led her out by her hips, strategically holding her in front of him as they moved through the tables and up the stairs. 

“That was cruel,” he whispered in her ear after pulling her against him once they got to the car.

“What was?” She looked up at him with mock innocence over her shoulder.

He bit the inside of his cheek, reaching around her to open the car door. With a squeeze to her ass, he nudged her towards the seat. “In. Now.”

She paused and looked at him, playfulness and heat in her eyes. 

He huffed in playful annoyance. “What now?”

“I think I do like you bossy.”

Before he could reply, she slid into the seat and Harry closed the door. 

He knew, undoubtedly, Della would be the death of him. 

They went back to her’s (logistically, according to Della, it was the only option considering she didn’t have a car and sleepovers were against the rules) and barely made it into the room before Harry had her dress bunched around her hips. 

She tasted like wine and everything good in the world–it made him dizzy. He teased her and licked her until she was a whimpering mess, her hands lost in his hair and her thighs left with handprints where he had to hold her down. 

He left careless marks on her neck, for anyone like the prick at the bar. 

Before he slipped his cock inside of her, he whispered, “Mine.”

And when he was all the way inside: “You’re mine.”

“For now,” she breathed, caught up in the trails of a moan. 

For more than that. 

He’d never say it. And with a hard thrust into her, he pretended he never even thought it. He’d be smart to call it off. Only a few days of knowing her and he was in too deep. He cared too much. Wanted too freely. And if she knew, she’d leave him without a second thought. Where she stood had been made crystal clear. Harry needed to pull back, return to the same page. He could. He swore to himself that after tonight, he would. 

After he came with his face tucked into her neck, they shared a plate of whatever bits Della had in her fridge, and she made them a snack of chocolate and butter on a baguette. She was so excited to share it with him that Harry couldn’t bear to tell her that his ex had introduced him to it when they first met. It didn’t matter, anyway, since it tasted so much better enjoyed tucked into the sheets with Della. 

Her ponytail had loosened, spilling red around her face and over her shoulders. He reached out to wipe a crumb from her mouth and she bit his finger. He fought off the swell in his chest with both fists. 

“Should we call it a night?” She asked through a yawn. 

No. 

“Sure, yeah. I’m pretty beat.” He cleared his throat as he got up and started pulling his clothes on. 

When he tried to pull away after kissing her goodbye, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped her in his arms, squeezed, and placed a soft kiss to her neck. 

He had just turned on the ignition when a text from Gemma came through.

This her????

Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach as he tapped the photo. 

It was a shot of him and Della getting into his car leaving the jazz club. 

Thankfully, since his body had blocked most of her from the camera’s view and it was taken at an awkward enough angle (most likely as whoever took it walked past them), all that could be seen of Della was her fire-hued hair. 

The relief was short-lived. What if there were more? What if they were clear? He thought of everyone around them and tried to remember if he noticed anyone trying to take photos. Usually, he could feel it. Being in the public eye for so long had given him a sixth sense–a learned survival instinct–but he was so focused on Della he wasn’t sure he would’ve noticed. 

“Fuck.” He dropped his head against the seat and ran a hand over his face. If anyone had seen them out the last few times, pictures would’ve already surfaced. They were safe on that front, but now? Now people knew where he was, and they knew there was someone. 

He wouldn’t let them take this from him, let them ruin it. If it went up in flames, it would be his own doing. 

He wanted to laugh at his luck. At his life. Harry was already going to feel the loss when the summer was over and that was enough to hurt. Now, he could lose it much sooner, and that wasn’t okay with him. 

He put the car in drive, and started home. 

[lialacleaf]

The Chief And The Intern

Chief x Reader

Was Waiting All Along

It had been months since you had heard from John. Life hadn’t been the same since you’d gone back to finish your last semester of your master degree. University used to excite you, but after having run around the galaxy with the UNSC, being in actual danger, you felt bored.

Your friends noticed the difference when suddenly you were unavailable to go to the mall, and more interested in visiting the firing range.

Your mother almost fainted when she learned you’d taken up a martial arts class in your spare time. Your grades weren’t suffering, so you didn’t exactly see the problem.

Your father had pestered you every day to submit your application to his company, but the only place you’d sent your application was the UNSC’s board of communications.

You were going to find John, and the rest of Blue Team. You couldn’t just submit to the life your parents wanted for you, even if you’d be monumentally disappointing them.

You were scrolling through your laptop in your little dormitory when you saw it. You’d been scrolling through emails for hours, each rejection letter making your heart sink further and further when you saw it.

“We would like to receive your application for our recently opened clerical assistant position.”

It wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be doing but there was one little phrase that caught your eye.

“Reporting to Spartan Lieutenant 104”

There was no way. Fred had found you? How in the world had he managed that? You took a quick glance over the email before following the provided link to submit your application and cover letter.

“You did what?” your father asked as you silently cut into your steak.

“I applied to the UNSC, and I got in. I’m leaving after the graduation ceremony,” you stated firmly.

“But what about the job your father lined up for you at his company! You’re just going to throw that away? I can’t imagine the UNSC is going to pay someone very much for communications work,” your mother rambled frantically as she set her fork down.

Family diners in your parent’s penthouse were always tense, but this was another ball park entirely.

“It’s clerical work actually,” you muttered.

“Yn! What are you thinking!” your mother asked.

I’m thinking there’s a very handsome space soldier up there waiting for me. I’m thinking I’m tired of being coddled at thirty two years old.

“It’s a good opportunity. Free travel, important connections-“

“It’s unsafe!”

“Nowhere is safe Mom!” You said, slamming your knife on the table. “I’m tired of pretending that Sydney is safe just because it makes you feel better to have me at arm's length,” you said, standing from your place at the table.

“You’re not going to survive out there, yn,” your father scoffed.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have before, but things are different now. I’m not changing my mind on this.”

Your parents didn’t come to your graduation ceremony. You noticed that their chairs were empty as you lined up to walk across the stage.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth. You were being punished for not doing what you were told. Despite having argued with them, you’d at least wanted them to attend.

You tried to smile for the pictures as you walked across the stage, but it didn’t feel real. After the ceremony you packed your suitcases and left your dorm for the shuttles.

What if John wasn’t waiting for you anymore? What if you got up there and he’d moved on entirely?

You felt your throat tighten as you neared the pickup and your legs began to shake.

Were you making a mistake? Could you still turn around? Your parents would never respect you if you did.

You shook your head, silencing these thoughts as you loaded onto the shuttle. This wasn’t just about John. You were doing this for yourself as well.

“Wasn’t she supposed to be here already?”

Fred didn’t bother answering the question, knowing full well that if he told John the cargo ship was running late he’d probably grab a rifle and a ship and go out looking for you himself.

Six months wasn’t a long time, but it was long enough to make the Master Chief miss you so much he could hardly breathe.

“She’ll get here when she gets here,” Fred said with a shrug as they waited in the cargo hold.

“She’ll probably be hungry, we should take her to the mess. She’s probably forgotten how to get there,” Kelly said, admittedly excited to see you again.

When the intercom finally announced the arrival of your ship, Blue Team sprung into action. John searched the faces of deboarding passengers for you, feeling a sense of panic until your smaller figure appeared, hauling two large suitcases.

He froze all of a sudden, willing his feet to move but unable to do so. He’d never felt this way before. Never had to hesitate, and yet he felt as if his stomach was doing summersaults.

Your eyes finally settled on him, and your feet halted.

Six months. Had anything changed?

You moved first, your hands abandoning their grip on your bags as you ran to him. Time seemed to catch up with the Spartan all of a sudden, and he barely registered that you had flung yourself towards him in time to bend forward and wrap his arms around your waist, hauling you in for a tight hug that squeezed the breath right out of you.

You buried your face in the Chief’s shoulder and sighed, the smell of gunpowder and cinnamon a sure sign that you were home.

“How’d you find me?” You murmured into his shoulder.

“Wasn’t that hard. Had some connections keeping an eye out for you. Ready to get back to work?”

He asked, setting you down as Fred and Kelly retrieved your bags. Linda gave you a firm pay on the shoulder in greeting.

This was exactly what you needed. Blue Team’s support, the promise of adventure on the horizon, and the Chief’s arms around you.

“As I’ll ever be,” you declared with a grin and the Spartan smiled softly at you. He had you back, and this time he wasn’t letting you go anywhere.

Tag List: @discowizard88 @laurenstacy610 @amaraohara @starchaser-the-prophet @embarrassedauthornerd @117s-girl

[f10werfae]

Bedazzled and Bewildered

pairing: Husband!Chris Evans x Shy!Reader

Summary: Y/n is supposed to be celebrating one of her major stepping stones but that seems to be far from her friends' intentions. Thankfully Chris always knows what to do

- Requests are open!

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(Y/n's P.O.V)

“o-oh yeah that’s totally okay, I get it” I said quietly watching my friends get into a limo after our night out. Sure I wasn’t the type to come out of my comfort zone, but that doesn’t mean I don’t mind being left out of social events. Tonight we were celebrating my engagement to Chris, something Stephanie herself had planned actually. Only to find out there wasn’t enough room in the limo for all 8 of us..

“Oh Y/n you don’t mind right, it’s just all of us haven’t hung out together in a while” Grace smiled linking onto the other girls while they faced me on the pavement, the limo waiting in the background.

“But I thought-“ I said feeling my cheeks start to heat up, the alcohol clearly taking its effect strongly

“Well we know it’s not your thing so we thought it’d be chill if you just went on home? I mean that’s okay right? The hotel room only has beds enough for us, plus you’re a home body anyway”

So now i’m stood at the front of a random club in a part of town i’ve never been to before, and Chris is out with his buddies tonight. Starting to feel a bit scared I (as a reflex) felt myself start to shake a little bit and wobble, however finding the courage to hail down a yellow cab and heading straight home.

I got through the front door, yeah my social battery was basically dead, but I would’ve loved to spend some time with my friends tonight. Dodger instantly ran towards me, his wet snout sniffing all over as he licked my hands and face, at least someone was in a good mood tonight

Giving him his usual fill of cuddles I walked up to our bedroom, changing into my favourite pair of fluffy baby blue pyjamas. With my makeup now off and my hair combed back into a bun, I padded on downstairs and settled onto the couch.

With Disney plus now playing the original Peter Pan movie, I felt warm tears slide down my cheeks, not even wanting to check my phone when it said there were videos sent into our group chat. Cuddling into Dodger, I slowly felt myself calm down; the movie giving me a sense of homely comfort. Trying to ignore the throbbing dizzying pain in my head, I shoved my face more into the soft couch pillow.

Even back in high school I never meant to be the butt of their jokes, i’d rather stay quiet than make them uncomfortable, so I guess that’s where I need to improve

(Chris' P.O.V)

“Alright guys I think imma head home, I wanna be there when my girl gets home tomorrow, hopefully not too drunk” I said waving off to the guys as I left the house where we were getting together to watch the game. My heart swelling with pride with the fact I had someone to get home to, that didn’t have fur of course.

God I can’t wait for Y/n to get home, heck I was proud of her for going out tonight. Recently she had been struggling a lot with social anxiety with the paps constantly on our case cause of the engagement. Still smelling her sweet vanilla scent on me I drove up the driveway, expecting the house to be empty.

“Did I leave a light on or somethin?” I whispered to myself getting out of my car and opening the door warily. A soft smile finding its way onto my face when I wandered in to see Dodger and Y/n snuggling on the sofa with a Disney movie on in the back.

“What are you doin back so soon baby?” I asked coming to stand in front of her, her big doe eyes peering up at me with a frown on her red flushed face. That’s when I knew something was wrong.

(Y/n's P.O.V)

“I-I don’t know what I did wrong” My throat closing up as I felt sobs threaten to break out from me. Chris pursing his lips and bending down to pick me up, his hands wrapping around me as I hung onto him like a koala.

“Let’s get you more comfy sweet girl and then we can talk yeah?”

Nodding my head, he carried me into our bedroom, peeling back our soft cotton covers and setting me in. Getting changed himself into his own sweatpants,

“Ya still can’t be getting shy like this bunny” He smirked watching me cover my face under the blanket once he got nude, before pulling up his sweatpants.

“Cant help it, you’re too handsome” I muttered feeling him slip into bed beside me, he gently pulled down the sheets covering my face.

“Ya wanna talk about what happened today bun?” He said pulling me to lay my head on his chest as he sat against the headboard, his hands playing and ruffling my hair as I talked away.

“Well you know how the girls and I went out to a bar tonight right?”

“Mhm” He hummed pulling back the hair strands that usually frame my face

“W-well we were supposed to stay the night at a hotel”

“Yeah ya told me that bun” He said pressing a kiss on my forehead, my fingers playing with the strings of his sweatpants.

“So once we got out of the bar, they told me that the limo didn’t have enough room and neither did the hotel room. S-so they jus told me to go home” I sniffed, feeling Chris tense up behind me, his hands stopping in my hair.

“Hold on, so how did you get home? You’ve never been to that side of town before”

“I took a cab” I muttered out already knowing what his reaction was going to be like.

“Baby you know that’s not safe. We don’t know who the paps are, you shoulda called me. Especially when you’re drunk” He sighed out tapping me to sit up and look at him. His lips tightly held together with a sad look on his face

“I know but I didn’t wanna disturb you and I just wanted to get home quickly” I leaned onto him, his arms rubbing my arms softly

“I know bun, but next time you call me alright? N' fuck those friends of yours, excuse the language but what assholes. I don’t want you to hang out with people who put you in these dangerous positions”

“I know, i’ve been thinkin about that a lot recently, i’m sorry for all this Chrissy”

“Hey no need to apologise none of this is your fault, they don’t deserve your precious self. I know Scar and Liz have been asking to go out shopping with you, would you be up for that?”

“Oh yes please” I said feeling myself start to feel better now, tracing my hands over Chris' tattoos before feeling him reach over into the bedside drawer and pull something out.

“Knock yourself out baby” Setting down the body markers, he smiled down at me and kissed my softly knowing exactly what I needed to fully relax. Turning on the T.V for some background noise, he started tracing shapes into my back, watching as I coloured in his tattoos on his chest.

“I love you Chris, I can’t wait to marry you” I whispered

“I love you more Y/n, in my head i’ve already married you baby”

“Ya wanna come out and visit Ma with me tomorrow” His nose nuzzling against my cheek while I worked on the tattoos further up,

“Mhm, I still have to give her the blanket she wanted me to knit”

“I’m still jealous you’ve never knitted me anything”

“Well I mean- It’s”

“YOU HAVE KNITTED ME SOMETHING HAVENT YOU” He shouted catching me red handed, his lips pulled into the smile I fell in love with all those years ago in college.

“B-but it’s not that good” I said pouting sitting up, his fingers tugging on my chin to bring me in for a kiss,

“Come on bub, let me see it” He frowned, placing various pecks all over my face, a smile forcing its way on me. Standing up I walked to my side of the closet, pulling out a soft blue phone pouch

“I heard you complainin about your new phone being too heavy to hold in your hands, So I thought-“

“Baby doll, why didn’t you give me this sooner” I felt Chris take the small pouch out of my hand and set his phone into it, slinging it over his shoulder, a goofy smile on his face.

“Cause it looks stupid” I frowned watching him look at himself posing in the mirror,

“No it doesn’t. Jeez whatd I do to deserve a fine woman like you, always takin care of me” He cooed taking it off and settling us back into bed, a soft smile on my face as I felt him caress the fluff on my pyjamas.

The upset feeling in my stomach started to boil up, my face contorting out of queasiness.

“Oh no” I whispered bolting out of the bed and throwing myself onto the cold bathroom tiles, hunching over and emptying my stomach into the bowl

“Baby” I heard Chris say walking over and hunching down beside me, holding my hair behind my head as he ripped off a bit of tissue and dabbed at the side of my face.

“I’m so sorry Chris, i’m a mess”

“It’s okay baby doll, come up here and let me see ya” Chris had lifted me up and cupped my face, placing a kiss on my forehead before helping me brush my teeth. His arms supporting my now weak and tired body, enveloping me in warmth as we approached the bed once again.

(Chris' P.O.V)

“It’s alright bun, i’ll be here when you wake up” I said softly looking down at the bundle of love laying her head on my chest. Her scented shampoo filling my nostrils, her breaths evening out as her chest rose and fell. My hand combing through her hair, I don’t think I could be any more in love than I am with her.

She’s too good for this world.

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @pandaxnienke @patzammit @seren-a-ity @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone @evanstanwhore @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @tojisbabymommy @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly

[rieadiary]

NECK KISSES | l.hc

dom!haechan x sub!reader

summary ; wherein a stressful conversation leads to mess you weren’t expecting.

warnings ; breeding kink mention?, haechan says sweetheart & love, rough sex, dominant haechan, sneaky link mentions

a/n ; I spent a lot of time on this.. I really hope y’all enjoy, also not proofread so forgive me on that oh! and my friend asked me this so I’m answering it for y’all too, the girls in the pictures can be used as reference as the girl in the story if you don’t wanna imagine yourself, if you catch my drift!

Haechan watched you write in your book during class. You dressed very laid-back due to it being exams soon and Haechan thought it was adorable how you tried to hide the stress you were feeling. He watched you slowly stop paying much attention to your looks during school because there was no point, he loved that when it was just the two of you, you’d dress up prettily because that’s what he liked to see, but oh how he loved seeing you in your natural state.

You packed up your things as class ended, sighing in relief that the school day was over and all you had was studying to do.

“You okay?” Haechan snuck behind you, whispering close to you seductively.

“Not now Haechan,” you shrugged him off, pulling your book bag over your shoulder. Haechan smirked, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, “sweetheart, you’ve been avoiding me all week when are you gonna let me love you?” Haechan asked sweetly, his voice too sweet, almost like he was putting you through a spell as he spoke.

You sighed, pulling the loose strands of hair behind your ears, “I don’t know. When exams are over? I told you this already, I can’t afford to loose my scholarship over a sneaky link” you explained again, trying to walk past him but he stopped you forcing you to sit down.

“Sneaky? Link?” Haechan scoffed, laughing annoyed. “Is that what I am to you? Just someone to sneak around and have sex with?”

“Yes” you agreed, looking around to see kids walk in the classroom for tutoring.

Haechan scoffed again, this time silence following shortly after. “Alright then, hope you pass your exams then, love” haechan’s voice dripped with venom, evident that he was angry but he was a gentleman and accepted your decision.

The exams went smoothly. You aced all of them and your teachers even told you that they’d put in a good word to any school you’d apply to. Unfortunately, you had no one to celebrate with. Your parents reaction was about a dry as it could be, and your friends didn’t take school seriously though they’d be proud to know you’d be getting into college easily now, but it wasn’t the same, they weren’t Haechan.

You tried texting him, calling, you even tried showing up to his house but to no avail, all of those options didn’t reveal Haechan. You remembered the last conversation you had with him and cursed yourself, admitting that the conversation shouldn’t have went that way.

Both you and Haechan had been seeing each other for a year now but it never went anywhere because you were afraid of settling down. When it came down to things like going on dates and being public, that wasn’t really your forte but at the same time it was, you were just too afraid of what would happen when you finally admitted that.

Maybe you should’ve just taken that risk after all.

“At all? Like you even sent him a titty pic?” One of your friends asked seriously, crossing her arms in shame, you shook your head no, feeling the seriousness of the situation all too soon. “Yeah girl you really messed up this time, he probably would’ve let it slide if you didn’t say sneaky link”

“I know! I was just stressed out, exams are the only thing I was worried about and I just felt like he was worried about sex you know?” You tried to reason but your friend glanced at you blankly, not finding your reason valid.

“Well you’ll never know now because he’s probably moved on” she added dryly, getting up to get something to drink.

She was right. It had been three whole weeks and you hadn’t heard from Haechan since the conversation, you had been dying to tell him that you passed your exams and it didn’t feel right not being able to. You supposed that was all your fault.

“Oh! I know! We can go to his fine friends house, the one who wants to be a pussy doctor?”

You grimaced at your friend, shaking your head “his name is jaemin you know..” you trailed off, eying your friend who shrugged, “I don’t care what his name is, in my eyes his name is daddy” she nodded at herself, grabbing her keys, “coming or not? This is your only chance to get your man”

You immediately got up, if not for Haechan than for the fact of being there to make sure she doesn’t embarrass herself.

Jaemin had let the both of you in with a gentle grin on his face, aside from the fact that your friend was drooling over Jaemin you saw Haechan sitting with his ex yasmine, who you remember fighting because of a misunderstanding.

You walked over to haechan and he eyed you, turning his attention back to yasmine who continued to talk to him about probably nothing, anger bubbling through you.

“Haechan can we talk? Now?” You muttered through grit teeth. Haechan sighed before getting up, walking to the room down the hall without uttering a word to you, obvious he was feeling a certain way.

You set your bag down and staggered towards the room, shutting the door behind you.

“You serious right now? Yasmine? Of all people you talk to her again?” You questioned Haechan who didn’t answer, simply rolling his eyes.

“Haechan don’t start that right now, get out your feelings and answer me”

Haechan crossed his hands over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “Hello? Are we gonna talk about how you were just with your ex? I’m not gonna leave until we do” you stepped up to him and he resisted the urge to smirk, staring dangerously into your eyes.

“I’m not gonna answer you until you realize who you’re talking to, sweetheart” Haechan warned you lowly. Edging his face close to yours.

“I know who I’m talking to, this act you have going on right now isn’t gonna faze me. Now answer my question”

You tried to speak again but Haechan grabbed your jaw, chuckling at the nerve you had today. “Act? Do you want me to show you who you’re talking to? Want me to show you how I really act?” Haechan smirked in your face and you swallowed, your heart beating nervously.

“Show me, show me who I’m talking to then” you dared him, not backing down from your dominance.

A second after your words he pushed you on the bed behind him, smiling at you. “Yeah? You want me to show you? Okay y/n” Haechan crawled on top of you, kissing you harshly, you could barely keep up with his pace and he knew that, resulting in him only biting your bottom lip as he held your throat with his hand.

“Ah- Haechan-” you tried to say as he broke the kiss, pressing kisses over the sensitive skin on your neck. Your hand flew to his wrist as his grip around your neck tightened, marks being made all over your skin.

Haechan pulled away, staring in your eyes, “are you sure you want this?” He asked quickly, his eyes dark and his breath uneasy. You nodded, this what you wanted for three weeks now, his attention, his love, his lust for you.

“Words, love, I need you to tell me what you want”

“Yes Haechan, yes” you found yourself growing needy, his gaze making your stomach do butterflies.

Haechan ripped your shirt in half, kissing you roughly again. You didn’t have time to be shocked about your shirt because after he pulled away from kissing you he was already pulling the straps off your shoulders, gripping your boobs and licking your nipples.

It was all so much, it all felt too good too soon. He had never been like this and it made you want him even more, you wanted him to make you beg for his forgiveness, you wanted him to be rough.

“Pants off, quickly” he ordered and you obeyed, sitting up to take your jeans off, revealing your pretty red panties that he bought you. “Aw cute, those off too” he added playing with the band of your panties. You shyly shrugged off your panties as Haechan was growing impatient, he grabbed the panties and tugged them off you, grabbing your legs and pulling you near his face.

“Now love, I need you to be quiet, every moan you let out I’ll slow down” Haechan kissed your thighs, edging close to your soaked pussy. You bit your lip nervously, knowing you couldn’t be quiet not while he was eating you out.

“Haechan you know I can’t-” you tried to explained but Haechan tsked, slapping your thigh, “you can love, and you will or you won’t cum yeah? He warned, pressing kisses to your clit.

“Y-Yes.. I’ll be quiet” you breathed feeling Haechan already start licking your clit, working his tongue on you at a very slow pace, the feeling already causing you to bite your lips again, hoping you didn’t make any noise.

Haechan picked up his pace, his tongue moving faster as he squeezed your thigh, groans leaving his mouth everytime he tasted you “you taste so good my love, all for me right?” He asked putting his attention back on your click, speeding his tongue up.

You couldn’t talk. Your breaths had already quickened and every now and then you’d let out a small moan that you hoped Haechan didn’t hear, you had your bottom lip tucked under your teeth in attempt to silence yourself, rolling your eyes in pleasure everytime his tongue flicked your clitoris.

“Right? Speak, now” he demanded as he stuck a finger inside of you, his eyes staring into yours. After a couple seconds of you trying to remember what he said he stopped his movements, sitting up to look at you,

“Don’t make me ask again love,” his voice was so low, turning you on even more.

“Y-Yes only for you Haechan, please..” you begged wanting nothing more but to feel his tongue again, to feel him do something again.

“Mm, took to long my love” Haechan unbuckled his belt, pulling down his pants, “cmon, be a good girl” Haechan ordered to you who instantly sat up, knowing exactly what he wanted.

You grabbed his cock, edging his tip in your mouth and Haechan tsked again, grabbing your jaw and sliding himself in your mouth, groaning when he felt your warm mouth around him.

He hummed, feeling himself slide in and out of your mouth. “Yeah, this feeling is only from you, you’re so good y/n” he praised your mouthwork, watching you deepthroat him with no hands. He always felt himself almost finishing too soon when you sucked his cock, he missed you more than he would admit and the way you treated him right now made him forget all about your words towards him.

Haechan pulled you off him, watching you try to catch your breath, drool down your chin. “Yeah, all messy just for me, you know who’s in control now? Or do I need to show you some more?” Haechan said in your face, wiping the drool off your chin, “show me please haechan, I need to feel you” you pleaded and Haechan groaned at how needy you sounded.

“Lay down”

You did exactly what he asked, laying down on your back as he immediately spread your legs, he licked his lips at how wet you were, wanting to devour you again, he aligned himself with your pussy, sliding himself in, cursing at how good you felt, “remember, quiet my love” his voice faltered and you leaned your head back, covering your moans up with your hands, feeling him enter inside you.

You felt Haechan inside you, slowly at first. You looked at him inside you and it made you moan, you bit your lip halfway through the strangled moan but Haechan smirked, quickening his pace once he heard your sounds.

“That feels good?” He sped up more, picking your legs up on his shoulder and he pounded into you, hearing your sounds grow louder the more deep inside he was.

“So good, keep going, right there Haechan yes” you whimpered feeling him deep inside you, his position changing now and then and the angle hitting all the right spots every time. “Only I can make you feel like this. Me, only I can be this deep inside- inside you” Haechan moaned, bending down to moan loudly in your ear, making sure you heard how you made him feel as well.

“You feel so good, so good, wanna put babies in you” Haechan growled in your ear and his words make you moan in full blown pleasure, tears falling down your face as you felt your climax nearing.

“Haechan cum, I’m cumming” you squeezed out a moan, grabbing his back harshly as he whispered in your ears that he was nearing too, releasing inside of you just as you finished.

Haechan pulled away from your ear, pulling out as his eyes widened, “oh love.. I forgot to pull out” he said to you, genuinely forgetting.

You sighed, not minding much of what he just said. You were too tired to care about the problems that came with him cumming inside you, you closed your eyes and felt Haechan engulf you in a hug, picking you up shortly after before you drifted off to sleep.

xoxo, riea!

TAGS ;

[sweetstench]

answering a bunch of questions

i get lots of asks but i'm bad at responding to them, so here's a big post where i answer all of em in a row. sorry if i missed any

thank you! honestly voice acting for my videos has helped me a lot over the years; I find it a lot easier to experiment with my voice in character, when it’s detached from my own ego. re: publicly transitioning, i can only speak from my own experience, but i’ve found it just takes a lot of baby steps to get where you want to be. it’s awkward at first but i much prefer to be awkwardly me rather than someone i’m not. i believe in you!

thanks, that's very considerate! yeah i'm sweetstench on youtube, tiktok, and twitter, and i'm sweet.stench on ig because someone else got it. i'll add the links to my blog header at some point, i hardly know how to use this website

i'm carter amelia davis, and i don't make creepy videos, all of my videos are nice :)

NO!!! that is not ok

hmm i live in minneapolis, that must have been my philly doppelganger

cool, i'm glad i did a good job tagging that one. someone actually requested the “parasite” tag for that one so i added it. it seems like people really want to define their own experiences on here and i respect that. tagging my posts kinda makes it so I can’t post “in character,” but i also don’t want people to be uncomfortable. my goal with the gore and body horror shit is to be nasty, so i can’t fault people for finding it nasty, haha. just trying to do my best

thanks, it's been a good one. i had some good tamales

this is so sweet of you to say! means a lot, truly <3

i have to imagine this was sent with good intentions but it feels like a well-crafted neg, haha. anyway peace n luv xoxo

i'm pleased to hear that i’m giving off leaking gas pipe woman vibes. Very cunty

not sure how to engage with this one , never had someone hit on me anonymously.. you correctly clocked me as a lesbo tho, haha

nope, can't dwell on my past work. gotta keep moving forward!

you must be cutie-melon to the fullest extent!

i looked it up, this is some freaky stuff! thanx for recommend

~~~ General Nice Comments Section ~~~

~~~ These Are All Appreciated, Thank U ~~~

i hereby grant swagheartwerewolf permission to fuck, in general. they are no longer banned from making love. that is my decree.

[spidrstar]

HE AINT SHIT pt 1.

★ pairings: aged up e!42 miles!morales x latina!reader

★ slowburn? maybe?? idk.. (prob not) characters are 18+ in this story they’re in their mid twenties. mentions of going to the club

★ warnings: as i write this story it will be slightly suggestive in some parts, if that bothers u dni.. LMAO

★ a/n: pls enjoy i put a lot of effort into this 🥹 i’ll be adding a link to a playlist i made you could listen to when reading abt miles lmk what y’all think.

★ summary: You’re tired of a sad excuse of a man you call your boyfriend making empty promises, so one night you decide not to let your time out go to waste and you step into a club. Someone catches your eye, and maybe your number too.

★ part 2

mwah

“Had a chance you still never came through

You say you wanna come see me

‘Cause your girlfriend wanna be me, uh”

- long way 2 go : cassie

Mouthing these lyrics you look up and smile at yourself in the mirror, clipping on your gold hoops in between your ear lobes. Absolutely loving your look tonight, it only made your smile grow wider knowing exactly what this look was for.

A date

It had been a while since you’ve gone on a date, your last date was about a month ago since you started dating your boyfriend, Kole. You had started to think he really wasn’t taking your relationship seriously after the 3rd time he stood you up, but 2 nights ago he smothered you in kisses and had promised you he would make it up to you by quote on quote ‘rocking your world’ tonight. The thought only making you chuckle lightly.

So of course you being the girl you are, you made sure you looked your best tonight. You had wore your newly bought two piece red lace set from victoria’s secret, not only that but you basically showered yourself in your veryyy expensive perfume. You made sure this night was going to be perfect. You finished curling your hair the way Kole liked and twisted the cable around the curling iron, leaving it out on your desk to cool down.

You clipped on your gold necklace with your name written in cursive and took one last look at your makeup close up, making sure it hadn’t creased. You tapped on your phone with a freshly manicured acrylic, the screen reading 7:40 pm. Your date was at 8 o’clock and you made sure you were going to be there on time. You stood up from your vanity and headed to your shoe rack and picked out your black heels, stepping into them you grab your black Kate Spade purse and headed towards the door.

Keys in hand, you tap your phone noticing you had 10 minutes left to be there on time. You rush into the elevator down the hall and press the 1A button. As you walked out of your building you rummage through your keychains finding your car keys and pressing the unlock button. 6 minutes left, you drove over to the new Italian restaurant that opened up down the block. Luckily for you, there was a parking spot right in front of the restaurant waiting for you. You paid for the parking spot and headed in, taking a quick look at your travel size mirror making sure you looked as cute as you did when you stepped out the house.

You headed in, making sure the lady at front seated you in your reserved seat you asked for a cup of water. Your mouth felt dry because for some reason you felt nervous, it has been a while since you’ve been out on a fancy date so maybe you forgot the feeling. You waited what felt like 10 minutes, the cup already empty you tapped your phone on the table and it read 8:10 pm. You unlocked it and pressed imessage. You felt slight anger and sadness, in high hopes of Kole not pulling the same shit he does on every date. Sending half angry messages, you checked the last message he had sent you was at 2:30 pm. You scoffed and thought, ‘Huh, guess that’s how much i truly mean to him.’

my love❣️: where are you??

my love❣️: Kole te lo juro, if i don’t see you walk through the entrance in the next 5 minutes.

my love❣️: I can’t believe you’re doing this shit again.

You set your phone down sighing, your lips curling down into a slight frown. You decided to wait it out, hoping he was playing some sick joke on you. More than a few minutes had passed and you tapped your phone again, this time it read 8:38 pm. You got up from your seat angrily, heading towards the front desk lady letting her know you would be leaving. You stormed out of the restaurant, you were so eager to try their food and your ‘boyfriend’ stood you up again. You had put so much effort into getting ready for him tonight, really believing he would keep his promise. Heading to your car a thought popped into your head, glancing across the street and reading a sign that read Starry Nights in neon blue. You glanced back at the time you had paid for your parking, and you had plenty of time left.

You basically speed walked to the club entrance, you weren’t going to let all your effort go to waste. You stepped into the club scanning for a bar, as you so desperately needed a drink to drown the sadness from being stood up for the 4th time. You pushed your way through once you had spotted it and sat down with a sigh, asking the barista for the strongest drink they had. While waiting you took in your surroundings, noticing all the different color dimmed lights. Watching all the people dancing closely against each other you had the urge to go and let loose but you didn’t. You held back, you weren’t reallyy in the mood and the last thing you needed was some creep trying to take you home.

You turned around checking if the barista was done with your drink, but had noticed they were making other orders too. So whilst you kept patiently waiting, you picked up your phone and checked your notifications in hopes of Kole answering. Oh how wrong you were, you read ‘no new notifications’ and closed your eyes and let out a long breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. What you needed was something, someone to distract you from this situation before you started bursting out into tears. No matter how angry you were, you knew you were still hurt.

Glancing to the side searching for a distraction you notice a tall dark skinned male with two braids flowing down his neck, interested you eye the rest of him down and he wore black cargo pants with a plain black t-shirt complimented by a silver chain, a purple zip up accompanying it and a pair of limited edition air jordans.

You quickly drag your eyes back up in hopes of catching what his face looked like, instead you hear the barista place your drink in front of you. You turn your head giving them a smile uttering out a quick ‘Thank you’ and turning back around. The barista seemed to have been making both yours and his order at once because he also had a freshly poured drink in his grip.

Your eyes glistening with anticipation wanting oh so bad to see what this man looked like. He finally turned his head enough for you to get a view of his side profile, a fresh fade and a shiny silver stud clinging onto his earlobe complimenting his strong jawline and cute dimples. He smiled at the barista and turned his head in your direction, you quickly diverted your attention elsewhere taking a sip from your cup nervously.

He grinned at your reaction and spoke up, “You here by yourself nena?” you perked up and turned to look at him again surprised by his low husky voice. “Yeah,” you say with a hint of embarrassment and sadness, you stared at the ground. He turned his body full attention on you eyeing you up and down. If looks could kill you would probably be dead by now from the way his half hooded eyes stared at you. His grin slightly grew, “And whys that? Te ves demasiado bella para que estés aquí sola.” A slight giggle escaped your lips at that comment and you looked up at him again, “Bueno, let’s just sayy someone made empty promises. I got stood up.” He scoffed as if he didn’t believe you.

“Some balls you gotta have to do that to a girl like you. What’s your name preciosa?” You smile at the nickname he gave you, moving slightly closer you answered. “Y/N, and yours?” his hand found its way to your waist gripping it slightly. Looking at you eyes half lidded he answered, “Miles.” You stared at his lips, even the way he said his name was attractive. You both stared at each other for what felt like 20 seconds and got lost in the moment, leaning closer into each other, lips inches apart. That was until you snapped out of it and thought, ‘i have a boyfriend i can’t be doing this.’ You had just realized how close you both were and turned your head to the side slightly moving his hand from your waist.

Even though you were mad and didn’t want to admit it in that moment, you still loved Kole and you weren’t sure if you really wanted to throw your relationship down the drain just like that for a guy you had just met. As good as he looks you wouldn’t be able to do it just like that, maybe Kole would redeem himself.

“I—I can’t, i have a boyfriend.” He seemed unamused and furrowed his brows, gently grabbing your chin he turned it back towards him making you look up. “Don’t do that mami, he obviously ain’t givin’ you the attention you deserve.” He glanced at your lips leaning closer towards your neck, the musky smell of his cologne filling up your nostrils. As hard as you were trying to resist you found yourself giving in, muttering out a low “You don’t know that.”

Pulling you closer by the waist he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “I do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” You subconsciously moved closer and from there he placed soft kisses down your neck. One hand resting on the side of his neck, you let your head fall back and let a low moan slip. That sound was all it took to bring you back to reality, you slightly pushed him back.

At this point, the thought of Kole had slipped your mind, at the back of your head you knew if he wasn’t going to fulfill your needs and treat you right someone else definitely would. His free hand snaked up your thigh as he spoke softly, “I’m what you need ma, just lemme prove it to you.” You hesitated, not sure if this was the right thing to do. “I don’t know, i really love him and—“ That was until you felt his hand go higher, cutting you off “Say yes, mami.”

Biting your lower lip you gave in, “Alright, fine just give me a few days to think.” you slipped out your phone and passed it to him. He grinned saving his contact in your phone, with that he placed another sweet kiss on your neck. “See you Friday, mi amor.” he said, as if ignoring what you had just said. His hands moving away from your body, a low whine escaped your lips at the lingering feeling as he disappeared into the crowd.

On your way out the club you had so many thoughts racing through your head. You felt so dizzy, you had only taken one sip from your drink and it still had an effect on you. Tapping on your phone, the screen read 10:47 pm, you also had 5 messages from Kole from about an hour ago and 3 missed phone calls and 2 missed FaceTime calls. You rolled your eyes thinking, ‘Now he decides to care.’

You got into your car and rested your head on the steering wheel for a few minutes trying to wait out your pounding headache and the pain you felt coming from the heel of your feet. Turning your head to the side, sighing with closed eyes you opened them back up. Glancing back at your phone, you saw his name.

Miles.

★ translations: te lo juro - i swear || te ves demasiado bella para que estés aquí sola - you look too beautiful to be here alone || bueno - well, good (in this case it’s used as well) || preciosa - precious

TAGS:

[kyra45]

Pet donation scams

What is a pet donation scam? - This kind of scam is most commonly done with cats though on occasion a dog is used. When someone is doing this scam, they have went on a private group or public site and saved the post there such as it’s images,story, and the owners name. The scam is that when they repost it to here, they have edited out any real fundraiser method and replaced it with their own fraudulent one. They don’t actually own the cat/dog but have copied the real fundraiser just enough to pass it off as their own pet. Nothing in the post tells you it’s someone else’s pet as they really want you to trust them enough to send money without looking too much into it. While the images and story are legitimate, the other information has been purposely removed. Nothing given goes to the animal in need.

Was there an ask sent? - Commonly found by asks that are sent requesting private answers. Recently, these asks tell you they don’t want people thinking you was pressured into sharing the post and people might be weird about it. Really, they just don’t want people seeing your answer when the ask is searched because you’d see how many others have got it and may have called it out. These asks are designed to guilt trip you and shame people who call them out but usually gives it away their not being honest since no one would ask you something like that. You might get this ask by sharing a trending/popular post.

How much content is on the account itself? - When checking the blog out that sent you the ask or has the post shared by someone you follow, keep in mind how many posts the account has overall. Usually there’s only a few trending/popular/fandom posts shared and then the pinned post itself. Their archive is usually turned off so you can’t see this; But scrolling for a few minutes should mean you’ll find the last post quickly. Turning on timestamps should also show you the posts were all shared at the same time too and they don’t have any tags either.

Have you asked them questions? - If unsure of the account’s legitimacy, I suggest asking them a few questions about the pet: How long have they had them? Do they have older vet records of past visits? Can they show you a recent pic of them holding their name on a paper near the cat? Would calling the vet itself be possible for donating? Any of these would be answered easily by someone who actually owns the pet. But those who don’t own them won’t be able to answer or properly.

What is a quick way to spot this scam? - Check the date of the pinned post. It’s usually only a few hours old, a day old, or even a week old. Another way is searching the bio to see if it’s been stolen off someone else. Look at the vet location and then press/hold or hover over the link they give you. If the country doesn’t match the state, it’s likely not the real owner of the pets link. As these suspicious accounts tend to impersonate the actual owners closely in order to look legitimate.

What to do once you figure out it’s a scam? - Warn anyone who doesn’t know it’s a scam and has shared the post unless they’ve called them out. Report the account for phishing (Report -> Something else -> Illegal uses or content -> Phishing), block them, then alert your followers as well. Keep in mind scammers will always delete/hide any replies/reblogs that have called them out.

—

If you like this guide, feel free to check out my blog as I report on these scams nearly daily among other kinds of scams that I post about. If you like my hobby, feel free to drop some pocket change as thanks! However, all I really want you to do is share this post to help me bring awareness of tumblr scams. Send it to people who might not know what a pet donation scam is or link to it in posts you make! Thanks. Hope this information is helpful!

[gucciwins]

Are bel and Harry celebrating 1 year of HH? How are they celebrating?

Hi babes, I wanted to write something in honor of the year one year of Harry’s house and thought interview style would be a fun way to share how Bel and Harry celebrated. Very little Harry and Bel but enough to give you an insight 💜💜💜💜💜

____

Zane Lowe checks in with Harry on the one year anniversary of Harry’s house. 

Harry is set up on Bel’s laptop for a Zoom call with his good friend Zane Lowe. Jeff had told him he did not need to do anything, but Harry thought about where he was a year ago and where he is now and wanted to share with his fans how this has been a fantastic year. 

While Harry’s team sent out an email thanking everyone for an incredible year, and if you scrolled down below the photo, you would find the link to his interview.

It opens with Harry looking away from the camera with a large dimpled smile. He leans out of the frame and is assumed to receive a kiss from his longtime girlfriend, Y/N Belmonte. 

Harry checks the audio and sees it off as he unmutes and begins to wave his hand in greeting. 

“Good day, Zane. How are you doing?” Harry greets.

“I’m doing well, my friend. Excited to talk with you,” Zane answers genuinely. 

The two start by checking how they’re doing and what they have been up to. Harry shares how it’s been the start of the tour and how excited he is for the last leg of Love on Tour. Zane expresses how he will try to make it out for Wembley. Describing how he can’t wait to be in that vibrant energy. 

“You’re always welcome,” Harry promises. 

Z: We are gathered here today because Harry’s House turned one year old. 

H: The big one. 

Z: This has been an incredible year for you. 

H: *laughs* It’s been unreal. 

Z: Tell me what this album means to you now, a year later. 

H: It means more to me now. This album I had so much fun creating. And when I finally shared it with the fans to see how well received it was, it was only an added blessing. 

Z: That’s beautiful. Now this album went on to have three singles and a sold-out world tour. It was also recognized as Album of the year at the Grammys. 

H: Don’t forget I swept at the Brits this year.

Z: *laughs* That you did. 

H: It was an incredible night. I feel honored that my album was loved by the fans and that I had an amazing fan there to present me with the award. It–it was special. A night I will never forget. 

Z: How have you been celebrating today?

H: *looks away from the camera for a second* I went on my morning walk alone, and when I returned, the living room was filled with balloons and streamers. There was a beautifully decorated cake. The album was playing Bel’s favorite song on the record player. Seeing all the trouble she went through for me made me tear up.

B: *whispers* No trouble at all. 

H: *giggles* It shows me how lucky I am to have someone at my side who celebrates all my accomplishments with me. 

Z: It’s magical to have people at your side uplifting every goal and dream you have. Thank you for sharing that. I know we’re limited on time, wanting to respect your time and all, but I have a few final questions. 

H: Of course. 

Z: I know most of the album was written in 2020, but you did say 2021 brought some changes. Don’t think you ever said what it was. Would you care to share? 

H: *blushes* The album started while filming my two movies. I thought going into my 2021 tour, the album was finished, but, uh…someone walked back into my life and changed everything. There are tweaked lyrics. A song or two was removed, and another was added. This album happened because of them, even if she thinks she doesn’t deserve the credit. 

Z: We don’t even have to ask who you’re talking about.

H: No, I guess we don’t. Think I may have slipped earlier.

Z: Either way, I feel they’ll know. 

Z: What do you think is next? What do you see for the future? 

H: I know you mean music wise, but after finishing in July, I’ll enjoy being home and being a son, a friend, and a partner. It might be crazy to say, but she’s all I see when I think of the future. It’s all I want to see. I guess that’s where I am in life. 

Z: Are you happy, Harry?

H: The happiest I’ve ever been. 

The interview blows up, and it’s safe to say it was the best gift Hary could give his fans on the first anniversary of Harry’s house, a peek into the inside of his life. 

_____

hope you enjoyed this little blurb amores 🤍

[pommunist]

disappointing to hear from the ex twitteradmins that they and the current twt admins have heard literally nothing from quackity of whoever else is doing the investigations and they also have to find out from twitter like everyone else. apparently they have a seperate discord server but they were still mistreated and should also be talked to (@/Gaelleilei & @/ibobidou both ex admins for qsmpFRA have said this)

I hope you don’t mind anon, I will use ur ask to share some updates on the situation. I just checked the twitter accounts you mentioned and yes it seems that so far they haven’t been made aware of any changes regarding the twitted admins side of things.

As for thé server admins side, Léa made more tweets about it and what she knows so far :

« To be real clear: I want to be transparent, I really want to bring you all good news about the restructuration of the server. I'm really sad to see it is not possible.

What I saw is: The actors have been kicked out of Quackity Studio, not knowing if they would ever be back.

The voluntary people that worked for the twitter update accounts have been revoked from their access to their old tchat and account.

The admin that sent me threats, encouraged drama, is still on the server.

No French admin is included in the revamp of the studio. »

Someone asked if by « actors », Lea meant the roleplayers (and cited pomme as a example) and Lea said yes.

UPDATE : It doesn’t mean admins have been fired necessarily just that for now they don’t have their access and that their situation is unsure (lea clarified this bc the way she worded this before made people think otherwise and let to misinformation)

She then said « For thoses that don't understand why I keep and keep speaking: I have to, otherwise the changes won't be done properly, I want everyone to be aware of what is happening.

If something positive is brought to me, I will also say it. Everyone should have the right to speak about it, not only the higher ups can talk about how the changes should be made. Right now, only the people that were priviledged in the studio are giving their opinions on the changes and the others are shushed »

So yeah not great news to say the least ! Hopefully this is just the beginning of the changes Quackity talked about but personnally I can’t see things improving without better transparency and a participation from everyone involved. We still need to remember that BIG changes are needed so time is necessary for stuff to be fixed.

For me, I have full trust in the french CCs, Antoine said he won’t come back before their is proof of everything being fixed so if the french ccs give us their green light I will trust them.

Below is the link of Lea’s account, her last tweets are already in english, I didn’t translate them so if people wanna read straight from the source here u go

https://x.com/leasagne_?s=21&t=fDVoT5qDN_AAqnxYhZF3uQ

[fkeknife]

even in the alien light

vash the stampede x reader gender neutral reader 2600 words

summary: “Maybe you need some practice.” You say it with a smile. A little invitation. He twists until his back is flat on the bed under you, and your hand sinks with his hip. He crooks a finger under your chin, like he can will you closer to him with thought alone. In a bar of moonlight, through the window, his eyes are caught a terrible blue. He looks tired. Kindly, you point out, “You aren’t asking.” “Aren’t I?” You don’t move. You don’t know how to be more vulnerable. You don’t know how to feel the shape of the truth with your mouth before you spit it out. He says, “Please kiss me.” You do.

content: POV Second Person, navigating consent, which is hard when neither of you know what the fuck you want!!, so please be cautious if that may make you uncomfortable

read on ao3 or below

Once you step outside, the man from the bar is a lot less talkative.

The desert night is crisply chill. The beaten street has no lamps, but a few full moons cast it blue-white and throw your shadows back down against it. Once your eyes adjust, you’ll have no trouble finding your way home.

When you turn to him, his gaze is fixed somewhere in the distance; somewhere beyond the edges of the outpost town.

He’s distracted by the night. You’re distracted by his face.

You were both flirting in the noise and incandescent yellow of the building behind you. But now you’re nervous all over again—like the alien moonlight resets you, and the chips don’t carry over, and if you touch his face, he’ll startle.

Then he says: “It's beautiful out here.”

Still looking somewhere far and blue, he takes a long, deep breath, and you feel sympathetic pinpricks at the bottom of your lungs.

He turns his face away from the horizon—towards you. Your eyes catch.

“It's not just the scenery that's beautiful, though...”

And… he winks. Overacted and goofy-like.

He’s so fucking disorienting.

He was already seated at the bar when you got there. “Seated” is inadequately descriptive—he was hovering over the bar, gesturing comically and trying to engage some regulars, utterly precarious on the barstool.

He was giddy like a dog. He giggled at you. He put an arm around your shoulder. It made you want to slip him in a matchbox and stuff him in your jacket pocket.

It’s impossible to tell how much of it is real, and his stillness in the cold air unnerved you. Now, though, he’s beaming at you like a punchline. He’s performing again—do you like me yet, do you like me yet?

It’s cute. It’s nice to have your opinion considered. You do like him.

Slipping your arm into the crook of his elbow, you decide to keep playing the character you both shared over drinks. It’s cheesy and stupid and easy. So straightforward you might actually be lying.

“I know what you mean.”

You slouch against him and look up at him through your eyelashes, all smug confidence.

“It’s so pretty I could stare all night…”

Why the hell does that ruffle him? He looks embarrassed for a moment, like he sent you a serve he didn’t expect you to return. Then he closes his eyes, composes his face, squeezes your linked arms.

“You certainly are a smooth talker. For someone as good-looking as you, it must come easy.”

He keeps saying shit like that. Whether it’s true or not.

Who doesn’t like a little flattery, though?

You, maybe?

You laugh. You return the ball, smack his words out of the air and back towards him.

“You’re one to talk!”

It’s easy to grin at him. He’s making it easy.

His coat was red in the bar. It’s a sick maroon-plum in the shadow, now, bitten by white highlights. It whips in a gust of wind and the loose ends of it snap at your legs.

Even in the alien moonlight, you reach for him. Your fingertips land light on his neck, little dots of red warmth, and you trace his jaw with your thumb like a thieving ghost. Stealing the feel of his stubble against your fingerprint.

So straightforward. So simple. But you can’t look him in the eye. You look at your fingers. You pretend it isn’t really happening.

“So forward,“ he says, too close to you, now. “But I’ll let it slide.“

He kisses you. It happens fast. Then it’s over.

Your spit tastes like alcohol now, but your spit tasted like alcohol already.

— - —

You climb into your motel room, you apologize for the mess, you kick some stray clothes into a corner. You ask him if he wants anything to drink that won’t make him sicker tomorrow.

Frankly, it’s awkward.

In the end, here’s the truth: you didn’t say “want to come back to my place and fuck?” you said “wanna crash at my place?” and now you’re feeling like the fucking part wasn’t as strongly implied as you intended.

At one point, he says “I’ll see you in the morning, then?” like he’s going to dissolve into smoke when the clock strikes the hour and reconstitute in your kitchen when the sun rises. Like he didn’t kiss you on the street.

He strikes you as an odd animal, then. All flirt and no follow-through. Like he isn’t sure what he wants. And for a second you’re a little angry, a little tired at the idea of shepherding him through his own mind to the end of the paper puzzle maze where he decides if he wants to fuck you or not.

You won’t hate the answer either way—you’re just not sure you’re up for the journey tonight.

“About that,” you say.

“You’ve kinda got two options here. The couch is pretty comfortable, and you’re welcome to it. On the other hand. The bed sleeps two. You can join me, if you want.”

The formality of the statement is excruciating.

Unable to leave well enough alone, you tack on, “We don’t have to do anything, of course. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” And you burn in the space between your words and his.

“I’d like that,” he answers, looking at his hands. When he looks at you, his eyes are very soft.

— - —

He’s in your bed now. Shirtless in the sheets you wish you’d washed a week past.

You turned off the light seconds ago, but the moons are ever-present. The light bleeds into your vision with time, and it’s like you didn’t even bother to walk to the switch. You still have to look at him, his hair on your pillow, his body in your bed. You can hear him breathing; you can hear him open his mouth.

When you climb into bed, you can’t tell if you’re waiting on him or he’s waiting on you. You don’t know why he isn’t looking at you.

You liked it better the way it was in the bar. When you didn’t have to be the first person to lean in.

But fine. You’re here. You’ll make the move.

Through the sheets, from behind, you snake an arm around his waist. His hip is a fulcrum, balancing your forearm, your palm hanging unsure above his stomach.

When he leans into you, his back against your chest, it’s a relief and a comfort. Your knee brushes the back of his calf, still cold from the air.

You hear yourself ask, “This okay?”

“More than okay.” It’s a little breathy. You get goosebumps on the back of your arms.

You settle comfortably around his body, warmth against warmth. The weight of him slopes the mattress. The hair on his legs catches in the hair on yours. Your breath hits his neck, buffeting strands of hair and disturbing the little grains of sand that had stuck to him with sweat. It blows back into your face.

It’s nice just to hold somebody, right?

Your hand ends up flat against his ribs. You can feel the strange topography of his chest, all valleys and rivers running nicks through bone. You can feel each breath he takes. Does it hurt him to breathe?

Indulging in your own working ribs, you breathe him. His hair stinks like incendiary chemicals. His skin smells like bad sweat and warm, cheap metal, the kind that they make buckles and fasteners out of, the kind that tastes like blood when you lick it. You want to take a bite out of his presence in your arms.

His arm stretches over yours, behind him, and he rests his hand on your thigh. It’s the prosthetic arm, part of the reason he smells like metal. It’s kind of scary that he lets you look at it. Like overhearing a secret. It makes you like him more, which makes you feel worse.

You press a single kiss to the back of his neck, on his spine, on the sweat and sun and sand. He shivers.

His fingers draw lines back and forth on the skin of your thigh. Can he feel you under that hand, or just move it?

Why does he bother?

“You’re pretty comfortable with this kind of thing, aren’t you?”

It’s nice how quiet he is. Just loud enough for you both to hear.

“Yeah, I am,” you lie, obviously. It should be obvious. You rest your face against his back, your skin sticking to his. You look at the ceiling like you’ll see yourself reflected there. “Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer for a long while.

“Well. I guess… It’s been a few years since I was this intimate with someone.”

He says it all sheepish-like, but the statement sits raw and fish-eyed in the silence. You wonder if he said it with his eyes open or closed. You don’t know.

“That surprises me,” you say, and you turn to talk past his neck again. You can almost see his face, but not really. His heart beats under your palm. “You’re very pretty. Have you been asking nicely?”

He laughs, and it moves through his back and into you. “Maybe not nicely enough.”

He makes his words small and round and friendly for you. It’s too kind of him, to carve his words up like that. You’re almost sorry for being such a liar. For turning a confession into a joke. You are insincere in the face of vulnerability. But you cannot make yourself any more vulnerable for him, even when he undresses in front of you, something organic and warm and crushable.

You bring your hand to rest on his hip, then prop yourself up so you can look into his eyes.

“Maybe you need some practice.” You say it with a smile. A little invitation.

He twists until his back is flat on the bed under you, and your hand sinks with his hip. He crooks a finger under your chin, like he can will you closer to him with thought alone.

In a bar of moonlight, through the window, his eyes are caught a terrible blue. He looks tired.

Kindly, you point out, “You aren’t asking.”

“Aren’t I?”

You don’t move.

You don’t know how to be more vulnerable. You don’t know how to feel the shape of the truth with your mouth before you spit it out.

He says, “Please kiss me.”

You do.

It’s easy to get on top of him. It’s easy once he starts putting his hands on you. He makes it easy for you, as a favor.

He’s polite. He says “Please” and “Can I” like he just learned his manners last month. When he does, in that little, breathy voice, the words pad over on their animal feet and bed down in your stomach.

You’re glad for the direction. You could not wring any more movement from your body without explicit permission.

The more of him you map, the more you realize he is a patchwork creature. A staple in his thumb catches the light and you worry about it catching in your hair. Like he could pull himself apart on you.

It’s in this moment, distracted, that you notice the change.

He’s breathing hard and still and looking a little through you.

“Hey. You okay? Do you want to slow down?”

He doesn’t respond. His hand is still on your face, but his eyes are somewhere else, almost closing.

You speak, half into his palm, “I want you to feel safe.” Because you do.

He’s hot under you. You can feel the blood beating nervously through him.

He focuses on your face, then breaks his eyes away from yours, turning them to the window.

Even this with a smile:

“I’d have to be a fool to ask you to stop, right?”

It’s like a line in a book you have to read twice. You look down at him, and you feel way high up. Like a bird of prey. Or a trapeze artist.

“You don’t have to ask.” The words are round and easy in your mouth, like marbles you have to remember not to swallow. You close your eyes so you don’t have to look all the way down. “Let’s stop.”

“Oh.”

God, why does it have to be so embarrassing? Where does he get the gall to sound disappointed?

You peel yourself off him and fall onto the mattress beside him like a gutted fish. The ceiling glows with the moonlight bouncing off the sheets.

Privately, you allow yourself to feel like a murderer.

“I’m sorry,” he says, haltingly. “I just…”

“Don’t be.”

“I do want to. In theory.”

You pause in licking your own mental wounds long enough to look at him again. He’s still smiling, but you realize (with horror) that he’s tearing up at the same time.

“Jeez! Look at me. Making a big deal out of nothing.” He says these kinds of things with a laugh, with a gesture of his hands.

He gets propped up on your headboard so he can slouch into himself with his little smile.

You get up on your knees. And you look at him.

Now you reach again. Even in the alien light. Even in the fear of god.

You take his face in your hands and stare at him so hard you hope the thoughts in your head tunnel out of it like worms and wriggle into him. The affection and the aggressive acceptance. It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. Okay?

You close your eyes and press your foreheads together. He lets you. He lets you breathe all of his air, even though he needs it as much as you do.

Slowly, like creeping vines, he puts his hands on your sides, then on your back, and then he’s hugging you, holding onto you. When your foreheads slip, and his cheek presses past yours, it’s hot and wet. He’s crying in earnest, which isn’t what you wanted at all. It’s quiet and more about shudders than sound.

This is your job now. Your job is to hold him. Him and his hot breath, his overacting, his torn-up skin, his cute fucking old-fashioned manners. A real live stranger in your arms. It’s some kind of one night stand.

— - —

You’re both there until his breath normalizes, until the pressure of his fingers on your back grows lighter. Until he sighs in the crook of your neck and puts his hands on your forearms, pulling them off him, gathering your fingers in his palms.

“Thanks,” he says, smiling at your hands instead of you. “Sorry.”

He didn’t listen.

So you just cuff him under his chin, startling him into a grin.

“What?”

But you don’t answer. You swing your legs off the bed.

“If we aren’t doing anything, I’m not going to bother trying to look hot anymore. I’m putting on pajamas. You want to borrow anything?”

“Nah, that’s okay.”

“I gotta say, man. You should use my shower in the morning.”

“Aw, do I smell?”

“You smell awesome. But in a sex way. Not a polite society way.”

You change at the end of the bed because it doesn’t matter what he sees.

When you clamber back onto the matress, oversized sleep clothes hanging off you, he surprises you by grabbing your hip.

“What were you talking about? You look hot as hell in this.”

Ha ha.

He lets you go.

“Would you still hold onto me?”

It sounds like a philosophical question.

“Like you were before?”

“Oh. Yeah,” you say. “I liked that part.”

[soonsluv]

valentine’s special

pairing: sub!dokyeom x dom!gn!reader

contains: unnecessarily long build up💔, edging, the reader is a bit mean and dokyeom is a crybaby about it

a/n: this is part of the collab the amazing @huiranghaes​ organised! here’s the link to the hyung’s and maknae’s masterlists, go check them out! and ofc respect and protect sex workers!!<3

dokyeom hadn’t been a camboy for long which is also the reason why his content was relatively tame. despite his simple performances, he still attracted a decent number of viewers thanks to his charming allure and gorgeous body. he was sweet, making sure to ask how his viewers' day had been and always had a gentle smile on his face, no matter how contradictingly dirty his actions could be sometimes.

his viewers loved him and his lives but he felt like trying something new, especially with valentine’s day coming up. only problem was, the young man didn’t know where to start. there were definitely some things he wanted to try out but he wasn’t sure if his viewers would like them considering how… specific some of his interests were. and besides, most of them required at least two people with decent experience to have a pleasurable session. but it’s not like finding someone with experience willing to teach him was hard to come by on the app he was using, he might even argue that it was too easy. all he needed to do was to browse through his favorite creators, find one that lived close by and-

ping!

you look down to your phone screen at the sound of a notification and see that another creator from the app you cam on has sent you a message.

kyeomie18_: “hi! i don’t really know how this is supposed to go but i really like your work and i was wondering if you’d like to collaborate sometime? i can host :)”

hm. you scroll through the pictures and clips he has posted in the past and you can’t help but admit that the man is dangerously hot. he also looked pretty professional, you couldn’t see his full face and the room he filmed in was clean but considering the tone of his message, he couldn’t have been on the platform for long. teaching him a few tricks seems like a tempting idea but you didn't have to choose right this instance so you decide to think about it for a bit more and besides, his next live show is tomorrow night so you might be able to make a decision after seeing him in action.

the following day, you come home particularly excited to watch kyeomie18_’s live. you change into more comfortable clothes and sit down in your bed, making sure to get in a comfortable position, just in case you… enjoy it.

kyeomie18_ is now live!

he starts the live by waving at the camera, not showing his entire face like in any other videos and pictures he posts. he is still fully clothed so you guess that he likes to tease his viewers instead of directly getting to the point.

“good evening everyone, i see that we have a special guest tonight so i’ll be sure to make it extra special this time to make a good impression on them,” he says, making your face heat up. that’s right, every creator could see the users that were watching so he knew you were watching him too.

a bunch of jealous messages asking about the mystery guest start flooding his comment section.

“don’t worry, you will always be my number one.,” he starts off in a cutesy voice, making you roll your eyes and scoff, “this special person will be revealed soon enough… or never, depending on whether they like me enough,” he trails off.

after the comments have died down, he slowly removes his cardigan that he was wearing with a plain white shirt and blue jeans. he sighs heavily.

“work was so hard today, i could barely focus because i kept thinking about you…”

the type to do fanservice. noted.

“it just hurt so much…”

you could practically hear the pout in his voice and his viewers all played along, worryingly asking him where it hurt so bad.

“it hurts here,” he reveals while grabbing his crotch, effectively drawing attention to his erection.

most comments were urging him to just jerk off but one comment, one that caught your attention, said that he should deny himself for being so horny even at work. you decide to leave a comment agreeing with shiningm00n73.

“d-deny myself?” he cautiously asks, like you might change opinions if he acted cute enough.

the first person comments a simple “yes” but you have a feeling that that question was more directed at you so you also confirm the suggestion.

“your wish is my command,” he finally says with much more determination this time.

he ever so slowly unzips his pants, showing off his happy trail and the fact that he wasn’t wearing

shiningm00n73: “no wonder you got horny at work if you were walking around with no fucking underwear.”

this makes you snort and it probably flustered him by the way he avoids answering the commenter.

he just pushes his shirt up so it’s out of the way and continues by fully taking his hard cock out of his pants without removing them and starts stroking it lightly while his other hand reaches for the bottle of lube that was near him and proceeds to squirt a generous amount on his already throbbing member.

he hisses and you’re not sure if it’s because of the cold substance hitting such a sensitive area or out of relief because he must’ve been holding back for quite some time to already be throbbing.

he quickly loses himself in the pleasure though, his hips keep twitching and small moans are slipping in between his quick breaths. he’s already worked up, maybe even close. it’s easy to tell that he’s a rookie and you wonder if he’ll really keep his promise.

that’s when his hand jerks away from his member and comes to a stop as a frustrated huff leaves his lips.

“how many times do you want me to do this?” he breathes.

and by the way all the viewers implore him to stop and just finish, you deduct that his fanbase is used to simple masturbation sessions where he whispers them a bunch of lovey doves words

but you can’t have that, that would be too easy so you leave a comment.

“continue until you cry.”

he lets out an nervous laugh but complies nonetheless.

“okay,” he sounds weak and a smirk appears on your face. guess he doesn’t have the best stamina.

his hand starts moving again and his breathing loses all rhythm despite the slow pace.

whines start bubbling up his throat while the comment section is filled with people admiring his body or taking notice at how incredibly hot he sounds.

it doesn’t take long before he gets close again though.

his breathing is heavy and his abs are flexing uncontrollably, it is truly a sight to behold.

“i’m-“

before he can finish or rather start that sentence, he spurts all over his stomach and previously clean shirt. some of his cum dribbles down to his balls that are still relentlessly twitching and it becomes crystal clear that he needed this.

it takes a minute before he can calm himself down and when he finally does, he makes sure to shoot a finger heart to his viewers.

“goodnight, hope you enjoyed and i get to see you again next week.”

what a cheeky motherfucker but you would be lying if you said you weren’t itching to remove your underwear and relief the pressure that has now build up. you decide to keep that frustration to record an audio for your viewers later though, instead concluding that you have an important message to send.

“sure, what did you have in mind?”

—

after having met up to get to know each other and laid down some ground rules, you now find yourself entering the apartment of the mystery cam guy, dokyeom. he was wearing a plain shirt with comfortable joggers, in other words, clothes that are easily pushed out of the way. smart.

the apartment looked neat and smelled nice. the table in the living room was filled with snacks and drinks for later you assume. you smile.

“what? what’s funny?” he asks a bit too insecurely.

“no nothing, i just think it’s sweet how you organised so well is all,” you respond as you smile a bit wider at him.

now it’s his turn to smile.

he leads you to his room after dropping your belongings on the couch of the living room.

“so this is where the uh magic happens,” he chuckles awkwardly while gesturing to his inviting bed.

it was made prettily with a bunch of unnecessary pillows and his computer was already in position. on his night table were a bottle of lube, a bullet vibrator, bottles of water and wet wipes.

he turns to you.

“so i’ll just open the live, introduce you and then you’ll… take the lead like we discussed, right?”

“right.”

you give him a reassuring smile because you can practically smell the nervousness on him.

“don’t worry, i’ll take good care of you,” you add to lighten the mood. his cheeks redden a bit. cute.

when the two of you are in position, with you sitting behind him to be precise, he starts off the live by introducing you.

“hi, have you been well? remember the mystery person i was talking about last week? as you can see they’re here with me today to celebrate valentine’s day!”

and without skipping a beat, the viewers bombard the comment section with questions surrounding you and what the two of you were planning.

“well my friend here will have their way with me and my goal is to last as long as i can. very simple rules but i doubt i’ll be able to abide by them anyway,” he snorts.

the word he used to describe you makes your heart skip a beat but you make sure to not show it even though he’s facing away from you and the viewers can’t see completely your face nor his.

“their user is _ so if you end up liking what we do tonight, you should definitely check them out,” he adds.

after receiving the green light, you teasingly run your hands along his clothed chest and leave feather like kisses along his neck, helping him to relax in your hold.

you stay like that for a while until both of your hands slip underneath his shirt and you hear him exhale heavily.

as you continue to caress his skin, you feel goosebumps growing under your fingertips and you smile softly. hadn’t he been touched in a while or was he just really sensitive? either way, you certainly liked how reactive he was.

your right thumb brush against his nipple, making him suspire again.

while your right thumb is circling around his nipple, your free hand reaches out to grab the vibrator to then swiftly turn it on and press it against his left nipple over his shirt.

“no fair,” he whines and all you can offer him is a kiss against his jaw because this is much too fun to stop.

your right hand slips from under his shirt and goes down to firmly grab his crotch, making him whine again.

“already excited i see?”

he only lowers his head but doesn’t deny your accusatory statement, he must be red as a beet you muse.

he pushes his chest against the vibrator when you start to message him through his joggers.

“move on,” he breathes with effort.

“don’t forget who’s in charge, dear.”

he huffs but doesn’t protest, his hands obediently remaining at his sides.

your left hand leaves the tormented bud and glides into his joggers to thrust the toy against the head of his cock through his boxers while your right hand goes to his thigh to secure it in place.

“oh fuck,” he moans as his hips jerk at the new sensation.

“there there, you’ll feel better very soon,” you whisper to help him slip into that specific headspace better.

“mhm…”

his head is now leaning on your shoulder while his hands have formed fists, tightly clutching the blanket beneath you.

you almost feel bad for the poor man in your arms, now being able to notice how his lips are parted and how his eyes are blissfully closed.

“i hope you didn’t forget about the rules,” you remind him, removing the toy to prevent an orgasm you anticipated was creeping up on him much too quickly.

he hisses.

“no no, i didn’t forget,” he hastily reassures you but it’s clear that he was a bit far gone and would’ve probably jizzed his pants hadn’t you reminded him.

“remove your pants and boxers,” you order.

he lifts his hips and swiftly removes the clothes that are hindering you.

after you grab the bottle of lube, he eagerly resumes his position back in your arms.

you squirt ample amount in your hand and warm it up a bit before smearing it all over his cock that was now gradually reddening.

he completely melts in your hold as a relieved sigh glides from his lips.

you take your time in working him up because he seemed to be real close.

you stroke him and progressively slow down your pace, feeling your mean side peek out again.

a whine rips out his throat.

“please,” he drags out the word and you can tell that he isn’t acting for his viewers, he’s begging.

“do you want me to go faster?”

“yes,” he whimpers.

“beg.”

“please go faster, i might die if you don’t.”

you almost laugh but as ridiculous as he sounds right now, you’re sure that he’s speaking with utmost sincerity so you indulge him and pick up your pace.

“oh shit,” he curses as his hips spasm but relatively stay still.

his body melts further into your hold, you’re afraid he’s going to turn into liquid.

“i love this,” he sighs and you know this is the perfect time to deliver the killing blow.

“tell me darling, do you like being touched by me? does it turn you on to know that i get to choose what and when you feel it?” you whisper in his ear while your hand squeezes around the head of his cock, making his body jerk as a mewl slips from his throat.

“i-“

“don’t lie to me, baby.”

“i like not hav- having to think,” he pants, hips frantically trying to keep up with the serene rhythm of your hand, without much success. this wasn’t going to last much longer.

“i like it when you tell me what to do, when you’re mean to me.”

“you think i’m mean to you?” you ask with a faux pout he can’t see.

“yes but i like it…” he whispers back.

“you do?” you ask as your free hand goes to fondle with his balls.

this, without your intention, pushes him over the edge and he’s just as surprised as you are when his cock violently throbs and leaks cum in lavish abundance.

his body is much quicker than his mind though, his hips fucking up against your hand in a attempt to ride out this orgasm. you push the idea of ruining his orgasm out of your mind and keep your grasp tight so he can be satiated.

for a moment, his heavy breathing is the only thing echoing in the room until silence settles when he’s fully calmed down. you decide to break that silence.

“guess edging isn’t your forté, huh?” you snort, completely forgetting about your audience.

“well, this was a nice valentine's gift anyway,” he sighs dreamily.

you stroke his hair and notice that he looks a bit… far away. he really liked this, didn’t he?

“glad you liked it,” you giggle before getting up to go look for a towel and pick up the snacks from the living room.

dokyeom glances at his computer screen to read the comment at the very bottom.

shiningm00n73: well, fuck.