#and yeah all that shit sucks!! but I'm not the only person who's ever had to deal with it!!

[hiimcanadia]

I don't think I ever realized how... Weirdly relieving it would feel to be able to talk to other people who have experienced the same level of poverty as I have. Growing up most of my friends were middle class-ish, so there were a lot of things I really couldn't talk about around them because they just didn't get it and sometimes even thought I was being weird or gross. But I got to hang out with a group last week that was mostly people who have been poor, homeless, food insecure, etc, and it was kind of nice hearing other people share their experiences and seeing how similar they were to mine. Obviously poverty sucks and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but it's been really good for me being able to remind myself that I'm not uniquely gross or weird because of the habits I picked up while going through this

[kenzie-ann27]

nothing gives me that kendall roy in secession kenergy quite like standing up to my mom via text then putting my phone on do not disturb because I fear confrontation

[nkogneatho]

𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐌𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓

—cw: rough, blowjob, degrading nicknames, hair pulling, tie leash, fem!reader

—a/n: this came into existence after i watched the new episode and i realized this mf is insane and actually has some wild ass kinks

you hated how the world pictured kento. he wasn't just some bored and tired man who hates his job. he was more than that. he was insane. if only there was a way to show them that.

"On the knees." Nanami ordered, the cheetah print tie circling around his big, rough hand.

You did what he asked to. Not that your body had a privilege to betray your lustful brain and deny. He wrapped his tie against your neck and secured it with a distanced but tight knot. Tight enough to yank when needed. You couldn't meet his eyes in embarrassment, maybe a little fear too. This was a side he kept hidden to the world, only portrayed if he either loved them or wanted to kill them.

"Take my cock out, my sweet slut." Your fingers struggled to unbuckle his expensive belt. He wouldn't help, you knew it. Once you got the metal out if it's loop, you aimed for the buttons, then the zip. Your sweet fingers dug through his underwear to find his cock. It felt so big in your hand always, and it wasn't even completely hard yet. You started giving it slow pumps and heard him curse under his breath. you waited for his next command, for him to tell you what to do but it never came. Instead what came was a hand that cupoed your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

"I'm going to use this beautiful face as my cocksleeve, yeah? You'd let me, right?" Your core wet, your mind hazy at his words. He didn't need to ask. You know it was just a formality and a dessert that came with the gentleman personality. But he was anything but a gentleman in the bedroom. Calling you names. Using you to his satisfaction. But he knew you liked it because he's the one feeling your pussy tighten when he calls you a "slut."

Nanami's hand traveled to the back of yiur hwad where he grabbed a fistful if your head. You gulped in preparation about what had to come. You opened your mouth and Kento slammed his dick inside you. It slid fast through your tongue but you could taste the hint of his precum.

"Fuck. So good for me," he said, beginning to thrust. "You like when I fuck my frustrations on you." You did. "your mouth is my cumdump, right? you're such a good little slut who always sucks my anger out of me." People out there constantly think how is he always so calm. He's not. The truth is here. He comes home and fucks his anger away. And you count yourself lucky to be his fucktoy because holy shit, the way he fucks you makes you feel like you've found heaven on earth. It's sinister. The darkness in his eyes. They consume you. But ironically, the pleasure that he gives you can only be compared with heaven.

"Shit! I am close—sss agh!" he felt the back of your throat vibrate which sent excitment down his balls. "fuckfuckfuck" he cursed as he yanked your hair back to look at your doe eyes. Soon, he caught up to his high and all you could make for a sound was consumed by his thick load shooting deep inside your throat. He was so deep you didn't even get to taste them. Nanami pulled out, the remaining beads of his cum lacing your lips.

"Such a good little slut. my exclusive cumslut," he cooed running his thumb over your lips, glistening with your sakiva mixed with his released. "ready for me to fuck your brains out, fuckdoll?" Like you'd ever say no.

[alchemistc]

"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.

Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).

"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.

Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.

"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.

When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle

"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.

"Apparently?"

"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."

Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.

"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.

"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."

Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.

"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.

"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.

"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.

"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."

Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.

Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -

"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -

"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."

It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.

"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."

"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."

"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.

"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."

"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."

He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."

Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.

Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.

Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.

His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.

[riaki]

OKAY EVERYONE IS SAYING GOJO DOESN'T DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING YES

BuT what if we could make it a little ANGSTY instead?? 👀 He gets his happy ending. His. Happy ending. You? Well.. Old habits die hard. This is what you wanted after all no? So what if he breaks his promises? What if your smile begins to fade? What if

What you said about later on reader and freckles growing apart cause freckles seemed nice it'd be a shame for him to be an ass

But that it's silly cause the irony is what if that freckle boy.. was just like Gojo but in a different light.

Being as it wasn't him who hurt reader, it was easy to overlook the fact of how similar he was to the old Gojo she knew before it became a shit show

Maybe she realizes that

Maybe she starts thinking

Maybe she drifts apart

And maybe Gojo comforts her but he's the last person she wants to see

Because it's these stupid feelings for Gojo that led her to this hell

And Gojo goes again

And he reels her in

And once he has her

Only to see as her smile begins to fade

As all the effort he had put in when he didn't have her start going away once again

And he starts to fall into old habits becoming the same as he was before, but this time, with you at his hand

As he slowly takes away your smiles again.

But it's okay, he'll make it right. Just...later. and later. And later...

You hope.

sorry I'm not good with angst sorry for any cringe 🤣

this is!! such!!! a good!!!! take!!!!!! on hsbully!gojo!!!!!! tbh this ask speaks for itself lol n dw anon! i rlly love the way u brought it :3 this is highschoolbully!gojo part 592727465527 *suggestive!

yeah. freckles boy isn’t that great of a person. maybe he tried but it didn’t work out; u dunno why but u keep seeing gojo in him— hints of satoru in ur life. like that stinky cologne he thinks is kinda cool but rlly doesn’t smell too good on ur bfs drawer, or the way he takes his coffee. honestly, if u squint, it almost seems like freckle boy is tryna copy gojo in a way…? but u don’t like thinkin abt him so u don’t blink an eye.

fast forward u broke up with freckle boy because something or other; the point is, u really didn’t feel anything with him. there might’ve been a spark, but it was really only artificial and had no wind to fan the flames. and since u got together gojo’s been distant; his smile seems dimmer and there’s always this faraway; foggy look that makes the brilliant azure of his eyes seem cloudy gray. but then ur catching up with him again and at some random frat party you get drunk and ur sense is inhibited and— u end up kissing gojo… oops.

so then u kinda enter this fwb state with him. and.. he’s pretty cool, right? he’s kinda evrything u want in a guy— tall, pretty, cool, strong, handsome, charming— it’s a package deal. but there’s also this… rift, between the two of you. see, ever since gojo lost u the first time, he’s always been so scared of pushing u away. so u stay fwb because he doesn’t wanna lose u again in case he’s feelin more than you are. but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he sleeps with other girls and his chest doesn’t tighten like it does with u when he gets mouthfuls of fruity gloss from kissing other girls. but he forces himself to keep this wall up between the two of u because he just can’t risk losing you a third time.

it sucks for u too, though! gojo’s just a bit too dense to see it. whether it’s in his own nature, or he’s faking it. it’s probably the latter, but that’d mean he’s not being genuine again, n you don’t wanna think about it. but you’re gettin comfy with him and so is he, and you really do whole heartedly believe he’s changed this time, and for good. and it’s true! he has. but not in the way you thought. apparently, he’s exchanged being an ass with an unreachable ego to a pinch more genuine, but still an ass. it’s proved when u get to his apartment one rainy day ready to spend the weekend w/ him for a study date, but there’s clothes on the floor. dresses n stockings and a frilly blouse that you definitely think (or hope) don’t belong to gojo. unfortunately, your suspicions are confirmed when you lay eyes on the tangle of people on his bedroom through the crack in the door— this time, it’s your turn to run in a hurry. turns out, he got comfortable with you— all in the wrong way, thinking it’d be okay to sleep around. except he gives chase— after pulling on a pair of pants, of course.

eventually he catches up to you; you hate those stupidly long legs. catches your wrist and forces you to face him. in front of a chick fil a, nonetheless. he gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu— but he’s forcibly snapped out of it when je realizes you’re crying. and damn, you look gorgeous, and he wishes it would rain because the sunlight falls around you like liquid gold, framing your pretty face and reflecting prisms of rainbow in your tears.

once again, he doesn’t get it. why are you crying? it’s not like you were really serious or labeled, right…? and the entire reason you’d stayed that way was to avoid somethin like this. but gojo slowly comes to the realization that he’s fucked up big time— he has been since day 1. really, he should’ve found somebody cheaper to chase— you stole his heart and his pride, making him awkwardly and stiffly apologize to you in front of a fast food restaurant on some random crossing next to a train station. it’s only tense because he doesn’t really know how to apologize— he doesn’t have much experience with it, and for that he blames his ego.

but even so, he’s not ready for those big, sappy love confessions yet. you always made him feel so weird— correction: you still do. so you walk away somewhere between fwb and strangers. it’s always one step forward and two steps back with gojo. but maybe, just maybe— he can slowly rebuild your trust with some patience, empathy, and a lot of genuine love that he’s yet to realize he’s been nursing in his heart for you since the first time he laid eyes on you.

paaaaaaart one

[whore-era]

1-800-GIRLS

☁︎ modern!ellie x sex-hotline-operator!reader, very small mention of dealer!ellie ☁︎ summary: where ellie dials the wrong number and meets you instead. ☁︎ warnings: contains smut! 18+ only. top/dom!ellie, bottom/sub!reader, mentions spitplay/breathplay/overstimulation, mentions sexual interactions with men, dirty talking, guided masturbation (r!recieving), use of fem nicknames (babygirl, sweet girl, pretty girl, pup, puppy) let me know if i missed anything else pls. ☁︎ a/n: i feel like this kinda sucked bc towards the end i kinda rushed it, but i couldn't shake this idea n knew i had to write it. hope u like it bbs<3 also thank u to my bestie @elskittie for helping me figure some things out w this fic ☁︎ word count: 4,463 ☁︎ 1-800-GIRLS part 2

phone call style story — reader is in italics, ellie is in bold.

monday, 12:45am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, hot stuff?

uhh.. i just wanted to order a pepperoni pizza..

oh yeah? you want something hot and ready? i have something hot and ready for you.

ummm..

you hear some shuffling in the background, "jess! i think you gave me the wrong number!" the person comes back on the line again.

this isn't papa tony's cheesy pizza place?

....do you want me to roleplay as papa tony's cheesy pizza place?

woah woah woah! roleplay?? who the fuck am i on the phone with?

this is sugar from 1-800-GIRLS.....a sex hotline...for you know? phone sex.

PHONE SEX?? you hear the girl's voice yell in the background, "jesse! you ass! you gave me the number to a phone sex hotline!"

"does she sound hot?"

"well yeah, but—"

hey, you do know it's $1 a minute right? you've been on the line for almost 5 minutes, babe.

HUHH?? hell no..ok thanks sugar bear, or whatever. bye!

the line clicks off, and you shrug. sitting back in your bed to continue watching your favorite netflix show. you feel your work phone vibrate again, the name flashing 'bobby', a regular who frequents the hotline.

sighing and picking up your phone and holding it to your ear, you take a bite from your sandwich as you answer your 15th call this evening, "thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, big boy?"

tuesday, 2:12am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you tonight, cutie?

hey....sugar.. i just- er- wanted to apologize for yesterday. my buddy got your number confused with a pizza place we really wanted to try. didn't mean to sound rude last night.

it's no issue, babe. don't sweat about it.

.......

.......

soooo.... is that the only reason why you called?

ellie didn't want to admit that she was attracted to 'sugar's' voice and that she'd been thinking about it all day during class. but also, ellie was high as a fucking kite, which gave her the courage to even dial the number again anyways.

i— uh— well— how does this whole thing work?

what thing? the hotline?

yeah..

well, you call me, we have phone sex or talk or whatever, and then you hang up. again, it's a dollar a minute.

okay, okay, i get it. so we can just talk? about anything?

yeah, if you want to.

sick.

ellie takes another drag from her joint, before speaking again.

so, do you like doing this? being an operator or whatever?

you let out a laugh, which ellie caught.

specify what you mean by 'like'?

i mean— this is your job. do you enjoy doing it?

ehh...i guess.

c'mon. you can be honest with me.

well, being a sex hotline operator has it's downsides. obviously helping old men jack off gets a little weird sometimes — they have some unusual fetishes.

oh yeah? what's been the weirdest one so far?

uhhh..i have this one regular who has me pretend i'm a ghost. apparently, having sex with ghosts is a real turn on for him.

what the fuck. seriously?

mhm, it's true.

shit, dude....i don't think i could ever do what you do. i dunno how you can do it.

well when you have college tuition and rent to worry about, the downsides don't seem all that bad.

holy shit, you're in college? how old are you anyways?

19.

that's crazy. we're around the same age. i figured you were a bit older.

how 'bout you? how old are you?

21.

not bad not bad. you're way different from the clients i usually get.

yeah? how?

considering my usual clients are 40 to 60 year old men who are married with kids and have secret fetishes, i'd say you're out of my ballpark.

ellie laughs.

how do you know i'm not secretly an old, 57 year old man who's married to my wife janet with three kids? and i have a balloon fetish?

you let out a giggle, adjusting your sleep shorts as you lay back down on your bed, completely invested in your conversation with this girl.

well, how can i appease your balloon fantasies?

i'm just fuckin' with ya. definitely not a man and i have the more normal kinks and fetishes.

is that so? what are the 'normal' kinks and fetishes?

uhhhh....well i'm into bondage, i love tying girls up..i dunno, just seeing them open and vulnerable does something to me. i'm into breathplay, spitplay, overstimulation, and i'm definitely a dominant so—

all you could do was gape as the girl went on her tangent, listing off every kink she could think of. you gulped, suddenly getting a bit nervous from this topic of conversation. you were experienced in the field of phone sex, but actual sex was a totally different world you had no practice in.

so, how 'bout you sugar?

...uhhh....i'm a virgin actually.

the other girl went silent on the other side of the line.

what? but you work as a sex hotline operator.

oh yeah- but— hold on, i'm getting another call. i'll speak to you some other time.

you hung up and threw your work phone across your bed, laying your head down on your pillows. talking to men was so much easier for you, so why do you get all caught up when you talk to a girl?

it was nearly 3:30am, so you decided to turn in and call it a night, mentally preparing yourself for a busy day tomorrow.

wednesday, 11:45am

sitting next to professor adams, patiently waiting for the students to turn in their quizzes, you try to focus on the text of your 'philosophy 101' book.

you were grateful that professor adams gave you the opportunity to be his teacher's assistant for a little bit of extra cash, and you weren't complaining either. the tasks he gave you were easy for a mere $16 an hour. still, it wasn't enough to support all of your bills, so you couldn't drop the hotline gig.

"and time! everyone hand your quizzes in to my TA, regardless if you finished or not," professor announced. all the students shuffled towards the front, handing you their quizzes as you neatly put them in a small pile.

"ah shit— let me put the date on that," a girl, with a very familiar voice spoke. looking up, you're greeted with the most attractive girl you've seen in your life. she had brunette hair and green eyes, with a small scar on her right brow. was this..? no, it couldn't be. that would be insane.

handing you the paper, her hand brushes against yours. you look down at her quiz, seeing in messy, scribbled black ink the name ellie williams.

slinging her backpack on one arm, she heads out the door, "jesse! wait up for me!"

leaving you in a daze, you were completely speechless by the idea that one of your new, favorite clients from your nighttime job is actually a student at your university.

saturday, 1:45am → 1:14:34 ongoing call with 401-890-6798 (cranston, RI)

thanks, sugar. will be calling you again at the same time next week.

no problem, sir. goodnight. dream of me.

sure will, babygirl.

the line clicks as the older man hangs up, and you shudder a bit, feeling uncomfortable after having to roleplay as a ghost, again.

sighing heavily, you place your work phone on your desk and pick up your real phone, opening instagram and scrolling on your feed as you mindlessly snack on some gummy bears.

you double tap to like some of your friends pictures, wishing you were out at a party, drinking some lukewarm beer and dancing with your girls to the latest tiktok hits.

but instead you were cooped up in your apartment, dirty talking old men through their fantasies and bearing witness to their guttural groans and masturbation. it was a shame that friday and saturday nights were your busiest evenings.

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you ponder for a moment, your finger hovering over the instagram search bar.

fuck it, you thought, typing 'ellie williams' and hitting search.

the username @_elliewilliams pops up, and bingo. it was the same girl from professor adams class.

luckily her profile was public, so you take your time carefully combing through her instagram account, mindful not to accidentally like her posts or anything.

ellie's feed consisted of smoking weed, eating out, and hanging with her friends, jesse and dina. there were only two selfies she had posted — one of her and an older gentleman and one mirror picture of her in a grey hoodie and a light brown canvas jacket that made her look so good.

the ringing from your work phone caught you off guard, causing you to jump in your chair and exit out of the instagram app. you take a look at the number, and speak of the devil, it was ellie herself. she was the only jackson number that ever contacted you.

saturday, 2:10am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, sugar speaking. what can i do for you, handsome?

hey, sugar. just wanted to apologize for how our last conversation went. i probably pushed a boundary or something— i'm not sure if you're supposed to talk about personal things with customers— so, i'm sorry.

you let out a soft laugh.

why is it when you call me, you're always apologizing?

'cause i'm a fuck up, that's why.

nooo, that's not true. besides, don't worry about it. your question just caught me off guard, you know? never had clients ask things about me before i guess.

ahh, gotcha. so...were you busy before i called?

you shake your head, even though she was on the phone and couldn't see you.

uh, not really. my line doesn't usually get busy until...12 midnight ish.. it slows down by like 2 am though. how about you? what are you up to this friday night?

i just got back home from a party. business was slow and it was getting boring, so i dipped.

business? what business?

ah— well—

ellie silently cursed to herself, not wanting to scare you away with her current occupation.

if i tell you what i do, promise you won't get freaked out or anything?

you're talking to a phone sex hotline operator. don't worry.

you can hear her laugh from the other end.

well, fuck it, cat's out of the bag. i deal weed on campus and shit.

ahhh. i like that. is that how you can afford the minutes you spend calling me?

yup. i can stay on the phone for hours if we wanted.

maybe you'll be my only customer.

i wouldn't complain.

speaking of customers, do you want me to save your number under a specific name or nickname or anything? since i'm assuming you're gonna be a regular?

trying to confirm if it was indeed ellie you were speaking with, you sat on the edge of your chair, anxiety building in your belly.

what nicknames do your clients usually pick?

uhhh. master, sir, king, mister, alpha— umm and daddy.

something stirred inside ellie hearing that last nickname roll off your tongue.

you could just put me down as ellie.

got it.

what do i call you? do i just keep calling you sugar?

well, you're a customer. you can call me anything you like, but, for formalities and privacy, i can only tell you my hotline nickname — sugar.

okay, okay, that makes sense. you're not really allowed to have any personal or close relationships with clients, huh?

no, not really. mostly for safety purposes.

ellie was a little disappointed to know that she wouldn't be able to get to know the girl she was talking to beyond calling on the phone. she already felt herself getting attached. your voice was alluring and enticing, and she couldn't help but want to hear it more, and possibly put a name and face to who it belonged to.

but, i could bend the rules a little if i really wanted to.

yeah? let's see about that.

saturday, 4:45 am → 2:43:03 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

oh my god! did you and your ex get caught??

you were enamored with ellie. the way she could keep a conversation going and the stories she told — you didn't wanna hang up.

no, no, no, luckily we hid behind a dumpsters before the cops could catch us. it's hilarious thinking about it now, but we were dumbass 18-year-olds back then.

you both were in fits of laughter, your belly aching and tears watering in the corners of your eye.

as you calmed down, you couldn't stop your mouth from asking a question that's been racking on your mind.

so, how long were you and your ex together?

uhhhh, about 2 years.

ohhh okay........are you seeing anyone right now?

ellie lets out a laugh, and you can hear her smile, even through the phone.

why? who's asking?

well, i was just— uhh—

i'm just fuckin' with you. nah, i'm not seein' anyone right now. single af.

okay, okay. good to know.

how 'bout you?

nope. i'm single too.

seriously?? how?

i dunno. just never found the right person i guess. also, working for this hotline has made me lose hope for relationships in general, some of these dudes call me and say all this stuff — while having a whole wife and family at home.

i think you're looking in the wrong place then. try talking to people at school or going out to parties—

can't. if i'm not doing homework or studying, i'm working and doing this. i gotta make a living somehow.

ellie couldn't help but feel bad, knowing if she could, she'd support you full time and take that weight off your shoulders.

hmm, maybe you'll meet someone who could support you and take care of your bills and stuff.

oh? where would i find that? sounds too good to be true.

maybe they're closer to you than you think.

your breath hitched in your throat, unsure of what to say next.

i— uh— i have to go. it's 5am.

oh— uh— yeah. of course. goodnight, sugar.

goodnight, ellie.

sunday, 11:37pm → incoming call from ellie (jackson, WY)

hey.

hey. where's your usual greeting?

you're not a usual customer, so i think we're past that now, ellie.

ellie's heart thumped in her chest hearing you say her name.

good. anyways, what are you up to tonight?

just studying for a quiz tomorrow morning. how about you?

smoking, just finished some homework.

what class was it for?

uhhh, just this calculus class.

you clamped your mouth shut, suppressing a gasp. it was for professor adams class.

....uhhh, i could never get calculus. it's so hard.

yeah? maybe one night i can tutor you.

i'd be a terrible student.

i think you'd be the perfect student. i can teach you, i got you.

you couldn't help but think there was another meaning behind her words, but you didn't want to jump to any conclusions. it would be embarrassing if you got her message all wrong.

what's your quiz on anyways?

energy transfer between cells, it's for biology.

i know a thing or two about that. here— why don't we do this, just explain to me what you know and we'll go from there.

okay, i can do that.

you and ellie spent the next two and a half hours talking about cell function and energy transfer and everything else in between, with her correcting you and adding in important things you missed.

alright, sugar, i think you're ready for this quiz tomorrow.

you think so?

i know so. you're such a smart girl.

there she goes again, praising you.

uh, th-thanks.

don't worry, okay? i know you'll do great.

a smile curls on your lips, flustered from all her support.

you should get some sleep, so you can be focused and ready for tomorrow.

m'kay. thank you, ellie, for all your help.

of course. always. goodnight, sugar.

goodnight, ellie.

monday, 5:32pm → 45:21 ongoing call with mister j (corpus christi, TX)

yeah, babe? you want me to fuck your tight ass?

mhm, yes mister.

c'mon. beg, sugar.

please. fuck my tight hole, mister j.

ah, hell.

you can hear his belt buckle clanging, and the soft buzz of a zipper.

what's wrong with 'ya tonight, sugar? you're bein' a real buzzkill, 'ya know that? fuckin' turnin' me off and makin' me soft.

i-i'm sorry, mister j. please, jus—

yea, yea, save it. we'll jus' try 'gain tomorrow.

the line clicks on the other end. tossing your work phone on your desk, you fall back on your bed and stuff your face in your pillow. weeping into the plush material, you let yourself fall apart and break down.

but your sobbing session is cut short as you can hear the familiar ring of your work phone.

wiping your tears, you walk over to your desk and answer.

monday, 5:45pm → 00:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

thanks for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's suga-

woah, woah, woah are you crying?

e-ellie?

yeah, baby, it's me. sounds like you're crying. what's going on? talk to me.

today was just a really, really bad day and then i opened my hotline a little early and one of my first clients just lashed out on me because i wasn't responding the way he wanted me to and—

you sniffle.

— and i'm just really stressed out by everything going on in my life right now.

i'm sorry. i wish there was something i could do— someway i could comfort you or take the weight off.

i-it's fine, ellie. talking to you is making it a little better.

ellie was silent for a moment, thinking carefully and planning her next moves accordingly.

do you trust me?

....y-yea, of c-course. why?

i'm gonna help you ease the tension. okay?

okay.

first of all, where are you?

i-in my room, sitting at my desk.

okay. go lay down on your bed.

with your phone pressed to your ear, you pick up your legs and stride over to your bed, laying down on the fluffy, material of your blanket.

okay, i'm on my bed.

good. what are you wearing?

foreseeing the direction this phone call was heading in, apprehension builds in your stomach.

ellie, you really don't have to-

hey, i want to help you. if that's okay with you. if not, we could talk about something instead.

biting your lip, you fold.

i-i'm okay with it, but i-i've never— played with myself with a customer before. i don't really do anything with myself even when i'm not working anyways.

that's okay. don't think of me as a customer, think of me as a...teacher. i got you, remember?

okay.

good girl. now, what are you wearing?

uh.. a tank top and shorts.

cute. take them off.

gulping, you follow her orders, shimmying out of your top and shorts.

done?

mhm.

good. so obedient.

i want you to rub your boobs for me. rub your nipples, pull on them, just feel the skin under your hand for me, baby.

rubbing the soft skin along your breast, and tugging on your hardened nipples, you bite your lip, savoring the way your body feels under your touch.

how does it feel?

feels good.

bet it does.

ellie couldn't stop her mind from imagining you, on your bed, perfectly naked. and how she'd give everything up, just to sneak a peek.

now, i want you to just rub your hands against the sensitive parts of your body. be slow and gentle, we're not rushing anything.

as your hands drift from your neck, down to the hills of your breasts, and to the edge of your panties, ellie speaks through the line again.

doesn't it feel nice, baby?

mhm.

wish i could be there, to watch you, touching your pussy.

you instinctively clamp your thighs, feeling heat rush to your core.

alright, take your panties off. slowly.

you slowly peel the piece of material off, looking at the small, wet spot that formulated on your underwear.

okay, they're off.

such a good girl, following my every command.

you gulp, her nickname for you sending shivers up your spine.

slowly feel the skin on your legs. stroke your inner thighs, tease yourself a little.

hanging off on her every word, you let out a shaky breath, the heat in your cunt growing only bigger and bigger.

god, i wish i can be there to see this right now. bet you look so good, thighs spread apart, pussy all wet— all because of me.

i- i'm aching. i need more, ellie.

i know, baby, i know. i wish i can help you more. if it were up to me, i'd have you bent over your desk, taking you from the back. fuck.

your mind drifts to that image, of her fucking you, taking you as hers. a stream of your slick begins to leak out from your pussy. god, you wanted her so bad.

slide a finger between your pussy, baby. let me hear how wet you are.

spreading your thighs apart, the tip of your fingers slips in between the folds of your pussy lips, the slick sound of your wetness echoing throughout the room. loud enough for ellie to hear.

fuuuuuck.

i-

you tried to speak, but it comes out sounding like a pathetic whimper. ellie's brain was going insane, she couldn't believe where she had you, writhing from her mere words.

go ahead, pretty girl. rub slow circles on your clit.

the pads of your pointer and middle finger gently rub steady, figure 8's against your hardened nub. closing your eyes, you imagined ellie, and how it was her hand instead of yours. the thought had you panting, faint breaths releasing from your parted lips.

your pussy sounds so wet, holy shit. you sound so fucking good for me. so fucking perfect.

as your fingers continue massaging on your sopping, wet clit, a pool of wetness gathers right below your ass.

how does it feel, baby?

f-feels amazing, ellie.

you let out a low whimper.

i wish you were here.

me too, pup. me too.

you can hear her heavy breaths from the other end of the phone.

i wish i could be there, kissing your neck. trailing my lips down to suck on your nipples. fuuck, wanna taste every inch of your skin. i wanna feel your pussy tighten around my fingers.

you let out another pitiful moan, only to hear ellie curse under her breath again.

rub your pussy faster for me, angel. imagine it's me, pumping my fingers in and out. would daddy's pretty girl like that?

you couldn't respond. all you could let out was these weak whines, yearning for ellie and her touch. you added a third finger, building onto the pressure and picking up the speed.

your moans sound so pretty. wonder how'd they sound when you're taking my strap. gonna have you cry out my name, yeah? isn't that right?

mhm, yes, daddy.

good. that's what daddy likes to hear, such a polite girl.

with your eyes rolling back, you could feel your orgasm building.

i-i'm gonna— ellie, i—

you gonna cum for me, puppy? huh? c'mon, rub faster, baby. i know you have a little bit more left in you.

your fingers speed up, the sound of your wetness gushing out reverberated in ellie's ear.

oh my god, daddy can i? please? can i—

arching your back, you knew you were close. the feeling was getting to be too much and you were about to fall over the edge.

look at my baby, so respectful and asking permission. come on, pretty puppy. cum for daddy. let daddy hear how good she made you feel.

that was it. letting out a penetrating moan, you rode your orgasm out and finished all over your fingers, making a mess. you were heaving, chest rapidly rising and falling.

god, i made a mess.

oh, yeah? do one more thing for me. suck your fingers clean. puppies clean up their messes.

monday, 8:57pm → 3:01:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

after your little self-care session with ellie, she took it upon herself to get your mind off of today's events, filling your conversation with stories and interesting topics.

oh, forgot to ask, what'd you end up getting on that biology quiz?

ughhh, i got a 65 out of 100. one of the reasons why i was so upset today.

seriously? how?

i don't know! i asked professor gonzalez and she told me that i was focusing on the wrong thi-

wait, did you just say professor gonzalez? holy shit, you're taking biology 201 with professor g? do you fucking go to school at university of wyoming? in jackson?

oh shit, you didn't mean for that to slip out.

i— uh— i have to go—

wait! sugar! please. hear me out.

you stay silent, waiting for what she had to say.

if we really do go to the same campus, please, let's meet up. i really want to see you.

.....why?

i just— i love talking to you. spending hours with you on the phone is what i look forward to when i get home. besides, i really want to take you out, on a date.

you bit your lip, unsure of what to say.

listen, if you want to see me too, meet me at the library in building B, by the comic book section. okay? tomorrow at 1pm.

....

i really hope you come.

the line clicks off, and you spend the rest of the night restless, tossing and turning, debating whether or not to see her tomorrow.

tuesday, 2:50pm

ellie eagerly checked her phone again, bouncing her knee in distress. her mind was running rampant — fuck, she's not gonna come. maybe jesse was right. maybe i was wasting my time.

looking up for the 80th time, she scans the comic book section, seeing no one else but some dude with his face buried in a wonder woman comic.

as ellie gets up from her chair, she turns her head, and she freezes.

there you were, looking like an angel who entered from the garden of eden. ellie's heart sped up, seeing her girl standing before her. you were everything she could've imagined and better.

walking slowly towards the brunette, you brush a piece of hair from your face, and smile meekly.

"hi ellie, it's me."

pls let me know how this fic was, i tried out a new writing style & read pt 2 here <3

[findmeinforks]

Stay Pt. 2 - Paul Lahote X Fem!Reader

This is the final part to Stay 💕 I liked writing this version of Paul, just a big ole softie. I'm currently working on another one shot & a Sam fic as well. As always, let me know what you think! 2.4K words ❤️

You giggled as you took a sip of coffee, the tea you had made went cold long ago.

"I definitely don't think a slap across the face was necessary..."

He chuckled, "That's what I said! Jacob is still hopelessly in love with her. They aren't even imprints. I don't get it." He shook his head.

"What's imprints?"

Paul nearly choked on his drink.

"Um, well it's-"

"Good morning you two!" Paul sighed of relief as Emily walked into the kitchen.

"Oh my gosh, what time is it?" You went wide eyed.

She laughed, "7:00am. I was going to make breakfast if you're hungry."

You nodded getting up, "Sure, I'll help you."

Paul watched you both cook as the rest of the pack slowly filtered in. He. Was. Fucked.

He was trying to come up with something, anything he didn't like about you. Not only was he incredibly stubborn on the fact he didn't need anybody, but what he wouldn't admit was he was downright terrified. Afraid he'd say the wrong thing, or do something stupid and screw up any chance of a relationship. He didn't want a relationship. But that was before you....

-

New vampires were popping up everywhere, and the boys had been on patrol non stop.

This meant little to no conversations with you, other than the occasional small talk at dinner. Paul craved to be closer to you, but every time he had an opportunity, he let his nerves get the best of him.

He watched you leave to run errands one day, Emily then turning to him.

"Are you ever going to ask her out or are you always going to stare at her like a lost puppy?" She boldly asked.

Paul couldn't help but smirk.

"What's it to you?"

"Ummm EVERYTHING. You imprinted on my best friend. And besides, I've watched you get with many women. I can tell she's different to you." She smiled.

Paul sucked in a breath. He took a quick look around to make sure there were no other open ears before mumbling, "She just makes me nervous, I don't know. I guess I never cared if someone would reject me before. Not sure how I would handle it if she did."

"You're kidding right? Ugh, you're both so lost in the clouds. She's head over heels for you, Paul."

"Yeah right." He scoffed.

"I'm serious!! Do whatever you want to do but I think if you took a shot, you'd like her answer."

-

You had been sort of bummed out at the fact you really hadn't gotten anywhere with Paul since that one late night weeks ago. You had chalked it up to him simply not being interested. Normally you'd just brush it off, knowing not every guy you encountered would want you in that way. But, it was ten times harder when you lived with said person. Even though the boys had been extra busy with patrols, you still saw him at least once a day. You got butterflies each time, fantasizing he would just walk up and ask you out. When he never did, you knew you had to just get over it.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you sighed, looking at the unanswered question. Fuck it.

-

It was a Friday night, and the first one in months that Paul didn't have patrol. He was finally going to do it. He was going to ask you on a date. He'd thought this through, countless times. He was simply going to offer if you'd like to grab some pizza and go see a movie. Nothing crazy, just casual and comfortable.

His leg was bouncing under the kitchen table, waiting anxiously for most of the boys to leave. He had been mindlessly talking to Quil who had suddenly averted his gaze to the stairs, eyes growing wide. "Holy shit." He whispered. Paul turned to where he was looking, and his breath caught in his throat.

There you stood, radiating in a tight dress that hugged your body in all the right ways. Your hair had been curled just slightly and your makeup made your face glow. You looked like you had taken a step right out of heaven.

"And just where do you think you're going gorgeous?!?" Emily gushed, hand on her hip when she, too had noticed.

"I got invited on a date." You beamed.

Paul felt like he had just taken a knife to his chest. His heart felt like it was nearly ripped out, his inner wolf scratching at the surface in pain. This was nobody's fault but his own. He didn't do anything for weeks and it wasn't even surprising someone else had beaten him to it.

The air was tense, all the boys and Emily trying and failing not to gauge Paul's reaction to your words. He slowly got up from the table, restraining himself not to shake, not to even show a slight temper until he was outside and far away from the house. He couldn't ruin this for you.

You frowned at Paul's exit, wondering in the back of your mind if he at all cared. Nonsense. Focus on this date, and do not think about him.

-

"I thought I'd find you here." Sam chuckled as he approached Paul, both in wolf form on the edge of the forest. Paul hadn't wanted anyone to see, but when your date picked you up he had followed you both to the restaurant, happy it was in ample sight through the crowded trees.

Paul huffed. "I'm just making sure she's safe. That is my job as an imprint, is it not?" He sneered.

"Of course. But then again, if you admitted to yourself that you liked her, she might not be on this date in the first place."

"For fucks sake. I do like her, okay? I've been busy on patrol and I was planning on asking her out tonight. I didn't know it would be too late.."

"It's never too late."

"Have you and Emily been watching too many rom-com's lately? Seems you both have all the answers to my love life."

Sam snorted. "We don't have all the answers, no, asshole, but we do know first hand what it's like to navigate imprinting."

Paul sighed. Maybe the universe would give him a second chance.

-

You had regretted everything the second you got in the car. This guy was the most boring, dullest man you could have ever met. You caught yourself looking at the clock more than you did him.

Once you had suffered through about two hours of misery, you politely (and awkwardly) told him you didn't think this would work out, and that you would find a ride home. He seemed absolutely fine with this, and you knew it was because you had put in so little effort from the start. Perhaps dating was not for you right now anyways. At least, dating anyone that wasn't him. Once you'd stop letting him get in the way of your thoughts, you'd try again.

After the man left you called Emily from the lobby, to which she apologized it didn't work out and said she'd of course be on her way.

What you hadn't expected however, was to see a certain wolf you had been obsessing over, pull up to park instead.

What a sneaky little bitch.

You walked up to the passenger door, eyebrows up in confusion.

"You ordered a get away car?"

You blushed, rolling your eyes playfully as you hopped in.

"Listen, not every guy is going to be my knight in shining armor and I've accepted that." You chuckled.

"That bad huh?"

"Miserable. Had the personality of watching paint dry. And that place was awful. They didn't even have good food. Just salad and wine. I'm starving." You threw your hands up in defeat.

Paul cleared his throat, the nerves starting to creep back up to him.

"Would you want to stop somewhere for some pizza?"

"Please, that would be great."

Paul smiled as he started up the truck.

-

You two walked through the door, throwing each other a confused look. It was silent. If there was one thing you learned about living here for the past month, it was that it was never, ever quiet.

Paul set the boxes on the counter, noticing a small note.

"I'll be back, I'm just going to change." You announced before heading to your room, in which he took the opportunity to quickly read it.

Probably the only time I can promise a house to yourselves until at least midnight. Make a move already! -Emily & Sam

Paul blushed before discretely throwing it in the trash.

You came back in an oversized hoodie and sweats, just about knocking the wind out of Paul. How did you look so flawless, so effortlessly? He'd never know.

"We could watch a movie while we eat on the couch. If you want..." He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

You smiled and nodded, grabbing a slice and following him.

When both of you had finished eating, still watching the movie, Paul's mind was anywhere else. He had to stop letting his nerves get the best of him. Before he'd know it, you'd just be out again with some other guy. He couldn't let that happen without at least knowing if he had a chance. You were his imprint for crying out loud, so you had to feel some sort of bond, right?

He eyed you from the side as he caught you hugging your knees to your chest, shivering ever so slightly.

"Are you cold?" He asked as if it wasn't obvious. When you nodded meekly he held out his arm. "Come here."

Your heart was racing as you more than gladly accepted the invitation in his arms. Jeez, was he hot.

"You have this tempature all the time?"

You could feel his chest vibrate as he chuckled. "I guess there are some perks to being a wolf."

Paul was being as normal as possible, but his mind was screaming. You molded perfectly into his chest, your hair smelling of fresh shampoo. Your small hands hesitantly wrapped around his torso as you snuggled deeper into him. He placed his arm on yours, the other wrapped around your side. He could spend forever just like this.

It wasn't but an hour that he could feel you softly start to snore. He smiled to himself as he gently kissed the top of your head. He leaned his cheek down, and soon enough, he followed.

-

Paul squinted his eyes open, nearly jumping when he saw your head still lay on his chest. He had almost thought the entire thing was a dream. As the sun shone through the curtains he realized you both had slept through the entire night, shocked none of the pack members tried to mess with him. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair and out of your face. You looked so peaceful. He pulled his hand away when you started to blink, yawning and stretching before also realizing where you were.

You looked up at him before fully sitting up.

"Oh my gosh, I didn't realize I fell asleep."

"It's okay, I just woke up myself."

You both now sat upright on the couch, but still so close. You looked up at him with tired eyes. He couldn't help staring back,

"You're really beautiful you know." He said so softly that it was almost a whisper.

You blushed, hard. You looked in his eyes, the ones you caught yourself in so many weeks ago, and down to his lips. You parted your mouth slightly as if you should say something, but Paul was already ahead of you.

With one hand he cupped your cheek, he leaned down and melted his lips into yours. You snaked your arms around his neck, getting lost in the kiss, in his overall warmth. He could feel you smile through the kiss, and it was as if it washed away any doubts that he had before.

"Ohhhhhh SNAP!!!!" Embrys voice had you two pull away, Paul turning to glare at him as his hand still gripped your waist. He almost had a mind to get off the couch and fight him, if you hadn't placed your head into his neck, giggling.

"Embry I told you to leave them alone damnit." Emily's stern voice came from behind them, smacking him upside the back of his head. She drug him back into the kitchen, ordering he help her with breakfast.

"Hate to say it but nights like last night won't happen often. Theres a lot of interruptions in this house." He said as he softly kissed your forehead. You lifted your head back up, kissing him softly once more.

"As long as we can always pick up where we left off."

Paul smiled wide as he swiftly pulled you under him, your laugh rung in his ears as he returned his mouth to yours.

Perhaps fate wasn't so bad after all.

[sant-riley]

[Ghost with OFC!Reader who has a toxic family] [p1 of ?]

A/N: straight up this is self indulgent/me projecting (like all my work is) bc it's comforting for me to imagine that I have someone to protect me from life bc wow this shit sucks. Not tagging anyone due to this potentially being triggering.

CW: toxic family dynamics, swearing, mental illness, simping, age gaps, definitely not professional, Ghost punches someone (let me know if there's anything else)

~

Now I don't even have to say that Simon is extremely sensitive when it comes to family, especially since he himself grew up in a toxic environment. He knows the signs because they're the signs he saw in his day to day life.

He knew something was up when you never want to go home when breaks come, any young Rookie is usually bouncing off the walls to go see their loved ones but you? You almost look depressed at the thought. Ghost may tell people he has a cold heart, but not when it comes to you. You wormed your way into his chest next to that said cold heart and now he can't help but worry. You're too young to have probably been in a place on your own, so no choice but to go back to the family home. He was in your shoes once, he too had joined the military to find a way out.

Ghost doesn't speak to people off duty, never has but things have changed. You, Soap, Gaz, Price? You all are the closest thing he will ever have to a family again, so against his better and usual judgment, he asks you if you'd like to stay with him at one of his safe houses.

"Runt, do you....for fucks sake, do you want to come back with me? Stay with me until our next mission."

"Oh! No, I'm fine Ghost, I'm alright to go home."

A smile on your lips but it doesn't reach your eyes. He feels his own turn down into a grimace.

"Teds, stop the shit for a second, yeah? I see that look on your face, you don't want to go back there."

He rests a skeleton glove covered hand on your shoulder, caressing the skin there with a thumb graze.

"I don't want to be a bother.'"

"You're never a bother sweetheart, c'mon then."

~

Staying with Ghost is, different to say the least. He takes you to his home in Manchester and goddamn the place is barely lived in, the only place that look used is his kitchen. He really lets you have free reign of the place, the only room not allowed is his bedroom. Not because he doesn't trust you rather it's just a personal thing.

Overtime the place filled with little traces of you, your hair ties liter the counters and tables, your laughter in the other room while you scroll on your phone. Hearing your footsteps run to area of the house so you can show him said video, the groceries you buy once you learn Ghost solely lives off of take out.

"Are you serious?"

"I work out to balance it."

"Ghost-"

It warms his chest to see you show so much concern over him, a man 6'4 who could easily snap your neck. He rustles your hair with a deep chuckle.

You try and not encroach on his space but he finds that he likes it. He likes seeing your shoes next to his at the doorway, he likes seeing you cook in his kitchen, he likes seeing you wake up groggy with crust in your eyes. He loves it all. Though he'd never admit it.

You make his house, now his home feel so much warmer and brighter. You insist on catching him up to the newest movies and shows, forcing him to sit down next to you to watch the newest Marvel movie while he pretends he hates it. He makes jokes in between that he could do better than that and that if he were there, he'd just put a bullet between the enemies eyes.

Seeing you fall asleep on his shoulder brings a peace to him, his arm around your shoulders as you nuzzle in closer. He doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve you. But he's gonna pretend he does, just for a little while longer.

~

Imagine his surprise when he meets your family for the first time. You had wanted to go home and get some things to bring back to his place so he came with you on a flight since he knows you don't care for air travel by yourself.

Ghost was used to his presence scaring people and warding people off. He knows how to keep people in line, its been his job for as long as he could care to remember. So he wasn't expecting them to treat you so horribly in front of him. Really, what'd they expect to happen. First mistake.

It's such a stark contrast you are in this place, from base, the field, to the woman in front of him. You curl into yourself, hands cracking in your hoodie pockets as you sit there and just take it, waiting for a break so you can speak. You're not looking at him or even making an attempt to talk back.

Ghost knows you're grown, he knows it's not his place but he feels his blood pressure get higher and higher as they scream and belittle you for things out of your control, your looks, your weight, telling to come back home, to leave the military, anything and everything under the sun. Second mistake. He can feel his knuckles turn a stark white under his gloves and it isn't until your sibling gets up in your face with a hand raised that he springs into action. Third mistake. Ghost is a big man, but he moves fast and unexpectedly.

Before he registered it, your sibling is on the floor clutching their stomach after being gut punched. He hears them heaving while trying to curse him out, looking up with him with hatred. Simon wants to take his heavy steel toed boot and kick the fuckers face. Hell, he wants to beat the ever living shit out of every single person in this fucking house. To think they can treat you like this? Over his dead body.

He hears your parents screaming about how dare he and that he's fucking insane but when he turns to look around at you, he sees you staring up at him with tear filled eyes and a whisper of thank you. In that moment he knows, he knows he'd do just about anything for you. He shoots a withering glare at your parents

"We're taking her shit and leaving." He barks out, his eyes burning a hole in their heads while they shakily nod and avoid looking at either of you.

Ghost grabs your hand and leads you towards your bedroom where he grabs anything he can bag and helps you stuff all your belongings into it, making sure you have everything until the room is completely cleared out.

Shuffling the bags on his arms, he holds your hand again and intertwines your fingers, gently pulling you out the house and towards the rental truck. Not taking one glance at the so called family watching you two.

"You're staying with me from now on, got it runt?"

The smile on your face is so bright when you say "Of course, L.T."

-

If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

An exclusive deal

Written for @astrangersummer, week 12

Prompt: not-date

Rated: M

Words: 1,778 (also on AO3)

Relationship: Steve/Eddie

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Record label owner Eddie; Waiter Steve; Sex work; Attempted non-con (mentioned); Protective Eddie; Possessive Eddie

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

Eddie has been fantasizing about Steve Harrington for as long as he can remember. 

There was nothing tender to it in the beginning. Eddie was well aware of high school hierarchies and the unspoken laws of small town life. He was a freak who listened to the wrong kind of music, who lived on the shady end of town and sold drugs from his run-down van. He’d never amount to much in life. 

Steve on the other hand? Perfect, pretty King Steve with his rich parents, the big house, a different girl on each arm every weekend? That boy was destined to go far, everyone in Hawkins knew that much. 

Eddie was not an idiot. He knew that there were worlds between the two of them. There was no way in hell Steve would ever be his. And so he contented himself with imagining how that soft, smooth skin would feel under his hands, how those lips would taste as he sucked and bit at them while Steve moaned into his mouth. How the muscles of those perfect thighs would shake, wrapped around his waist or slung over his shoulders as he slowly reduced the King to a whining, sobbing mess.  

Eddie booked it out of Hawkins the second he finally had his diploma in hand. He never once looked back. He still thought about Steve, occasionally. 

It was only after they met again, years and miles away from that wretched place and with their positions in life all but flipped that Eddie's fantasies took a different turn. 

Suddenly, Steve wasn't just an unattainable pretty face floating past in the hallways, but an actual, real person. Still floating, mind you, now on roller skates while waiting tables, but a person no less. A person with a past he refused to discuss. A person with a stubborn streak for miles and a beautiful, snarky sense of humor, and a soft, vulnerable side he was desperate to protect. 

And suddenly, without warning, Eddie’s feelings shifted. Suddenly, he found himself preening at each glimpse of that smile, found his chest growing warm and tingly every time Steve accepted his tip money or leftover food.

Suddenly, the very thing that had always been a distant daydream seemed possible, and suddenly, he found himself craving it with a burning urgency that startled even himself. 

He wanted Steve to be his. 

And now, Steve is here in his apartment, shifting on the sofa so that he can lean further into Eddie’s space.

It's everything Eddie has been thinking about for weeks. Having Steve here, in his living room, close enough to feel his body heat, close enough to touch.

Except this is not a date. 

“Ow, fuck,” he hisses as Steve touches a piece of alcohol-drenched gauze to his split lip. “That hurts!” 

Steve scowls at him. 

“It wouldn't hurt so much if you could stop fidgeting for five seconds” he scolds, but his touch goes more gentle. “We need to clean this before it gets infected.” 

“Well,” Eddie says, “Maybe I’d stop fidgeting if you were more careful.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, putting two fingers to Eddie’s chin so that he can keep his head in place. “Stop being such a crybaby. I swear to God, I've babysat four-year-olds less whiny than you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie snarks. “I doubt the four-year-olds ever had their heads bashed in trying to protect you from some sleazy, wannabe rapist in a dark side alley, so there.”

Steve freezes. 

“Shit,” Eddie says, fighting against the rapidly rising urge to punch himself again. He's probably mildly concussed already, God knows he can do without extra hits. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“It's okay,” Steve says, but his expression has become guarded and distant again. Before Eddie can stop him, he stands, snatching the first aid kit from its place by their feet and carrying it over to the side table standing a small way off. A tense silence settles over the room while he turns his back, pretending to organize the contents, and Eddie wrecks his brain for something to say to lift the mood.

“Who was that douchebag, anyhow?” is what his mouth settles on. Steve's shoulders go rigid, and scratch that, Eddie clearly hasn't been punched enough yet. 

“Dunno,” Steve mutters, just as Eddie is considering whether to bash his stupid fucking head against the sofa table or the nearest wall. “I don't ask their names, usually.” 

Eddie can practically feel how the remaining color drains from his face. 

“Wait, whoa,” he blurts. “Hold on a second. Their names? As in plural? What the hell, Steve?” 

“Oh, for fuck's sake.” Steve slams the first aid kit shut so hard the plastic cracks, and whirls around. “Don't act so shocked. You think I'm getting by on waiting tables alone? Please! We're both grown-ass adults, don't make me spell it out for you.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie screeches. His hands are shaking, he can hear his own blood in his ears, and apparently, he's gotten off the sofa at some point, because he's on his feet and Steve takes a step back as he advances on him, bumping his ass against the table. “What are you even- … You can't do that.” 

Steve's eyes go hard. 

“Why not?” he asks, and the aloof tone and stubborn jut to his chin remind Eddie painfully of the first time they met again at the diner. “What's it to you?” 

Everything, Eddie wants to say. It's fucking everything to him, because Steve is everything, and the idea of Steve with anyone else makes his blood boil and his stomach twist.  

“I just…” he stutters instead. “I don't- … I don't get it. Money's a little tight, so you thought it would be a good idea to fuck strangers in an alleyway?” 

Steve flushes and sputters. It would be adorable, under any other circumstances, if Eddie could feel anything but helpless rage right now. 

“I don't fuck them,” he says. “I just …” 

He trails off, blush darkening by about five shades. His eyes stay glued to one of the framed band posters on Eddie’s wall as he forms a loose circle with his thumb and fingers. He does a vague, jerky up-and-down motion, once, before he lets his hand flop to his side. 

“Sometimes I suck ‘em off, but only if they're nice and pay extra.” 

Eddie stares at him. Maybe, if the situation was any different, he'd find it funny how Steve can't bring himself to say the word handjob, but will casually talk about sucking someone off for a bit of extra money, but right now, all he wants to do is scream. The thought of Steve on his knees in that dark, stinking side alley, of that pretty, pink mouth opening for some other guy's cock, fills his mind with dark needlepoints of red. 

“Are you fucking serious?” His hands have found his hair, pulling on a fistful of curls until his scalp stings. “That's- … Shit, that's dangerous, Steve. Do you have any idea what-” 

“Oh, wow!” Steve throws up his hands and laughs, but there's no joy in it. “It's dangerous? Really? Well, thank you for telling me. What would I ever do without you?” 

“Well excuse the fuck out of me,” Eddie snaps, and his voice rises dangerously. “Like what, I'm not allowed to worry about you?” 

“No, you're not!” 

The words bounce unpleasantly off the walls of the living room. They feel like a punch to the gut, and without his conscious doing, Eddie finds himself stumbling a step backwards. Steve takes in the shock on his face and huffs. 

“You're not,” he repeats, more calmly this time, and somehow it's even worse the second time around. “You don't get to- … fuck, Eddie, I dunno what you think this is, but we're not- … You're a customer. I serve you food, you pay me. You tip well, so I'm nice to you, but that's- … We are not friends. You don't get to worry about me, and you most definitely do not get to tell me what to do or not to do with my body, okay?” 

Silence settles between them. Somewhere outside, the sound of sirens slices through the night. 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I'm- … okay.” 

Steve nods. His breath is coming in ragged little puffs. 

“Okay,” he repeats. “Good. Thanks for helping me out.” 

Panic clawing at his chest, Eddie watches how he turns, picking up the bag with his roller skates from the floor. He wants to shout out, wants to tell Steve not to leave, wants to lunge and hold him back and never let him go again. 

But he can’t. This is not a date. They’re not friends. Steve isn’t his, and he can't tell him what to do, can't protect him, can't do anything but pay him for his service and hope that-

“Wait.”

The word is out before the thought fully settles. Steve turns on the threshold of the living room, eyes weary and tired. 

“What?” 

Eddie doesn't allow himself time to pause. If he did, he'd think about what a horrible idea this is, and he doesn't have time to second-guess himself now.

“How much do you make with that little side hustle of yours?” 

Steve shrugs. 

“Depends? I have a couple of regulars, but-” He cuts himself off and Eddie can see how he reels himself back in, how his shoulders go rigid and his expression closes off. “Why should I tell you?” 

“Because I'll double it.” Eddie means to sound bold and confident, but he nearly barrels over himself in his haste to get the words out, and his voice cracks pathetically on the last syllables. A disbelieving little smile twitches over Steve’s face.

“You'll what?” 

“Double it,” Eddie repeats, more firmly this time. He finally finds the use of his feet again, bridging the distance between them with a few quick steps. Steve’s smile drops. “No, screw this, I'll triple it. You want me as a customer, I'll be your goddamn customer. On one condition.” 

Steve's shoulders bump against the doorframe as Eddie steps into his space. For a second or two, Eddie thinks he's going to bolt - run right out the front door and into the darkness, maybe disappear from Eddie’s life forever. But he stays. Stays close enough for Eddie to see how his breath hitches in his throat. Close enough for Eddie to see the temptation in those gold-flecked eyes. 

He knows he has won before he even says it, and it fills him with a grim, possessive satisfaction. He's probably a horrible person for it. 

“I want this to be an exclusive deal.” 

To be continued ...

Tag list: @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon @steddhie

@formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

[lucifers-rubber-duck]

im back with more chaotic modern reader x hazbin crew... 👀👀

just imagine a reader who cannot take things seriously. like, oh you're sad? their response is either "not a slay" or "that didn't eat". oh Angel and Husk are having yet another argument and the rest of the hotel is tense (-Alastor)? reader just obnoxiously sips tea. oh Adam is going on his "I'm better than you all" rant during the fight? reader just obnoxiously chews popcorn.

A/N: I rewrote this a few times because I had too many ideas on what to do but didn't want it to be too long. Anyways, hope you enjoy Anon!

• You just don't get why people make such a fuss about stupid things, they're already in hell, what are they whining about? This place isn't even that bad, it is way different from what you were teached at least, you actually enjoy being here.

• You're not the most reliable person to go to when it comes to having a serious conversation, you just don't give two shits about anything, why should you? Does it really matter in this place, even if some demon gets angry at you, it's not like you can die again.

• You saw Charlie crying or just really stressed out about the hotel, you either tell her to suck it up or don't even bother engaging and go call Vaggie to deal with it, not your girlfriend, not your problem. Sir Pentious says his sinceres sorries to you? You tell him to go fuck himself and still gives him death stares for a week, he destroyed the wall Alastor made you clean up earlier that day and you hold grudges very easily.

• Husker and Angel are having a discussion? You're filming it and whispering “Fight fight fight” in the back, you'll take any drama that happens at the hotel. And when they come back all friendly and even being gross with each other you put your head on the bar's counter and let out a disappointed sigh; “You two are flirting now? For fuck sake, I can't have jackshit in this hotel can I?”

• Lucifer is coming to the Hotel? You cared at first, but then realized he was not as hot as you imagined the king of Hell would be and decided that you won't mind, you only really pay attention to when he and Alastor are fighting. Your eyes did tear up a little bit when Lucifer and Charlie solved things with each other but you won't ever say that out loud.

• When Vaggie finally revealed that she was a angel to everyone, you took it as the biggest gossip of the year instead of and actual emotional moment and did not understand why Charlie was so shocked at this information, like, c'mon, that shit was the best.

• When the final battle is close, the one that you can actually kill you for good, you don't get all emotional, your side has a army of cannibals, Alastor and the princess of Hell, why should you worry? Still, you find yourself drinking with your hotel mates the night before the fight, you find yourself talking happily to Charlie and Vaggie, telling Sir Pentious to just kiss Cherri Bomb already, you congratulate Angel and his future relationship with Husker which makes him laugh.

• This is Hell, you're here because you deserve it, but tomorrow is another day that no one can tell what happens so might as well enjoy it while it lasts, but you totally don't care about the hotel, yeah… Totally don't care.

[littleskeletonprincessss]

Heyyyy yknow what we were just talking about? So, maybe you should write Schlatt getting mad and fucking the shit out of you

-In any context-

I’m totally not just asking this so I can complete all the drafts I have

Heyyyy, i'm going to use what we were talking about as the scenario for this. (For anyone confused, you can go read the post here (you definitely SHOULD go read it because) but tldr, Schlatt would throw a bitch fit trying to put a tent up. (The SHELTER kind, you filthy rats)

also, was definitely listening to ysf audio while doing this which kinda helped. Definitely recommend him if you haven't heard.

Just some HCs:

It definitely would have taken weeks and a couple blowjobs to convince Schlatt to take you camping.

When he finally gave in, the process didn't go smooth AT ALL.

You both somehow forgot to actually make reservations at a camping site, but you reassured him that you didn't need a campsite, you could just drive into the mountains somewhere.

So anyway it starts POURING rain.

And his car is getting dirty driving through all the mud puddles trying to find a place

Side note I think Schlatt is definitely the kind of man who babies his stupid car.

As much as he babies you, if not more

When you finally find a clearing, and the rain stopped, you both got out to set up camp

But come to find out the instructions for your tent were nowhere to be found.

Schlatt being who he is, insisted with every ounce of pride in his body, that he could figure the damn thing out.

He definitely muttered lots of swear words under his breath, along with the whole idea of this stupid trip

You'd been unloading the bed supplies and when you were done you noticed it was getting darker

So you innocently asked Schlatt if he wanted a little bit of help when you noticed that he'd made no progress

"No I don't want you goddamn help. I'm not a fucking idiot."

"Schlatt, come on, it's getting dark, let me help."

"Shut the fuck up. This whole stupid camping trip was your idea in the first place."

You could see Schlatt's eyes darken with anger and frustration and fuck was it hot.

"No."

Was it a good idea to say that right now? Oh absolutely fucking not. Did you care? Absolutely fucking not.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"You heard me."

Schlatt would stand up, throwing the bag of stakes down and walk to the pile of blankets before grabbing a big one off the top.

"I thought I fucking did. Fuck this fucking dumbass tent, I can blow your back out right here, now lay the fuck down."

After Schlatt would spread the blanket out you'd lay down on the slightly damp ground, barely having time to move a rock from under your back before Schlatt was pressing hard kisses against your neck, sucking harsh bruises.

"What, I don't even get a kiss first?"

Schlatts hand would immediately be on your throat.

"You need to shut your goddamn mouth. Make me drive to the middle of bum fuck nowhere with a stupid tent that won't stay up."

Schlatt would break up his sentences with nips to your neck.

His other hand would hold both of your above your head, pinning your wrists.

The nice thing about being in the middle of nowhere was you could be as loud as you needed and Schlatt made it his personal goal sometime to make you break the world record for loudest noise ever made.

He'd waste no time getting both of you naked so he could just fuck you already and sink the tent he never had trouble getting up between your thighs.

And he'd go HARD.

Taking every bit of anger out on you

"Yeah, that's my little bitch. Just a fucking little cumslut for me aren't you doll? That's all your good for apparently, since you can only come up with stupid ideas like camping"

"Open your fucking mouth." he'd say before spitting in it. "That's it, sweetheart, take it."

Man would go for hours he was so pent up, both of you coming multiple times together.

After he'd finally calmed down, when the sun was just coming up, he'd pull his underwear back on before dressing you in the warm pajamas you'd brought

Just some of his sweats and his Wilson hoodie

before wrapping you in a clean blanket and bridal carrying you to the passenger seat of the car

He'd get dressed and pack everything up before sliding in to his sit and leaning over the console to kiss you.

"You okay baby?"

Schlatt is aftercare king, always.

"Mmm" you'd mumble quietly

Starting the car, Schlatt would start driving home.

You'd turn to watch the trees pass by out the window before glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Schlatt I think you forgot the tent."

"Nope."

And he'd drive away without another word leaving a pile of canvas behind you.

Anyway sorry this was shit. <3

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin Hotel||Alastor X Reader||Creating Trouble Part 1. ||Kidnaping Scenario

Being a human was a taboo in hell, all the words you never herd you herd, everything you never felt you felt, and it got you a lot of attention from the different residents.

TW- Trigger warning, Mentions of molestation, mild language.

You couldn't scream or utter a single cry of desperation. These demons were much stronger than you could ever imagine, your worst fear was just about to come true.

"Just spray that perfume or whatever boss gave, before the radio demon comes." One muffled voice ordered.

Then you blacked out before they tied you up in constraints.

Everyone had been going nuts about the new extermination dates which had been scheduled much earlier. Everyone was creating havoc in hell during that time,

You came across a page, when you were with Alastor one of those days there was some tension and beef between Alastor and the top face of Vee.

"Oh, that's nothing, my dear! Just a little resident here who thinks he owns all of hell." Alastor said with a big grin,

"Your voice is really nice you know? Can I have those old records of yours that you were going to broadcast but never did?"

"They are just drafts my dear, it's useless."

"If they are so useless, why did you keep them?"

"Maybe I should show it to you someday my dear, I think you'll quite enjoy them. Now go to sleep while I finish some business with some co-workers of mine." Alastor instructed you had a habit of always neglecting your bedtime and sleeping the whole day.

That particular incident flashed before you were woken up with someone kicking your leg and splashing some water.

"I really thought that was some messed up shit you know. You think Lucifer's brat would?"

"Miss Bleeding Heart would probably be dead by now if it isn't that stupid radio demon watching her back all the time."

"Oh, speaking of the radio demon, did the brat wake up already? She sleeps too much; I'll just give her to one of the cannibals."

You woke up but instantly flinched when someone tall, wearing heart-shaped glasses, and a pink coat, type of soul came in front of you.

"How cute." He said amused, "Hey how much money do you think the brat can make?"

"Oh, shut it, Valentino, I didn't ask my henchmen to kidnap her so you could strike some business deal or some shit like that."

"So, listen here bitch, everyone here is horny assholes and if you want to keep that body of yours in peace, you better suck it up and answer all my questions one by one."

"OH, Kinky!" Valentino squealed.

Your heart raced rapidly, it felt like your diaphragm couldn't relax anymore and your mind had gone blank with fear, you would think with those comedic looks they would be good for a few hearty laughs.

But All your friends and you knew they were rivals.

"So did Miss Bleeding Heart and your little boyfriend ever strike a deal or something?"

"M... Miss bleeding heart?" You softly called out,

"Yeah, Lucifer's brat."

"I.. I don't know." You simply said just to be met with a harsh slap, shocking you. "I'm only a human I don't interfere with these things!"

"So, you're telling me, the radio demon has not gone soft after meeting you?"

"How is my personal status of any relevance?" You questioned,

You lay unconscious down below, struggling to get up you took a look around your surroundings, it was dark but a little dim blue light from the TV alerted you; you were bruised, and it hurt to breathe, how did you even survive?

It looked like the corridors were locked, and you were just left discarded here, with your remaining strength you hurried to the T.V., and it was the same page when Vox and Alastor had that little tension.

Could you reach anyone from here?

Judging by your injuries you must have been out at least for two to three days.

Back in the hotel.

It was Husk who noticed that you were literally not anywhere in the hotel, it further confirmed his suspicions, when Sir Pentious and Niffty asked about you, "Where did the goody two shoes go? She's acting like a bad girl!" Niffty huffed.

Everyone had been in a panic, at last when Alastor came back from one of his trips, he would always usually bring you a little trinket or something,

"My dear, sorry I got so caught up--" He realized you were not there.

Two days had passed when no news of your disappearance was updated, but it was getting busy as hell in the hotel and it angered Alastor when he was told to do something that didn't involve tracking you.

One day when Valentino had enough of your refusal he declared, He would ravage you if you didn't open your mouth.

Vox didn't want the entire image to get threatened by the media.

"So how are you, Alastor? Saw the sudden stop with your regular updates."

"Well, you see I'm in a bit of a dilemma myself, a dear friend of mine has been missing."

"Friend?' Vox laughed, "I thought it was more of a plaything?"

He pushed your tired form to the counter, as you barely managed to stabilize yourself.

It was Valentino who grabbed your collar and made you look at Alastor,

Alastor's eyes darkened, a threatening aura had befallen him, which made you nervous. Even if none of the anger was directed towards you.

When he left the remaining support you fell down again, "Exceedingly weak!" Valentino urged, kicking your frail body.

Charlie burst into tears, and Angel instantly bombarded the two with questions, "Did you piece of shi--"

"Anymore and she'll be of good use to me." Valentino warned.

Before the screen was shut.

"That was good don't you think?"

"Now we have to be wary of that Radio demon."

"I'll fucking kill them." Alastor's eyes widened when he recalled your body being manhandled, and thrown with such disregard,

He grew into his demonic form the more he thought about it the more, sadistic the punishments he concocted in his head grew.

"You worry about not letting the hotel fall into shambles, I'll make the Vee wish I'd stay gone."

[strawberryblondebutch]

So I read Britta Curl's apology.

Emphasis on read, because no way in hell am I listening to that whole thing with my shitty auditory processing. So please acknowledge that this means I'm potentially missing out on tonal cues and body language.

I don't think she's changed. A good apology recognizes what you've done wrong and how you'll improve in the future. She seems to think that her posts are the problem, not the beliefs that motivated said posts. Her improvement plan is to "grow in humility, and grow in love." I'm not sure where most marginalized groups would rank that in their restorative justice plans.

Even if the apology's content is lackluster, the fact it exists is good. That Curl felt she needed to say something, for her own and the league's reputation, means she knows that eyes are on her. There are degrees of harm in public figures. Among baseball players, you can trace a line down from Curt Schilling (actual Breitbart personality) to Jason Adam (refused to wear a pride cap in a game) to Brad Hand (likes Trump tweets on Twitter in silence). I have no respect for the beliefs Hand's social media activity suggests that he has, but he's not saying on the record that being gay is a bad lifestyle choice, nor is he tweeting about how awesome that Capitol riot was. My personal respect may be nonexistent, but Hand's actions are less directly harmful.

I would love if Britta Curl changed her beliefs. I don't engage in moral Puritanism. I believe that people can change, and I want them to. If she came out with an apology tomorrow where she said, "I understand that my words and actions have hurt members of the trans and Black communities, and here are the steps I am taking to understand why this is so harmful so that I can improve, I would support her. But that's not what happened.

Whether we like it or not, this shit does matter. Arguably, it matters even more in women's sports. I don't like it. I would love if the WNBA, PWHL, or any other league were one where you could shut up and play, and you weren't expected to be a role model for young girls everywhere (which, that's a rant all of its own). But at the end of the day, you can't cater who you are to a hypothetical ideal. You have to cater it to the world that you're in. And yeah, that sucks.

The increased scrutiny on female athletes will always affect marginalized groups more. I'm not going to speak too much on racism in the WNBA, because I don't consider myself an expert on it (I'm only a casual basketball fan, no matter the gender), but I've seen the scrutiny leveled on Angel Reese compared to Caitlin Clark. I also remember Hilary Knight being fucking terrified to come out as queer because of all the outside pressure on her. Having to hide what you believe is different than hiding what you are.

She's not going to get top-six minutes this coming season, and the discourse is going to be insufferable. Yeah, Curt Schilling's a terrible human being, and although his beliefs got worse after retirement, he was an outspoken conservative when he won the 2004 World Series. Compare that to Trevor Bauer, whose shooters claim that he's being blacklisted by the Woke Mob, when he's really just... not a good pitcher, and he's also managed to piss off every manager he's ever had. Britta Curl will not be one of the six best players on Minnesota unless something goes terribly wrong - she's not a better center than Heise or Pannek, and she's not a good enough sniper to move to the wing. The worst people you know will claim she's being punished for her beliefs, because they do not understand how sports work. Block and move on.

It is still very funny that she blocked me on Twitter. Block and move on goes both ways, but I didn't tag her in the post or anything, which means she name searches.

Once again, if you read this far, please consider giving to Prevention Point or Savage Sisters. Harm reduction is important. Those two organizations are why I'm still alive, and the city of Philadelphia wants addicts to die.

[inkyquince]

please inky, continue w your thought about ex-husbands and divorce.. pleaseee expand omfg your mind is so big i just wanna chomp on it 😞

ASJODDJAIJS

characters. Avery. Remy. Bailey. (Degrees of Lewdity)

yeah, so content warning, toxic behaviour, mention of sex after some wine so that's hinted to be dubcon as hell, angst, especially with mister Hay Bales. also bailey's section has a shit ton of coercion, and its implied reader is remarried.

okay, so camp "I signed, but I'm mad now" of divorced husband is very much Avery, Remy, Bailey vibes.

So, Avery didn't MEAN to sign the papers. He was just so fucking seething that he did it out of spite. Fucking throwing the papers at you and tells you to get the fuck out of his house. What I love about Avery, at any moment, he could be in either camp, ngl. Either he'd fight for his reputation, and would never even let you show him the papers, or you get him so riled up, he does it out of pure anger and wanting revenge.

Anyways, his rep does take a blow, but he doesn't care, mans is running off pure spite for the entirety of the divorce proceedings. The moment he realises he needs to pay alimony? Wishes that he could go over to you and throttle you.

But when that anger simmers down? When he's gotten his fill of booze, whore and spite?

Mans is fucking LONELY. He's still angry, but its just general anger at the situation. Look, if you were still an orphan, he'd just get a new sugar baby. Who give a shit. Yeah, it undoes the work he did on you and he doesn't look as forward to date nights as he did, but this is different. You were his spouse. His ex-spouse now, but his spouse. He bared his fucking soul to you. You two had a good fucking life. Just had a few issues he refused to look at. You two were the perfect couople in the town's eyes, how would they have reacted to you two going to counselling?

It's too late though. He swings widly between being a fucking monster of an ex, forcing you to go back to the house to "pick up some stuff" and telling the town that you cheated on him, that's why you two divorced, to sending you gifts on your anniversary and your birthday. Phones you at night, and his voice is so low and sweet, and murmuring that he misses you.

Worse than Avery? Remy.

Remy is the rich bitch town icon that Avery wishes he was. He has you sign a prenup, then you get to live his fucking wealthy ass life. He's a cold ass fucker, so when you want to work on the marriage, he snidely mentions if you don't like it, leave him. Then he's shocked-face when you do. Then to get back at you, he's the one who gets the divorce papers. To get back at him, you sign them. To get back at you, he signs them. To get back at him, you file them.

To get back at you, motherfucker makes sure you get nothing from him in the divorce.

After all the stupid ass shit he pulls, he's fucking annoyed now. You were his other half, the only person he'd ever kneel down for. So, he's a frigid little bitch of an ex husband. But he's also such a fucker.

Like, he's will be so aloof and cold with you, and then idly offer a glass of wine to share when you have to come over to sign for some stuff. Evening ends with him three fingers deep in you, stroking you the way you like it, sucking at your neck greedily.

The treatment he gives you, when its just the two of you, is like the shiny red apple he would hold up to your lips. This is what you could have. But his behaviour away from those times is the stick. This is what you get for leaving him. Trying to usher you back into the estate and spread your legs for him, and only him again.

Bailey? Bailey. Bailey gives the vibes that you two married very young. When there was a spark of hope, and with very few good things in his life, he made sure to put a ring on the one thing that did.

However, he changes over time, becoming the ruthless caretaker of the orphanage, a terrifying criminal, and a worse man. You weren't a soft spot, you were a vulnerable one. Bailey would have had to have some sort of gentleness to him if you were a soft spot. You were a weakness, an achilles heel had had to smother and keep hiddden.

And sadly, that is no way to live.

So seperation. Then divorce. Then he doesn't show up to the court appointment. He pays alimony. He doesn't blink at anything, just takes it in stride, sometimes sneering at you.

But he isn't explosive. He isn't cold. He's just Bailey.

You see him once a month, coming to deliver your half of the money each time. You doubt it's just to see you again, even when you move on with your life and he stays in the orphanage you two always used to hate, and plan to escape from. Maybe its because he enjoys the looks the bankers give you when you have to pull out a shit ton of ironed out bills, taken from his orphans' hands, and put directly into yours.

But, you're still his. Your life hasn't changed at all from when you two were together. The only difference is that he no longer spends two or three nights sleeping next to you anymore.

Because you can't say no to Bailey.

You could be wearing a wedding ring, you could be tired from staying up with your baby, you could be so far into a new, happier life, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't trust whores, paid or not, he hates clubbing, and even with the most tender of sore spots, all they need it a slow, gentle massage.

So you have to drop everything for him. He doesn't give a shit what you could be doing. Bailey has an ache that needs seeing to. Fuck it, he'd go to your house, or get a room, but wouldn't force you back to the orphanage, at least for a long time.

You let him into your body again and again, his rough thrusts no different than when you two still shared a wedding ring. He bites your shoulder, he presses your face into the pillows, and spanks your thighs with his belt.

You never dared to tell him that you won't be able to join him for this stress relievers he seems to rely on. God knows what he'd do. Not to you, you don't take a screw driver to your knee when your sore spot acts up, but everything around you? Your spouse, your job, your life?

So you let him in.

One day he does demand that you go to the orphanage again. You could fight it all you want, but you have to go. There, he fucks you in the attic, just like that time all those years ago, and you decided he was the one you wanted to give your virginity to.

It's the closest he gets to whispering that he wants you back.

[sleepyistinky]

Many people don't realize this but Bruce never neglected Tim. I love that okay Tim he was a frustrated Robin who went through shit dealing with Batman I might be getting that wrong too though because I don't have access to the comics but I've been reading what I can BUT Tim was never neglected as a Robin. I see how many people heavily mischaracterize the Batfam members, from making Bruce a shitty and abusive dad even though he just isn't that good at communicating, to making Dick a pushover and making his ass his whole personality, and uwu-ifying Tim and making Jason the 'angry' robin even though that mf was a boy scout as a Robin. HOWEVER.

Tim Drake who just fucking gets so sick of everyone's shit. Batfam supporter to the day I die I do not hate any of them however I am not an apologist. I can recognize when a character is wrong because even though they're fictional they're still human. Tim sick of Batman just taking his help for granted. Alfred who sees what's going on despite being a solid rock in the past and not doing anything about it. Jason seemingly hating Tim simply because he is his successor and Damian hating Tim because he is his successor. Dick who is at best lukewarm with him. I'm not going to mention Steph, Cass, Duke, or even Helena because as far as I know they haven't really done enough I'm still pretty new to DCU and was introduced through spider-man crossovers but from what I've seen in some tim-centric fics he has it ROUGH. Tim who just is so fucking tired that he just says fuck it Bruce doesn't need me anymore I'll do my own shit elsewhere and see if I ever do shit for you guys again and watching the Batfam fall apart with Tim because HE was the one who pulled Bruce's head out of his ass when Jason died. HE was the one who basically had to take care of this grown-ass man so that he didn't fucking keel over when he was THIRTEEN. He was the one who had to stop Bruce from using such excessive force against petty criminals. HE was the one who sucked it up when Jason came for his ass in the Titan's Tower because hey he'd be pretty upset if he was forcibly brought back to life to find someone else had taken his spot. and this is his favorite Robin we're talking about! HE was the one who dealt with Jason's bullshit after everything was said and done and was one of the only members of the family to treat him normally. HE was the one who refused to give up on Bruce after he 'died' and went through so much trauma for YEARS and dealt with Ra's bullshit. He literally had his spleen removed leaving him immunocompromised. He ISOLATED himself from the people he cared about for BRUCE. He literally traveled through time for him. And on top of all that, he had his Robin mantle forcibly taken from him and given to this assassin child who hates him. And actively tries to kill him. Plus Dick think he was absolutely crazy all the time, which, yeah, fair enough. I might be wrong but didn't he successfully clone Superboy? That's some crazy person shit DIDN'T HE MAKE OUT WITH SUPERBOY'S EX THINKING ABOUT HIM? that's some crazy homosexual shit that I won't be tapping into today. So, yeah, excuse Tim if he's just finally so done with everything and everyone.

[threepandas]

Sun Burnt: Part 3

When a legendary hitman Eye Threatens to break both your fucking legs?

They Are Not Joking.

FUCKING OW.

Still! Jokes on HIM! I'm in to that sh-! Wait, no, not the time for memes! Or is it jokes? Irrelevant! I can still fuckin RUN, is the thing. Sucks to SUCK, Sun boy! Us Lightnings are BUILT DIFFERENT!

And I BETTER not hear any snide "yeah I BET they are" from the peanut gallery!

My Flame type ROCKS! I am a TAZER who can put my fist through WALLS. Stand dead center of a road and just? Fuckin TANK a speeding car! Can YOU? Didn't THINK so! Lightning supremacy! One of you fuckers gimme a highfive! HELL YEAH!

But also? Like... I take back EVERYTHING I ever said about the Carcassa.

ALL OF IT.

They are the GEMS of the Mafia. The SHINING HEARTS of raw compassion! Skull-sama's willingness to PERSONALLY piss off The "I AM The Dread God Lesser Deity's Fear" Reborn? An inspiration to us all. I... I would steal for this man. Like? For FREE. Not DIE for him or anything, God no, but? I would steal really REALLY expensive shit for him!

The man's an absolute mad lad. A LEGEND.

I will NEVER forget this... assuming I survive.

Because somehow HE already has my name, face, and multiple alias plastered OUT FOR THE WORLD TO SEE. Ha ha... oh god. Thaaaaat is a bounty. BIG bounty. Lots of zeros. G...gonna die.

My phone chimes.

"You know exactly who this is. Pick up." The screen reads, right before it rings.

HA HA, NOPE!

I stand, well more like shoot to my feet, from my seat on the ground. Quuuuick steps too the blimp windows. Wrench those open. Sim card out! Crush the phone. AND YEET!!! BeGONE DEMOOOON!

We shall NOT be engaging with The Devil today! No Sir!

.....Skull's phone starts ringing.

I whine like a cornered animal. So... this is what a real life horror movie feels like. NEAT. I hate it! I watch, probably shaking, as Skull-sama casually drags out his phone. Glances down at it. Then over his shoulder at me. He doesn't even fully turn his head. Just one Cloud flame purple eye that seems to light up from within.

He's a happy go lucky guy. Cool dude. But like all Clouds? Fucking HATES cages. Being or SEEING other imprisoned. Trapped. Cornered and forced to do something against their will. And as the planet's STRONGEST Cloud?

He's always had exactly zero problems telling Reborn to fuck off to his face. Even when it gets him shot at. Everyone knew that.

"Sempai! Calling the GREAT Skull De Mort just to CHAT~♡? I KNEW you loved me BESTEST!" He PROJECTS into the phone, his speaking cadence shifting.

He'd been gregarious, bombastic even, the whole time I'd been on board. The sort of guy you can't help but want to buy street food with and check out some weird local sight you heard about. The guy that turns an event into a PARTY. A get together into a memory you TREASURE. Larger then life and unashamedly so.

But this? THIS was the SHOWMAN.

And this was the Showman being Obnoxious and MEAN.

Loud, intentionally grating voice. No break in the endless flood of mind numbing chatter that went no where. Bellowing cackling that even the best of speakers would be hard pressed to handle. Standing near machines and windows so the background noise garbled EVERYTHING.

Let no one say Clouds are not PETTY.

"Hmmmmm~? Your WHAT? Sempai! Don't be SILLY! You can't OWN people! That's SLAVERY! It's against~...!" He turned, leaning like a rock star of old against some navigation compartment. Casually examining his nails with a MEAN and wolfish smile on his face. "Waaaaa! Don't be maaad~ Don't be MAAAAAD~!! You know I'd NEVER lie to YOU, Sempai! I'd never DARE! I promise I'll keep a look out, m'kay? What? Don't hang up? Sorry! Can-KRRRRSHK! n't quite KKKKKRRRRRSK! Heeeeear yoooouuuuu~☆!"

Click.

He casually tossed his phone to one of his men. Ignored it even as it rang and rang. With an excited clap of his hand, he hopped up, out of his loose legged splay to stride over. According to him? We should eat! Have I had Burmese food? It's delicious! One of his guys just got "into" the whole cooking thing! So everyone is being supportive!

I can't help but laugh. Everyone politely ignores how wet it is, as Skull-sama throws an arm over my shoulders and drags me from the cockpit.

I know I'm not safe. But for now? Fuck it. Good enough. Maybe Skull-sama knows someplace Reborn might not IMMEDIATELY find me. And who knows? When this all blows over? Maybe I should join up with his crew. Reborn can't be THAT obsessed. Right? It was just the initial harmony high. With no Sky to actually bind us, he'll lose interest.

Behind me... the phone rings.

And rings.

And RINGS.